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thelightsandtheroses · 10 months

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sing fever to the form | frankie morales x female reader

Summary: Fake dating Frankie Morales seemed the obvious solution to both of your problems, until you caught feelings and now everything is a mess. Pairing: Frankie Morales x female reader Warnings: language and explicit content, 18+ blog - minors do not interact, a little angst with a happy ending romcom style,no physical descriptors, no use of Y/N or specific age mentions for the reader. Word Count: 6.3k Notes: the fic title is from one of my absolute favourite songs which features on every single playlist i ever compile (fever to the form by nick mulvey). I also owe a huge thank you to the lovely @mvtthewmurdvck for her support on this one 💕 i think without her, this would have probably languished in my drafts.

In the cold light of Benny Miller’s bathroom, you come to the conclusion that you’ve made several mistakes. The worst one of these, the one that set the rest in motion like dominoes, had honestly seemed like such a good idea at the time. It appeared such an obvious solution to the numerous questions, interrogations and unspoken pity that you were encountering. You could never have expected this.

You’d moved to Florida for work some time ago and while you had friends and a great career, your love life was definitely lacking. People picked up on it and while no one directly said it, you felt you were continually judged. Sure, it was all well and good that you had a nice job, but if no one’s dating you - well, what’s your red flag?

Between that and the fact your parents kept asking about whether or not you were dating, or if you’d met anyone nice at work, it started to weigh on you. Was there a problem with the way you were living - was it you? Your loved ones seemed so disappointed that you weren’t dating and putting yourself ‘out there in the world’. You tried to tell them the dating pool was not great, that the apps were awful and the only guys you ever seemed to attract came with so many of their own red flags that they could have lined the whole of your street. You’d dated enough bad guys already, you didn’t want to date any more.

You just needed some space.

Frankie was your friend and he was experiencing similar pressures. His friends were asking him when he’d start dating again and he was grappling with a new status as a single father. So, he also needed a break, needed to remove some of the noise from those around him.

Fake dating might belong in the movies, but it seemed an obvious solution to both of your predicaments. For a while, it was perfect.

Frankie is the ideal fake boyfriend, he’s better than any you could have ever imagined. In fact, he is probably the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, which is part of the problem. Most of your previous boyfriends hadn’t been the best, and suddenly here’s Frankie, acting like the perfect man for you?

Of course, you ended up falling for him.

It might have seemed a good idea back then, only now you’re hiding in a bathroom, fighting back tears and berating yourself as the BBQ you’d been looking forward to carries on outside. You’re so stupid. This is a dumb game. It isn’t real.

You’re not supposed to catch feelings.

But you have.

“So, how did we get together?” Frankie asks, leaning his head back against the sofa so you can see all the freckles on his neck above his hoodie.

“Um…” you chew your lip, take a gulp of your drink, “I have no idea.”

Frankie’s house is the sort of home that has comforting chaos and mess to it. His daughter’s things are strewn around the living room, an aviation manual rests on open pages on the coffee table next to you and a pile of battered paperbacks are stacked next to the sofa. The walls are a warm yellow; surprisingly comforting and bright. It’s a stark contrast to how Frankie presents himself outside of his home - cool, collected, a little quiet.

His home feels lived in. You always feel comfortable here.

“We could say that we just realised one day, hanging out, I mean crazier things have happened. A big story would stand out. KISS principles an’ all.”

“What did you just say?’” you ask. “Did you just say kissing principles?”

“Kiss?” He shakes his head. “Keep it simple, stupid! The way I see it, the only way for us to get away with this is to keep it realistic, boring almost so people don’t ask more,” Frankie says thoughtfully.

“Ah, so hooking up with you would be boring? That’s good to know.”

“Oh, carinô, if I kissed you for real that is not the word you’d use …”Frankie trails off, mischievously raises an eyebrow.

“Ergh, you can be so arrogant,” you tease, “Okay, fine. We had a sudden movie like realisation and what - we just got together and then what did we do?”

“Well then, y’know, by that point, you couldn’t exactly walk away.” Frankie smirks salaciously.

You throw a sofa cushion at him.“I think I hate you, Frankie Morales..”

“No, no that’s definitely not what you said.”

“So,” Frankie pauses, runs a hand through his hair. “We should agree what the boundaries are, when we’re with others.”

“Others?”

“Yes, when we’re with our friends. It needs to be believable, right? And I’m sorry, but if we stay like we are now, around my friends, then they’ll know it’s fake in five minutes.”

“Why?”

“I did an online quiz with my ex and um, physical touch is my love language,” Frankie says sheepishly.

“You do know that whole love language thing is bullshit, right?”

“No, it’s not. Jessie said -”

“She’s wrong.”

“Regardless, the quiz said that - ergh, fine, whatever. So, what’s the plan there? I don’t want either us to feel uncomfortable though, okay.”

“We’ve been friends a long time,” you say lightly, “This won’t change that. We can figure this out.” It’s not like you’ve never hugged Frankie or he hasn’t put an arm around you before. How hard can it be - you need people to believe you?

“Also, I am not lying to my kid, or getting her to lie for me. We need to keep her out of it, tell everyone else we’re taking it slow with her until we know it’s serious, okay?” Frankie looks at you with a suddenly serious expression. Oh god, he’s a dad and this is stupid and complicated and you can’t involve her in this and you’ve just been discussing the physical boundaries in this stupid game and this is ridiculous.

It was a pathetic idea of yours.

“Maybe we shouldn’t -”

“It’s fine. We just keep her out of this.”

“Okay, that sounds sensible.”

“So we’re really doing this then?” he asks with a shy smile.

“Yeah, I think we are.”

It’s Frankie. What other choice was there when it came down to it? It’s Frankie with his deep brown eyes that have mastered the puppy dog expression and his shy smiles. You care about him and all of his insecurities, doubts and vulnerabilities you’ve learned over the years. They make him tangible, real, and truer. Perhaps you always liked him and you didn’t know. Maybe you did and subconsciously thought this was the only way you’d have him which is why you’d pursued such a ridiculous idea. Perhaps you had thought this would be like the movies, that he’d confess his love for you and you’d drive off into the sunset.

You’re now accustomed to the way his hands skim your back or waist when you’re with friends, the way he leans closer to you and you can feel his breath against your ear when he whispers sweet nothings in his low voice, smell the laundry detergent on his clothes.

He’s so convincing.

No one has ever questioned whether it’s real with the two of you. You don’t think it would ever cross their mind that the two of you are fake dating.

Your body and mind certainly doesn’t think it’s fake anymore.

You sit on the edge of the bath and try and try and pinpoint when you realised you felt this way. You’ve both been flirting with danger for weeks; the way you’ve let him trace shapes on your side when he pulls you close, how you lean into the crook of his neck, play with the ends of his curls when you’re out with friends. You tell yourself it’s just to make it look real, to make this situation look authentic.

You’ve certainly fooled yourself.

You’re not even sure when you realised this. One moment everything was like normal and then it wasn’t. Perhaps it’s your fault, you have always been a dreamer. You’ve always walked through life fantasising that this will be the moment when everything changes, when you suddenly fit in and someone will like you or fall in love with you. Given the way your mind works, it was inevitably a stupid idea to even try this with Frankie.

It’s been overwhelming at the BBQ today; the gentle touches, the way he looks at you and you almost believe it’s genuine. It wouldn’t normally bother you so much, but now you’re aching for it to be something it can’t be and it’s all too much.

You couldn’t help looking at Frankie throughout the BBQ; wanting to count the freckles on his neck, to run your hands through the curls hidden by his hat as you notice the ends peeking out at the nape of his neck. You’re always taken with the broadness of his shoulders too, his hands.

You’re completely doomed.

You can’t do this anymore. It’s not fair, it’s a betrayal of your friendship with him. It’s a betrayal of his trust because agreeing to do this fake dating was an exercise in trust, one you are failing.

You’ve been thinking about it for days. The reason you feel so safe with Frankie is because it’s not real, because you weren’t supposed to have to give your heart away. It was just meant to distract people so you could breathe again. You’ve seen too many romcoms and movies, you’re too much of a dreamer to have ever let this work without getting messy. You thought you could be detached and objective, but you can’t.

It’s you, you’re the one who has screwed up.

So you go downstairs, make your excuses and leave.

You’ve been fake dating for two weeks and this just might be your best relationship ever. You can’t decide if that’s sweet or perhaps the most depressing thing you’ve ever admitted.

You’re in Frankie’s car on the way to Tom’s birthday, playing with the handle of the gift bag you’re holding. The sun is out, Frankie’s playlist is setting the scene and you feel so happy in this moment.

“Don’t be surprised if they say something about us,” Frankie says casually as he changes gear, “The guys have been giving me grief since I told them about us. Well, since I told them about what we’re saying about us, anyway.”

“I thought the idea was it would stop them giving you grief?”

“Oh, this is much better than it was, trust me,” he says, laughing as he looks at the road ahead. With his sunglasses on, no hat and a loose t-shirt he looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. Frankie strikes you as a tightly wound coil, he’s just got that energy. He’s calm, not something or someone you are afraid of, but you recognise the way he thinks, see the nervous anticipation in his eyes before he smiles at one of his friends on a night out.

You see the same thing in yourself.

“You know, I can’t believe this is working,” you say cheerfully to Frankie, “My mom has even stopped sending me those news articles about people who meet their soulmates later in your life.”

“Your mom was sending you those?” Frankie asks, raising an eyebrow.

“She means well,” you say placidly. “My parents have always had a lot of expectations for me.”

“Shit.” He reaches over and squeezes your hand. “Well, I can promise you that you’re the best fake girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

“Likewise, Frankie, likewise.”

You don’t mean to ghost Frankie after the BBQ. It’s just you’re not sure what to say to him. I’m sorry, but I think this fake dating is getting a little too authentic because I might be falling for you?

You can’t do that to him, can’t embarrass yourself with your stupid crush either. It’s better to just ignore the messages, pretend it’s not happening and bury your head in the sand.

Of course, Frankie knows where you live, so you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are when he turns up at your home.

“So what’s going on? I texted you,” he says with a forced casual voice as he leans against your kitchen counter. He’s wearing a loose t-shirt and jeans, his usual hat discarded next to him. He runs a hand through his hair and looks over at you.

You don’t want to look at him properly, so you focus your attention on your kitchen tiles instead . You really need to mop the kitchen floor later.

“I think, I think this thing has run its course.”

“Oh, really?” Frankie looks surprised, almost sad, when you dare to look at him, “I thought this was working well for us both.”

“A little too well,” you mumble under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

You sigh.

“Hey, cariño, talk to me.”

“It’s just us, Frankie, you don’t have to call me that right now.”

“Why, do you not like it?”

You exhale again with exasperation and shake your head. Just make this easier on me, you think, stop muddying the water. When you meet Frankie’s eyes he looks perplexed though, concerned and his brow is furrowed.

“What’s going on?” he asks, arms folded as he looks over at you. “Talk to me.”

“I think we should stop with this fake dating arrangement. I mean, the idea was just to do it until my friends and my parents were off my back and until your friends were off yours, and they are. So, let’s call it a win and move on.”

“Did something happen?” Frankie asks. “You meet someone?” There’s a strange tone to his voice, almost wistful.

“No, no. I just - I don’t think we should keep doing this. I mean that girl asked you out last week at the bar and because Will and I were with you, you said no.”

“She wasn’t my type anyway and that’s what this is about? Come on!”

“I’m - I’m clearly holding you back and that’s not what this was supposed to be.”

“Is this what you really want?”

“Absolutely,” you lie brightly, smiling as widely as you can. “We’re friends and we’ve helped each other out so let’s bow out of this gracefully. We can say to the others - we can tell them we realised that we’re better off as friends.”

“Right. Okay.”

“Okay?” you repeat, disappointed that he’s just giving up, that this really is it.

A small part of you was holding out hope for Frankie fighting back, for him to declare his love for you, take you into his arms and then for the two of you to have the most passionate, intense sex of your life right there in the kitchen. That’s what happens in the movies and books. It’s all meant to end with a kiss.

Only he doesn’t do that.

He just quietly acquiesces to your demand that this ends now and when he smiles, as though his acceptance will make you happy, he shatters your heart into a million pieces.

You have no idea how your friendship will recover from this. You have no idea how to watch someone else love Frankie in the future, to watch him put his hands on someone else or look at them like he looked at you and know it’s real for them but wasn’t for you.

“I should probably go,” Frankie says, his gaze fixated on the floor.

“Oh, right. Well, I’ll see you around.”

The story of your breakup spreads quickly. Your friends are disappointed, they tell you it’s obvious you both liked each other, they ask if you’re sure you can’t work it out? Your parents are clearly disappointed, but at the same time you catch a glance of relief on your mother’s face when you tell her.

“He’s complicated,” she says, taking a sip from her cup of tea. It’s your mom’s first visit in months, a visit you had originally planned during the fake dating misadventure.

“Complicated?”

“He’s a single father and the job he has? Being a pilot isn’t like a regular 9-5.”

“He makes his hours work for his kid, and none of those things were the reason we broke up”you say defensively. “And at my age, most people have previous relationships and baggage so I don’t think that makes him any more complicated than anyone else I could meet.”

“You don’t, darling, you don’t have any baggage.”

“That in itself is clearly a complication,” you say, rolling your eyes like a petulant teenager. “I mean, you and Dad hated it when I was single. You were always asking if I’d met someone, or if I was looking and -“ you trail off and stare at your hands on the table. Your nail varnish is chipped. Rouge Noir, the classic vampy red you always put on when you’re feeling blue, when you need a confidence boost. It’s not working for you right now though.

“We just want you to be happy,” your mom says, gently taking her hands in yours. “Whatever that looks like.”

“I am happy.” It’s meant to sound assertive but it comes out more like a question as you speak. You’re happy, dammit. Or you were before everything went wrong.

“No, honey, you’re in the middle of a break up and it’s obvious you still feel something for him. Are you sure - are you sure it’s over? You told me you were the one who ended things.”

“Yeah, I did. I don’t think - I don’t think it’s a good idea, mom. I’ll get over it. I have this big work project and then that trip and the apartment move soon, so I’ll be fine.”

You’re not sure of anything now. You thought stopping the arrangement with Frankie would save your friendship, but it didn’t. Now you don’t have him at all and it fucking hurts.

You are so angry and sad and confused. This is all your fault for getting feelings that you’d laughed at the possibility of months ago. You’ve lost him anyway and it’s caused a great chasm in your heart.

How can you be mourning something that wasn’t even real in the first place?

When you became friends with Frankie, he introduced you to some of his friends from his military days. While you didn’t exactly get on with all of them, Tom is aloof at best, Benny and you had become friends over time. In the wake of your fictionalised break-up, you’ve lost those people too. You’ve avoided Benny’s fights, wanted Frankie to have his friends without the bother of you. Besides, you’ve been focused on work. You had a trip away for a few days and then you had a big project, presentations. Work has been something to throw yourself into.

It’s a good plan, but Benny keeps texting you and personally invites you to his next fight.

You and Frankie have both said you’re still friends so what’s the problem?

I don’t know if it’s a good idea.

Just come to the damn fight, would you? Liv keeps asking after you.

You decide you should go at least once to show your face. You can do this, you can handle one night. You like Liv, Benny’s girlfriend, and you can say hello and then vanish quickly after the fight ends. If you’re careful with the seating set up, you might not even see Frankie or have to talk to him at all.

The bar is crowded and while Will, Santiago, Tom and Frankie all greeted you when you arrive, it feels different. Stilted somehow.

It’s almost how it would feel if this was a genuine break up, if this was real. You suppose it is to Santiago, Tom and Will.

You sat with Benny’s girlfriend, Liv, for the fight. She squeezed your hand sympathetically when she catches you looking over at Frankie.

Frankie still looks the same as ever, you think as you cast your eyes over to where he is in the crowd. He’s wearing his usual hat, the one you’ve teased him about for years but can’t picture him ever giving up, with well fitting jeans and a jacket. He looks infuriatingly good.

Before the fight Frankie had moved so he was next to you and he looked like he wanted to say something to you before the fight began. Panicked, you quickly moved next to Liv instead and so you were sitting on the other side of the group to him as you took your seats.

Crisis averted, you thought. Only now, you can’t stop wondering what he might have said to you.

“I can’t see why you can’t get it together,” Benny says, taking a sip from his bottle of beer. The two of you are standing together by the bar, waiting for the rest of the group’s drinks. Benny’s mostly fixed up from his fight, with just a small red stain on his forehead between the steri-strips and bruises. You think the other guy must look a lot worse.

“Wait, what did you say?” you ask.

“I don’t see why you and Frankie can’t work it out. I mean, look at him,” Benny points his bottle towards your friends, to where your attention had just been. Frankie’s standing on the edge of the group, arms folded, hat rigid. He looks uncomfortable.

You shouldn’t have come here tonight.

“We tried and it wasn’t a good fit. It wasn’t going to work out,,” you say flatly, repeating the line you and Frankie had agreed on.

“Look, you might have fooled the others, but you can’t fool me.”

Your stomach sinks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I know you guys were fake dating at first.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You could barely keep your stories straight about how you got together when I asked,” Benny says softly. “You kept adding details and I noticed Frankie shake his head whenever you did that.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Does Frankie know?” You’re mortified for him, you know how embarrassed he would feel if he found out that Benny had guessed all along it was fake.

This really can’t get any worse.

“‘Cause you two obviously liked each other. I assumed that you’d figure it out along the way. I thought you had, but then -” Benny trails off.

“You know when you assume, you make an ass -”

‘Oh sweetheart, don’t even finish that sentence.“ Benny exhales. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s what you said, it was fake and we ended it and it’s all fine now.”

“Bullshit,” Benny exclaims, his southern drawl even more pronounced.

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

The bartender interrupts by finally handing you the rest of your drinks and between you and Benny, you take them and rejoin your friends.

‘Cause you two obviously liked each other.

Benny’s words echo in your mind. He didn’t say because you liked Frankie, but because you both did.

Frankie doesn’t like you like that though, you know this. He’s clearly just a very good actor.

You end up the one handing Frankie his drink, no doubt due to Benny’s meddling. Your hands brush against his as he takes the bottle and you can’t help looking up at him, noticing the unreadable expression on his face.

Will coughs loudly and you quickly take a step back.

“It was a good fight, Benny,” you say awkwardly, hoping he’ll take the change of subject.

“I need a smoke,” Frankie says, hunching his shoulders as he walks away from the group.

The room instantly turns cold.

You awkwardly pull the edge of your jacket down, wishing the ground would swallow you up. Santi, Tom and Will are staring at you and you can’t be here. They hate you, they’re judging you.

This is so fucked up.

“I’m uh, going to go.”

Liv makes a motion as if to stop you, but she doesn’t, and Benny’s looking at you with real disappointment but that doesn’t stop you either. You’re getting good at running away now.

You’re too afraid to look behind you and see whether they’re looking at you as you walk away.

Frankie’s standing by the parking lot when you finally weave your way past the crowds and bloody fighters to reach the exit.

He looks surprised to see you. Just seeing his face makes your heart ache because you’ve lost him, you’ve lost him and you didn’t want to.

“I’m leaving now, so you can go back in” you say flatly.

“I was just having a smoke,” he says defensively. It’s an obvious lie, you both know it.

“Sure, Frankie. Look, you can’t just stomp off like that. You can’t leave me in that position with everyone. It’s not fair.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of things we don’t discuss, lot of things that aren’t fair,” Frankie says bitterly, tossing his cigarette to the floor and stamping on it a little too vigorously.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s going on with you? This wasn’t meant to affect our friendship. I never, ever would have agreed if I’d known,” Frankie says firmly. “You were my friend and I still wanted you to be but you ghosted me and ended our deal. That’s fine, but we didn’t go back to normal after. We just - it’s like you hate me now.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Just would you tell me what I did wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why -”

“It was too real,” you whisper, folding your arms around yourself and leaning against the brick wall.

“What? What did you say?” Frankie asks, moving closer.

“You know, the faking it thing. It was too real, it was confusing me. And I - I didn’t want to ruin everything but I still ruined it all. Story of my life.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” You think, somehow he’s going to break your heart even more tonight and you didn’t think that was possible..

“I just - I got confused.”

“How did you get confused?” he asks in a low voice, taking another step closer to you.

“Don’t, Frankie, don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” he asks, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, “I can’t understand you. I mean, this was your idea and then you ended it and now you don’t even want to be friends? I don’t know what I did but -”

“You did nothing, Frankie. It’s me, not you.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Clearly something happened. Can’t you just talk to me? I’m fucking miserable here. You were supposed to be my friend and I miss you.” You hadn’t thought that your actions could have hurt Frankie, you thought you were protecting him by doing what you did.

You feel even worse, a sick feeling rising in your stomach.

“It got muddled in my head, okay, it felt like it was real and I couldn’t do that to you, so that’s why - that’s why.” You falter at the end of your sentence as all of the adrenaline and energy from your body fades away..

“It got too real for you? What are you saying?”

“That I like you. That I ended up liking you more than I should, you obtuse jerk!”

Frankie pauses then takes another step closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, a slight smile on his face that you can’t make any sense of.

“It’s embarrassing, Frankie. We made an arrangement and I caught feelings like an idiotic teenager. I’m just daydreaming my life away again.”

Frankie is so close to you right now, he braces his hands against the wall as he stands right in front of you.

“You caught feelings, huh?”

You notice a familiar smirk on his face and then he’s kissing you.

Frankie’s kissed you before; it’s been part of the facade after all, but not like this.

This kiss is everything. It sends molten heat down your core, renders your mind completely blank. All the anxiety, all the internal dialogue is gone for once. The silence is blissful as you can feel your heart pounding, take in the soft texture of Frankie’s shirt as you fist it to pull him closer because now he’s with you like this, you can’t let him go.

It’s not an aggressive kiss, it’s not teeth clashing or fury. It’s not exactly gentle either. Frankie kisses you with care; like he’s trying to take you apart right here and now with just a kiss.

In just one minute, he’s ruined you for other people. No one else could kiss you like Frankie does.

“I told you, if I kissed you for real it wouldn’t be boring,” Frankie mumbles, moving his attention down your jaw and neck to your collarbone. You can feel the velvet softness of his lips, the heat of his breath.

“Oh fuck you,” you joke.

”Well, baby, I think I’m trying. Not here though, we can do better than that.”

You both laugh. The tension breaks for just a second as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, laugh into his neck, breathe him in.

“C’mon, you had to know I liked you. I just, I just thought you deserved someone better than me -” Frankie starts.

“That’s bullshit,” you argue. Frankie is kind, thoughtful and funny. He’s also so competent, multi-skilled and as you’ve just learned, an excellent kisser. Frankie has that quiet and collected energy you’ve noticed in a lot of ex-military people too. He flies planes and helicopters for a living. He’s your friend. How could you deserve any better than him?

“Can we get out of here?” Frankie asks, “Talk, not talk, I don’t mind. I just - I want to be with you right now. God, I missed you.”

“Okay. I really fucking missed you too,” you say, kissing his shoulder lightly before leaning back against the wall.

He doesn’t stop touching you the whole way to your apartment. He’s either holding your hand or touching your leg. If he has to temporarily remove himself to make a turn or change gear, he’s immediately back with you as soon as possible. You wonder if he’s worried you’ll leave or vanish if he’s not actually touching you, if he’s also wondering if this is really happening..

His car stereo blares uncharacteristically cheerful music by the latest pop sensation and you raise your eyebrows when he looks over at you.

“It’s her favourite album by her favourite singer and school’s been rough for her the last few weeks so this cheers her up,” he says defensively, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel, “I think I can probably hear it even when it’s not playing now.”

“Sure, but your daughter’s not in the car with us. Is she, Frankie? You could have switched it over.”

“I keep forgetting to change the CD,” he whines unconvincingly. “This car’s old.”

You make your way to your apartment, his arm around you, fingers entwined with yours the whole time.

As soon as you close the front door, he’s pushing your back against the wall, cupping his hands around your face to kiss you deeply.

You move your hands up to meet his and then move one of your hands down his chest.

“Your heart’s racing like crazy,” you mumble as he kisses a particular spot on your neck.

There’s always a moment of fear at a junction like this. What if the sex is bad - what if you’re just not compatible this way? But you need him, you need him with you, in you and the two of you are both too far gone to focus on that now.

Your friendship is changed anyway. There’s nothing more to lose.

He places his hands on your hips, pulls you away towards your bedroom.

“I want you so much,” he says.

“I want you too,” you reply, dazed between kisses as he navigates you to the edge of your bed.

He ghosts his hands down to the edge of your top and you move to desperately pull it off you.

You watch him take in the sight of you in your bra, take in the smile on his face. He looks at you with something like reverence; as if he can’t quite take it in that you’re real and you’re with him. Part of you wants to glow under his gaze and the rest of you fights panic, because this feels different, it feels real. You’ve never been looked at like this before.

You’ll do anything to keep this moment.

He gently unhooks your bra, moves his kisses down from your lips to your neck to your collarbone to the curve of your breasts and then down again.

His hands fumble with the button of your jeans and you’re desperate for him.

“What do you want, baby?”

You, you think, I just want you.

”C’mon, tell me,” he coaxes.

“I just need you. I want you to - ”

“I’ve got you,” he says, calmly lifting your hips to remove your jeans, to touch the hem of your underwear - and could you have not put better underwear on this morning?

You open your mouth to say something but then he comes back to meet your lips as he moves his hand inside your underwear. You’re already slick with wanting him, he slides a finger inside before tracing circles over your bundle of nerves to make you gasp.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers as he continues taking you apart.

“Frankie -”

“I’ve liked you for so long, I just thought you didn’t want me that way. I’d take anything you give me - friendship, I mean fake dating. I thought it was as close as I’d get.”

“Frankie, how could I not want you that way? You’re - you’re Frankie.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m going to show you.”

You feel your orgasm building and clasp your hands over his shoulders, into his hair. You shut your eyes and then it’s gone.

“Frankie?”

You open your eyes to see him take his finger into his mouth then mischievously smiles as he moves back and off the bed. He moves you so your legs are over the edge of the bed and then. He gets on his knees.

You take a deep breath He kisses the inside of your knee, traces kiss up your thigh until he meets you. You sit up slightly on your elbows as he looks up to meet your gaze with a dazed smile before he turns his attention to you.

Frankie Morales knows exactly what he’s doing between your legs but in case, you tell him how good he is anyway. He takes you apart with expert precision, gets you back to the precipice of pleasure all too quickly and guides you over the line.

“Do you want to -” he asks breathlessly as he comes back to you afterwards and kisses you. You can taste yourself on his lips, can feel his hardness pressing into you.

“Yeah, I do. I have uh - condoms in the bathroom cabinet.”

“Give me a second.” He kisses you briefly and you shut your eyes again as he goes to the bathroom. You try and catch your breath back and get your legs to stop trembling.

Why are the condoms so fucking far away? You still desperately need him, still need to feel him.

When Frankie comes back, he kisses you hungrily before he slides the condom over his length.

“Fuck, to think we could have been doing this the whole time,” he says before he’s sliding inside you.

There’s nothing else at this moment. It’s just you and him and the way you dig your fingers into his back with your free hand and the way your other hands is entwined in his as he moves inside you, the two of you desperately exchanging sweet nothings to each other, groaning each other’s names.

Your heart is racing and the blood is pumping in your ears. You watch the expression on his face just before he buries his face in your neck, sure he can feel the way you’re tightening around him, can surely feel how close you are too and then just as he takes you to that place one more time, you hear the way he moans as he joins you.

The next morning you watch Frankie pacing your balcony as speaks on the phone to his daughter. His hair is still damp from the shower, curling at the ends, and he has a mug of coffee in his other hand. He turns and smiles at you.

Just twenty four hours ago, you never thought Frankie could feel that way about you. You were resigned to your mistakes and your losses.

You were wrong.

He hangs up the phone and you walk over to join him on the balcony, your mug of coffee tightly clasped between your hands.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, putting his phone in his pocket and wrapping his now free arm around you as he takes a gulp of coffee.

You take a sip of your own coffee.

“I was just thinking,” Frankie says, “so, I guess the story we came up with before was true, right? We just realised how we felt about each other one day - and okay, it might have taken some fake dating to get us both there - but no one else needs to know that.”

“No one else needs to know that.”

You definitely need to tell Frankie at some point that Benny has figured everything out, that Benny clearly pushed you two together last night. You probably owe him a thank you, but you’ll never tell Benny that.

“So, what do we do now?” There’s a lot you need to discuss, figure out, but you just want to be with him. Surely that’s enough for now.

Frankie grins. “Well, I don’t need to be home until the afternoon so I’ve got some time right now.”

“I’m sure we can think of some things to fill that time.”

Frankie laughs. “Definitely.”

Tag List

All Pedro characters: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk

#frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction

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kwallanghae · 1 year

Text

twenty two days before we go our separate ways (twenty two days of not falling for you) | yoon jeonghan

content: fluff; angst (because ofc); fake dating; friends to lovers; some joshua x reader; adults who are in their 30s and have jobs;

word count: 20.3k

summary: there’s a special bond between you and jeonghan, and no one was surprised when you announced you were together. to you, it’s a surprise no one realised it wasn’t real.

warnings: language; allusions to sex and suggestive language; (brief) descriptions of vomiting; jealousy and possessiveness;

after a five month hiatus i have returned with a HOLY WHY IS THIS SO LONG fic hope you enjoy :)

also i’ve decided i want to label my fics the same way fob write song titles

D-1

“You have got to be kidding me.”

His eyes widened, then slowly closed in embarrassment. “Look, you’re the only person I could ask…”

“There is no way I’m going to fake date you, Jeonghan!”

In all the years that you had spent knowing Jeonghan, you had never gotten fully used to the shenanigans and plots, half of which you were a pawn in, half were levied against you. Right now, it was easy to say you preferred the latter. Especially given that unlike your mutual friend Soonyoung, he never went too far. Jeonghan had a perfect skill for being outlandish but never unacceptable. Although, this time felt too far. This time felt ridiculous.

“It’s only for three weeks!”

“Twenty two days! Three weeks! Thats three separate, wait no FOUR separate Saturdays I’ll have to spend cozied up to you, pretending to- ugh.”

“Don’t gag.”

“Huoh.”

Gagging was excessive, in all fairness. Jeonghan was a gorgeous man, and the string of broken hearts he carried on his shoulder was evidence enough, which made you so much more suspicious of his words. Why were you the only person available?

“I just need to get this girl off my back at Wonwoo’s wedding, and it has to be believable, because you know that Jun and Seungcheol cannot keep a secret, so if they know then Jiwon will know, and if Jiwon knows then I’m trapped. Cmon, please.”

“Three weeks is so long.” You whined, throwing yourself down on the couch. You had always been one for the dramatics. Perhaps thats what drew you to Jeonghan, why you were good friends.

FRIENDS. Specifically.

“Look it’s not like you wouldn’t get anything out of it!” Jeonghan begged, kneeling in front of you in a desperate attempt to have you look his way. “It would make Joshua so jealous.”

“He would only be jealous if he actually had feelings for me, Han, and we both know he doesn’t.”

“That’s not true, I am so completely sure he has feelings for you, he just doesn’t know it yet.” Jeonghan’s hand was on your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly, as you were reminded of how helpless and pathetic you felt when it came to Joshua. The gorgeous American who never seemed to spare a glance in your direction. Sure, you were all friends, and he obviously cared about you, but only as a friend. It was clear the way he looked at other people, it was a way he had never looked at you. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, and for the most part you would like to say you were pretty good at spotting when people had feelings for you.

When you were eleven and there was pesky Seokmin who kept throwing pencils at you when he thought you weren’t looking, it was obvious he had feelings for you, which you quickly shut down because who would want to go out with someone who had to resort to petty violence to get your attention? And Mingyu, who would avoid you like the plague all of year 12 until he could muster up the courage to tell you about his feelings for you, which you had obviously seen coming. You were always one step ahead - you didn’t like being caught off guard. Jeonghan was the only person you felt like you could trust to trick you, if that made sense at all. Even when he was being a menace, you still felt somewhat safe. And that was really working against you at the moment.

“You know,” He spoke with a glint in his eye that you couldn’t have missed, even if you wanted to. Oh, how desperately you wanted to. After being friends for so long, you could read Jeonghan too well. “He’s just broken up with Heejin. I bet we could try to make him jealous? Make him realise his feelings for you?”

You sniffled slightly, burying a laugh at Jeonghan’s cunning expression. “You’re just saying that so I’ll agree to go out with you.”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

You pondered for a moment. When Jihoon got married just a few months prior, you didn’t have anyone to go with, and you felt devastated watching the gorgeous boy hanging off Joshua’s shoulder. Jeonghan was quick to offer to ditch his date for you, but it didn’t make the ache in your chest dull any faster. You didn’t want to relive that, and you definitely didn’t want to seem lonely and desperate - you didn’t miss the concerned glance from Joshua last time. It would be nice to seem more desired, even if it was fake. It’s all about image, right?

“You know if we do this you won’t be able to flirt with anyone at the party.” You reminded him. “We’ll have to keep up the ruse that you’re actually interested in me.”

“Is it too late to take it back?”

“Yah, Jeonghan!”

“Kidding! Who wouldn’t be into you? Well…” He trailed off teasingly, and it’s moments like this where your glare settles in across from him that he feels so lucky to be secure in your friendship. “I wouldn’t dream of ditching you.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” You whispered to your ceiling, and you didn’t miss the grin that spread across Jeonghan’s face. Lucky bastard. “Fine, starting from tomorrow we will be fake dating.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you Y/N!” He grabbed your hands, pulling you up from the sofa to celebrate with him. “I will drive you everywhere, don’t worry, and whenever you don’t feel like cooking I’ll cook for you, and-“

“Woah, slow down, I’ll pass on the food. I’ve seen you in a kitchen.” You hushed your friend, letting him settle. “Besides, if we’re going to do this, we need rules. Everything needs to be out in the open.”

You never liked being caught off guard, and you were going to make sure you weren’t.

You settled back down onto the couch, and Jeonghan disappeared to grab something from out of your fridge before settling against you, cuddling to your side. “So what’s the backstory? People are definitely going to ask how we got together, we should probably get a story established.”

“Hmm, what about, you watched me kill it at karaoke, and you were so overcome with adoration and horniness that you confessed your undying love for me, and-“

“Absolutely not. I refuse to say any of that.”

“That’s okay, I’ll tell them.”

“No way!” You shoved him playfully, groaning as he elbowed you in retaliation. “Low blow, Han. Let’s try to think of something more realistic. What about you went on a date and it made me jealous, so I confessed?”

“Yeah, except we’ve both dated other people and it’s never caused jealousy before, I don’t think anyone would fall for it.” He told you, and you cursed under your breath because he was right. “What about we got tipsy and made out? And then realised we liked each other?”

“That works, I guess. It’s a little crass but it’ll do.” You nodded at Jeonghan, and grabbed a piece of paper from your coffee table. “Now rules: obviously we can’t tell anyone.”

“No shit.”

“Don’t be rude, we have to write the obvious too.” You rolled your eyes at Jeonghan, jotting down the words escaping your mind onto paper. No one can know this is fake.

“What about once it’s all over? You know, when you’re off being married to Joshua, and I’ve got myself a new sexy partner?” Jeonghan questioned, wiggling his eyebrows and nudging you.

“Ew? Why did I agree to this?”

“Because deep down you love me and my shenanigans.” Jeonghan popped a cherry in his mouth, chewing on it slightly, staining his lips red. You looked in disgust as a sliver of crimson drool slipped down the corner of his mouth.

“Deep, deep, deep, deep, deep down.”

“Didn’t deny it.” He winked. “So can we tell people eventually? Or are we taking this to the grave?”

“Okay, how about this? No one can know this is fake until we’re married to other people. There, that gives us plenty of time.” Jeonghan nodded thoughtfully, and you quickly jotted down the addition.

“Oh, pass me the pen, I have a good one.”

You let the pen drop out of your hands, pushing it to Jeonghan, who started scribbling something down. You looked over his shoulder, reading out the words…

“…We can’t be cliche and fall in love with each other- are you taking this seriously at all Han?”

He laughed, and you swear he would have spit cherries all over you. You cursed slightly, feeling suddenly very tempted to push him off the bed. “Dickhead.”

“A future junior partner at Kim-Byun Legal Services shouldn’t be using that kind of language, Y/N.” Jeonghan teased, smirking at your frustrated expression.

“Shut it Yoon. And take this seriously! If we fuck up everyone will find out, including Jiwon.”

He shuddered at the mention of her name. “God and she won’t leave me alone. Fine, what other rules do we need?”

“Hmm, we need to post each other on social media. Instagram is a must.” You told him, and to your surprise he hummed in agreement - you really were expecting more of a pushback. Jeonghan never liked tainting his single and available persona, and he was yet to ever post a S/O photo anywhere. “You don’t sound upset?”

“You’re right. It won’t be believable if there’s nothing online, at least on your social media. Besides, the more we commit, the more jealous Joshua will get, and the more Jiwon will realise she needs to back off.”

You nodded, writing it down. “That means we’ll probably have to pose for photos, go on dates and such.”

“Eh, we already hang out loads, we’ll just have to add cheesy captions. Doesn’t sound difficult at all.”

Jeonghan was right. You had spent way too many years being friends with him to ever feel uncomfortable around him, and with that boundaries were out of the window. Half of your outings looked like dates, and this wasn’t even the first time the two of you had used that ambiguity to convince others you or he wasn’t available. It was the first time you were actively deceiving people though. Perhaps that was why you felt on edge. All the other times, you had just let people come to their own conclusions, this time you would be lying. Was that why your heart was beating more? Was that what was causing the sudden discomfort as you laid in Jeonghan’s arms?

“Okay, that’s three rules, do we need anything else? Is there anything we’re forgetting?”

He thought about it for a moment, then brushed it off, letting the thought roll away from his shoulders, while yours stayed tensed and rigid. “We can probably add as we go along. Leave it on your fridge, oh but hide it when you get guests.”

“Well duh.” You rolled your eyes at him, grabbing a cherry out of his bowl. You chewed it softly, and groaned in surprise at the way it burst open. “God these are way too ripe, why are you eating them?”

“They still taste good, and they make me look like a vampire.” He grinned at you, showing off his stained canines (and chin, but you decided not to focus on that). “Just spray me with body glitter and I’ll have hoards of fangirls.”

“You already have hoards of fangirls, and fanboys.” You reminded him, rubbing at the corner of your mouth where cherry juice exploded down.

Jeonghan watched as you missed the trail of juice that had begun to dry on your skin. He smiled, and before you knew it he had licked his thumb, wiping away the red line from your mouth. Your breath hitched as you watched his eyes, trained on you, the part of your cheek right next to your lips, so much so that it felt like that’s all he was looking at. He smiled, drawing his finger back, with a satisfied look on his face.

“There,” He whispered, barely audible had you not been pressed up against him. “You can get a taste of the Yoon Jeonghan Boyfriend Treatment early.”

“Gross, you got your saliva all over me.” You whined, pushing him away. “I gotta wash my face now.” You ignored his chuckles as you made a beeline for the bathroom, eager to get him off of you, in every sense.

“You better get used to my saliva babe!” He laughed as you walked away from him. Cute.

It’s a strange feeling to ponder on your time with someone, but that’s what you watched yourself do in the hour before you were, technically, officially going out with him. The hour until midnight struck, you were in bed, teeth brushed, pajamas on, and only Jeonghan on your mind.

You’ve spent more of your life with him in it than without him. He was in the year above you at school, but you and him always gravitated to the same napping spot under the bleachers, and from there a comfort was born. Even before that, he was always around, his friends were the older brothers of your friends, and you had known each other by association, which made it easier to grow into an easy friendship come middle school. Half of the times you had suspected someone’s growing crush on you, it was Jeonghan whispering rumours into your ear. He had always looked out for you, and as the two of you aged and grew closer, you looked out for him too, until you two felt most comfortable together, and not with anyone else.

It had never stopped the two of you from dating, of course. He was hot, you were hot, and other people realised it. In your case though, it had been a force driving boyfriends away. They could never quite get used to how close you and Jeonghan were, and you had been accused of cheating or leading them on more times than you could count. Meanwhile, Jeonghan’s flings always came rushing to you on advice and inside intel, seemingly loving your presence - until they realised that he would never put them above you, and suddenly you were the bitter best friend who could never let him date in peace.

And you had friends, mutual friends who in turn formed a large group that you welcomed and blossomed with. But no one could ever come in between you and Jeonghan. The two of you existed in a little bubble, never to be popped or disturbed. You could imagine the delight some of your friends would express once you told them you two were an item, they were always the teasing that you two were secretly dating and hiding it from the world.

But you were an adult now, the two of you had been out of high school and university for several years now, and still you weren’t dating, despite being so close, it drove your friends mad. You knew that you didn’t need to explain it, as long as you and Jeonghan were on the same page. Boyfriends would come and go, but Jeonghan was always your priority. It had always been platonic, but you knew that if nothing else lasted, your friendship with Jeonghan would. He knew it too.

You turned, groaning into your pillow. How were you going to go to this wedding? Part of the beauty of your relationship with Jeonghan was that it was simple. It had never once felt complicated to you, just because other people didn’t understand it doesn’t mean you didn’t. But not dating for over a decade and suddenly starting to go out? Only to break it off three weeks later? That felt too complicated to explain, or even comprehend. Would people even believe it?

You were so tempted to text Jeonghan to call it off, to find another stunning specimen to hang off his arm and scare away Jiwon. She was all bark, no bite - no matter what hurtful words she had spat at Jeonghan when he tried calling their thing off, she wouldn’t go up and make light of those threats. Ultimately, she was harmless, but terrible at taking hints. Hence why he’s created this dumb plan. It wasn’t too late to back out was it? You grabbed your phone, and it dinged in your hand.

12:01. Shit.

And there it was, a text from your loving boyfriend.

Hannie: Happy first day of dating, baby ;)

No backing out now.

Day 1 - Saturday 3rd November

After the reminder Jeonghan had sent of your month long promise, you had rolled around your bed until you finally nodded off, and then subsequently overslept, which was only made clear as a banging on your door began to wake you.

Jeonghan was here.

The knock (which was always made with the full force of his fists - you swore that one day he was going to break your door down) was nothing other than courtesy. Jeonghan had his own set of keys to your apartment, and he wasn’t shy about using them. You could already hear him fumbling with the keys, and the muttered curses under his breath. You couldn’t wait to make partner and get out of this place and to somewhere with more soundproofing, you were certainly sick of hearing the muffled grunts and moans of your neighbours who had nothing better to do than spend the nights in each other(’s arms). But it did allow you those few seconds of awareness before Jeonghan barged into your home.

The door finally swung open, and there he was in his full glory - your new boyfriend. Even thinking the word in association with Jeonghan gave you a shudder. There was something about thinking of Jeonghan that way that just felt so… alien. It wasn’t like you had never had those wandering thoughts, but that was all they were: visitors who didn’t stay long. Now, the label was here for three weeks, and you were way too tired to comprehend just how long that really was.

“Why aren’t you up? Don’t you remember we’re helping Minghao set up the venue today? We’ve also got to make an all so important announcement, in case you forgot.”

You groaned, smoothing down your bedhead as best you could to be semi presentable. “I know, I just overslept. Struggled to fall asleep last night.”

He looked over at you as you stumbled out of bed, grabbing the coat hanger that had your outfit off your dresser as you walked slowly to the bathroom. “Just give me 20 minutes to get ready.”

“Are you feeling okay Y/N?” He asked carefully, walking closer to you. “It’s not too late to call it off, I don’t want to stress you out, especially with everything going on with work.”

It was certainly a tempting offer, and one you had been considering just the previous night. But looking back at Jeonghan’s concerned expression, you were reminded of why you even agreed in the first place. Yes, you wanted to make Joshua jealous, and that was your main goal, but Jeonghan had never let you down, and you weren’t going to let him down either.

“Don’t worry. Wonwoo’s wedding is on the 24th. Four Saturdays, I can definitely last that long.” You told him, blinking away the puffiness in your eyes. He didn’t seem too convinced, but you knew Jeonghan was too far in it to say anything else. “Twenty minutes, then we’ll go.”

Day 1 (cont.)

You weren’t too sure when it happened, but somewhere along the car ride, Jeonghan’s spare hand had nestled into yours. It felt somewhat romantic. You were no stranger to holding his hand, but it meant something different this time. Of course, something deceptive, but still different.

As the car pulled to the stop, you squeezed his hand comfortingly.

“Ready?”

You and Jeonghan smiled at each other, and to anyone who could see past the tinted windows, you were putting on your best show even before you walked out of the car. Of course, knowing Seungcheol, he was probably waiting outside the venue, and this sort of attention to detail that Jeonghan had mastered was crucial considering your friends.

“Ready.”

Your hands detached as the two of you got out of the car, only to join once more as Jeonghan rushed to your side, draping his arm across your shoulder and kissing your hand. You were almost shocked by his actions, the ones that felt so loving, until you heard the all too familiar screech of his would be best friend (had that title not been taken by you, long ago).

“Yoon Jeonghan! Did you and Y/N finally confess your love to each other?!” Seungcheol yelled across the parking lot, jogging up to you.

“Showtime.” Jeonghan whispered in your ear, nuzzling his nose against your skin. It was so sickeningly puppy love, you had to hold yourself back and be reminded that this is your life for the next month. “Seungcheol!”

He walked up and hugged his friend, and you followed suit, before settling back at Jeonghan’s side. Seungcheol couldn’t hide his grin, going on and on. “I knew it! For years, you guys said there was nothing there, but I knew it would happen eventually! I told you so, didn’t I Jeonghan? And all you ever said, Y/N and I are just friends, they would never see me that way, but HAH! I was right!”

Seungcheol kept rambling, barely even speaking to you, truthfully it felt more like he was yelling at characters on a screen rather than friends he had known for all his life (at least in Jeonghan’s case - you only got to know Seungcheol as you got closer to Jeonghan).

“Everyone’s going to be so shocked, even more so than when Wonwoo finally proposed.”

You scoffed. “No one was surprised when Wonwoo proposed, we were all surprised he hadn’t proposed sooner.”

“Same sentiment they’ll have with us, I guess.” Jeonghan shrugged, tightening his grip around you. You held your bated breath as you thought about just how close you were to Jeonghan, that if you reached out just a little you could tuck that stray hair that was in front of his face away, you always thought he looked so much nicer when his face wasn’t covered-

“…dating?” Seungcheol’s sentence finally trailed off, and you realised he was waiting for your answer. Shit, you hadn’t paid any attention, and it was clearly evident by your lost expression. “God you two are still in the honeymoon phase, pay attention to me as well, not just your boyfriend.”

Your nose almost curled so instinctively at that word. Boyfriend. It still felt so wrong to use for Jeonghan, and by the way he tensed only ever so slightly beside you, you knew he felt the same. As if you were claiming him, but you knew Jeonghan wouldn’t want that, that’s why he froze. Wasn’t it?

“Come on, let’s go inside, you can tell everyone you’re finally dating!”

You and Jeonghan followed Seungcheol, who chattered away to Jeonghan as you walked in silence. You were always the more quiet of the pair. Not exactly introverted or shy, but picky with your words. You hated the idea of saying something you didn’t mean. Jeonghan was careful too, but it was like he had everything ready before anything else was ever said. Jeonghan was always careful, always clever.

He had never been the boyfriend type. Everyone knew it. He had flings, some that even lasted months, but never relationships. He went on dates, but only those that ended up in a hookup. The word boyfriend had never been used to describe him, only used as a wish others had hoped he would fulfill. Your friends would always tease, of course, that he could never be a boyfriend to anyone else because he was too busy being a boyfriend for you, but the two of you knew it wasn’t that. No, Jeonghan could never be a boyfriend to anyone because he didn’t want the expectations that came with it. Jeonghan did as he wanted, on his own terms. But a boyfriend has a role to play, and Jeonghan would die before he gave into that. It was always frustrating for him that his friends never seemed to understand that, but now it played right into his plan. And you understood, so did anyone else need to?

As Seungcheol ushered you in, you were surprised to see just how many of your friends were already gathered, moving chairs and dusting the floors, with Minghao set in the centre, directing everyone. Wonwoo and his fiancee were doing their best to cut costs, with Minghao acting as wedding planner, and all their friends chipping in to help out where they could, which of course is how you all ended up setting up a wedding venue inside a dusty old warehouse. Minghao assured them it would look beautiful, if and only if everyone listened carefully to every instruction he gave, without deviation. To say you and Jeonghan were scared of pissing him off was definitely an understatement.

Eyes snapped to you and Jeonghan at the sound of the door closing, and even more gathered in your direction as Seungcheol started yelling about an announcement.

“Y/N and Jeonghan have something to say!” He yelled across the crowds (well, 30 or so friends), apologising silently to Minghao as he glared at the older boy.

You froze, hiding your head in Jeonghan’s arm as the pressure of being watched suddenly settled into you. He smiled at you, and wagged your hand held in his at everyone. “Y/N and I are dating!”

Everyone erupted into gasps and shouts, but were all effectively shut up by Minghao’s yell. “Get this place clean first, then gossip!”

Jun walked up to you, handing you a mop and reading off instructions Minghao had given him on everything that needed to be done today. “But seriously, I am so happy for you guys. Good luck fielding everyone off though, everyone’s gonna have so many questions.”

You walked over with Jun to where Chan, Yeeun, Sakura, and Seungkwan were all mopping the floors. The youngest pushed you gently, grinning at you.

“I can’t believe you and Jeonghan are finally dating!” Chan grinned. “Took you guys long enough.”

“I guess it’s been a long time coming.” You hummed, as you started cleaning the floors with them. You looked back to where Jeonghan was, now surrounded by friends who were congratulating him. It filled you with a strange pride to know you were a prize to be congratulated for winning. Of course, they don’t know it’s not real. But the illusion still felt victorious.

“Is everyone here? It’s been ages since we all met up.”

“Yeah! Oh, everyone but Joshua, he had to cancel last minute.” You felt your shoulders threaten to drop at the news Soonyoung shared. “Of course, the day we’re cleaning away the dust and mould, he can’t make it.”

Sakura hit his shoulder softly. “He would come if he could. There was an emergency at his firm.”

There was no skylight, but you were sure that if there was one, the clouds would have covered the sunlight.

You were only a year younger than Joshua, only a year younger than Jeonghan, but he had already been a junior partner at his firm for three years now, while you were spending every spare hour at your office in a desperate attempt to prove to the asses behind the desks in the floor above yours how much you deserved to be partner.

You weren’t surprised when Joshua was made partner. He was incredible, a talented lawyer who saw shortcuts and loopholes no one else realised were there. He was so dedicated, and smart, and dreamy, although you were sure that last part wasn’t one of the qualifying traits for partnership.

Your whole life, you were a step behind him. Most of that was just the fact that he was a year ahead of you: he graduated first, he took his bar exam first, he joined a firm first. Meanwhile you were the sad kid following him from place to place.

It was no secret Joshua cared for you like a younger sibling. Of course, he wasn’t always around, he couldn’t be. He had too much to do, too many places to be. But he cared about you, and always made sure you knew. What was a secret were the feelings you had for him, locked in a cage next to your heart, with a bluebird that sang love songs to fuel your adoration for him. Only Jeonghan knew, and he had been sworn to secrecy. (It didn’t matter that he had been - he could keep a secret easily, and he would have never given away one of yours.)

When you were seventeen, and Joshua left you to go to university, that was the first moment you realised just how much you cared for him. You ended up in the same university, and then later the same law school, and now the same city. The years you shared in law school, cuddled up in sofas trying to decipher notes from lectures, and questioning the sanity of professors formed a budding love, and one that you only realised when he left you once more. You followed him and Jeonghan place to place, in a desperate attempt to have him realise just how you felt, and he never did. You were his Y/N, always around, always there for him, but never an option. And while he dated, you did too, but no one seemed to replace him. All your exes blamed Jeonghan for your failed relationships, when they should have blamed Joshua.

And now here you were once again, back home from cleaning up Wonwoo’s rented warehouse, once again wishing he had noticed you, wishing that he would finally see you in a different light.

Day 2 - Sunday 4th November

“You have to pose more like you’re my boyfriend.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know! But you’re not very good at this.”

Jeonghan groaned, shoving your phone away from his face like a disgraced celebrity. The two of you had met out for coffee and, in your case, highlighting case notes and writing out forms, while Jeonghan edited scripts. You always thought Jeonghan should have gone into law like you and Joshua, he certainly had the intelligence for it, but he didn’t particularly have a drive to become a lawyer, and in his eyes it was too much work if he wasn’t motivated. Times like this convince you that perhaps he was correct.

Except now that the two of you were dating, there was also the task of creating the evidence necessary to post your relationship, and it was tedious and confusing having to show the difference between you as friends and you dating when nothing has changed.

“We might as well just post a photo of you or I in lingerie if you want to make it look more like a real relationship.” Jeonghan said teasingly, although you didn’t miss the hint of frustration in the growl of his voice.

“Gross.”

“Let me see the photos you’ve taken at least.” You handed your phone to Jeonghan, moving your attention back to the case in front of you. Malcom Optics vs. Kim and Hogan. You wanted to tear your eyes out. “These are boyfriend-y enough!”

“They look like all the other photos I have of you!”

“Everyone else was convinced we were dating beforehand, that’s definitely relationship kindling.”

You reached our for your phone from his hands, grabbing a highlighter. “It’s not enough. Apparently, something has changed.”

“Fine then. Kiss me.”

You dropped your highlighter, and it clacked to the floor.

“Excuse me?”

“You wanted to show that something has changed, what do people in relationships do? They kiss.” Jeonghan explained nonchalantly, leaning down to grab your highlighter. “We can post a kissing photo, you’re right, it’s more believable this way.”

“B-But…”

“It’s not like we’ve never kissed before, anyway.”

He was right, and you cringed at the memory of being drunk with Jeonghan. The two of you had spent a couple of nights in university drinking your problems away on the floor of your dorm when your roommate was away (and considering the sheer number of parties she spent her time at, you and Jeonghan had a semi frequent tradition), and one such night after an emotional day of being accused of cheating, you ended up making out with an equally wasted Jeonghan, only for the two of you to wake up with an insurmountable feeling of dread and regret. The two of you had always known whatever relationship between the two of you was platonic, but that night destroyed any sort of wondering. There was no way you had feelings for him if it resulted in that awful dread. And it made you so nervous to experience it once more.

“Y/N?”

“Fine.”

You got up from the desk to sit on Jeonghan’s lap. The seats at this coffee shop were comfortable, but not enough for two people to sit together. Jeonghan felt himself tense up as you settled into his lap. It had been way too long since the two of you kissed, and a strange feeling settled in his stomach.

“Ready?” You asked him, moving your phone into position.

“Guess I have to be.”

Jeonghan placed his hand so his thumb nestled just in front of your ear, holding the back of your neck securely, and closed his eyes as he kissed you, waiting for the click of your phone camera, which came quickly. You quickly pulled away to look at the results, ignoring the way your stomach dropped. It meant nothing. But why was it lingering?

“This actually looks good. We look like we could actually be dating here.”

You hummed in satisfaction, moving back to your desk to focus once more on this case, and you hoped Jeonghan missed the coy smile on your lips.

He was too busy thinking about how his own felt.

Day 7 - Friday 9th November

“Sofia is hosting a party, we’re going once you’re free from work.” Jeonghan’s voice was gravelly over the phone, and the reception in your office was so bad, you were barely getting every other word.

“Who’s Sofia again?” You asked, hardly paying attention to the question. Instead, your attention was trained on the office door on the other side of your office, where your coworker, Eunwoo, resided. You just watched as two senior partners had stepped in, and it had been now 26 minutes since the door closed. Were they going to promote him over you? Or perhaps he was getting fired? You had seen him grab one too many pens from the office storage room, he could have been selling them to make a bit of side money. Probably not. But could he?

“Vernon’s sister, try to keep up.”

“Right yeah, sister.”

“Who’s sister?”

“Umm…”

Jeonghan sighed on the phone, and you winced at his tone. “You’re working too hard. Or overthinking. One of the two. Either way, you need this party.”

“I’ve got so much work to do, Hannie.” You told him, taking note of the time. There were two shadows by the base of Eunwoo’s door. Someone’s feet? Was the meeting over yet?

“But it’s a Friday! You can work on the weekend. I’ll drive you, and I’ll stay sober so I can take you home. Besides, Joshua is going to be there.”

You perked up at the sound of his name. “Really? He’s actually coming?”

“Yeah, he called me earlier to make sure you and I were coming, and I told him you were. You don’t wanna flake on him, do you?”

You sighed. Your resolve was always diminished when Joshua was involved.

“Fine.” You smiled, imagining Jeonghan celebrating on the other side of the line. “I have to stay back late though, can you bring me a change of clothes? Something comfy though.”

“Got it, I’ll bring dinner and your sexiest ensemble. Bye!”

“Wait-“

Day 7 (cont.)

Just like he promised, at 7:43, Jeonghan showed up at your office door, with your clothes (which were a lot tighter than you would have liked) in a bag and a pizza box in the other. He settled on the other side of your desk as you finished up, and listened as you bitched about the meeting Eunwoo had which lasted a whole 34 minutes, which is insane for what looked like an unscheduled meeting, and were they really going to pick Eunwoo over you? I mean he’s a good lawyer but the pens!

Eventually he managed to get you to stop talking and follow him to his car before driving you over to Sofia’s new place. She had just moved, to a much more relaxed neighbourhood, hence the big party. While you and your friends were close to or had just reached their 30s, with you being on the cusp at 29 (Jeonghan is old and is already in the decade ahead of you, a fact you have mentioned to him several times), Sofia was still in her early 20s, and that was definitely reflected in the party she had set up (with the help of Vernon, who was perpetually stuck at 16). Music was blaring from the house, and you silently cursed Jeonghan for dragging you out. You knew exactly how this party was going to end - with you drunk, having embarrassed yourself in at least three different ways, and passed out somewhere to nurse a major hangover in the morning. At least this time Jeonghan would stay sober, true to his word, and could take care of you. Hopefully that comes with making sure you don’t embarrass yourself, but you wouldn’t bet on it.

You instinctively reached for his hand as Jeonghan led you to the house, and you were reminded of your job. This was a big party, your friends would be there, you had to play the role you were given. Beside you, Jeonghan was reminded of the same fact.

You almost forgot everything as you approached the front door, and saw him waiting for you. Joshua waved you over, and you felt the air knocked out of you as you and Jeonghan walked up and he engulfed you two in his arms.

“I heard you guys finally started going out! Took you long enough to ask them out, Jeonghan.” Joshua’s voice was honey mellow and so soothing, you were sure just like honey it was antibacterial. You hadn’t even entered the house, and you already felt drunk on his touch. Yet your heart seemed to drop at the fact that Josh didn’t seem at all jealous or upset at this development. That’s probably a good thing? But it definitely wasn’t the outcome you wanted.

“We should get Y/N to the kitchen, I’m sure they want something to get their mind off of work.” Jeonghan told Joshua, who let you slip out of his arms as he led the two of you inside the house.

“Tough week Y/N?” Joshua asked delicately, placing his hand on your shoulder, and every worry you had seemed to drain away, only for the reminder of Eunwoo’s closed door to come right back.

“Just feel like I’m putting in effort that will never be recognised.” You grumbled, and leaned closer into Jeonghan’s side. Joshua’s sweet gaze reminded you of your goal: you wanted so desperately for him to be jealous, so you nuzzled your forehead against Jeonghan’s bicep. “Luckily I’ve had my boyfriend here to make everything better.”

You don’t think you could ever get used to that word, and evidently neither could Jeonghan, who felt as though he was choking on air. You felt the vibrations of his discomfort, but Joshua didn’t seem to notice.

“Ahh, young love. Or, I suppose newfound love. I really am surprised you two didn’t start dating earlier.” Seungcheol’s voice suddenly permeated the air, and you watched as he settled next to Joshua, facing you and Jeonghan with a friendly gaze. “You drinking tonight, Jeonghan?”

“Designated driver.” He told him, running his thumb up and down your arm. Jeonghan didn’t miss the way Joshua looked at that small action, and he felt a glimmer of pride under his skin. “I think Y/N will want a drink though?”

“Oh god yes, Seungcheol, will you mix me something? Put those bartender days to use.” You hooked your arm around Seungcheol’s and let him guide you to the drink station (Sofia’s kitchen island which had a cupboard fully stocked with alcohol and mixers).

“Wow, you and Y/N.” Joshua smiled, and Jeonghan grinned coyly at his friend. “Why’d you finally ask them out?”

He stole a glance to you and Seungcheol. You didn’t notice his gaze, and why would you? You were too far away. But you seemed so in your world, like you always had been, something Jeonghan found endearing.

“Just realised I wanted more. Didn’t want to lose them to someone else.”

“As if you would ever lose Y/N, you two are stuck together. Honestly, I was a little jealous of it growing up, they would always pick you over me, guess this is another case of that.” Jeonghan hadn’t realised until now how Joshua’s skin was tinted pink, the blush of alcohol settling over his cheekbones. Was that why he was rambling like this? “But then I realised I had to find my own Y/N, make my own soulmate. Anyway, I’m glad you finally asked them out!”

Joshua stumbled back towards the drink station where you and Seungcheol were waiting for him. Yeah, Jeonghan wasn’t too sure he would be able to make Joshua jealous. But he owed it to you to try anyway. You weren’t always as aware as you wanted to think you were, but Jeonghan was, and he was acutely aware of the way you froze and smiled as Joshua approached you.

Over a decade had passed since you were seventeen, and you were still completely whipped for Joshua Hong.

Jeonghan knew this, he went into this knowing it, but why did it feel different now?

Day 7 (cont.)

Two hours in and you were officially drunk. It didn’t take much - you were out of practise from your days of drinking through the night as an undergrad, and too often your nights our were at charity functions and galas where you had to stay on the safe side of tipsy, and not let loose like you were currently doing.

You had lost Jeonghan a while ago, instead having spent most of the night with Joshua, catching up and taking shots together. He’d been having a stressful time at his own firm, and was happy to accompany you as you drank your worries about Eunwoo and making partner away.

“It’s just so stupid, cause Eunwoo is my age! He’s not more qualified than me, and he’s definitely not a better lawyer than me, cause he steals pens!”

“You mentioned the pens!”

“It’s important!”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek as you drunkenly recalled the events of the day, and before it several more followed. Joshua didn’t notice, you made no sound, but the stress of being at the office for 53 hours this past week only to get no recognition became so overwhelming so quickly, too quickly for your drunken self to register.

“Josh, did you make Y/N cry?”

You barely registered that Jeonghan had walked up to you until you heard his voice, the voice you had been missing for the whole party.

“H-Hannie…” You choked out in sobs, reaching your arms out for him. He obliged, pulling you close to him, letting you cry into his torso.

“Y/N, you’re crying?” Joshua questioned, but you could barely hear him, your face pressed against the fabric of Jeonghan’s shirt. It wasn’t a comfortable position, to cry sitting down into someone’s chest, but right now you weren’t thinking about that.

“Hannie w-where did you g-go, I miss- I missed you.” You sobbed, barely sounding out the words. “St-stupid Eunwoo and h-his stupid pens.”

Jeonghan cooed, running his hand through your hair soothingly. “Maybe we should go home? You need to get to bed. Josh, I’ll see you tomorrow? Say goodnight to Seungcheol for me.”

Jeonghan grasped your hand, pulling you up, and guided you out of the house to the car.

“Why are we l-leaving?”

“You’re way too drunk. Besides, we’re helping set up Wonwoo’s venue tomorrow, better get some sleep.” Jeonghan reminded you, tucking you into the passenger’s seat and clipping the seat belt around you. You hummed, shuffling until you felt comfy, and curled up as close as you could. Your eyes fluttered closed as the car started, and soon you felt yourself dozing off, the salty tears slipping past your lips.

“You’re such a good boyfriend, Hannie.”

Had you not been so drunk, maybe you wouldn’t have said it so easily. Maybe he would have felt more uneasy about the term. He hadn’t even noticed it until you were well and truly passed out, gone to the world.

Day 8 - Saturday 10th November

The streaming sunlight that peeked through your blinds was enough to awaken the deep nausea within you, yet the banging in your head begged you to stay in bed. This was such a gross hangover, and one you hadn’t had to deal with in years.

Who let you drink this much?

With as much strength as you could muster, you stumbled to the bathroom, luckily you had an ensuite, and felt the contents of your stomach escape up and out through your throat into the toilet bowl. The base of your throat burned, and so did your eyes, as more tears threatened to escape over the fiery sensation. You stayed there, waiting for another wave of nausea, when you felt Jeonghan’s hands push back the hair from your face, and rub your back soothingly.

“Why did I drink so much…” You whispered, your voice hoarse and sore.

“You’re just too out of practise, Y/N.” Jeonghan told you, pulling you up slowly. “You need to spend more nights drinking with me and not at the office.”

He handed you a glass of water, which you greedily took from his hands, gulping it down as fast as you could without suffocating, until you went to fast and started coughing it all up.

“God you’re a mess when you’re hungover.”

“Thanks, Jeonghan.”

He grabbed the box of panadol in your bottom cupboard drawer, handing it to you. God, he was far too familiar with your apartment, although you were fairly familiar with his. Well, actually not quite as familiar, because he still has a roommate (and according to Jeonghan, they are necessary for the nicer apartment he lives in on his salary, even though you’ve told him is useless since he spends most of his time here) that you never wanted to bother.

“We have to be at Wonwoo’s venue in three hours, you think that’s enough time to get ready?” You nodded, swallowing the pills quickly.

“That should be enough time for the panadol to kick in.”

“Good, because I’m only being this nice to you until then.”

You frowned mockingly. “Don’t you have to be the sweet and caring boyfriend?” You cringed at the way that word sounded as it came out of your mouth, and watched as Jeonghan did too. “God, I don’t think twenty days is enough time to get used to that.”

“I don’t think a lifetime is enough time.” Jeonghan let himself out of the bathroom, leaving you alone on the tiled floor. “Take a shower, then come and get some food!” He yelled, and you closed the door behind you, terrified of whatever horror he had cooked up (and you used the term cooked very loosely here).

Day 8 (cont.)

It had become a tradition for you to start holding hands with Jeonghan when he would drive you. Somewhere along the car ride, his hand met yours, and they joined, not a word to be said. You didn’t think about it. You wondered if he did.

The venue wasn’t too dissimilar to last week, but it was way cleaner. Once again, you and Jeonghan were separated, sent to do different jobs under the watchful eye of Minghao (and his faithful minions Jun and Jihoon).

“Do you think he gets stressed out or is he just like that?” Sakura whispered to you. She was friends with Wonwoo’s fiance, and wasn’t all too familiar with Wonwoo’s friends. You felt for her, most of the people here were on his side, and you were one of the only people Sakura knew here, having met previously in university.

“Both? He is a little bit like that, but Wonwoo is a close friend, I think he just wants everything to go well.” You told her in hushed breath. “We all want it to go well. Wonwoo is such a good guy, so is Eliza.”

“I know!” Sakura gushed, a little loud but not enough to catch the attention of Minghao. “They’re so cute together, I was so excited when she told me she finally got engaged.”

You smiled, making marks with electrical tape at each measure for Seungcheol to place chairs at later on.

“What about you though? Are you going to get engaged any time soon?”

You gulped, feeling awkward under the heat of her questioning gaze. “Jeonghan and I have only started dating, marriage is so out of the picture right now.”

“Don’t be modest! Chan told me you and Jeonghan have basically been together since high school.”

“That’s an exaggeration.” You told her, not meeting her eyes. It felt so strange, so deceitful, to keep up this lie. Were you a bad person for this? It was harmless, just a little lie to keep Jeonghan from Jiwon, but it followed you everywhere.

“We were just friends back then.” We’re just friends now. “We’ve just always been close.”

“Uh huh, and did you have feelings for him all this time?”

Wrong guy.

“I’ve always loved him.” You told Sakura, and she began to giggle once more.

That one wasn’t a lie. You have loved Jeonghan for a very long time. It’s just always been a platonic, simple love. You wondered if it still was, and then you wondered why it wouldn’t be.

But it was clear that no matter what it is, it was no longer simple.

Day 11 - Tuesday 13th November

“Hello?”

“Y/N! It’s Wonwoo.”

“Oh, hey Wonwoo! What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing! Look, I know I haven’t been hanging out much-“

“Stop, don’t apologise! You’ve been planning a wedding, and we’re all so excited for it!”

“You’re too sweet, Y/N. Anyway, I wanted to congratulate you and Jeonghan!”

“Oh, you heard?”

“Can’t stop hearing about it. Mingyu was being a little pissy when he found out, kept saying this must have been why you didn’t like him back in year 12, instead of the fact that he face planted into a pool in front of the entire year group two days before he confessed to you.”

“I forgot about that!”

“Don’t worry, I put him in his place.”

“Ahh, thank you Wonwoo.”

“Of course. How did it go, by the way? Who asked who out?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna waste your time…”

“No no! Eliza wants to know too, go on.”

“Ahh, well, we were just hanging out one night and… one thing led to another…”

“My god did you fuck him on your leather couch because that poor piece of furniture has seen more than enough-“

“No! No, we made out, jesus Wonwoo.”

“Sorry, sorry, go on.”

“Wait what do you mean seen more than enough?”

“Okay you didn’t hear this from me but you should ask Soonyoung what he got up to that week two years ago when he was house sitting for you.”

“Oh god oh god...”

“Anyway the story?”

“I’m burning that couch.”

“Moving on.”

“Right, well we realised we both had feelings for each other, so we just decided to go for it.”

“That’s so cute! That reminds me of when we were all in uni, I got this call from Jeonghan in the middle of the night-“

“Sorry Wonwoo, the doorbell’s just rung, that’ll be Jeonghan. Do you wanna say hi?”

“Nah, I should get back to wedding planning. Have a good night Y/N!”

“Night Wonwoo.”

You hung up the phone as your door opened, Jeonghan’s figure standing in the doorway.

“I got kebabs!”

You ran up to rip the food out of his hands. “God I love you.”

He grinned smugly. “I know. Let’s eat!”

“Don’t sit there!”

Day 12 - Wednesday 14th November

cheolie_cherries: you guys are sickeningly cute 🤮 🤮 sunshineseok: about time you started dating! julijuli33: oh my god he’s actually taken 😭 good for y/n but we lost today wonworld: congrats guys!!

You couldn’t help but smile at the comments on Jeonghan’s instagram post of the two of you. There was a sneaky one he had taken of you working (which you had called and immediately asked him to take down, and of course he refused), as well as the kiss photo, to really prove the two of you were dating. Looking at it now sent flutters to your stomach. You had never seen yourself like this. Sure, you had dated, but it never really got all that serious, and you weren’t one for PDA, so photos like this were rare. That was probably what was causing this feeling. Right?

“Earth to Y/N.”

You snapped your head up to see Eunchae, your newest paralegal, at the doorway between your office and the hallway, grinning at you with a stack of files in her hand. She walked in, placing them on your desk.

“These need to be checked for errors.” She told you, and you waved her off.

“Got it. Anything else I can help you with?”

“Hmm, you could tell me what it is that’s on your phone making you look so giddy?”

“Nothing!” You quickly yelled, cringing at the volume your voice was raised to. “It was nothing, just having a good morning.”

“Mmm, sure…” She smiled knowingly at you, before walking away, closing the door softly behind her. When you heard the click of the door, you groaned, letting your body fall against the desk. That was too close.

Why were you even ogling? You had work to do, and you would be damned if you spent too long staring at your phone and it cost you the promotion.

They were announcing the newest junior partner next Friday, making the decision at the end of this week. You had to win. So you turned your phone onto silent and placed it face down on the furthest corner of your desk, burying your head into the paralegal’s work. No matter how much it beckoned you back, you would not lose.

Day 15 - Saturday 17th November

When you and Jeonghan stepped into Wonwoo’s venue the Saturday before the wedding, you were practically expecting a fairytale, and that’s almost what you saw. Minghao had dedicated so much time, you knew Eliza and Wonwoo would be so shocked when they finally saw the finished product.

Still, there was much to be done, and with less and less time, everyone was rushing even more to get as much as they could done. This time, you and Sakura were stringing up fairy lights across the pews for the optimal mood lighting, as Minghao called it, and a fire hazard as Jihoon called it (so they compromised to have it on the ceiling above the pews, meaning you had to stand on a 3 decade old ladder while Sakura tried her best to guarantee it didn’t collapse).

You slowly got down from the stairs, guided down by Sakura, when you saw Joshua waiting for you, and you felt your heart beat out of your chest.

“Hey Y/N, can I borrow you for a sec?” He asked, his deep brown eyes looked through you, as if they knew all your secrets.

“Yeah, I mean, Sakura do you…?”

“No, go ahead, I need a break anyway.”

Joshua offered you his arm, to which you took, and he led you to the corridor, secluded, hidden from prying eyes.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” You asked, waiting for Joshua as he glanced away from your view.

“Look, I really am happy for you, I promise,” He began, and you recoiled slightly, holding your elbows. What was he going to say? “But I’m questioning Jeonghan.”

“Like, as a person?”

“No, as a boyfriend.” The word dripped with malice from Joshua’s lips. “Look, I know you’ve only just started going out, but he went out with a lot of people before you,”

“So did I.”

“Yeah but that’s not the point, Y/N. I’m just saying, he’s putting on this whole show of being a good boyfriend, and being faithful and kind, but he never has been before.” You stood there silently, rocking slightly, but it didn’t seem to stop Joshua. “He’s known you practically all his life, he could have had you at any point, why now? And why is he suddenly acting so different compared to his past relationships?”

Joshua put a hand on your arm gently. “I’m not trying to hurt you, but if I were you, I’d be more suspicious of his motives.” He began rubbing circles into your forearm. “I love you, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“What about Jeonghan? Don’t you care if he gets hurt?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“He’s not the one I’m most worried about.”

You stepped back, and Joshua’s hand quickly dropped from your arm. “I need to go.”

You turned away, and walked back to the venue before he could say anything.

“Just think about what I said, Y/N!” Joshua yelled behind you, but that was the last thing you wanted to do.

Day 15 (cont.)

You were quiet the rest of the day, feeling more drained from that interaction than the intense physical labour Minghao was making you do (maybe it was the combination of both that killed you). You don’t think anyone noticed, aside from Sakura, who realised you weren’t talking but didn’t say much, but you were terrified of someone else realising, so when Jeonghan approached you with his car keys in his hand you didn’t hesitate to drag him out to the car park before anyone else could follow.

The two of you had been on the road for ten minutes in silence before Jeonghan finally broke it. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Who said anything’s wrong?” You did your best to speak nonchalantly, but Jeonghan didn’t miss the quiver in your voice.

“I’m not an idiot, I can tell when you’re upset.” You were still five minutes from your apartment, you couldn’t dance around it for that long. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Joshua pulled me to the side, asked me if we could talk, and then he told me I should be suspicious of you and your motives.” You admitted, looking out the passenger window. You felt choked up. How could he think like this?

“That’s what you’re worried about, Y/N?” Jeonghan questioned, a slight smile on his lips.

“You’re not?”

“Josh has been super stressed at his firm right? It’s cause one of the senior partners was caught embezzling. That, and he’s the only one of us going to Wonwoo’s wedding without a date.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course he’s going to act weirdly.” He brushed off your concerns with such an ease you forgot why they upset you in the first place. “Don’t take it to heart, I’m sure he’ll get back to normal soon.”

You breathed out a shaky sigh, feeling your doubts subside and settle.

“It’s cute you were so upset though.” He teased, and you groaned, cupping your face with your hands. “You were so worried about what people thought about me, about your boyfriend.”

“Shut up, Yoon.”

“How can I? My partner cares about me too much.”

“I regret everything.”

He chuckled, stopping his remarks as he watched you calm out the corner of his eye. A secondary realisation as to why Joshua was acting like this was on the front of his mind, but it was nowhere near as comforting. No, this thought was one that was now threatening, and could result in losing you forever.

Jeonghan didn’t want to think about the implications of Joshua being jealous. Instead, he focused on you, and the way you stared out the passenger window.

Day 15 (cont.)

“Have you still got that 12-pack at the back of your fridge?”

“Go nuts.” You told him, kicking your shoes off and lying down on the carpet on the floor. You and Jeonghan had made a mutual decision to pretend the couch wasn’t there until after Wonwoo’s wedding, then you could go shopping for a new one, and until then there was always the floor. “I haven’t been drinking much, trying to just get through this wedding and the promotion.”

“How’s that going?” Jeonghan asked, and you heard the faint pop of a bottle opener from your kitchen.

“They said they would make their decision on who would be the next junior partner by the end of the week, and make the announcement the next week. It’s Saturday now, and I haven’t heard anything, so I know what that means.”

Jeonghan settled next to you, handing you an opened beer bottle and clinking it against his own before taking a swig. “Don’t be too worried, maybe they’ll tell you you’re getting the promotion on Monday.”

“Maybe.”

“You give your everything to that firm. They’d be stupid to not want you as partner.”

“They would be stupid! How’s your boss?”

The two of you spent your evening reminiscing and complaining (two of your favourite pastimes) as you drank more and more, getting gradually more drunk, unlike on the night of Sofia’s party where you got embarrassingly shitfaced way too quickly. At some point in the night, you had cozied up to Jeonghan, and now you were nuzzled up in his arms, too comfortable to even consider moving.

“God, this whole thing is so stupid!” You yelled, throwing your pillow across the room with as much force as you could gather, sending it a few feet ahead of you. “We gotta fake date to get people off your back and onto mine, meanwhile Joshua’s not gotten jealous once and we haven’t even seen Jiwon!”

“Don’t say her name three times, or she’s gonna appear.” Jeonghan told you, wide eyed, taking a quick look around the room just to confirm she wasn’t there.

“Pussy.”

“She’s coming to the rehearsal dinner though!” Jeonghan told you, wagging his pointer finger in the air, making you giggle. “And that’s Friday, so it’s coming up soon.”

“Ahh the rehearsal dinner. What are we rehearsing again?”

“We’re rehearsing how to fake date, Y/N, we’ve been over this.”

“And we have a whole dinner for it?”

“Yes! How kind of Wonwoo.”

You burst into fits of laughter, lolling your head into the crook of Jeonghan’s shoulder as you laughed, and he followed suit. Moments like this were ones where you felt so comfortable with him, like the bubble was intact once more.

“We should start rehearsals now!” Jeonghan exclaimed, grabbing your elbows excitedly. “What do people in relationships do?”

You shrugged, and his arms moved with your shoulders. “I don’t know, you’re basically my first boyfriend.”

“Well you’re the first time I’m being a boyfriend.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted, giggling. The two of you were so far gone, and neither of you had the capacity to realise it. “But I know people in relationships kiss! Kiss me Y/N!”

“Ew gross, you have cooties.” You pushed away his pouted lips.

“No I don’t! I’m vaccinated against cooties!” He whined, pulling you closer to him.

“What if I have cooties?”

“Just kiss me!”

Jeonghan grabbed your face, guiding it to his own, where his lips met yours in a kiss. It was delicate, a kiss for the sake of kissing, and you relished in the feeling. There was a comfort to kissing Jeonghan, a comfort you hadn’t felt for several years. He was comfort, and his kisses were a perfect specimen of that comfort. Kissing him was returning home after a winter’s day.

But decisions were sobering, and the feeling of your lips against his suddenly drained all the alcohol from Jeonghan’s body. He pulled away slowly to see you still half lidded, barely aware of your surroundings. He stole a glance at the clock on the wall, 2AM. Maybe the two of you should end the night here, before you did something you couldn’t go back from.

“Time to sleep, Y/N.”

“Don’t wanna.” You shrugged him off. “Wanna kiss you more!”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Me too. But we can’t.”

As he tucked you into bed, you were already on the verge of passing out, but he was wide awake. Jeonghan found himself hoping the hangover would be a bad one, a distraction from the memories he knew would flood back. He didn’t need to be reminded of how stupid he could be.

Day 16 - Sunday 18th November

Your hangover wasn’t as bad as last Saturday, but you still didn’t feel like dealing with the pounding headache. This time, as you went to wash your face and drink water in the bathroom, there was no Jeonghan to hold your hair back and give you panadol. He wasn’t in the kitchen causing a mess (cooking) either. No, your apartment was strangely quiet without his presence. As the pain in your head began to subside, you checked your phone to see a message sent three hours prior.

Hannie: work emergency - had to leave early. drink lots of water <3

Something felt so off about the message. Jeonghan’s boss was fairly laidback, and he had never had work emergencies that made him go to the studio on weekends. But you were also way too hungover to question it.

You hoped Jeonghan’s hangover had already passed.

Day 18 - Monday 20th November

You called Jeonghan twice. It went to voicemail both times.

Day 19 - Wednesday 21st November

There was a flurry among the paralegals that day. You tried to ignore it, to keep your head down, but the amount of papers flapping in the air made you feel like there was a hoard of pigeons down the corridor. You hated the ‘open door unless in a meeting’ policy at work: half of the lawyers your level didn’t even follow the rule anyway. You wouldn’t have followed it had you not wanted so desperately to show what a good team member you were, and yet here you were, on a Wednesday afternoon, with nothing to show you it.

There was an annoying rap against your open door, and you briefly lifted your head to see Cha Eunwoo leaning against your doorframe. Eugh. Cha Eunwoo. The two of you were in the same cohort: graduated from high school in the same year, graduated from uni at the same time, went to the same law school, and both went straight to Kim-Byun Legal Services, where you’ve spent the entirety of your careers. And throughout law school and now work, you have wanted to beat Cha Eunwoo no matter the cost, and you never managed it.

“Can I help you? I’ve got quite a bit of work to complete.”

Eunwoo waltzed right in, taking the seat in front of your desk. “I have news, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Do I even get a chance to say no? Not interested?”

Eunwoo was smart. You were smart too, but you liked to think (and Jeonghan liked to tell you) that you were smarter than most of those law students you competed against. Sure, they studied hard, they were good lawyers. But you were quick witted, and they couldn’t keep up. Eunwoo could. If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t be opposed to playing dirty, to pulling little tricks where you could to show him up, but Eunwoo would catch on. The only thing he didn’t seem to notice was how desperate you were to beat him. He never realised the battle you constantly fought, and it killed you. So you had to work twice as hard, three times as much, and play by the rules, just to win a challenge where you were the only one competing.

“I made partner!”

(At this point you stopped writing. This was the first time Eunwoo had ever managed to completely distract you.)

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone before Friday, that’s when they’re announcing it. But I get the new contract this evening, and you and I came in together, I know you would tell me if it was you!”

No shit you would. You would love to act all classy and poised, only to rub it in his face that you won! You did better! But no, Eunwoo won. Throughout everything, this was the first concrete time he’s won, and it’s shattered your reserve. You’re a good actor though, something that helped you get through this job, so you keep your head down.

“That’s great Eunwoo, congratulations. We’ll celebrate properly next week, I’ve got a rehearsal dinner on Friday though.” You met his gaze with a smile, even though there was rage behind it. Eunwoo didn’t seem to notice. “Now, I’ve got to get back to work.”

He nodded, barely containing his grin, shuffling out of your office. “See you later Y/N.”

God you wanted to cry. You wanted to yell and scream, cursing the world, the senior partners, and most of all Cha Eunwoo, who had showed you up once more.Your composure was slipping, a veil that threatened to fall off your head and reveal your facade to the world, but you refused to lose it at work. Instead, you closed the door as gently as you could, and hoped to god that the third time you called him, Jeonghan would pick up.

“Please, please, please pick up…” You whispered, as if you were summoning him.

“Hey, this is Jeonghan. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

Fuck. Voicemail. Once again.

You heard a beep and considered hanging up, but instead decided to send a message.

“Hey, um, I don’t know if you’re just busy, or you’re mad at me, I really hope it’s not the second. I haven’t heard from you in a while. That’s why I’m calling, I guess. Oh, and I’m not gonna be partner. I got passed over for it. Cha fucking Eunwoo made partner. Fuck. Sorry, I’m rambling now. I hope you’re doing okay? You know you can always come to me, but if you don’t want to that’s okay I guess, I’ll leave you be.”

Day 19 (cont.)

When you went home that day to punch your pillows and scream about Cha Eunwoo, the last thing you expected was to see Yoon Jeonghan walk in with chicken and beer as if nothing had happened, which was especially strange, as it was so expected on a normal day. But something was off. Something had changed. You just couldn’t quite put your thumb on what it was.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked, your eyes more glassy than you realised. You could barely see Jeonghan, but you knew he had that stupid damn smile. Right now it was infuriating. “Is that why you disappeared?”

“No, never.” He told you, setting the chicken down on your dinner table. “Things really have just been so busy at work, I’ve barely had time for anyone.”

“But you have time to drop by with chicken?”

“Cha Eunwoo is an idiot compared to you.” Jeonghan told you, opening the can of beer with a hiss. “They missed out on not promoting you.”

You didn’t say anything in response, just stuffing your mouth with chicken. Jeonghan passed you a beer can. “Maybe I shouldn’t. I’ve got work in the morning, and last time we drank I didn’t remember anything after we started bitching about that one actor, Park Sunwoo.”

Jeonghan smiled at you, but you barely noticed, your expression trained on the can in front of you.

“Yeah, I don’t remember either,” He told you. “But one can’t hurt. We drank way too much last time, I’ll keep you in check.”

You shrugged, opening the can, and clinking it against Jeonghan’s. “Thanks boyfriend.” The metal made a satisfying clank noise, and you missed the way Jeonghan looked over at you. Maybe it’s changed, or maybe you’ve been missing it for a long time.

Jeonghan is your blind spot. You didn’t like surprises, you didn’t like feeling caught out, and you would always make sure you weren’t, until it came to Jeonghan. No matter how fast you ran, he always seemed to beat you by a few seconds. No matter how strong you were, he could always lift more. You and Jeonghan both had that same competitive drive, but you could never quite match him. As a teenager it pushed you to be better and better, but you’ve come to accept it. You’ll never beat Jeonghan. That’s why it’s always better to be on his side.

You were observant, but you let your guard down around him. That was how Jeonghan won. He never let his guard down around anyone. He didn’t need to have it up around you, he didn’t keep secrets from you (and you didn’t keep them from him). But he kept everything close to his chest, and he wouldn’t let himself get caught out at any moment.

You wondered if it was hard for him to never reveal himself fully. You knew he still kept to himself around you. It was the only way he could still play tricks, pull pranks, and he loved it. He wouldn’t stay reserved if he didn’t want to. Still, it’s tough to feel like you can never fully reveal your facade.

But there were moments he did. Like tonight, as he tucked you into bed once you fell asleep, and kissed your forehead with a sweetness he didn’t know was there. Maybe he would reveal it to you one day, but all in good time.

You didn’t like feeling caught out. Jeonghan hated it with everything he’s got.

Day 21 - Friday 23rd November

“How are you feeling about seeing Jiwon?” Jeonghan didn’t answer, but the grip he had on your hand tightened as he stared down at the road.

He and Jiwon were a bad match. He knew that, he knew that from the moment they met and she started talking about having a husband around at home to help with the kids one day. Jeonghan knew he could never be that. Sure, he had daydreamed about settling down, raising a family. Jeonghan could never be the husband Jiwon wanted him to be. Could never be the husband he wanted to become. But she was just so pretty, and she would stare down at him with a feverish grin that just made him weak in the knees, how could he say no to her?

So for three weeks, they went out, which for Jeonghan just meant promises of another day he never intended to keep so he could get back to her apartment. But she fully intended on keeping those promises, and soon she was the one setting up dates, and changing her name in his phone (which really freaked Jeonghan out, because, when did she have access to his phone?) to seem more like a girlfriend. Maybe Jeonghan wanted a girlfriend, but he definitely didn’t want to be a boyfriend, and now he was stuck acting one.

Jiwon didn’t believe him when he told her weeks later that they were incompatible. Why would she? She believed every lie that dripped from his lips, and couldn’t wrap her head around why it suddenly changed overnight. She thought he was lying, just trying to keep her away, but a good girlfriend doesn’t give up so easily.

And so began the midnight calls, the uninvited show ups to his workplace or his apartment (Seungcheol definitely had a fun time telling her off, not that it kept her away), and the letters slid under your door begging for your help getting Jeonghan back. This is what led to the whole thing. She seemed to calm down once Jeonghan posted you on his instagram, but neither of you could predict what she would do when she saw you together.

She was Eliza’s sister in law (Eliza’s brother’s wife’s sister, who just had to attend), so her attendance was expected, and you knew it made Jeonghan all the more nervous, especially in the way he would speed round corners. It didn’t frighten you, but worry for your friend escaped you anyway, and you squeezed his hand whenever the car revved.

Jeonghan pulled into the street along Wonwoo’s house, seeing cars littered along the side, and Jeonghan pulled the car into park. You took his hand off the gear shift and brought it to your lips, kissing it comfortingly. “Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise.”

“You promise?” He took a glance at you, and smiled cheekily. “Well what happens if you break the promise? What do I get?”

“I’ll cook you an actually decent brekkie to apologise, not those rubber pancakes you’ve been serving me these past few weeks.”

“Hey! You love those pancakes!”

“The texture is so chewy and terrible Jeonghan, I’m begging you to just use a recipe.”

“I don’t need one.” He huffed, but he never let go of your hand.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. Honestly, he was right. You did love the pancakes. Of course, they were way too chewy and tasted of nothing without lashings of sugar and lemon, but you loved that Jeonghan had been making them for you all the past mornings you had spent together.

“Cmon, it’s time to head inside.”

The two of you walked hand in hand towards the door, and you could feel the deep breaths Jeonghan took to calm his pulsing heart. He really didn’t want to cause a scene or do anything to ruin Wonwoo’s rehearsal dinner (or god forbid the actual wedding), but he felt so much more secure with your hand in his.

You weren’t surprised to see Wonwoo’s place completely packed. He and Eliza were having a fairly small wedding, but with the sheer number of family members on Eliza’s side, their starter apartment was bursting at the seams. You held onto Jeonghan as tightly as you could, and still you felt like he was slipping from your grasp.

“Y/N! Jeonghan!” A familiar voice greeted you, and you turned to see Jun greet you. You hugged him gently as he started going on about seating plans (there wasn’t much of a plan, with half of the guests eating off of paper plates on the floor, but Wonwoo had made sure to save his nice carpet for you and a few of his friends). “Don’t worry, the two of you are together, of course. Minghao stayed up all night setting up this seating chart.” You scanned your eyes to see who was attending, and saw most of your friends, minus one.

“Is Joshua here?” You cut Jun off with a worried look. “He was acting really weird last Saturday.”

“Yeah, he’s helping out in the kitchen.” Jun told you, pointing down past the archway to where there was (hopefully steam) pouring out. “He seemed fine to me though, he’s probably over whatever it was. Oh! Mingyu’s just arrived. He’s so late, that goddamn best man should have been here an hour ago! Got to run.”

Jun rushed past you, leaving Jeonghan and you hand in hand in the entryway. Jeonghan turned to look at you. “Is this a I want to see Joshua and flaunt our thriving and perfect relationship at him so he gets jealous?”

You pushed his shoulder. “No. It’s an I think I should be avoiding him thing. I’m still a little shocked by what he told me.”

Jeonghan smiled down at you. “Good luck avoiding him when we’re sitting with him at dinner.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you really have to pay more attention to Jun’s rambles. They often contain useful information.”

You groaned, leaning your head against his arm. He smiled, leading you towards the carpet, where Seokmin and Seungkwan were already seated. You waved a hello towards them, not wanting to remove yourself from Jeonghan’s side.

“God these two are way too cute together.” Seokmin spoke, nudging Jeonghan’s side.

You blushed, hiding your face as much as you could. Jeonghan was almost shocked at your display, you were far too good at playing the doting S/O, but it was working. He watched the way Joshua stared at you from the kitchen doorway. He knew without a doubt from the way Joshua looked over at you how jealous he was. That was what he wanted, right?

After a few minutes of small talk, Joshua eventually sat down next to you (even though there was a free space between to Jeonghan and Seokmin, which Jihoon ended up filling, with his husband settling in next to him) and the rehearsal dinner began. Luckily, with Minghao as wedding planner, there was never a free moment for Joshua to steal your attention. Jeonghan wasn’t sure if you or him was more glad about the fact, but he kept an arm around you at all times, separating your shoulder from Joshua’s.

As the dinner went on, with less formality and more people moving around the space to congratulate the future couple and catch up with old friends, your ‘table’ settled into a comfortable talk. Jun was right, Joshua seemed fine, which only made Jeonghan feel more uneasy. It helped settle your nerves though, and Jeonghan realised your grip on his side had loosened, and you were leaning towards Joshua ever so slightly. No one else at the table would realise, but Jeonghan knew, and he was sure Joshua did too.

“Honestly I’m still surprised Jeonghan actually had the guts to ask Y/N out.” Seokmin said offhandedly, and you looked up at Jeonghan with a cute grin. You were so good at playing the role, but why didn’t it feel like a role anymore? Jeonghan must be losing his touch if he was falling for your act.

Joshua took a sip of his wine, smiling as he spoke. “We all thought you two would never get a date before you realised you liked each other. Good thing you finally manned up to it, Jeonghan.”

Your gaze suddenly snapped towards the crowd. “Why does everyone always assume Jeonghan asked me out?” Jeonghan tensed, and everyone surrounding you looked away from your inquisitive gaze. Joshua opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by Jiwon’s commanding presence.

She was so short and petite, keeping to herself, but she walked with such a force that commanded attention. Her eyes were trained not on Jeonghan, but instead focused closely on you.

“And who did ask who out?” She asked sweetly, but you felt your tongue go numb under her gaze.

Jeonghan held you closer to his side, and you settled into him with comfort. “We kissed, and both decided to go for it. It was mutual.”

She hummed, still staring at you. “Well. I’m happy for you two.” And with that, she turned on the ball of her foot, walking away like nothing happened. You let out a shaky breath, and felt Jeonghan do the same. As Seungkwan and Seokmin started hissing gossip about Jiwon, you reached out for Jeonghan’s hand, relishing in the comfort of his touch.

“God she’s terrifying.” You told him in a whisper. “At least it’s over.”

He grinned at you. “Damn, I was looking forward to your breakfast in bed special.”

“You think I’m serving you in my bed? You would spill it everywhere, no way am I cleaning up that mess.”

“You wound me, babe.”

Jeonghan knew Joshua was staring, maybe that’s why when the urge to kiss you overcame him, he took it, placing a kiss on your cheek, as close to your lips as he could get. You let him, only to wonder why well and truly after.

Day 22 - Saturday 24th November

You were awoken by the now familiar smell of Jeonghan’s rubber chicken pancakes, and you followed the smell out to the kitchen.

“How do you always manage to wake up before me?”

“You always sleep in way too late.” He told you, flipping a pancake onto your plate and pushing it towards you. “Last day!”

“Huh?”

“It’s the wedding today. After today, we will no longer be officially dating.”

“Oh, right.”

You didn’t realise how quickly three weeks could pass. There was a strange sense of dread that passed through your system, although you blamed the pancakes. It felt weird that after everything, tomorrow all would be as it was before, as if this whole ordeal never happened.

“We’re gonna have to stage a breakup, of course.” Jeonghan told you, still flipping pancakes. “But we can plan that out tomorrow. In the meantime eat up! We’ll have to leave in an hour.”

You nodded along, feeling too tired to speak so early in the morning (10:30). Jeonghan sat down next to you, shovelling down pancakes as quickly as he could (how he managed to chew through those was a mystery to you) before excusing himself to your bathroom while you continued eating. God, why were these so salty today? Jeonghan’s latest prank, you suspected, but you didn’t have the strength to confront him, especially once you heard the splash of the shower turning on. You began cleaning dishes, not waiting for Jeonghan to finish showering before you stole the hot water, and giggled as you heard his shrieks. Hopefully the wedding would give you a little bit more energy.

Day 22 (cont.)

You and Jeonghan arrived at the warehouse at 11:40. You still had a few minutes before the ceremony would begin, and knowing how these things tended to go, you knew you had plenty of time. You walked hand in hand with Jeonghan, and tried not to think about how this was the last time you would be able to as you settled into a pew. Soon after, Joshua sat down next to you, clearly dateless. He didn’t say anything, and aside from a nod of recognition, you didn’t say anything to him either, instead choosing to rest your head on Jeonghan’s shoulder.

Silence is comforting, whenever it’s done right. With you and Jeonghan, silence never felt awkward, it was just a frame of being with him. It was relaxed, you felt no need to fill the air with meaningless speak. Your silence was interrupted as Seungcheol ran up to Jeonghan.

“Han, we need your help. Wonwoo can’t find his cufflinks, he’s dropped them somewhere, and it is freaking Mingyu out, please come look.”

Jeonghan looked at you, but you smiled. “Go help them. I’ll be right here.” He hurriedly followed Seungcheol to Wonwoo’s dressing room, cursing him under his breath.

You were left alone with Joshua, and the silence suddenly felt suffocating. It didn’t seem to bother him, as he spoke quietly about the venue. “Isn’t it all so gorgeous? Minghao really did a great job pulling this off.”

You hummed, leaning over to point out the fairy lights strung along the ceiling. “See those? That was all me.”

“Ahh, I was wondering. They’re my favourite.”

You smiled, and Joshua turned to face you properly. “I’m sorry about what I said, Y/N. I didn’t mean to scare you. I think I was just jealous.”

Your eyes widened. You felt strangely off guard. “Jealous?”

“Yeah. I just broke things off with Heejin, and then having not dated anyone seriously in, I think ever, Jeonghan suddenly lands a great person like you.” He admitted shyly, squeezing your shoulder with his hand.

“I landed him, too.” You reminded him, but you could barely process what you were saying as you realised he hadn’t moved his hand.

“Of course. You two are good together.” He told you, and you smiled.

“We are.”

Day 22 (cont.)

The pop of a champagne bottle was one you couldn’t miss. As you entered the reception hall, your eyes gravitated towards the bar, and you pulled Jeonghan along with you.

“I can’t believe how many of our friends are married now.” You told Jeonghan as you waited for the bartender to return with your drinks (or water, in Jeonghan’s case. He was determined to stick to his word until the very end). “First Seungcheol, then Soonyoung - who even saw that one coming - then Jihoon and now Wonwoo.”

“We’re getting into that phase of our lives.” He shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”

“Yeah but what about you and me? We’ve never even properly dated.” You pouted. “What happens when they all leave us?”

“Then we’ll have each other.” He told you. “Have you already started drinking? The reception’s only just begun.”

You grinned sheepishly. “We got here late! Anyway, it’s been such a hellish few weeks! Let me have this.” The bartender approached you with a shot glass that you quickly downed, and you pulled Jeonghan to your assigned seats (next to each other, of course). You were greeted by the same table as the night before, and you waved to Seokmin and Jihoon who sat opposite you.

“Where’s Joshua?” You asked, and giggled when Seungkwan pointed towards the flailing figure on the dance floor.

“He’s already drunk and living his best life.”

“Good for him!”

At the mention of his name, Joshua stumbled over, grabbing your hands in an attempt to pull you to the dance floor with him. You looked over at Jeonghan, your boyfriend for only a few more hours, but he waved you off. “Go enjoy yourself.”

You grinned, letting Joshua lead you. Jeonghan smiled as he watched you, his chest tugging with a strange feeling.

“Why’d you let him take Y/N?” Jihoon asked. “You know he likes them.”

The tugging in his chest felt stronger, but Jeonghan ignored it. “As long as they’re having fun.”

It doesn’t matter anyway. They like him too.

Seokmin and Seungkwan eventually joined them, and Jihoon and his husband went dancing as well. Jeonghan instead placed his attention on his phone, flipping through all the stories of Wonwoo’s wedding venue he had been tagged in. There was one, posted by Soonyoung, that he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from. You were in the corner, next to Jeonghan, and there was something so sweet about the way you stared at him. It was dangerous, convincing him of something that wasn’t real.

“Hey Jeongie.”

Jeonghan looked up to see Jiwon, sat in the seat that once belonged to you. She had that same cat like gaze that made him fall for her initially, but now he felt nothing. He really was bad at committing, he couldn’t even commit to finding Jiwon attractive.

“Hi Jiwon. What are you doing here?”

She cooed, running her hand up and down his arm, much to Jeonghan’s discomfort. He looked away, breaking the eye contact she was trying to keep.

“Did you leave me for Y/N?” She asked, tutting under her breath. “I remember everything you told me, how they’ve never really dated. They’re not partner material, Jeongie, I am.”

“I didn’t leave you for Y/N,” He began, a shiver trailing up his spine. “We ended it because I didn’t want to date you any more. Y/N came after that.”

Jiwon leaned close, her lips barely separate from Jeonghan’s ear, and he couldn’t lean any further back in his chair. “Maybe not for long. They don’t seem to like the way we’re talking.”

Jeonghan tore Jiwon’s hand from his arm, looking to the dance floor to see tears close to spilling out of your eyes. When you met his gaze, you ran away, not willing to let him see you like this. Why did it feel this way? Joshua glared at Jeonghan, and quickly followed you as you ran down the corridor.

“Jiwon just stop!” Jeonghan raised his voice, cringing at the volume (and the heads that turned towards the commotion). “It’s over, just leave me alone, please.”

He ignored her whimpered sobs as he got out of his seat and scrambled to find you, but the sounds of Jiwon crying made him feel awful. He didn’t exactly handle their relationship well, and he wasn’t handling what was left of yours well either.

As he ran to find you, his heard lurched when he heard your own voice muffled by cries.

“It’s s-so dumb…”

“Clearly he was just trying to make her jealous, Y/N.” What was Joshua telling you?

“He wasn’t doing that.”

“You don’t deserve someone who will use you.”

Jeonghan couldn’t deny the guilt those words caused on his poor heart. Sure, you knew what was happening, but he was still using you, wasn’t he? It was his idea to start this whole fake dating thing.

“I wouldn’t use you like that.”

“Josh…”

Just as he had caught up to the sound of your voice, Jeonghan caught a glimpse of you in Joshua’s embrace, with his lips on yours. And his aching heart shattered.

You pulled away from Joshua to see Jeonghan’s forlorn expression, a sight you don’t think you had ever seen before.

“Hannie, I promise, it’s not what it-“

“Looks like? What a cliche Y/N.” He scoffed, moving away from you.

“Hey man, I kissed them.” Joshua spoke, dropping a protective arm over you, one that weighed you down and you wriggled out of quickly. “Besides, serves you right for using Y/N to make Jiwon jealous.”

“You’re so fucking stupid Joshua.” Jeonghan spat. “They were using me to make you jealous, looks like it worked, huh?”

“No, Jeonghan, wait-“

“Deal’s off, Y/N. We’re no longer dating.”

And he ran. And no matter how fast you ran too, you knew you wouldn’t be able to catch up to him.

Day 23 - Sunday 25th November

You woke up on Wonwoo’s couch with a massive headache and chest pain, although you knew only one of those was due to your hangover. He and Eliza ended up taking you home, luckily they weren’t going on their honeymoon for another week. Wonwoo was rubbing your back as you vomited, and the worst pain was knowing that it would never be Jeonghan doing this role anymore.

“I still don’t get it.” He admitted. “Although most of these weeks have been a blur for me.”

“I’m not really supposed to tell you.” You told him, sipping the glass of water in your hands. “We made these rules.”

“Tell me anyway, because no matter what it is it’s not worth losing him forever.”

You sighed, and settled against the tiled floor. “It’s a long story.”

“It’s a Sunday. Quit stalling and tell me what happened.”

“Fine fine!” You gasped, shoving Wonwoo slightly. “So pushy.”

“You know how Jiwon wouldn’t leave Jeonghan alone?” Wonwoo nodded along with your story. “Well, we knew she would be at the wedding, and Jeonghan really wanted her to take the hint that he wasn’t interested, so we decided to date. Well, fake date. Just to get her off his back.”

“And you agreed to this?”

“I didn’t really want to? But…”

“You were in love with Joshua.” You stared at Wonwoo in shock. He smiled back at you. “You’re not as difficult to read as you like to think you are. Maybe the other idiots we call friends can’t see it, but it was fairly obvious to me.”

“But you didn’t realise Jeonghan and I weren’t actually together?”

“Just continue the story already.”

“Well yeah. Jeonghan convinced me we could make Joshua jealous, so I agreed. We said we wouldn’t tell anyone, and we would post about it online so everyone believed it was real, and then once Jiwon backed off at the wedding, we would call it off.” You recalled the story, rubbing your head as the pain settled and you felt like your skull was cracking open. “God do you have any painkillers?”

“I don’t really get hangovers.”

“You lucky bitch.”

“What happened at the reception, Y/N?”

You cringed at the flood of memories. Most of the time when you got drunk and made bad decisions, your brain saved you the embarrassment of remembering everything. This time, you couldn’t escape the images. Of Jiwon and Jeonghan, of the way Jeonghan looked at you, the way he ran away from you.

“Joshua and I were dancing, and when I looked back I saw Jiwon flirting with Jeonghan.” You gulped, feeling an all too familiar lump in your throat. “And I ran off.”

“Why’d you run?”

“I don’t know. And then Joshua kissed me, and I thought it would be perfect, but it felt wrong.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! And then Jeonghan saw, and I don’t know why but he was so upset, and then he left. He left me, Wonwoo.”

“You really don’t know why he was upset?” Wonwoo questioned, and you met his gaze with a confused expression. “Even after all this time, Jeonghan can still surprise you, wow.”

“What do you know?”

“I know that just like you, Jeonghan is not as difficult to read as he thinks he is.” Wonwoo told you, stroking your hair. “Nine years ago, at 2:30 in the morning, I got a call from Jeonghan, who was so excited because he finally got the nerve to kiss you, and he went for it. And then the next day, nothing. And you two continued this dance around never going out, even when everyone could see how much you liked each other.”

“That’s not true, I don’t like Jeonghan.”

“Then why is Jiwon bothering you? Why did you even agree to this whole thing? There are easier ways to get close to Joshua that don’t involve pretending to date your best friend.”

“I…” For once, you didn’t have anything to say.

“You do know, Y/N. You have to stop acting so blind when it comes to Jeonghan. All the signs are there, you just don’t want to address them.”

He offered you his hand, pulling you up off of the bathroom floor. “Want to know why we all thought Jeonghan asked you out? It’s because we all knew he likes you. It’s actually pretty obvious.”

Day 24 - Monday 26th November

There was a knocking at your door. This wasn’t like Jeonghan’s courtesy knocks before he let himself into your house, this was a gentle knock that barely reverberated through the room.

You walked up to let Joshua into your house. He was shocked to see you like this - tear stricken cheeks, eyes and nose red and running.

“You look…”

“Shit, I know.” You finished for him. “What do you want, Joshua?”

“I wanted to apologise.” He looked over your shoulder expectantly.

“Fine, come in, but you can’t come any further than the entryway. I just don’t want everyone to be spectators of this.”

Joshua followed you in, shuffling awkwardly. He acted as if he had never been in your apartment before. You weren’t entirely sure he had been. You let him shut the door gently behind him, and you leaned against the wall, blocking him from moving any closer in.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you while you were dating Jeonghan. I’m sorry.”

You clicked your tongue, not moving position. “Yeah, that was messed up. You’re Jeonghan’s friend. You’re my friend. I felt like you were just fighting over me to compete with him.”

“Y/N, that’s not true.” He reached his hand out to caress your arm, but you pulled it back.

“What’s even been going on with you?” You asked. “I’ve barely seen you since your breakup, none of us have, and you were a total dick the whole time Jeonghan and I were dating.”

Joshua scoffed, and you gasped at his attitude. “Yeah well you guys weren’t actually together though, right?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does!” He raised his voice as he began to yell. “Why are you upset? It’s not like you were cheating or anything, it wasn’t real.”

“Are you kidding? You didn’t know we weren’t actually together! What’s your excuse?”

“My excuse is that according to Jeonghan, the only reason you were even pretending to date was to make me jealous, and now you’re upset that it worked? I’m jealous. I’m jealous that Jeonghan got to go out with you and play the part of boyfriend, even if it was fake.”

“That’s not the reason.”

“Oh, so you didn’t want to make me jealous?”

He was staring at you with an intensity you hadn’t seen since law school, and it reminded you of the Joshua you once knew. The Joshua you fell for. And as you met his gaze, you realised all your feelings for him were gone. Every desire for him to fall for you like you had fallen for him had dissipated, because you weren’t sure you had ever fallen for him. You loved his drive, maybe that was all you loved.

“I did.”

“So what changed?”

“What do you think, Josh?”

He scoffed, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Of course. Of course I can’t beat him.”

“Joshua…”

“No, just,” He sighed, shuffling away from you. “Why do you always choose him?”

“I don’t, but I’m choosing him now.” You told him, And you were. After twenty two days with Jeonghan, Joshua didn’t feel as important to you anymore.

Joshua turned to leave your apartment. “Josh.” He looked at you, and you met his gaze for the last time. “You should have kissed me all the years I was pining after you, not once I wasn’t an option anymore. Maybe it would have been different.”

He left without another word, and your door shut so gently as he left.

Day 25 - Tuesday 27th November

You hadn’t been blocked. You could still see the messages, you knew he was reading them, he just wouldn’t respond. He wasn’t picking up either.

“Cmon Jeonghan…” You whispered under your breath. “Please just pick up.”

“Hey, this is Jeonghan. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

You groaned at the now too familiar sound of his voicemail. Was he ever going to talk to you again?

Okay, it was kind of your fault. Had it been anyone else, this would have felt so obvious, but you were so oblivious when it came to Jeonghan, and now here you were, pining for your best friend, hoping he would finally return.

“Hey Han,” You started talking, but you had no idea what to say. The only thoughts running through your mind were please just come back to me, but you weren’t sure how to say that without bursting into tears. “I, uh, I really want to talk to you, please. I miss you.”

You hung up, only to find your fingers reaching for the contact once more.

“Hey, this is Jeonghan. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

“Hi again. I want you to know that, umm, I spoke to Wonwoo. He called me an idiot, basically.” You chuckled as you recounted that morning, although you knew Jeonghan probably wouldn’t be laughing as he listened. If he listened. If you two weren’t… wherever this had led you, you know he would probably laugh at that, but he wasn’t here anymore. “I didn’t know. I should have known, but I didn’t, and I just really want to talk to you. Please.”

“Hey, this is Jeonghan. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

“Hey, um, I didn’t like the kiss. The one with Joshua. I think I did kiss him back? But I didn’t like it. I would choose our posed cafe kiss so much sooner than the one he gave me. I don’t even want it. Please talk to me.”

“Hey, this is Jeonghan. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

“It was so stupid of me to be jealous of Jiwon. I know you don’t like her, I just, I was so drunk and stressed out, I freaked out. It was so so stupid, and I’m sorry, but I hope you know that it was jealousy because I wanted to be in her place. God, this is so embarrassing.”

“Hey, this is Jeonghan. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

“I don’t think I like Joshua? I know, drastic turn. I think I just looked up to him, growing up. He’s always been so out of reach and ahead of everyone else, I think I mistook it for love when it wasn’t. I don’t love him.”

“Hey, this is Jeonghan. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

“I know I fucked up. Well, Joshua fucked up most of all, but I shouldn’t have run off like that. But you ran too. You didn’t let me explain. And last week, you disappeared. I know you said you were busy but it felt like you were running from me? And I fucked up because I ran, so you’re no better than me.”

“Hey, this is Jeonghan. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

“Please ignore what I just said. I’m not upset with you. Well, actually, I am. I think I’m mostly upset with myself? Or mostly upset with Joshua? But I’m still a little upset with you. Please can we just talk?”

“Hey, this is Jeonghan. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

“I’ll leave you alone after this one, I promise. I just… I miss you. And I think I need an explanation, because I’ve been clueless about this for way too long.”

“Hey, this is Jeonghan. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

“I love you. In every sense of the word.”

Day 26 - Wednesday 28th November

You felt so strange in front of Jeonghan’s door. Although he spent so much time with you in your house, very rarely would you visit him in his. You and him would always blame his roommate, but truthfully you knew it wasn’t that. Even though Vernon wasn’t the tidiest or most respectful of privacy, you were happy when he was around. No, Jeonghan’s house was a barrier between the two of you, a final wall he had placed to protect himself. And now you were destroying the that sanctity.

You almost felt bad, but you were so desperate for him to talk to you again. Sure, the two of you had arguments, but nothing like this, and you weren’t sure that without drastic measures, you would ever even see Jeonghan again. So here you were, your knuckles rapt against Jeonghan’s door, waiting to see him.

The door swung open, but Jeonghan wasn’t there. Instead stood Vernon, who looked like he had only rolled out of bed at the sound of your knocking. Honestly, had it been true, it wouldn’t have surprised you, despite it being 8:30 in the evening. You had no idea what this boy’s schedule was, if he even followed a set one.

“Oh, hey Vernon.”

“Hey Y/N.’

You shuffled on your feet. You and Vernon were friends - you practically grew up together, why did this feel so awkward?

“Cool party, by the way.” He cocked his head in confusion. “Sofia’s party! Two weeks ago, I know you helped her set it up. It was fun, from what I remember, Jeonghan dragged me along to it and I got very drunk very quickly.” Okay, you were rambling now. That helped. “Speaking of, is he here?”

“He?”

“Jeonghan? Is he home?”

“Nah, he’s um..” Vernon trailed off, and you cringed. Clearly he had told Vernon to ward you away. “He’s staying back late at work. Do you, do you want me to tell him you were here?”

You sighed, feeling your shoulders slump. “Don’t bother. Have a good evening, Hansol.”

“See you around Y/N.”

Vernon let the door shut in front of him, He hated lying, and unlike his roommate, he was absolutely terrible at it.

“If Y/N comes, just tell her I’m out.”

Jeonghan wouldn’t talk to Vernon. He barely spoke to Seungcheol, who was dropping by every night to check up on his friend. He hadn’t seen him for more than a few minutes every day as he left for work and stumbled back home afterwards. All Vernon could hope for was that you solved your issues with him soon. A grumpy Jeonghan was a nightmare, a heartbroken Jeonghan was a ghost.

Day 27 - Thursday 29th November

Eunwoo’s office had been mostly empty for a few days now, but today he picked up the last two boxes to take to his new office, a floor above. Instead of seeing his smug face across from your office door, all you saw was a clean desk, no files or loose papers across the surface like there had been before. It felt like a cruel reminder of what you were so close to gaining. Partnership. Jeonghan. You couldn’t tell which was making you more depressed currently.

You barely noticed when Eunchae walked up to your office, knocking gently against your open door. “You alright, Y/N?”

“Hmm? Yeah I’m fine Eunchae. Can I help you with anything?” You spoke, not lifting your head to meet her gaze. You didn’t want her to see the bags that had formed under your puffy eyes. It’s hard to fall asleep these days.

“I just wanted to say you should have been the next junior partner, not Eunwoo.” She barely whispered, and you understood why. The office behind her was practically haunted by Eunwoo’s cheery spirit. “He’s a good lawyer, but he barely pays attention to us and the newer lawyers. You take good care of us.”

You smiled at her words. “Thanks Eunchae.”

She walked in, letting the door close behind her. You had given up all pretence of following the dumb rules like commandments, and Eunchae caught on quick. “That’s why you’ve been so sad this week, right?”

“That’s.. half of it. How have you noticed?”

She shrugged. “I’m smarter than they are. What’s the other half?”

“Boy troubles, I guess.”

She leaned in. “Is this about your boyfriend? The one you posted on insta?” You nodded, and she smiled, pleased with her detective skills. “What happened?”

“He didn’t tell me he liked me until too late, and now I’m realising that I like him too, but he won’t talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, why doesn’t your boyfriend already know you like him?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Okay..” She trailed off. “Have you told him how you really feel?”

“Yeah, but he won’t talk to me anyway.”

“Tell him again.” She advised. “People are stupid, they don’t believe what’s right in front of him. What have you got to lose, anyway?”

Day 27 (cont.)

“Hey, this is Jeonghan. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

“I don’t want to fill your inbox, so I swear, if you don’t respond to this, I’ll leave you alone forever. But god I’m going to miss you if you leave. You’re such a heartbreaker, Hannie, you’re about to break mine. I’m in love with you. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it. Please just, let me know if you feel the same, or if everyone was wrong. I guess if I don’t hear from you again I’ve gotten my answer. I.. Goodnight, Jeonghan.”

Day 28 - Friday 30th November

You hadn’t heard anything from Jeonghan. All night, you stayed up, staring at your phone, hoping it would light up with a call, a text, anything. God, you would even settle for a subtweet, but nothing. When 5AM hit and the light of dawn peered in through your blinds you had given up. Jeonghan wanted nothing to do with you.

You called in sick to work. It wasn’t difficult, crying will make you sound all stuffy and blocked. You hoped the sniffles that slipped from your lips weren’t understood as what they truly were: forming scars. Whatever, it gave you an excuse to stay in bed all day.

You kept your promise, not to bother Jeonghan again, but couldn’t find it in yourself to delete conversations or photos. Your heart was shattered, and the pieces were lost deep in the text messages he sent, you couldn’t delete them so easily.

You made one phone call, to Wonwoo, when you woke again at 5PM.

“He hates me, Woo. I think I lost him forever.”

“If that’s really the case then he’s an idiot. Just like you.”

You felt no desire to reach out to anyone else, or let anyone know you were alive. You didn’t feel alive. All you wanted was to sink into your mattress and hide from the world. The blankets covering your face would have to do in the meantime. It was a weak shield, but you were hidden all the same, and that’s all you needed.

Someone came to check on you earlier, or perhaps it was just your neighbour. You heard the knocks, but pretended no one was home. They left quickly. You felt so forgettable, so discarded. What a pathetic existence.

9:21 PM flashed across your phone screen, but you didn’t seem to notice it. It was silenced on your kitchen counter, far away from you, because you knew if you kept it nearby you would do something stupid. And you were careful. You needed to be even more careful than before, now that you were nursing a broken heart.

When the knocks on your door sounded you hid even further away. They would go away, they all did. And the knocks did subside, replaced instead by the clink of keys. Fuck, was it your landlord? What was he doing here? The door opened, and you pulled the sheets tight over your head. Hopefully he would just leave.

You heard footsteps slowly lead to your room. Fuck, was this a home invasion? Maybe you should be more scared, but you couldn’t find it in you to do anything but stay in a frozen position. Your bedroom door creaked open, and you felt your heartbeat in your eyes.

This was it. You were going to die, and you couldn’t even see Jeonghan one last time before some stranger took you out in your own home. Well, the apartment you had rented for years. God, you were almost thirty, and you were about to die alone in a starter apartment you never bothered to leave. Why was this world so cruel?

“Y/N.”

Fuck. It wasn’t your landlord. It was Jeonghan. Somehow, when being confronted with the person you’ve been trying to reach for days, your confidence disappears.

“I know you’re not sleeping, Y/N.”

Maybe if you didn’t respond he would go away? Did you even want him to? Why weren’t you doing anything?

“I saw you left your phone in the kitchen. You’ve got a voicemail, by the way. It’s from an hour ago. I’m gonna play it for you, okay?”

“Hey Y/N. It’s me, obviously. I um, you’re right. I shouldn’t have run away. I was being a coward. I’ve been a coward the entire time we’ve been friends, because I don’t know when, but at some point I feel so hopelessly in love with you and I’ve been hiding it this entire time. Fuck, I really need to see you. Can I come over?”

Your protective sheets were pulled from your head, and you were met with the sight of Jeonghan, who’s eyes were as puffy as your own. He smiled down at you.

“You look like shit.”

“So do you.”

“Yeah, well, I was heartbroken.” Jeonghan grinned as he spoke. God, he was so beautiful. “I thought my best friend who I’ve loved for years didn’t love me back.”

You sat up, reaching for Jeonghan’s hand, which he gladly gave you. “Why didn’t you ever tell me before now?”

“Had to protect my fragile heart.” He told you, locking into your eyes. You were frozen in place once more. You had never once thought of Jeonghan as fragile, yet here he was, baring his soul to you, like a glass canary had been placed in your hands. “I was so content to just hide it all my life, watch as you fall deeper in love with Joshua, and then I discovered I really loved being your fake boyfriend. I never thought I would enjoy being a boyfriend, but something about being with you makes it so easy.”

All the walls you swore you would put up had been torn down by Jeonghan before you could even begin construction.

“Besides, what exactly was I supposed to think when you hated our first kiss?”

You gasped. “I didn’t hate it! We both agreed it felt weird the next morning.”

“Sure, I definitely thought that, and wasn’t just agreeing with you to save myself the embarrassment of rejection.”

You cringed as you thought of that fateful day. “I don’t know Hannie, when I woke up that morning things felt as if they had changed, and it scared me.” You blushed, feeling regretful of your naivety. “I was so scared of things changing for the worse I never considered that they could get better.”

Jeonghan’s hand met your jaw, pulling you towards him with such a sense of nostalgia. “What about now? Are you still scared?”

“A little.” You whispered. You didn’t need to say it any louder, you knew he could hear you. “But I don’t want my fears to hold me back any more.”

“Oh yeah? Show me.”

You rolled your eyes at Jeonghan, before doing exactly that, and capturing his lips with your own. No fireworks, no eruptions. Kissing him was the comfort you had craved for years. Jeonghan was your home.

You pulled away from him, letting your eyes flutter open. “That count as proof?”

He hummed. “I don’t know, why don’t you show me again?”

“You’re such a loser, Yoon.” You teased, but did exactly as he wanted.

Day 1 (of forever to come) - Saturday 1st December

This past month had no shortage of you waking with Jeonghan in your apartment, but this was the first time you had woken up beside him, arms tangled together. Your phone was buzzing incessantly under your pillow, and who thought it was a good idea to interrupt your sleep so early in the morning?

Oh, Wonwoo. You should probably give him peace of mind, after everything he’s done for you.

“Hello?” You spoke groggily, trying as best as you could to whisper so as to not wake Jeonghan, still asleep next to you.

“Y/N? Have you seen Jeonghan recently? I know you guys are fighting, but Vernon told me he left last night without saying anything and he’s still not back yet, it’s already 10.”

“Wow, Vernon’s up early on a Saturday. I’m not even out of bed yet.”

Wonwoo hissed through your speakers. “Take this seriously! Your best friend is missing!”

Jeonghan stirred, and before you could say anything, he spoke instead. “Y/N, tell your friend to hush, I’m trying to sleep.”

You stayed silent, and Wonwoo was silenced too.

“Is that…”

“Yeah, he’s here with me. He’s not missing, you can tell Vernon he’s alright.”

“Holy shit! He’s in bed with you?”

“He stayed the night…”

“Get it.”

“Shut up Wonwoo.”

Jeonghan reached his hand over to you. “Lemme talk to him.” You obliged, handing the phone to him.

“Hey Wonwoo, no nothing happened. Well, Y/N confessed their undying feelings for me and told me how incredibly attractive and sexy I am and how I’ve ruined anyone else’s love-“

“JEONGHAN!”

“Yep gotta go, bye Wonwoo!”

You snatched the phone from Jeonghan, only to see the call had already ended. “You snake! Stop badmouthing me to our friends!”

He gasped in mock offense. “Bad mouthing? Never! That’s basically what happened last night, anyway.”

“You’re missing the part where you confessed first.” You reminded him, pushing against his arm, but he resisted your force, instead wrapping his arms around you and holding you as you squirmed. “Let go of me you weasel.”

“Weasel? Are you gonna pay for the damages you’re causing my heart?” He pouted, and you wanted to badly to shove (kiss…) that pout off his face.

“More like ego.”

“Wonwoo has always known how incredibly whipped I am for you, he doesn’t need a reminder.” Jeonghan whispered above you. “Do you?”

You nodded slyly. “You’ve got a decade of reminders to make up for hiding this from me for so long. You better get cracking.”

Jeonghan leaned over to kiss your forehead. “Why rush it? We’ve got the rest of our lives, and I’m going to make sure you never forget just how much I love you.”

AN: i think this is the first time i’ve ever written a happy ending but goddamn i love this fic

+ read the university kiss scene here!!

#caratwritersclub #seventeen fic #jeonghan fic #fake dating au #seventeen fake dating #svt fluff #svt scenario #jeonghan scenario #svt angst #seventeen angst #jeonghan angst #seventeen friends to lovers #yoon jeonghan #joshua #joshua x reader #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you

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thepixelelf · 1 year

Text

Bluff and Nonsense - she/her ver.

genres: romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au pairing: female reader x hoshi words: 17.0k (01:08) warnings: cursing, alcohol notes (orig, 2020): "so the title is fluffy and this was a title fic, but then it ran away on me. I really like this one so... yeah. Enjoy!” update, 2023: this is the she/her version of Bluff and Nonsense. other than the pronouns, nothing else has been changed. you can find the original they/them version here, and the he/him version here

“Soonyoung? Yeah I know him, you should too. He’s on the uni’s dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularity’s skyrocketed. I’ve met him a few times, great guy — got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no one’s perfect. He’s smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?”

Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Kwon Soonyoung is a man of many talents. He’s the guy who could fit a whole orange in his mouth in fourth grade, the guy who always knew how to make the social studies teacher talk about his divorce instead of the world wars, and the guy who brought a live pigeon to school with no one questioning him whatsoever. He’s also the head choreographer of the university’s dance crew — you barely knew there was a dance crew until he showed up with his hand-drawn posters — as well as a totally well-rounded fine arts major. C’mon, who takes a chemistry course in the fine arts? Kwon Soonyoung, apparently.

Of his many talents though, lying is not one of them.

Which is why, when asked if he likes anyone, Soonyoung says your name instead of simply saying “no” (a much better option in hindsight). He actually likes a girl on his dance crew. Cute, funny, has those eyes you can just get lost in — lord knows Soonyoung has. But, at this relatively quiet party, with half the guests crowded on Seungcheol’s couch and the other half on the disgusting carpeted floor of his apartment, Soonyoung can’t admit his real crush because she’s sitting just a few feet away.

It wouldn’t be such a bad lie if you weren’t also sitting a few feet away.

You’re on your phone when he says your name in his heartbeat-induced panic, but you look up at the sound of it, as does Seungkwan, who was reading something on your phone from the beanbag chair you’re both sitting in.

A chorus of low, teasing ‘ooh’s rises throughout the room, almost like it’s eighth grade again and Soonyoung just got called down to the office. Except now, he might actually be in trouble. He gets a few claps on the back from his friends close enough to reach, commending him on his bravado even though he doesn’t deserve it. Really, the whole situation only dawns on Soonyoung after 6.8 seconds, which is a bit too long considering he made the situation in the first place. Blood rushes to his cheeks, not because of the alcohol in his red cup he’s yet to drink, but because you’re looking right at him, and he has no idea what to do.

Soonyoung doesn’t know you very well. In fact, he’d almost say he doesn’t know you at all.

You’re Seungkwan’s friend from one of his classes — computing science, if Soonyoung remembers correctly, but he’s not totally confident. The only reason you came tonight is because of Seungkwan. You don’t know anyone else.

With a tilt of your head, your face scrunches with question, and you look to Seungkwan for help. You know Soonyoung said your name, but you missed hearing the context. It looks like Seungkwan missed it too, seeing as the conversation you two have only makes your brow furrow more as the room chatter picks back up. Everyone else is already over Soonyoung’s sudden confession when Jeonghan starts talking about something else.

Except Soonyoung’s friends, of course. That would be too easy.

Mingyu turns to him with a stupid smile, his cheeks red from both the free opportunity to tease his upperclassman and the light beer he’s been sipping and pretending to get buzzed on all night. He nudges Soonyoung with his shoulder where they sit on the floor, leaning in to speak under the conversations surrounding them. “You didn’t tell me you like her,” he says, the jesting tone in his voice clearer than water.

“Yeah...” Soonyoung doesn’t know why he doesn’t just retract his confession, it’s not like Mingyu is close to you or anything, he’d understand. But then again, he’s bad at lying, and the girl he likes is still sitting on the couch. He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s sort of a recent thing.”

Mingyu’s smile only widens at Soonyoung’s response, his eyes turning to slits with the rise of his cheeks. “Soonie’s in looove~!”

And Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say. Nothing like this has ever happened to him before, not exactly like this, anyways. So he just looks down, scratches the back of his neck again, looks at one of his dance crew friends when she calls his name.

He doesn’t dare glance your way for the rest of the night.

Turns out you do know someone else other than Seungkwan, because once most of the guests have cleared out, leaving only half the boys to clean up, Seokmin approaches Soonyoung as he scrubs the sink of whatever that weird green stuff is.

He asks how Soonyoung knows you and says off-handedly that he’s never even seen the two of you talk. (Which is right.) He says these things shouldn’t be joked about, that you’re a person with feelings, and Soonyoung should leave you alone if he’s just doing this for comedy’s sake.

Soonyoung thinks he’s never seen Seokmin so serious.

It’s probably fine. You haven’t said anything good or bad, and other than the occasional tease from his friends, no one has taken anything too far. Maybe you’ll forget about it tomorrow. Maybe he’ll forget about it tomorrow, and it will all be okay.

Besides, it’s not like he actually likes you. And his real secret is still safe and sound.

•

Of Soonyoung’s many talents, making people sad is also not one of them.

It’s not that he actively tries to cause misery only to fail, it’s that he can’t stand upsetting anyone. He’s a people-pleaser by nature, that’s just how it is.

So he doesn’t say no when you ask him out for coffee.

And he smiles at you when you try to make conversation, even though it’s awkward and hesitant despite having a mutual friend like Seungkwan. It’s not so bad, he thinks. You’re trying, at least, and when you ask him about his interests, you actually listen, which isn’t common when he tends to over-explain his love for dance and performance. He has a coffee in his hand too, so that’s a plus.

You ask him if what he said at the party was true, and something in your eyes makes him say yes.

•

There are a few more coffee dates after that. It’s nothing official, and Soonyoung is hesitant to call the meetups “dates” because he’s not interested in dating you. But it’s a little late for that.

You seem brighter, though, every time he sees you again; he can’t bring himself to take that away, to cut the cord, to clean this mess he made.

Something about the way you two talk is nice, at least. Soonyoung can’t quite put his finger on it, and he tells himself that’s what’s drawing him back every time, not the guilt he feels sunken in his ribcage whenever you smile his way. It’s not that deep, he repeats to himself whenever you wave to him on campus, making him feel obligated to walk you to class. It’s not that deep.

He’s in the library one day when he spots you at one of the tables, books open and spread out as you scribble down notes, a pair of earbuds dangling from your ears. You haven’t seen him, so he doesn’t try to approach, just ducks back behind the bookshelf he’s been exploring. His hand is on a book he might like when a voice stops him.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Minghao leans against the opposite bookshelf, his arms crossed, locked and loaded for judgement. Soonyoung looks around, but of course he’s talking to him. They’re the only ones in the row.

“Um, how do you want me to answer that?” he asks, unsure of exactly what Minghao’s talking about. Yeah, he knows he’s a bit dense sometimes, but not all the time.

Minghao rolls his eyes. “I know you like Sehee. You haven't stopped laughing like an idiot at her bad jokes." He nods his chin outwards, gesturing over Soonyoung's shoulder and through the bookshelves towards where you're sitting. "What are you doing messing with Seungkwan's friend?"

It’s not too surprising that Minghao knows — he’s an intuitive guy, but Soonyoung is still caught off guard. He asks first, under his breath, “Does anyone else know?”

“If you mean dumb and dumber, then no.” Minghao jerks his head to swing his dark bangs out of his eyes. Everyone keeps telling him to just cut his hair shorter, but he refuses for the aesthetic, or something. “Chan is way too focused on dancing to notice your dumbassery, and Jun is about as observant as a fishcake when it comes to feelings.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders fall in relief, though he didn’t even realize they’d tensed up.

“But that’s not the problem here. Why are you playing around with her if you’re into Sehee?”

“I’m not—” Soonyoung pauses, thoughts deliberate, “—I’m not playing around, okay? I just... I don’t know. You were all looking at me, and I couldn’t just say Sehee's name, she was right there!”

Minghao cocks an eyebrow at that. “But you could say hers?”

��It was a moment of weakness.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware.”

Soonyoung groans quietly — he’s still in a library after all. He covers his face with both hands, not wanting to look at Minghao nor have Minghao look at him. For a second, it’s blissful, awkward silence, which Soonyoung would take over Minghao’s scolding any day. But of course, no haven lasts forever.

“You’re gonna have to tell her,” Minghao says, and he’s probably right. No, he is right, Soonyoung just doesn’t want him to be.

“I can’t do that! I said I like her— twice!”

“Twice?”

“Twice!”

Minghao only drops his head for a second, scoffing at the whole situation. Soonyoung wishes he could do that too, just laugh it off because it’s someone else’s problem.

“Well, you’re going to have to say something sooner or later.” Meeting his eyes, Soonyoung realizes Minghao might actually be worried. About you, or him, or something else, he’s not sure, but the subtle fold of Minghao’s eyelids tells Soonyoung this is about more than just calling out idiocy. “And I think sooner will hurt less.”

Soonyoung knows he’s right. But he doesn’t like it.

Before he can come up with a rebuttal, though, Minghao’s hands are on Soonyoung’s shoulders, and he’s pushing him out of the row of bookshelves and straight towards your table.

“You can do it, Soonyoung, just rip the band-aid while you still can,” he whispers in Soonyoung’s ear right before one last push at his back.

Soonyoung stumbles a bit, but once he regains his footing, Minghao’s already gone and you’ve already noticed the ruckus. You pull one earbud out with a bright smile. It’s so jovial that Soonyoung almost forgets why he’s here.

“Hi Soonyoung, I didn’t see you come in,” you say, and there’s no way you’re this energized just from studying in a library.

“Uh... hi.”

“You’ve actually got the perfect timing.” Waving to him, you gesture for him to sit next to you, and he does. You pull out some sort of planner, opening it to a few months from now. “I wanted to ask when exactly your showcase is? Seungkwan’s no help at all because he only cares about his concerts and stuff. Honestly, there aren’t that many...”

You’re going to have to say something sooner or later.

Soonyoung picks later.

•

“So when are you gonna ask her out?”

Jihoon stands in front of the stove, watching his hot water simmer, a bag of dry ramen in one hand and long cooking chopsticks in the other. It’s Soonyoung’s turn to make dinner tonight, but since he says he isn’t hungry, Jihoon’s scrounging it out himself.

Soonyoung, on the other hand, sits at their tiny dinner table, his forehead pressed to the cool surface, arms hanging limp at his sides. He mumbles something of a response, but it’s nothing more than a questioning grunt, if anything.

“Oh, you know.” Even when Jihoon says your name, Soonyoung stays still. “Only the girl you’ve been on several “dates” with ever since you confessed to her at Seungcheol’s party. When are you gonna ask her on a real date?”

Tired, Soonyoung groans. “When the time is right, I guess.”

•

You work on campus. It’s some part-time job you don’t care about enough to even complain over, despite the fact that you have to deal with annoying university kids every day. Soonyoung finds this out when he has coffee with Minghao in one of the buildings he doesn’t normally frequent, and only goes to today since Minghao has a class nearby in the next hour.

The coffee isn’t great, and it’s too expensive, but Soonyoung drinks it anyways. He much prefers the coffee from the cafe he goes to with you. Because the coffee is better. Obviously.

He hears your voice first, words indiscernible with distance and overshadowed by a much louder, angrier one, but still. Minghao sees you first, though, and he points past Soonyoung to the student printing center, where you’re standing behind the counter and arguing with some guy. You don’t seem too riled, but Soonyoung can tell you want to be anywhere but there, especially when the angry guy’s voice keeps getting louder and louder.

Soonyoung’s feet bring him over before his brain can register what to do. You haven’t seen him yet, he could just walk away, but he doesn’t. Your voice becomes clearer as he approaches.

“Listen, the printing center is for education, art, or business. I can’t print this for you.”

The guy goes off about personal freedoms or whatever, Soonyoung isn’t really listening.

“No, I get that this is a student printing center, but I really don’t think your big tiddie anime gf poster has anything to do with education, art, or business.”

And that’s when the guy grabs your arm. Which results in Soonyoung grabbing his arm. Which results in the accusatory question, “What are you, her boyfriend or something?”

Now, in a perfect story, this would be the first time Soonyoung meets you. Or maybe you’ve been close friends for a while. And this would be when Soonyoung says that, yes, he is your boyfriend, and he would save the day. Except you’d be all “why would you do that?” which would result in you both having to fake date to keep that guy off your back. In this perfect story, there would be no Sehee to like and no Minghao to judge, just you and Soonyoung fake dating. Eventually, you’d both catch real feelings instead of fake ones, and then boom, happily ever after.

But this isn’t a perfect story.

Soonyoung still says yes, and the guy still backs off. In reality though, because Soonyoung never thinks before he lies, you momentarily duck behind the counter and bring a hand up to your face to cover your ever-brightening smile. In reality, Sehee still exists at the forefront of his mind every dance practice, even though you’re the one he just promptly claimed to be the boyfriend of. In reality, Minghao watches from a little ways away, sipping his coffee and shaking his head in what can only be called disappointment.

Soonyoung’s never been good at lying. One would think he’d stop by now.

•

So, it’s official.

You’ve put a heart next to his contact name. He’s put one next to yours — red, because he doesn’t know your favourite colour. Seungkwan’s done the whole if you break my friend’s heart I break you spiel and Soonyoung finally realizes he’s in too deep.

It's almost too natural, how easily you bring him into your life and how easily he finds himself fitting. It's all so wrong.

Soonyoung feels like an imposter, like there's someone meant to be by your side, but it's not him.

You pluck up the courage one day to hold his hand, and he can't pull away because the lies tying him to you are too strong. The small bluffs he's spun have weaved themselves into a net he's tangled himself in.

His dance crew congratulates him when Jun spills the news. It's all mundane, really — dating in university isn't all that uncommon. Mostly, Soonyoung gets casual "you go, dude" comments or the like, but then Sehee says nothing. She smiles, and it has to be one of the most tragically beautiful things Soonyoung's ever seen. His heart fractures, just a little, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to fix it.

He smiles it off. Tries to, anyways.

Chan complains that Soonyoung's too harsh that day.

•

Jihoon likes you.

Not in a "Mister Steal Yo' Girl" way, but he laughed at one of your jokes the first time you came over to Soonyoung's apartment, and ever since then, he's been convinced.

"You must feel like the luckiest guy on earth with her around," Jihoon says once you leave for the night.

Soonyoung has no idea how to tell him he's felt nothing but unlucky these past few weeks, so he doesn't.

•

He polishes up on his acting. As awful as it is to think, Soonyoung has gotten really, really good.

His smile looks genuine. It has to — he shows it to Minghao, who says it's "adequate," which basically means perfect to the lowly humans beneath him.

He's gotten good at responding to you too, copying how the male leads do it in dramas and movies. It's sort of easy.

He hates how easy it is.

Soon enough, you try befriending the whole group. Being Seungkwan's friend, you've always wanted to, but apparently this is the push you needed. The boys are quick to warm up to you because, as Soonyoung's new girlfriend, you're now a new teasing target besides Chan. The youngest was always the brunt until you came along.

You say you don't mind — that his friends are amazing despite all the jokes and chaos. He believes you.

Minghao keeps his distance, saying he doesn't want to get himself involved. He's still the only one to know the truth, and his judging stare only grows worse as the days pass. Soonyoung wants so badly to make it go away, but he knows the only way to do that would be to tell you the truth, and he's just not ready.

Soonyoung's never broken a heart before. He's never planned on it.

Sometimes life makes its own plans.

"My shift got moved to tomorrow," you tell him when he picks you up from class, one hand in his and the other in your pocket. He knows it means something, but he doesn't know what. Your lips purse into a line as you stare at your shoes. “I was thinking... could I come watch your dance practice? If that’s okay?”

Now, Soonyoung loves dancing. He loves dance. He loves to dance. Performing sends an unparalleled thrill rushing through his veins like the solar system hurtling through the universe, and it’s something he’s never felt doing anything else. Dancing with others is a beautiful connection, an emission of silent truths communicated through the body. Practice, however, is the dirty version of dance. It has to be built up first — polished. Which is why Soonyoung says what he says. He doesn’t even think it over.

“No.”

It’s what he says every time someone asks. He doesn’t invite people to practices — never has. Even after his prompt refusal, he doesn’t register his mistake until the light in your eyes wavers. It doesn't disappear — just ripples. Comes back weaker than before.

"Oh," you say. The word should sound dejected but it doesn't. There's a smile at your lips, and Soonyoung can't help but think it looks kind of like his. "That's— that's okay! I was just — I don't know, I guess I just thought... I wanted to..."

Meeting his gaze, you look at him with shaking eyes, almost as if it takes great strength to keep them on his. He tries to backpedal, but you continue.

"I'll be going home then. I've got an assignment due soon anyways, so..." You pull your hand from his grip and, from where you two were walking toward the fine arts building, turn the opposite way. Your dorm is on the other side of campus. "See you tomorrow, Soonyoung. Have fun at practice."

Something about your smile haunts him.

It's hollow; feels empty when you flash it at him before going. He thinks fake smiles all look like that — insincere. His smiles at you must be the same way.

For an awful moment, he's hopeful. Maybe this will be the trigger. Maybe you'll end this tonight — whatever "this" is that Soonyoung has with you. Maybe he won't have to tell any harsh truths at all.

He turns and walks to practice.

The routine feels lighter tonight, though Soonyoung can’t pinpoint why. His body almost floats, and while that sounds good, it’s not. The rhythm is off. He’s not landing when he should be.

His crew notices, especially Chan, who complains that Soonyoung’s too much of a cocksure choreographer to be making repeated mistakes like this. They tell him maybe everyone should take a break. He agrees, but only because he’s frustrated — and he shouldn’t channel his anger into dance. Not this one, at least.

Everyone spreads throughout the studios to the edges, where they lean their body weight on the walls and slide down, water bottles in hand. The room reeks of sweat and feet, but Soonyoung’s used to it by now. He guzzles down half of his water in one go and pulls out his phone.

[❤] Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to react all... cold? Seungkwan told me you never invite anyone to practice, so it makes total sense why you said no

[❤] If I’m ever crossing any boundaries, let me know, okay?

Of course you’d be understanding. Soonyoung wouldn’t be that lucky.

He tosses his phone haphazardly in his bag, groaning and throwing his head back so it hits the wall with a dampened thud. The pain is dull compared to the thoughts top-spinning in his mind.

Across the studio, Minghao clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at Soonyoung when he opens his eyes to look at him. It only takes two reluctant nods for Minghao to understand the source of Soonyoung’s groans, and he does nothing to react but look away. Soonyoung thinks that’s almost worse than the judging eyes. At least at that point Minghao thought he was something other than a lost cause.

He doesn’t text you back. By the time he thinks of something a boyfriend would say, the time to say it has passed.

•

How much longer is he going to let this go on?

Soonyoung wonders that to himself as he sits, returned to Seungcheol's apartment for another one of his "getties" as people are so apt to call them. He's never understood the difference between a getty and a party, and he's always been too stubborn to ask, knowing he'd be mercilessly made fun of for not knowing something apparently all university students knew.

This one isn't so different from the last. More or less the same crowd, the same atmosphere as the night goes on. Only this time, when everyone's settled down in what can hardly be called a circle, Soonyoung's on the couch, sunken into the too-old cushions with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You're far from your last claimed spot with Seungkwan on that ratty old beanbag chair, sitting comfortably under Soonyoung's arm with a plastic cup of whatever Jeonghan concocted for you — which you've yet to drink much of.

Sehee sits across from you both while she laughs at something Wonwoo says. You laugh too, but Soonyoung barely notices, eyes glued to the girl they've been stuck on since she joined his dance crew over a year ago. He wants to tell her how beautiful she is when she smiles, even under the light of Seungcheol's dingy apartment, but he can't. He wants to tell her how he's felt for months, but you're next to him. He wants to have a fucking drink but all he has in his cup is fucking iced green tea because he knows if he drinks he'll fuck up again.

Just like last time.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear at one point.

He turns to see your concerned expression, and it only makes Soonyoung hate this even more. He doesn't deserve your concern.

"I'm fine."

But he's not fine.

He doesn't participate in much conversation — only speaks when spoken to, and even then with few words. You seem to become tense next to him, but he does nothing to try and fix it. Just tonight, he's going to let himself be tired.

Three times, you offer to leave, and all three he refuses. You give up eventually, though he can tell you know something's off. God, if he were drunk, he wouldn't even have to think about you for a whole night.

Somehow the topic of discussion turns to couples, and suddenly, an entire room of eyes is on you and Soonyoung. He barely catches the question before you're already pondering your answer.

What do the two lovebirds love most about each other?

You look at him. At him, at him. He feels your stare in the dip of his throat because he can't seem to swallow anymore. It's like his soul is being scanned for viruses.

"Hmm..." You let your chin fall into your palm with a smile. It's real. Too real. "I like his resolve," you finally say. "If he wants to do something, he does it." With a loud exhale through your nose, you tilt your head, still meeting his eyes with your own. Soonyoung's mouth slightly parts, slack with something he can't name. "I could learn a thing or two from him."

The room bristles with your answer, various response piping up around. Soonyoung sort of registers Chan saying, "That's cute. I wanna vomit," but he's too busy thinking about you, about how you've come to like something about him as deep as that when all he's done is pretend to even like you at all.

And even when his mind swims with that, Sehee asks again.

"Then Soonyoung, what do you like about her?"

It sort of hurts. Soonyoung's not afraid to admit to himself that hearing Sehee ask what he likes about you sends pain straight through his ears to his heart. There's an awkward pause and everyone's looking at him expectantly and, god, he wishes he stole your drink when he had the chance.

"I..." His throat goes dry. His lips part, but there aren't any words to slip past them. "I, um..." He looks to you, and your eyes speak volumes. Everyone else in this room has a sort of... hungry look. They want to know Soonyoung's answer for one reason or another, maybe to tease with or to ridicule or even wish for themselves. But you, your eyes meet his and he knows you're not expecting anything. That hurts too. He doesn't know why. But even then, he can't think of the words. Any words. He steals a glance at Sehee, whose expression is curious, doe eyes slightly giddy from alcohol. She's pretty.

"I like her laugh," he says. It's not about you. "Whenever she laughs, I think to myself, 'What I wouldn't give to see her laugh again'."

Your eyes move to the plastic cup you've got gripped between two hands in your lap, and Seungkwan points out your flustered state to the entire room despite the fact everyone can see it as long as they've got working eyes. You purse your lips together to contain a smile, but it doesn't work. Even Soonyoung can see that.

He needs a drink.

Having to go to the bathroom is a lousy excuse, and Soonyoung knows it, but he whispers that in your ear anyways and retracts his arm from your shoulder before escaping. He does go to the bathroom, a small thing with a shower and no bath, but all he does in there is stare at himself in the mirror. And when that becomes too much, his feet.

Someone else eventually has to use the bathroom for its actual purpose, so he opens it to the banging fist outside and slides past the person back into the hallway. He pauses before walking all the way back. You're caught up in some other conversation now, laughing and dramatically waving your hands as you deny some crazy embarrassing story Seungkwan's trying to spill about you. Seems you've already integrated yourself with his friends more than he thought.

Since your attention is occupied, Soonyoung instead ducks into the half-kitchen — not necessarily out of sight, but no one's really paying attention anyways. He knows he shouldn't take any chances, but he really, really wants to let go. He's been wearing a facade ever since he said your name that night.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

Minghao's voice has Soonyoung jerking up and banging his head on the door of the open fridge he was rummaging through. He winces in pain, kneading his fingers into his scalp as if that will do anything.

"Wouldn't what?" he snaps.

"I dunno." Minghao shrugs, and it's almost infuriating how nonchalant he is. "Do something you might regret, I guess."

He takes the yet unopened bottle from Soonyoung's hands, reaching beyond him to put it back in place. There's no point in fighting against him since he's undeniably right, but Soonyoung grumbles anyways. His eyes glance every few seconds to you on the couch. If you happen to hear anything...

Well, he doesn't know exactly. But he doesn't want to find out.

"You have to end it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just—" Soonyoung takes in a breath, too loud for his liking. He lowers his voice. "I can't, okay? I don't want to hurt her."

"So you're just going to date her based on false pretenses because you're too much of a coward to admit your mistakes?" Voice laced with sharpness, Minghao places his palms flat on the counter.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twisting in frustration. "Yeah, okay? Yeah," he whispers. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

A second passes. Minghao's brow furrows.

"And quite frankly," Soonyoung continues, "I'd rather you keep your nosy ass out of my business from now on."

He nearly storms off right then with the last word, but Minghao's fingers around his elbow stop him.

"You're going to get yourself hurt," Minghao warns through his teeth. He nods towards you. "And her in the process."

"We'll see about that."

Soonyoung has acted on impulse before. It happened with the pigeon, it happened with your name, and it's happening right now. Nothing is compelling him other than the absolute need to prove Minghao wrong, and even then, he doesn't know why.

He sits back down next to you, his spot saved by some miracle considering the surrounding company. The look on your face is happy, jovial. You must be having a right old time. His nerves strike with a feeling he's never quite experienced before.

When you study his face, no doubt not nearly as cheerful as yours, the expression you held falters to worry.

"You okay?" is once again the question on your lips, quiet, meant for his ears only.

Impulse is a scary thing. Soonyoung hates it almost as much as lying.

He leans in, crashing his lips on yours with his eyes half closed. His lips move and yours don't. Soonyoung can't even be sure you've closed your eyes, but at this very moment, he doesn't care. All he knows is he's angry and Minghao is watching.

This isn’t your first kiss — he knows because you’ve talked to him about this very topic. This is, however, to your understanding, the first “real” relationship you’ve ever been in. You told him yourself that you don’t really count that past kiss as your first, that you felt a bit... violated when it happened.

Soonyoung thinks this isn’t all too different.

He steals your second first kiss, and later, staring at the water-stained stucco ceiling of his bedroom, he kicks himself so hard it hurts.

•

You show up to movie night. Apparently Jihoon invited you — explained it like this:

“You won’t have to be so clingy with me if she’s here.”

At first, Soonyoung thinks Jihoon just wants to drop their roommate movie nights because he’s always complained about them, but Jihoon sticks around during Anastasia; sings along with you during Once Upon a December despite the fact that neither of you really know the words. He sits right in front of you two on the couch, cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, that of which he only offers to you twice and Soonyoung once.

Whatever. You’re a better cuddler than Jihoon anyway.

Somehow it doesn’t feel forced when you lean your head on Soonyoung’s shoulder, or when he wraps his arm around your waist to get comfortable. He blames it on how tired he is, how he always gets on movie night after a week of classes and practices and too much work for one person to handle. Jihoon complains all the time that he’s too touchy when tired.

You absentmindedly play with his fingers for most of the movie. He doesn’t mind.

It’s been about a month now.

Soonyoung doesn’t kiss you again after the first time. Doesn’t stop you, either, but you’re more of an on-the-cheek kind of person. He thinks you think he wants to take this slow, even though he initiated the first big step (as convoluted as it was). He lets you think what you want.

Nasty business, it is.

Cleaning a bowl that once held popcorn. All the grease that sticks to the side because Jihoon likes to use too much butter. All the grains of salt that get underneath Soonyoung’s fingernails. He’s washing, Jihoon’s drying. It’s an arrangement of sorts.

You’ve already left for the night, gone back to your dorm since it’s only a five minute walk or so through campus. Jihoon insisted on Soonyoung escorting you, but you only smiled sweetly and refused. Maybe Soonyoung should’ve argued harder against you. He didn’t though. That’s why he’s scrubbing a bit too harshly now — he doesn’t like messing up.

Seems that’s all he’s good for lately.

“You’re unhappy.”

Soonyoung stops scrubbing. The only noise in the whole apartment is the slow gurgle of the sink because even with a plug, such an old thing just lets the hot water seep away as the seconds go by. Jihoon’s gaze is on the pan he’s drying, but Soonyoung knows his heart is in the question. It always is.

“I’m not,” he tries to deny, but it’s difficult to fool a person like Jihoon. (Especially since Soonyoung can’t even convince himself.)

The non-stick pan from yesterday’s dinner clangs against an older one when Jihoon puts it away. He looks at Soonyoung, but by then he’s turned back to washing the popcorn bowl, so their eyes don’t end up meeting.

“I’ve known you since tenth grade. You think I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

Soonyoung finds it hard to read Jihoon’s feelings most of the time. He didn’t realize he was such an open book the other way around.

Sighing, he continues to scrub the bowl, which has probably been clean for a minute already. “I’m just... stressed.”

“About?”

Minghao already knows; already thinks lowly of Soonyoung for it. If Jihoon knew... Soonyoung doesn’t know if he can take that.

So he lies. Again.

“Just the dance showcase.”

It isn’t a whole lie, not really, but he can’t call it the truth either.

Jihoon takes the bowl from Soonyoung’s grasp and rinses it under the tap. Since that’s the last dish, Soonyoung is stuck with nothing for his hands to do. They rest on the edge of the sink, but his fingers ache for a task.

Jihoon, the friend that he is, says, “That’s not for three months, though. I’m sure you’ll be perfect by then.”

“I don’t know...”

“Well I do.” Eyes meet eyes, a pair determined, a pair apprehensive. “Everything will work out.”

“...Okay.”

•

Soonyoung measures time in terms of you now.

When he last texted you. When he last saw you. When he last spoke to you.

It’s all a very elaborate calculation — how much time he’s spent on you versus how much time he should spend on you. No relationship is quite like this one, he thinks, and it’s quite the romantic notion out of context. The fact remains, every interaction he has with you only pulls him further and deeper into his lie.

Soonyoung’s time moves a bit slower now.

Faster, sometimes, but only when he doesn’t want it to.

•

You tell him you might be in love with him.

He says he might be in love with you.

He’s never hated lying more.

•

Jihoon is cleaning out the fridge when the buzzer goes off, so since he’s close by, he picks up the old corded phone attached to the wall. From his spot on the couch, Soonyoung looks up from his phone to see Jihoon cover the receiver and mouth your name. Jihoon makes some sort of gesture with his hands, and somehow Soonyoung understands that as, were you expecting her?

His eyes widen as it settles in that no, he’s not expecting you. The apartment is a mess.

Jihoon buzzes you in, hangs up, and immediately moves from the fridge to the coffee table, throwing the laundry he was planning on folding back in the plastic hamper and shoving the pile in Soonyoung’s lap.

“Take care of this,” he says. “I’ll clear up the kitchen.”

Right. Can’t have you thinking your boyfriend and his roommate are slobs.

Soonyoung reacts quickly, standing from his spot on the couch with the laundry basket in hand. He dashes to his room, where he plans to stuff the laundry in his closet and save that problem for later, but once he gets there, he realizes his room is even worse. There are dirty clothes dispersed all over his bed and old coffee cups littering his desk. Scrambling to shove the new laundry in his closet, the dirty clothes in the now empty hamper, and gather all the paper cups in his arms, Soonyoung’s breath starts to catch.

When he emerges from his room with two armfuls of garbage, he finds you at the door with Jihoon, your face hidden in his shoulder and your arms wrapped tight around his waist. Jihoon’s arms are up, almost like he’s being held at gunpoint, and his eyes widen even further when he catches sight of Soonyoung.

“Uhh... it’s for you.”

Soonyoung can hear your quiet hiccups even though they’re muffled in Jihoon’s shirt. He can’t bear it when people cry.

Yeah, maybe he’s been pretending to like you for a long time now, but he’s not a monster.

Right?

He likes you as a person. As a friend. And there’s no way he’s letting his friend go through pain like this.

Soonyoung swiftly discards his trash into the garbage bin and approaches you and Jihoon. At the commotion, you lift your head from Jihoon’s shoulder, eyes all red and puffy. Your lips press together, emotions nearly bursting at the seams, but they finally break out when Soonyoung opens his arms wide.

“C’mere.”

You practically flail into his embrace, arms wrapping around his torso in a vice grip as you hide your face again. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay — he knows you’re not.

Jihoon stands in the doorway for a few seconds, just looking at you and Soonyoung clutching at each other in the middle of the apartment before he shuts the front door and clears his throat.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll be — um. Mhm. Yup.”

He escapes to his room.

Soonyoung squishes his cheek to your temple as you both stay there. You’re shaking, and his arms squeeze tighter. If only he could make it stop. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make you feel better.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, though quiet and hesitant.

You shake your head, mumbling something he can’t quite make out. He pulls back a bit, just enough to see your face and gently cup your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs rub at your cheeks, smoothing any stray tears across your skin.

“What’s that?”

“Just...” Your eyes glisten. His heart beats. “Could you please just hold me?”

And he does.

Decidedly, his bed is much more comfortable than standing in the living room, so he sways, rocking side to side with small steps that force you to walk backwards. His smile, though, is reassuring, and you follow his guidance without much complaint. He sits you down on his bed, thankful that he cleaned up beforehand, and slowly leans you down so you’re both on your sides, facing each other. Pulling you closer, he lets you rest your head on his chest. Your hand lies flat on top of him, but eventually your fingers curl, clutching a bit of Soonyoung’s shirt between them. Silent tears fall from your eyes to his chest, but he doesn’t care.

His arm underneath you wraps around, hand landing on your back so his thumb can rub soothing circles.

It’s quiet.

Funny. Soonyoung used to dislike silence with you — always felt the need to fill it with conversation or jokes or laughter. He wonders when it was last since he felt that way.

Soonyoung doesn’t know how much time passes. His eyes stick to his bedroom ceiling as he holds you close, thoughts on everything and nothing all at once. Are you asleep? Your tears stopped some time ago.

His question is answered when your voice, small and unsure, breaks the long-standing silence.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you about it?”

He cranes his neck to look at you, but it doesn’t really work. “Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re not.”

You look up at him finally, and seeing your smile sends warmth through his blood. Your face is still looks wrecked from tears gone by, but your smile pushes all that out of the way.

“Thank you,” comes past your lips in a whisper. Then, after a moment of waiting, you say, “It’s just that... I... this — ugh.” You hide your face in his shirt again. “This is so embarrassing. I don’t even know why I got so worked up.”

Soonyoung doesn’t respond to that, just pats your back a few times and encourages you to keep going. You toy with the fabric of his shirt.

“This guy I used to know — I thought I’d never see him again, but he showed up today. Ran into him when I was walking back from the convenience store.” You bite the inside of your lip. “I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but, I don’t know, I guess seeing him just brought all these memories back all at once.”

“Bad ones?”

A breathy laugh escapes you. “Sure, you could say that.”

The silence comes back, and your brows furrow, almost like you’re trying to solve the problem all on your own. But you don’t have to. Soonyoung is here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my first kiss? Like, my real first kiss?”

Soonyoung hums. Of course he remembers.

“Back in high school, I used to have this friend. Sammy. She was — god, she was beautiful. And kind, and smart, and just... amazing. I miss her a lot. She’s abroad now, travelling the world with her sister. I think she’s in Peru now.” You chuckle at the mention of your old friend, but soon your smile twists into a frown. “This guy... I don’t like saying his name, but he liked Sammy. Everyone did, I don’t blame him for that, honestly. He was pretty popular back then — one of those sports boys, you know? Thinking about it now, he could’ve easily gotten with Sammy if he hadn’t been so conniving.”

“Conniving?”

“Yeah, he was... I don’t know how he got the idea in his head, but he came to me first. He kept hanging out with me, taking me on these... dates? But they weren’t really dates, all we did was talk about Sammy — what she liked, what she didn’t like. I knew he was using me, but I just... let him, I guess. Maybe back then I was just so caught up in being needed that I didn’t really mind being used.”

Soonyoung hugs you tighter.

“I guess he felt sorry, maybe? Right before he went to go ask Sammy out, he just... laid one on me. It was stupid. Like a pity kiss for my service or whatever. I wasn’t in love with the guy or anything, but it felt so... degrading. Like all I deserved was some action from a conventionally good-looking guy."

Your tears come back, brimming at the edge of your eyelids.

“I don’t know, it just — it just made me feel so...”

You take a breath. Exhale.

“...worthless.”

Soonyoung doesn’t fail to see the irony here, at least, but he feels slightly lifted. Whoever this guy is, Soonyoung’s a million times better.

“You’re not worthless,” he says — because he knows it’s true.

“I know.” You readjust yourself curled around him, wiping away the tears which haven’t fallen. “I mean, I know now.” Sighing, you wrap your arm around his waist, somehow pulling him closer than he already was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you. For letting me be me.”

“It is my absolute pleasure to serve you, your majesty.”

You wack him with the sleeve of your sweater. “You’re such a dork!”

Your laugh is nice. Soonyoung hopes to hear it again soon.

“You know,” you say, eyes closed as you lie there with him on his bed. “Normally I would’ve gone to Seungkwan with my problems, but tonight...”

“Tonight?”

“You make me feel safe, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

His eyes close. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “That, and if I told Seungkwan, he would’ve found the guy and beat him to a pulp.”

“Why can I see that?”

“Because it’s true.”

You stay the night.

•

With a group of friends as big as Soonyoung’s, it’s about once every blue moon that the boys find a time that works for everyone, especially coming up on finals season. They all have their own worries around this time: the dance showcase, the big play, last-minute assessments, and — of course — finals.

So when they’re all free for barbecue one night, everyone’s ecstatic. Reservations are made, gratuities are calculated, and the group chat blows up every few hours with various changes to plans. (Mostly from Mingyu, who’s eager to show off his grilling skills.)

But of course, university is university, and it’s inevitable that someone has to bail out. That someone being Soonyoung.

The dance showcase creeps up a bit faster than anyone likes, and now Soonyoung’s professor is forcing him to choreograph an entire song for some freshmen only a month before the whole thing goes onstage.

First of all, who signs up for a showcase only four weeks before the performance? Who lets them sign up?

And second of all, doesn’t his professor realize Soonyoung has a life? He’s got other dances to work on, other classes to study for, friends to have barbecue with. How is he supposed to cram an entire choreography — not the mention the time it’ll take to teach the freshmen — into his already hectic lifestyle?

But Soonyoung is a people-pleaser. He doesn’t say no.

Instead, he regretfully messages the group chat, saying he can’t hang out tonight in favour of attempting to choreograph at least a quarter of the song in one sitting. He gets the usual whining, but they all know they can’t change his mind, so it fades out fast.

What he doesn’t expect is for them to invite you instead.

“It’s a thirteen person reservation,” Seungcheol reasons. “Besides, she’s basically one of us by now.”

Soonyoung can’t exactly argue with that.

So, you go to the restaurant with them while Soonyoung heads to the studio. Minghao picks you up along with Vernon and Chan, which sends an anxious bit of worry down Soonyoung’s spine, but he does nothing about it. If Minghao wanted to tell you, he would’ve by now.

You send him a good luck text.

[🍥] Don’t let those kids work you into the ground!

He stares at your words for a bit, distracted from finding the song he’s supposed to use. Your contact name is different now — one of those naruto fishcakes because of that time you took him out for ramen. That night had been full of laughter and loud, borderline obnoxious slurping, ending with the beautiful finale of Soonyoung throwing a fishcake straight into your open mouth.

You were the one that sweet-talked you both out of getting banned.

Soonyoung finally opens his music app and finds the song the freshmen requested (a rather boring one, if you ask him) which he sets to max volume. He doesn’t bother plugging his phone into the speaker system, not when he’s the only one in the studio.

Maybe he can do this.

•

“The trick is to add eggs and use less water,” you say as you scoop more batter onto the waffle iron.

Jihoon snorts from where he sits at the table, still shoveling more whipped cream and strawberry-smothered waffle in his mouth. “Are you sure the trick isn’t to just not be Soonyoung?”

“Hey!” Soonyoung pauses his own eating just to pout. “My waffles are good!”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

Both you and Jihoon laugh at Soonyoung’s expense, only further accentuating the pout on his face. You and Jihoon are too alike in that aspect. Well, actually, Soonyoung knows you’d never laugh at him, but he still can’t be sure about Jihoon. One time, back in high school, Soonyoung tripped over (what he thought was) a dead bird, and Jihoon laughed for hours — though Soonyoung always exaggerates the story into him laughing for days.

You sit down next to him with your own plate of waffles. There’s flour dusted on your arms, but you don’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got a little...” You point a finger at the corner of your mouth.

He knows. Soonyoung can feel the cool whipped cream right where you say it is.

He smiles wide. “I’m saving it for later.”

“Hmm...”

You say nothing, just smile as you lean in, kissing the corner of his lips. It’s quick, chaste, and barely a real kiss, but Soonyoung’s heart bounces in his chest. He’s never been kissed like that before.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

That thought, though, he pushes back for another time.

“Gross. You guys made me lose my appetite,” Jihoon says. He keeps eating.

•

With eyes drooping shut every few seconds, Soonyoung decides it’s time to call it quits on the chemistry homework. It’s nearly one in the morning, anyways. He flips his textbooks shut and gathers up all his notes, putting them all in a haphazard pile that he’ll worry about in the morning. Swivelling in his chair, his eyes land on you.

Oh. He forgot you’re here.

You’re snuggled up on top of his covers, one arm wrapped around the pillow your head should be on, eyes closed as even, slow breaths come past your slightly parted lips. One of his hoodies is draped over your legs like a blanket. He wonders why you didn’t just get under the covers.

Well, he has been walking you home ever since he hadn’t some time ago. Maybe you were waiting.

He feels a bit guilty as he brushes his teeth and washes his face, but not too bad since you only have afternoon classes tomorrow. Maybe he can treat you to something in the morning to make up for it.

After he tucks you under a fluffy throw blanket, he crawls into bed and lies on his side, facing you.

Your other hand is lax, palm up and fingers curled, almost like you’re holding something invisible.

His hand would fit perfectly.

The tips of his fingers graze over the lines on your palm. Slow. Trepidatious.

You shift, fingers unconsciously curling around Soonyoung’s hand.

He closes his eyes.

•

The moves aren’t working.

The moves aren’t working and the music isn’t working and the dance isn’t working and nothing is working.

Soonyoung groans in frustration, almost screaming with his fingers threaded through his damp hair as he messes up yet another landing. He’s drenched in sweat, and it’s only been so many hours since the rest of the crew left for the night, not that he’s kept track.

It’s less than a week until the showcase. Six days, as Chan is apt to remind everyone with his stupid holiday countdown app.

That freshmen choreography is already over and done with — Soonyoung’s made it, he’s taught it to those over-eager nuisances, and if they need anything more, that’s on them. They’re no longer his responsibility.

That’s not what has him in such a state right now.

His solo — the one he’s been planning for the entire semester — it just doesn’t... feel right. He’s been slaving over it for days now, reworking the steps, figuring out what to take out and what to replace. But the more he fixes it, the more it feels wrong.

He can’t get the steps right. He can’t get anything right.

What is wrong with him?

He starts the music again at exactly one minute, thirty-eight seconds. The moves are clear in his mind. One step. Two steps. Sweep. Spin. Jump—

He falls.

The music goes on.

Soonyoung slams his fist onto the softwood floor, cursing at his ineptitude. He stays like that for a moment, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms. The song ends, only to restart again, but Soonyoung barely notices.

Screw the music. He stands; positions himself; tries again.

Again.

He falls.

He yells out at the floor, at his feet, at whatever is holding him back.

His reflection in the mirror stares back at him.

Mind blank, he sits there, legs stretched out in front of him as he hunches over, eyes closed to the world around. His breaths come out shaky and uneven, but even though every moment sitting still feels like eternity, his lungs fail to calm.

Someone knocks on the door, and for a second, Soonyoung thinks it’s Jun coming to tell him to go home for the night. He doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t look up.

The door opens, he can hear the quiet shuffling of hesitant feet that have removed their shoes just because the sign on the door told them to.

“Soonyoung?”

Your voice is clear — like a single drop of water coalescing into a whole — and it cuts through the sound of blood rushing past Soonyoung’s ears.

He looks up to see you standing a good length away, almost like you’re scared to approach. You’re wearing pyjamas, a thick sweater pulled over your shoulders and fuzzy socks donning your feet. Something bulges from the pocket of your sweater.

“What are you...”

“Minghao called me.”

In the back of his mind, a small part of Soonyoung wonders exactly when you and Minghao have gotten close enough to call each other, but the thought doesn’t stay for long. It can’t, really, not when you’re in front of him.

When Soonyoung says nothing more, you take another step forward. “What’s wrong?”

To anyone else, he might say nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong.

His voice breaks when he tries to laugh.

“Everything.”

Your eyes soften, a small smile tugging at your lips. It’s not one of those pitiful smiles, he can tell, but it’s not fake, either. You bring your hands together in front of you, fiddling with the tips of your fingers as your eyes move from them to his gaze again. “I’m coming over. Is that okay?”

He nods.

First, you find his phone and turn down the music until it’s gone. You sit right behind him, legs spread on either side of his body, and you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing flush to his back and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He squirms a bit.

“I’m all sweaty,” he tries to argue, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Yeah, you are.”

He stops resisting. It’s much too hot, what with his hours of constant exercise and your thick layers, but he can’t complain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” This time it’s your turn to ask.

“...Just hold me?”

And you do.

You press a kiss to the back of his neck. Slow, soft, and when your lips leave his searing skin, your forehead replaces them.

That’s when the dam breaks.

Hot, fat tears roll from Soonyoung’s eyes down his cheeks as sobs rack through his chest. The vibrations shake him and you all at once, but your hold never falters. He can’t see anything, only a blur of what should be his legs and your arms wrapped around his stomach. His hands go to clutch at your arms, desperate to hold onto something; to not let him sink.

It’s ugly, the way he cries, but you let it happen. You hold him.

This is what it’s like.

Eventually, his desperate hands find yours, his arms crossed so his right is over your right, his left over your left. His fingers roam over the smooth backs of your hands until they reach your fingers and interlock. The palms of your hands are warm compared to his fingertips.

You’ve locked onto his body language by now — you’re fluent, so you know to continue pressing reassuring, slow kisses into his skin. You know to whisper little words that should mean nothing, but coming from your lips, mean everything.

He’s going to be okay.

For some reason, coming from you, he believes it.

You hold him until the hiccuping stops, until the tears are just dry streaks on his face, until his breath comes out in long streams instead of bursts.

His eyes stay shut as he feels you shift. One of your hands slips out of his grasp, your arm reaching back, and Soonyoung almost whines until he feels its return.

“Look,” you whisper.

It itches to open his eyes, but when he does, he sees what’s in your hand, right in front of him. A small stuffed tiger sits in your palm, positioned anatomically incorrect like a teddy bear, a velvet heart between its paws. Stitched white letters read:

Go get ‘em, tiger!

You chuckle lightly, repositioning yourself so your chin hooks over his shoulder. “Cheesy, I know. I was going to give this to you the day of the showcase, but I think you could use it right about now.”

Gingerly, Soonyoung lifts his hands together, and you place the plush in his awaiting palms.

His voice is slow to restart, but he manages to say, “Thank you.”

Hands now free, you wrap yourself around his waist again. “Anything for you.”

Such a simple sentence, that, and yet the confession sends blood to Soonyoung’s ears in the form of an awfully embarrassing blush. He runs his thumbs over the fuzzy fabric of the tiger plush.

“Soonyoung?”

“Hm?”

You press your lips to the crook of his shoulder, voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “I won’t force you to stop practicing. I know this is important to you.” Soonyoung feels your breath fan over his skin. “But I also want you to rest — you shouldn’t overwork yourself.”

One of your hands rises to his chin, guiding it up so he looks forward at the studio mirror and meets your gaze in the reflection.

“Whaddya say we do, hm?” You tilt your head, and Soonyoung thinks his pupils may be heart-shaped. “Do you want to practice more? Or can I take you home?”

“Just...” He swallows what’s left in his dry mouth. “Just once more.”

You smile. “Okay.”

As you get up, you run your hands up to Soonyoung’s shoulder and down to his hand, where you playfully pretend to pull him up with you. He laughs, hiding his face behind the tiger plush for a second before he stands, tugging your hands as he does so you fall into him when he rights himself. Both your hands are squeezed between him and you, while his unoccupied arm finds its way to your side.

Another smile tugs at your lips at the proximity. You shift your hands up so they wrap over his shoulders, linking behind his head. Leaning closer, your eyes gleam under the fluorescent lights. To the sound of silence, you sway together, waltzing in the dead of night.

“I’ll be outside, okay?”

Soonyoung’s expression tightens, eyebrows shifting in confusion. “Why?”

“Well,” you say. “I know how you feel about audiences during practice.”

Something about your smile right now makes Soonyoung feel so undeniably safe. You understand him. Never once have you questioned him over why he doesn’t invite you to practices, never once did you pressure him to change that.

“Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Hmm, do I?”

Do you?

“Stay.”

And you do.

•

Here’s the thing about dance showcases:

They’re big, they’re flashy, they take the entire year to plan, and they’re over in one night.

Soonyoung stands in the wings, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, hopefully not loud enough for anyone to hear. He watches as the group performing before his solo finishes up their dance, though he knows there is at least a minute before he’ll have to go on.

A tap on his shoulder makes him turn his head, and he sees Sehee’s smiling face.

“Nervous?” she asks, her voice hidden beneath the music.

She’s all dolled up, dressed in her costume with a sleek leather jacket to bring everything together. Her eyes glimmer just as much as her eyelids.

“You have no idea,” Soonyoung jokes, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Sehee tilts her head; blinks a few times. “You’ll do amazing. You always do.”

For what it’s worth, Soonyoung hasn’t forgotten his attraction. Sehee’s words soothe him to some extent, pump him up, even. It’s slightly terrifying — how much she still affects him even now.

You’re in the audience tonight, third row from the front, somewhere in the middle. Your seat is between Seungkwan’s and Jihoon’s, whereas all the other boys came (almost) too late and had to find seats elsewhere.

The music ends, applause erupts, and Soonyoung knows it’s his turn. He waits for the group to exit on the opposite side, and when the resounding claps quiet down, he takes the first step onstage.

Something Soonyoung has almost always known: stage lights are blinding. If they’re set up right, anyone onstage will have a damn hard time seeing anyone in the audience. He can’t see you — couldn’t during his previous performance with the crew, either. The only reason he knows you’re there is the million assuring texts you sent him before you had to turn off your phone for the show.

But he knows you’re there. He knows you’re watching.

Soonyoung stands with his left foot on the spike mark, right where he’s practiced time and time again ever since they transitioned into the space. Music floods his veins, and the world is gone.

He wouldn’t call it an escape. Soonyoung doesn’t use dance to get away, it’s not like that. This world he creates with dance — this other space where nothing exists except him and the music and the floor and the feeling — he chooses to go there. Euphoria, he thinks it might be called. Euphoric.

The space takes him. He lets it.

And then it’s over.

Soonyoung’s breath leaves him in bursts, his shoulders heaving despite how hard he fights to keep them still in his final pose. His back faces the audience, his right arm stretched out and up, fingers curling around nothing. Stars dance before his eyes — which he fails to catch with his outstretched hand.

He thinks he can faintly hear applause, but it’s nothing compared to the heart beating in his chest. Your voice plays in his ears, yet he knows it’s simply his imagination — his recollection.

I like your dance, you’d said that night. I’m no expert, no judge, but I like it. I love it, honestly. Your dancing... I don’t know. I wish I had the words. It’s like... a little box.

A little box?

You’ve got a little box in your hand. Brown, maybe the size of your palm. You open it and there’s no bottom, no sides, no shape, just an expanse of universe in blues and pinks and purples and whatever colours we don’t know exist. You look inside and reach your hand in, somehow fitting in the tiny yet infinite space. Your fingers brush through starlight like strands of silk, like the rays are minnows you’ve met during a summer dip. Like that. A little box.

I thought you said you didn’t have the words?

I don’t. Not enough.

Soonyoung vaguely registers the lights going black, the way his feet drift him offstage, the music of the seniors’ finale.

At some point, the lights are back on. Not the stage lights, but the harsh fluorescents once the audience has fully filtered out into the lobby. Most of them will leave, but the family and friends of performers are sure to stay, waiting there to congratulate and fawn over the dancers as soon as they’re let go for the night. Somewhere in his mind, Soonyoung knows his friends are outside waiting for him — him, Jun, Minghao, and Chan.

Roses are passed around. He’s never seen a blue rose before, but some dancers walk around with them as they change out of costume and gather their things. He points out a yellow rose from the bunch presented to him, but it turns out to be a bouquet for him specifically, and he takes the whole thing with his jaw slightly hanging. Everything’s a bit... slow. Soonyoung feels like he’s wading through water.

He hasn’t changed yet, simply standing in his costume as he watches people go back and forth. Other performers move from dressing room to dressing room, cleaning up what they have to while simultaneously patting each other’s backs. Techs go around making sure everything’s in order, nothing lost or forgotten. They put away the MC’s microphones and bother the dancers for not taking proper care of props even though it’s only been one night.

Another tap on his shoulder; it’s Sehee again.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

He follows her to a corner of the stage, where the curtains hang and hide the two — for the most part.

She turns almost too abruptly, causing Soonyoung to stumble over his own two feet to avoid bumping into her.

“This is really hard for me to say,” she starts. “But I have to get it out.”

Soonyoung nods, maybe saying something close to a confirmation, but he can’t really tell. He’s a little lightheaded. Sehee has changed out of her leather, instead now in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. That’s the thing about Sehee, though, she has that unnamed sort of... effortless beauty. Even with her stage makeup wiped off, she glows.

“This might be one of the last times I ever work with you, you know? Next year, my parents are making me quit dancing so I can focus on my major. It sucks, yeah, but they’re right. I need to focus if I want to succeed. You know that too, don’t you? The need to succeed?” She takes a breath; laughs bitterly. “Sorry, I’m getting off track... I just — I wanted to tell you this because if I don’t tonight, I might never get the chance again.”

Maybe Soonyoung has dreamed of this moment. He can’t be sure, not yet, so he lets her continue.

“I like you, Soonyoung. I have for a while. But things happened, and you got together with...” her voice trails off. “And you seemed happy, after a while. I thought maybe I could just keep it hidden but, I don’t know, I think I need to tell you, to get closure because I'm not sure if I can go on without at least—”

Choices. Soonyoung — and everyone else in the world — has only made it through life with decisions. He’s made good ones. Bad ones. He’s had regrets and he’s had none. This, though, this choice is intensely apparent.

Apparent in the way he knows it will affect much more than he wishes.

He kisses her.

God, this is what he wanted, right? What he’s wanted for so long. He used to toss and turn at night over the thought of Sehee’s eyes; her smile; her lips.

And on his, they were heaven. Plump and soft just like the romance novels say, moving at the exact pace of his heartbeat.

The hand holding his bouquet drops to his side as the other goes to cup Sehee’s cheek. Faintly, the sound of paper fluttering to the ground reaches his ears, but nothing can distract him from this moment.

Until, of course, it ends.

Sehee pulls away. “We can’t— I don’t—”

Someone clears their throat.

Soonyoung turns, finding Minghao standing just off from the curtains, arms crossed and face contorted in thinly-veiled anger.

And you.

You’re standing next to Minghao, obviously shocked — over being seen or what you’ve seen, Soonyoung doesn’t know. Hands fisted and held close to your chest, your eyes widen as they meet Soonyoung’s.

It’s not so dramatic as the movies.

Soonyoung stares at you, tongue unmoving with nothing to say. You stare back, almost frozen, until Minghao gently takes you by your shoulders, forcing you to turn and leave the way you must’ve come. Nothing happens in the time it takes. Soonyoung simply watches.

He’s never been good at reading lips, but he thinks he knows exactly what Minghao whispers in your ear.

There’s something you should know.

Sehee mutters, “Sorry,” and leaves. She looks guilt-ridden as she does, but even in his half-frozen state, Soonyoung knows all of this is on him.

He stands alone in that corner of the stage, the only noise being the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of the last stragglers in the dressing rooms. His hands clench, and the brown paper of the bouquet crumples. He looks at it then, at the yellow roses and baby’s breath, at the beige note that’s fallen to the floor.

Slowly, he crouches, picking up the note with his thumb and forefinger.

Congratulations Soonyoung!! I know how hard you’ve worked for this night, which is why I ordered these to be delivered. Joshua told me yellow roses represent happiness, or something. Pretty, right? You deserve every happiness, so I decided to start with flowers. Tonight may be over, but who knows, maybe we’ll find happiness in tomorrow, too.

It’s stupid. It’s not a love letter. It’s laced with love, though, and he hates that he recognizes your handwriting.

Time moves heavily as Soonyoung turns to the backstage door. He’s the only one left now, his station in the second boy’s dressing room is messy, unlike everyone else’s. His reflection stares back at him while he sits in front of the mirror, motions halved in speed as he wipes off his eye makeup.

It’s over.

When was the last time he thought about how it would end?

He changes out of costume, arms growing stiff, and stuffs everything in his bag without much care for how. His regular clothes itch; he longs to scratch at his skin, but he doesn’t.

He leaves your bouquet on the counter.

His friends stand in a circle in the lobby, brows furrowed and voices hushed as they discuss... something. Soonyoung has a bad feeling he knows exactly the topic. Minghao isn’t there. Nor are you.

Jihoon isn’t around, either, but Soonyoung remembers he had to leave immediately after the performance. Something about an essay. It doesn’t really matter now, not compared to this.

When he approaches his friends, they quiet down further. Half of them look his way with a frown, while the other half choose to avert their eyes. What do they know?

Seungkwan stands out the most. His arms are crossed, his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and anger radiates from his very being. Of course he’s mad. You’re his friend.

The silence consumes Soonyoung as he nearly shrivels under his friends’ gazes. He must have taken his time, the lobby is empty except for them.

“Where’s Minghao?” he asks.

Seungkwan lurches forward, but both Seungcheol and Wonwoo bring up their arms to hold him back.

“Where’s Minghao? Where’s Minghao?” he seethes. He jabs an accusatory finger in Soonyoung’s face. “You just kissed some girl and broke my best friend’s heart and you’re asking about Minghao?!”

So they don’t know. Not really.

Soonyoung endures the scolding. The looks. The questions. The noise.

No answers are really given.

The great thing about having best friends is that they know not to pamper you when you’ve done wrong. That’s also the worst thing about having best friends.

Seungkwan would go on and on, surely, but soon enough the boys notice how little Soonyoung is reacting — how his face and expression is slack and dull.

Joshua holds up a finger to quiet down the ones still complaining, then gestures towards the front entrance.

“Minghao left with her a while ago.” The look on his face is one of pity. Soonyoung hates it.

He nods; stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to the door.

“Wait! I’m not done—!” Seungkwan struggles against Wonwoo and Seungcheol, but he’s no match.

Soonyoung doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what happens next.

He has no sense of what to do when he walks out that door. Go home, maybe.

The night breeze hits him with more force than it should, making his eyes go dry and his lips tremble. Outside, everything is almost too loud. There’s traffic on all sides, surrounding the lot of the theatre; the sound of humming engines and honking horns assaults his senses.

He walks — though it feels like wandering — to the parking lot, where he plans to look around for a bus stop.

You’re there.

A mirage, he thinks at first, but you’re really there, sitting on one of those concrete barriers, legs outstretched and ankles crossed. You have your head lowered as you sit, hands braced on the cold concrete.

His held breath escapes him, and you look up.

“You’re here,” you say. The smile on your lips, ever so slight and ever so bitter, causes a ringing in his ears. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“I...”

“It’s a lie, right?” Your eyes glisten, but no tears fall. “You wouldn’t— I’m not— I’m not that naive, am I?”

Soonyoung’s lips part, but nothing moves past them. His hands itch to leave his pockets, but with nothing to reach for, they stay still.

“...I see.”

You drop your head again, bringing your hands together to fiddle with your fingernails. He hears your breath, shaky as it is, and his lungs constrict.

“God, it felt so real. I thought— I guess I don’t know what I thought, huh?” A shiver runs through you. “Was any of it real?” you ask the ground.

Soonyoung longs to answer. That’s the thing, though.

He doesn’t know.

Can any of it be real?

You laugh. Before, your laugh was spring strawberries; summer warblers; winter snowdrops. Now, your dry laughter echoes in Soonyoung’s mind like a pebble in a failed attempt of skipping stones.

“Guess not.”

You hop off the concrete barrier, wiping off your pants of dust and dirt. Still, you don’t meet his eyes.

Soonyoung’s heart beats in a way he knows isn’t natural. Guilt seeps through every orifice. “You’re not... you’re not yelling at me. You’re not crying — you’re not angry,” he stumbles through. “Why?”

It’s then that when you meet his eyes, he notices the dried tracks lining your cheeks. You have been crying, just in the time it took for him to come across you.

“I’m just disappointed in myself, Soonyoung,” you say. “I’m the one who fell for it so easily. I’m the one that was tricked. I’m the one who—” a breath “—who loved someone that didn’t love me back.” You step closer, arms limp at your side. “Once I get home, sure, I’ll cry my eyes out. Is that what you want to hear? I’ll curse myself for being so... so stupid.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“No, it’s not. This is not my fault. All I did was believe the words you said to me. All I did was hand myself to you on a silver platter.” Unshed tears brim at your eyelids, but it seems you refuse to let them fall. “But you know the worst part, Soonyoung?”

Everything?

“The worst part is I can’t yell at you. I’m not angry because I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back and it hurts and I can’t bring myself to hate you despite being told you’ve never thought about me the way I think about you.”

A breathy gasp escapes you, and you turn on a dime, the sight of your back an icy reminder to Soonyoung of what he’s yet to learn. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, shoulders rising and falling.

“I’ll be going now. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Soonyoung doesn’t move from his spot when you walk away, or when you get into Minghao’s car, which pulls away after a moment of sitting there in its parking spot. His feet are stuck in stiff mud, unable to shift, even.

Perhaps he stands there for too long. It’s not until he’s staring down the front of his apartment that he realizes one of his friends must have dropped him off.

•

He hasn’t heard from you in a few days. He hasn’t heard from anyone in just as long.

Jihoon already knew (not everything, but enough) by the time Soonyoung rolled out of bed the day after. He hasn’t said anything about it, but Soonyoung can tell this silence isn’t the same as usual. They rarely eat meals together anymore. Last movie night, Jihoon didn’t even pretend to be busy, instead saying he simply wasn’t in the mood.

Seungkwan hasn’t left your side ever since... that happened. If Soonyoung happens to see you on campus, which is almost never, he backs out of approaching you because of the sheer force that is Seungkwan’s glare. Besides, he wouldn’t know what to say even if he did find the courage to face you.

Classes go by in blurs. Not quickly, like scenery past a car window, but so slow that once Soonyoung leaves, he remembers nothing but hours upon hours of staring at his empty notebook, even if the lecture was only fifty minutes long. Days are kind of like that too.

•

Sehee apologizes. She shouldn’t, but she does.

Soonyoung didn’t really hate what he did at first. He liked her, after all.

But when Sehee chokes on her own words, pleading to whoever will listen that she’s not that kind of girl, Soonyoung regrets kissing her more than he ever wanted to kiss her in the first place.

•

please let me explain

I’m sorry

it’s been a while, but still

I’m sorry

[🍥] Explain what?

[🍥] ...

[🍥] Soonyoung?

sorry I just

I wasn’t expecting you to answer

[🍥] Maybe I shouldn’t have

wait

I’m sorry

[🍥] So I’ve heard

I just want you to know why what happened, happened

[🍥] But I already know why

it’s not that simple

[🍥] You lied because you suck at lying. Because you knew Sehee was there that night and panicked. I was just collateral damage

[🍥] ...

[🍥] No answer, huh?

[🍥] So it really is that simple

please wait

I’m just trying to figure myself out

[🍥] Let me help you

[🍥] You want my forgiveness because you feel guilty. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you want me to say I forgive you just so you won’t have to carry this around for the rest of your life

[🍥] I know this isn’t some romcom. I know you’re not here to get me back

[🍥] So just let it go

[🍥] Let’s just forget about this. About what happened

what if I can’t

[🍥] I don’t know

[🍥] Figure it out, I guess

[🍥] But do it on your own

•

Soonyoung doesn’t measure his time anymore.

He wakes up. He eats. He goes to class. He skips lunch. He goes home. He eats. He falls asleep.

When was the last time he went out with someone? When was the last time he had a real conversation?

He doesn’t know.

•

[Minghao] You should tell everyone else

why

[Minghao] Would you rather they think you’re a cheater or just an idiot?

I don’t know

[Minghao] I think they deserve an explanation

[Minghao] Want me to do it for you?

does it even matter anymore

[Minghao] It’s your choice

[Minghao] You just have to make it

then tell them

I don’t care

[Minghao] Are you sure?

tell them

•

These days, Soonyoung stays late at the studio. No one really practices there anymore, not since the showcase finished and finals have rolled around. Actually, Soonyoung should be studying too, but he can’t find the motivation. He thinks it might be the guilt.

You were right. He doesn’t want to carry this around.

The thing is, despite spending entire evenings in the studio, he can’t remember anything as he walks home. It must be hours spent in there, and yet, when he walks out, he can’t recall a thing. Like he was never there at all.

Where does the time go?

With his luck, the elevator is broken when he returns to the apartment building, so he has to take the stairs. Normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but after hours of mindless, sloppy dancing, he’s much too tired. He fumbles with his keys when he tries to open the door, and he rests his forehead on the cool wood for a moment, sighing before he tries again.

The door creaks open. Though it’s late, the lights are still on, which Soonyoung frowns at when he realizes. Lately, Jihoon is never up when Soonyoung comes home. But there he is, sitting at the table right next to the kitchen with his eyes on his hands and his feet tucked under the chair.

Soonyoung freezes after shutting the door behind him, not wholly sure what to make of the scene before him.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon looks up from his fingers and meets Soonyoung’s gaze.

“Minghao called me today,” he says.

Soonyoung gulps, but doesn’t respond — doesn’t know how to.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first, you know.” His voice is slow, croaky; tired. “But it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it. I don’t know how I didn’t see it from the start.”

Slowly, Soonyoung slips off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. “So now you know. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“I just have a question.”

Soonyoung pauses, halfway through the apartment and only a few meters from his bedroom door. He turns to face Jihoon, sighing through his nose and digging his palm into his eye sockets. “Fine,” he concedes. “What?”

“If you never loved — never liked her, why are you acting like this now?”

“Acting like what?”

“Like a dead man walking.”

Soonyoung scoffs, a dry, empty sound as he looks away for a moment before meeting Jihoon’s gaze again. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks. “I lied to someone for months. I pretended to love someone I didn’t. I used her because of my own stupidity and pride, and then I used Sehee, too—” Pausing, he closes his eyes; takes a breath. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s guilt. I feel guilty for... for everything.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Excuse me?”

Jihoon rhythmically taps the pads of his fingers on the table. It’s not loud enough to be heard, but Soonyoung’s eyes train to the sight. “It’s only the guilt?”

“What else would it be?”

This time, it’s Jihoon who sighs. He looks at his hands again for a second. “Do me a favour,” he says without looking up.

“Look, I already—”

“Just do what I say.”

Soonyoung groans, but he knows he can’t argue with Jihoon and win — not now at least. He rubs his eyes, shoulders rising and falling as he takes in a deep breath. Mumbling under his breath, he says, “Fine.”

Jihoon stands from his chair, and in such stagnant silence, the sound of the legs squeaking on the floor is profound. He points to the middle of the apartment, the large bit of floor-space that’s too big to be considered part of the kitchen but too small to house any furniture.

“Stand right there.”

“...What?”

Without answering, Jihoon simply points at the floor again, and Soonyoung can only groan in defiance as he moves to stand in that spot. Grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, Jihoon steps a few feet away, facing Soonyoung with the pillow held in one hand at his side. He seems to consider something for a moment.

Soonyoung has never been unable to read Jihoon this much, so he asks, “What is this all about—”

Jihoon screams. Not a high-pitched screech, but a guttural battle cry, and Soonyoung’s eyes widen. Faster than he can comprehend, Jihoon runs towards him and tackles him to the ground. Soonyoung’s legs crumble as he falls, and he feels the throw pillow pressing onto his face.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies.

“Jihoon!” he cries, but his protest is muffled by the pillow. “What the fuck are you—!”

“You fucking idiot! You don’t know shit!”

“I know that!” Soonyoung thrashes to get the pillow off, but Jihoon is way stronger than he looks.

“You miss her you fucking buffoon! You’re all in your doom and gloom because you had a good thing going and had to go fuck it up!”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t try to argue with me, fucker, I know you better than anyone. Now scream!”

The pillows squishes further down, and while Soonyoung can still breathe, it’s far from comfortable. He continues to struggle even though he knows it’s useless.

“What?!”

“Scream into the pillow! You’re mad at yourself and you should be! Let it all out!”

“I—”

“Scream!”

And he does. He lets out a loud bellow that’s nothing but sound roaring from his lungs. He does it mostly to appease Jihoon — so that maybe he’ll finally get off.

But it feels good.

No, not good, really. It feels awful. Everything feels awful. Yet, something about screaming makes him want to do it again. He yells once more into the pillow, the sound muffled in the fabric and yet intensely remarkable. He screams and he screams and he screams until he can’t scream anymore and his voice is raw and there’s no more sound aside from the fractured gasps of his sobs. Tears soak into rough fabric, and he doesn’t even notice that Jihoon isn’t holding the pillow anymore — he’s pressing it to his face himself. His body shakes under Jihoon. Soonyoung feels pathetic, but he can’t stop.

He tries again to scream into the pillow, but his voice cracks and all he knows is to cry.

This is what it’s like.

Quietly, Jihoon maneuvers himself so he sits by Soonyoung’s head. He slowly lifts a corner of the pillow and peeks at Soonyoung’s red face. “So,” he whispers, voice soft and full of care. “What are you going to do now?”

Soonyoung wraps his arms around the pillow, hiding his face again.

“I don’t know,” he says. He’s never felt less sure of anything. “I don’t know.”

•

That night, Soonyoung cleans his room. He doesn’t reorganize or anything, just picks discarded clothes up off the ground and throws them in a hamper, spreads his blankets so his bed actually looks bed-like, and takes his overflowing garbage bin out to the door, where he’ll take it out tomorrow morning. As he stretches his arm between his bed and the wall, his fingers close around the sweater he’s trying to reach and... something else. When he brings his hand back up, a small tiger plush stares back at him.

Go get ‘em, tiger!

He stares at the words for a moment, sitting up on his bed and leaning his back against the wall. The plush feels frail in his hands, almost like the velvet heart held in the tiger’s paws could crumble at any moment. Maybe it will.

Soonyoung settles down above the covers that night, and the tiger sits on his other pillow.

The one that still smells like you.

•

He cries. (For the second time since you left.)

•

After everything that’s happened, one would think it would take a miracle to fix what’s been broken. Soonyoung thinks it will take more than that, but still; he’s no miracle worker. He thinks it will take magic to just see you again.

Turns out, it takes a coffee.

Jihoon forces Soonyoung to join him in visiting one of the campus cafes. He doesn’t think about it too much, just believes Jihoon’s trying to keep him alive with a little kick of caffeine. That thought is pushed away when Jihoon blocks him from sitting at the little table, pointing instead across the space to the student printing center.

You’re talking to a customer at the front counter, forearms rested on the white faux marble. A smile is on your lips as you say whatever it is you’re saying to the girl, and Soonyoung finds it almost impossible to tear his eyes away. But he does. He scans the rest of the building for a second. Seungkwan is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Minghao.

He turns to Jihoon, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“She told the bodyguards to back off,” Jihoon explains without needing to be asked. “It’s been a few days.” He nods his chin towards you. “Go on. Talk to her.”

Soonyoung shakes his head, gulping down the words he can’t yet think of. “I don’t... I’m not... ready.”

“If you back out now, you’re going to keep backing out until it’s too late.”

Jihoon’s eyes blaze with an unfitting determination for such a setting. He looks stupid, like some self-made, all-knowing relationship guru who likes the coke he’s gripping too much. Still, he’s right.

Soonyoung licks his dry lips and looks at you again. You’ve sat down, relaxed after having helped that customer and now conversing with one of the other students working there. He misses the way you looked when you were happy — when you were happy with him.

What will it take to see that again?

What will it take to hold you again?

His feet move before his doubts can stop him, and the scene feels awfully familiar. This time though, Soonyoung can’t help but feel like the bad guy.

You don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, and he doesn’t know what hurts more: the immediate frown, or the fake smile you use to cover it up.

“Hi, what can I do for you today?”

If Soonyoung had to define heartache, he might use this moment. Feigning to forget rather than acknowledging the past... it’s effective, but it hurts.

“Can...” He hesitates and curses himself for it. “Can we talk?”

“About printing, yes. About anything else? I really would rather we didn’t,” you say under your breath. It’s hushed, and you don’t shy away when Soonyoung leans closer to hear. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

“But there’s something I need to say.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anymore apologies, Soonyoung.”

“It’s not that,” he argues.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “It’s not an apology?”

“No— I mean, well, yes I want to apologize. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing, but— but that’s not what I—”

“Soonyoung.”

He stops at your word, knowing that speaking will only get him further into trouble. Around you, his words keep failing. Instead, he meets your eyes, which under more inspection, seem hardened.

Have eyes ever looked so hardened when brimmed with tears?

“I don’t know if you know this, but seeing you makes me hate myself.” By now, your coworker has walked to the back, probably to respect your privacy. Your voice almost cracks. “I’ve felt worthless before, but Soonyoung, do you even realize what that — what you did to me?”

He barely breathes before saying, “What if I... what if I said I fell in love with you? Somewhere along the way?” A pause. Your eyes waver, but steady themselves. “What if I said I love you?”

“Soonyoung,” you say after a second.

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

•

[🍥] Give me a reason to give you a chance

this is real right?

[🍥] It’s not a dream if that’s what you’re asking

all of a sudden??

[🍥] Minghao and Jihoon said I should

[🍥] And I think I should too

[🍥] But it’s hard

[🍥] What you said yesterday... I don’t know if I can believe it just yet

will you meet me?

I want to see you

[🍥] Can you give me some time?

yes

all the time you need

but will you?

will you meet me?

[🍥] I don’t want to

[🍥] But then again, I do

[🍥] Just give me some time

•

A strange thing, time. It passes by much too quickly when you want it to last, and it drags on when all you want is to be there. There; right then; right now.

Soonyoung stays up late turning on and off his phone, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.

It’s only been two days.

Jihoon thinks he’s crazy, though he hasn’t said it out loud — Soonyoung can tell.

He also thinks he might be a little crazy, but that’s okay. If it means he’ll get the chance to make it up to you... maybe he’s fine with being crazy.

At some point, Jihoon barges into his room and takes away Soonyoung’s phone, snatching it straight out of his hands like the little thief he is. He keeps it out of reach despite being shorter, preaching bullshit like, “You need to calm down and act like a normal person!”

Fine, whatever.

Soonyoung goes out for some air. And instant ramen.

There’s a twenty-four hour convenience store right on the edge of campus, manned by a single tired university student that everyone is aware of, yet no one really seems to know his name. It’s one of those spots where time doesn’t exist; maybe names don’t, either.

Compared to the blackness of night, the blanch white convenience store sticks out like a sore thumb, especially with all the bright posters and fluorescent tube-lights. Soonyoung feels just as out of place with no people around just outside the store, but really, it’s to be expected at a time like two in the morning.

He’s right at the door when it chimes and slides open. And so are you.

Both of you freeze where you are, you in the doorway and he just in front. His jaw slacks slightly as he takes you in.

You’re in casual clothes again, a thick sweater and presumably pyjama pants. This version of you comes with good memories — for some reason he likes it more than he cares to admit. Maybe he liked that you could share a more vulnerable side to him, and he to you in return. Although, you’ve shown this side to even the unnamed convenience store guy.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his reverie.

“Soonyoung,” you say, and it’s softer than before. Maybe your voice is lighter from the fact that it’s two in the morning, maybe just because you’re tired, but a small part of Soonyoung wishes that it’s something else — that you sound softer because you’ve missed him too.

He hopes it isn’t just hope.

He says your name, the sound beautiful and battered on his tongue. A small smile passes your lips, so fast that he almost misses it, but he doesn’t. That’s one thing he knows about you: how much you care. Even if someone hurts you, you always take the time to hear them out. You give them chances. Soonyoung should thank his lucky stars that you’ve done the same for him.

“Hi.”

You smile again, and it reaches your eyes, however sad.

“Is it time?” he asks.

“It can be.” The plastic bag in your hand crinkles as you sway it back and forth. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out like a breath. “Please.”

“Then that’s what we’ll make it.”

You gesture to the ground, where the curb meets the asphalt, but Soonyoung is still a little shocked that he’s even met you here in the first place, so he watches, dazed, as you sit down on the curb before joining in. He stays silent as you pull out an ice cream cup and hand it to him. He stays silent as you procure a second one and peel open the plastic lid, digging into it with the wooden stick spoon-wannabe that comes with the package. He stays silent as you look at him, the wooden stick hanging from your mouth.

“So,” you say, scraping the side of the paper cup. Meeting his eyes, you sport a sly smile. “I hear you’re in love with me.”

The ice cream stays unopened in his hands. He finds it so easy to smile back.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“You think you are?”

“I’ve never loved someone like this before,” he tries to explain, though the words are slow to his tongue. “I can only think.”

“I guess so.”

“But—” he looks at his fingers, fiddling with the plastic lid of the cup, and a small laugh escapes “—I’m thinking really, really hard.”

You laugh too; his heart blooms.

“Is that so?” you tease, smiling around the wooden spoon. “It’s gonna take more than that.”

“I think I can do it.”

“You think?”

“I think really hard.”

Soonyoung might be in love with every part of you, even if he never realized. Your laugh, your smile, your tells, your habits. He wishes he knew sooner, that this laugh could’ve been his forever long before now.

You scrape the last drops of ice cream out of the paper cup and leave the stick in your mouth, a bit chewed up. Your shoes tap against the asphalt, the rhythm something that draws both his and your eyes.

“You know...” you say, turning your head to meet his gaze once more. “You know you hurt me, right? You know this won’t be easy?”

“None of what we had was easy.”

A scoff runs past your lips. You bump your shoulder against his. “Speak for yourself. I fell hard and fast for you, asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.” You take the still unopened ice cream from his hands and stuff it right back in the bag it came from. “Say it again, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm... maybe it’ll take a few more times.”

“I’m—”

“But not tonight,” you say. “Tonight...”

Your hand beside him closes the distance, grazing over his and pulling it over to your lap.

“...just hold me?”

And he does.

Bonus (gn) epilogue: Fluff and Context Bonus (gn) blurbs: [a fate of my choosing][pick a struggle]

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asterias-record-shop · 1 year

Text

𓆩[in our next life || I]𓆪

𓆩[masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[next part]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! District 4 Victor! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.2K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first to fall in love after the games. That title went to you and Finnick, your mentor after you were Reaped at the age of fifteen two years after Finnick. After being dragged back into the Games with the Quarter Quell, you both are determined to stop it, no matter what- especially if one of you would gladly sacrifice themselves for the other.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - cursing and foul language || mentions of forced prostitution || Finnick loves you so much || mentions of self-blaming for being sold || smoking, smoking opium || mentions of death || slight angst in worrying about the games || smut warnings include: public sex, sex outside, spit, cum eating, oral (♂), face fucking, riding, size kink, stomach bulge, dirty talk, teasing, multiple orgasms, multiple rounds, scratching, talks of having children, probably some breeding kink thrown in there honestly (All of the warnings I can think of, lemme know if you think i should add anything else! warnings for full fic in masterlist)

When the Third Quarter Quell was announced, you were making dinner for yourself and Finnick. The dish full of expensive fish fell to the floor, breaking on impact as you stared at the hologram TV, holding back a sob as your chest began to swell.

How could this happen? You were supposed to be guaranteed a safe life, a happy life after winning, not that it was actually possible considering the monstrosities you had to do in your own games.

It was common knowledge that you could fight, especially with Finnick as your mentor since the Reaping and practically best friend since birth, but you refused to show any skill during and before your games. Like Johanna in the later games, you weren’t deemed a threat until you killed eight people by trapping them in a net and throwing them down a waterfall, surpassing Betee’s amazing feat of six kills at once. Even then, though, you couldn’t protect the person you wanted the most- a young boy, younger than your age of fifteen, Reaped from District 3.

Your kills of the games didn’t settle in until you left, finally processing the fact that you ended the lives of others who were trying to do the same as you, survive. You had let a superiority complex settle in during your tour, tricking yourself into thinking that if they wanted to live, then they would’ve tried harder.

It didn’t last long, though, after you saw Finnick again- his fake persona immediately falling when he got you alone, kissing you immediately, whispering soft praises and ‘I thought I’d never see you again’s. The real torture began when your tour ended and Snow finally pulled you into a horrible underground of the rich and plentiful, selling you to the highest bidder until Finnick stepped in and forced Snow to put him with you.

As much as you felt that it was your fault Finnick was being dragged into this life again, he assured you that it wasn’t the case, even though it was- in your mind at least. While Finnick took secrets as payment, you took two things as payment- money in forms of lavish gifts or cash, and death in the form of poisoning them. It wasn’t like Snow could do much when you threatened his family just like he did yours.

You learned later on why Finnick accepted this second form of torture, and you hated yourself even more when you figured out it was because of you, because they threatened you. They threatened to kill you, and just like that, you learned another thing about Finnick- he truly loved you, no matter how much you thought differently at first.

After that, you both had finally gotten out of the cruel grip of the Capitol and Snow, finding a makeshift home in the Victors Village of District 4. You and Finnick made your relationship public, to the dismay of Snow, but it was quickly fixed whenever everyone found joy in your relationship. You both even had a television show for a while, almost making your life seem normal until you ended it, dreaming of a life with no cameras and the fake personas you both made.

You knew what some people thought about you and Finnick - the Crown Prince and Princess - the most popular couple that ever happened in the history of Panem, a lustful couple that could never keep their hands off of each other after a series of lovers that weren’t quite voluntary.

You were broken out of your thoughts when you heard Caesar’s voice, his horrible laugh you only wanted to forget. He spoke to the other host, smiling. “I wonder if we will be able to see our Prince and Princess again! Oh, I miss seeing them. I miss their reality show as well!”

Claudius laughs. “Well, if we do see them, hopefully it’s in the games! Finnick and Y/N have always been my favorites, they’re amazing.”

Caesar laughs too. “Oh, yes! They are some of my favorites, and who knows, love in the arena again?”

You don’t hear the door open, Finnick quickly running into the kitchen of your shared home. He looks down at the broken bowl full of food, but ignores it as he quickly cups your face. “Y/N? Darling, look at me.”

Quickly, you do as he says, smiling. “I’m sorry, Finnick. I’ll pick it up now. The floor is clean, I swear on it.”

He groaned. He hated it when your persona just flared up, especially in moments like these when you acted as though you both were on a TV show again. “Y/N, don’t do that!”

Your eyes widen, gasping as he slowly rubs your cheeks with your thumbs. “We’re going to be okay, I promise.”

You shook your head. “No we’re not. No we’re not, we’re going to go back in and we’re going to die.”

He shook his head in response, stroking your face. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

You inhale shakily as he slowly kneeled down, picking up the fish that didn’t land on the floor and setting it on another plate. “Why don’t you go set the table?”

You nod, slowly kneeling down to attempt to pick up the broken shards. “Yeah, yeah I will-”

He kneeled in front of you, pushing your hands away. “Go set the table. I’ll pick this up.”

You nod as he kisses your hands softly, helping you stand before you go to the dining room. Outside was havoc, and when someone knocked on the door, Finnick beat you to it.

Mags stood there, hands shaking before Finnick slowly grabbed her wrists, helping her inside. “Come eat with us, Mags. Y/N made her famous fish.”

She inhaled, but nodded as she slowly walked to the table. You kiss her head softly, placing a plate in front of her as Finnick sets the food down, an array of sides to go along with the fish such as potatoes, roasted vegetables, and rice. You sit down next to Mags, Finnick on the opposite side of you for the four person table, sighing heavily as everyone begins to serve themselves,

You don’t, though, Finnick saying how good your fish always was and how excited he was to have it for dinner. Mags smiles as she slowly eats, almost like a bird, but Finnick stuffed his face. He paused when you didn't serve yourself, but smiled when he reached forward to hold your hand. “Are you tired, my love?”

You nodded, smiling at Mags as you stood. You pressed a kiss to her head, inhaling shakily before moving to Finnick, kissing his lips.

“I’m going to take a shower. I love you.”

He smiled sadly, nodding. “I love you too.”

You slowly go up the stairs, Finnick picking up the plates before washing them and leading Mags outside. As you took a shower, Finnick rubbed his jaw as he held a pipe. Normally, he never smoked - especially opium - but he needed it more than ever now.

Mags waved her hand, holding it out to him before he slowly handed it to her, watching as she inhaled deeply. “I think they’re going to rig the Reaping,” he whispers, looking back to stare at the restroom light to make sure you were still in there. “For it to draw me and Y/N.”

Mags exhales the smoke before looking at him, smiling. She makes a gesture, pretending to search in a bowl before gesturing to herself.

It took him a minute, but he shook his head. “No. No, you can’t do that. I won’t let you-”

She pushed him away, putting her middle finger up towards him before handing back the pipe. She stands, pressing a kiss to his head before waving and going back towards her house. He sighed, taking another deep inhale from the pipe before he felt soft hands on his back.

He turns around, smiling when he sees you, your hands running down his spine before going back to his shoulders.

“Are you going to come inside?”

He sighs, shaking his head as he sets down the pipe. “Why don’t you stay out here a little longer with me?”

You accept, slowly laying between his legs before kissing his thighs. “Fin? Fin, I want-”

“You don’t have to, darling,” he whispers, stroking your head as you lay on your stomach, kneeling before pressing your chest against the soft fabric of the chair. “Darling, wait-”

You hush him as you slowly pull down his pants, bunching them up at his thighs to watch his cock immediately harden and slap against his stomach. “You want me to wait when you’re already so hard?”

He laughs. “Well, darling, it’s hard not to when your pretty ass is pressed against my- fuck, got dammit-”

He inhaled sharply as you took him into your mouth, not even half of his length fitting inside of your mouth as you let your jaw go slack. You hold his upper thigh, bobbing your head as he tilts his head back. You hold back gags as you attempt to relax your throat, pushing your head as deep as you could before pulling away, gasping for air as your spit dribbled down his shaft.

You giggle as you use your hand to pump his length, pulling him back into your mouth as his hand slowly cups the back of your head. He groaned out loud, a gasp falling from your lips as he started to shallowly thrust, grunting. “Fuck, darling, you’re always so good. So, so fucking good.”

You hummed around him, watching as his eyes rolled back, another hand going to cup and squeeze his balls. His hips buck, a gag falling from your lips as your own rut against the chair, desperate for friction.

His moans get louder as you press your face against his pelvis, tiny pubes pressing against your nose from his well groomed body, groaning out as he pulls back your hair. You could feel your saliva running down your chin, gagging with each thrust as he cursed. “Let them hear us, darling. Let all of them hear us fucking.”

It wasn’t the first time you both had sex outside, but this was the first you both weren’t holding back. You could hear the wet noises echoing in the trees, the slow trickling of the river near by you and Finnick swam in before, where you both had made love too. It was rare you and Finnick didn’t fuck somewhere, especially in Victors Village.

You gagged loudly, thankful for the fact that Mags’ house was far away from your own. If there was one thing that you never wanted in your lifetime, it was for Mags to hear her adopted children having sex.

Your thoughts were distracted as Finnick pulled you closer, hips thrusting faster, harder. His cock was pounding, thrusting into you quickly, grunts echoing as he groaned. “Fucking hell, darling, you’re doing so good. Fuck, fuck! You’re perfect, c’mon, focus on me. Focus on me.”

You nodded around his cock, gagging as you pulled away just for him to bring you straight back down. He laughs, staring down at your wide, hazy eyes as he stroked your cheek. You looked so innocent sucking him off, choking and gagging so prettily around his cock.

It had taken you both time to actually have sex and enjoy it, and actually finish because of pleasure instead of faking. Now, almost every touch from each other turned the other on, and you both wouldn’t have it any other way. He sucks in a breath as he forces you deep into his cock, your choking turning him on even more as you squeezed his ball sac. He groans out your name, hips bucking quickly before he cums, balls basically clenching as he cums down your throat.

Your eyes rolled back as you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking as hard as you could to take all of his cum as deep as you could. You swallow all of it, as much as you could before he pulls out, the rest of his cum filling your mouth. With a giggle, you open your mouth wide as he stares down at you, leaning towards your face to kiss your lips. His saliva mixed with his cum and your own, your cunt aching as he pulled you back into his lap, his cock already hard and prodding at your sex.

“Fuck, darling,” he whispers, watching as you swallow and lick at your lips and down your chin. “Holy shit.”

“You taste so good,” you whisper, gasping as he slowly pulls at your dress, bunching it up at your waist. He pulled your panties to the side, a gasp falling from your mouth as his head slowly prods against your cunt, slowly pushing inside of you. You throw your head back, groaning loudly. “Fuck, Finnick!”

He groans into your chest, his hands moving from his cock to your back, rubbing at your spine before pulling at the ties of your nightgown. The breast area of your nightgown quickly falls as he unties your dress, leaning down to press his lips against your nipples, popping and sucking against them. You pull him closer, groaning as he sucked on one, his hands cupping at your tits as your hips buck into his.

“Fin, Fin, Fin, Finnick!” You moaned out, gasping as his hips thrust upward, into you, deep and deeper, his cock hitting every sensitive spot inside of you as you groaned.

“Fuck darling, just like that. Come on, get off on my cock. Wanna watch your face as you cum over and over, again and again.” He laughs as he drags his teeth over your nipple, watching your face scrunch up in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Come on, cum. Your pretty little cunt clenches when you're close.”

His tongue flicked at your nipple, his other hand pushing down under your dress, his nimble fingers rubbing at your clit. “Come on. Cum. Cum, now. You want to feel good, right? Cum. Want to watch you fall apart.”

You scream out, whining as he leans up, licking and sucking at your neck before snapping his hips up. His tip felt as though it was pushing into your stomach, his fat cock stretching you out so good as his tip makes a noticeable bulge on your tummy. You could see it from under your dress, his other hand moving from your breast to your stomach, pushing and rubbing at the bulge as the other does the same to your clit.

You screamed out, eyes watering with pleasure filled tears and you whined loudly. “Fuck, fuck! Yes, yes Finnick!”

He laughs, kissing your neck. “You still haven’t cum yet, darling. I can’t cum until you do, I fucking love you too much. Come on, come on! Do I need to do more, darling? Give you more pleasure?”

You shake your head, mouth lulling open. “No, no, it’s too much! Too much, Fin, fuck!”

“It’s too much and you still haven’t cum?” He laughs, his fingers squeezing your swollen, sensitive clit as you screamed out. Your walls clamp down on him, his hips thrusting up into you until his balls pressed against your ass. You choked, eyes rolling back as you came, a mind blurring orgasm immediately processing itself through your body- nails digging into his shoulders, dragging down his back before his cum spurts into you.

It was quick, cum filling your deepest parts, almost inflating you as he rubs against the bulge. You were being filled, cum pushing into your deepest parts as he pulled you lower.

“Yes, darling,” he praises, kissing at your neck as he pants. Your weak form collapses onto him as he strokes your back. “You did so good.”

“Again, Finnick,” you whisper, rubbing your face against his shoulder. “I want to be filled by you again.”

He nods, how could he resist you? How could he refuse something you wanted?

“Yes, darling,” he repeats. “Whatever you want.”

He took you inside, fucking you over and over again anywhere you wanted. You both weren’t even fucking anymore, not whenever you both got to your bed, now making love as he panted above you. You were so full, so full of him, of Finnick, the man you wanted to marry and to grow old with.

You weren’t able to, though, not after this Quarter Quell. You sobbed against his chest as he cradled your body, pulling you as close as possible as he kissed your head. His tanned skin was rough, covered in scars, his hands rubbing at your back to calm you down as his soft voice whispers into your ear. He whispers praises, assurances that he would never let anything happen to you. His golden hair made a halo over his face as you looked up, sea green eyes staring down at yours glazed over in unshed tears.

“Finnick, I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

Again, he shook his head. “Don’t be scared. You don’t need to be scared, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I want to be with you, Finnick. I want to be with you until the end of time, until I’m dead.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that, Y/N.”

You shook your head, cupping his cheeks. “Why? It’s the truth. I want you, I’m going to be with you until my heart stops. Promise me you’ll do the same, please.”

His eyes water, tears finally running down his cheeks as he nods. “I promise, darling. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You smiled, stroking his cheeks to rid them of tears. “I wish I could’ve had your babies, Finnick,” you choked back a sob, eyes watering as he gasps. “I wish we could’ve had children.”

“Stop, please stop, Y/N,” he sobs this time, leaning forward to kiss your tear covered lips. “Stop saying those things.”

“In our next life, Finnick,” you smiled, stroking his cheeks before kissing his lips. “In our next life, I swear to you, we will be happy. We will be safe. We will,” you inhaled shakily. “We will live a long, happy life together. We’ll have children, we’ll have a family. Nothing horrible will happen to us, no traumas, nothing. I swear to you.”

He sobs, pulling you closer. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t do that for you in this life.”

And you kissed him. You kissed him so hard, throwing your weight over him, pulling his mouth as much as you could into yours. Your tongues dance, rubbing and swirling around each other’s before your hips rut against his. “You’ve done so much for me now. In this life. You’ve made me the happiest woman in this life, I swear.”

He smiles at you. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

You giggle sadly, nodding. “I love you too, Finnick. I love you, now and forever.”

The next day would be the Reaping, and soon, the Third Quarter Quell. You were going to make sure Finnick got out alive, even if it was at the cost of your own life.

You didn’t know he was thinking the same thing.

next part will be uploaded this Wednesday (and linked in masterlist and the link for next part) (05.10.23)

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suzukiblu · 5 months

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WIP Wednesday Game

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

a fake cryptid and a real romantic

mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees

YJ accidental baby acquisition

merfam drama

gentle princely caretaking

snippet from "a fake cryptid and a real romantic":

Clark hears a sudden rush of air and a thrumming, not-quite-human heartbeat, and is therefore unsurprised when Superboy pops up over the side of the Metropolis rooftop he’s sitting on and grins up at him. The kid always seems to be in a good mood, but is clearly in an even better one than usual.

“Guess what?!” Superboy greets gleefully, pushing himself up on the edge.

“What?” Clark asks, smiling wryly at him. The kid just gets so enthusiastic so easily. It’s kind of funny, to be honest.

“I got a date!” Superboy says delightedly, plopping into a seat beside him and kicking his legs excitedly as he does. “Robin said I could go hunting with him in Gotham this weekend!”

“You’re going to hang out, you mean,” Clark corrects kindly, since Superboy still has a notably skewed education and concept of correct terminology and probably calling working with another vigilante a “date” without knowing what that actually means isn’t going to end well for the kid in the long run. Especially since Robin isn’t actually an aspect of Gotham like the Batman is and would definitely be confused by it.

Admittedly, the Batman gets confused by some very straightforward things sometimes, but still.

“‘Hang out’,” Superboy repeats, cocking his head with a slightly puzzled expression that almost immediately clears into another excited grin. “That, yeah! I caught Catwoman breaking into some fancy cat exhibit in Gotham and dropped her off for him, and he was into it! And I gave him a diamond and he liked that too!”

“A . . . diamond?” Clark blinks. He really hopes Catwoman didn’t manage to be that bad of an influence on the kid in one meeting, but he wouldn’t put it past her. Superboy’s impressionable and Catwoman is . . . well, Catwoman. “Uh–where’d you get that?”

“I made it!” Superboy says proudly, puffing himself up as he mimes the act of crushing something in his fists.

. . . alright then, Clark thinks, mildly bewildered. He has no idea why Superboy would make a diamond, much less give it to Robin, but the kid gets weird ideas into his head sometimes and he supposes it would’ve been good practice for controlling his strength to very specific pressures, so he’s not going to say anything about it.

“Did you?” he says, figuring he should keep the conversation going. Superboy’s an odd kid, but he’s eager and has a good heart and always soaks up attention like a sponge, so Clark always tries to talk to the kid at least a little whenever the other finds him.

“I figured Robin’d like it,” Superboy says reasonably, kicking his feet again. “Birds like shiny stuff, and he’s kinda a bird, right?”

Clark is going to assume that Tim Drake more appreciated the expensive gemstone than the “shiny stuff”, assuming a teenage boy would even care about anything like that anyway, but he doesn’t want to rain on Superboy’s parade. Honestly, he’s just glad the kid’s finally trying to make a friend or two in the community who isn’t wearing an “S”. It never hurts to have a little backup on call–or to have a friend who understands the life around, either.

He’s not actually certain what the Batman’s latest Robin’s policy on maintaining his secret identity among the larger hero community is–even Dick still typically presents himself as a city splinter, just of Bludhaven instead of Gotham now–but even if he keeps passing for a cryptid with Superboy for a little while longer, it’s not like Superboy’s had a normal life experience. He’s not going to be bothered that he can’t talk about girls and homework with his new friend first thing.

Clark vaguely dreads the possibility of Superboy eventually deciding to come to him to talk about girls, because he has absolutely no idea how to talk to anyone about girls, much less an impressionable teenager who’s guaranteed to hang on his every word for the whole conversation and take everything he says as gospel while also misunderstanding at least half of it, judging by most of their previous conversations. He hasn’t even been able to figure out how to give the kid the Kryptonian version of the talk, though, much less if it’s actually applicable to him. Relationship issues and dating are a whole other kettle of fish.

Well, with any luck Superboy will stay too young for that kind of thing for a little while longer, Clark hopes halfheartedly. Just–please?

#meme #wip wednesday #wip: a fake cryptid and a real romantic #long post

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novelizt · 7 months

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I CAN BUILD A CASTLE OUT OF ALL THE BRICKS THEY THROW AT ME ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ angst + fluff, fake relationship

SYNOPSIS ➺ you recruit the daring anthony lockwood to stage a relationship that will rile up the press and give his company publicity.

WC ➺ 10.9k

DISCLAIMER ➺ actress! reader. the fic also sings the "all these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret" beat. lockwood calls reader "darling" and "starlet" because... you'll read why. i'm not sure if The Daily Gazette is a real thing. if it is, i mean no slander — this is merely fiction and I needed a publication name.

NOTE ➺ this is for the oldest/only child who takes on a lot for their family — i see you. also, imagine the nick-priyanka chair pull; i like to think that it's lockwood and darling in a nutshell. my ideas were all over the place so this came out a bit messier than i anticipated, but it is lockwood content so i hope you enjoy! especially you, @t2sh0 !!

They say the brightest stars are the ones that burn out first. That was probably what the gazette was counting on, at least.

Ever since you stepped into the limelight, and shortly earned the title of London's Darling, they made a dime a dozen in making your business their business. They would sing your name to high praise one moment then drag it through the mud the next.

You were content with letting them run their mouths, because it was no skin off your nose, but you drew the line at insulting your family.

Someone at the gazette thought it would be absolutely riveting to write about the dirt poor origins you were raised from. In the article, they not only criticized you, but put your parents under a microscope as well.

"All that really happened is, their daughter put on diamonds and called herself a queen," the Daily Gazette said. "It's only about time until they return to their roots—of which aren't much."

They insinuated that you might not even be your father's daughter—or if you were, it wouldn't be long 'til you came out to be as ill as he was. They called your mother weak for not being as proacticve in generating money, and you a fool for being their lapdog. No one in their right mind would just sit and let a publication sully their name like that.

If they were going to make up hullabaloo, you were going to step ahead and give them something else to talk about, and what better play than having London's Darling Starlet fall in love?

It had came to your attention that the gazette had set their eyes on one agency in particular: Lockwood and Company. Specifically one, Anthony Lockwood.

Where they besmirched your name, they glorified his. The kid was talented at weaving through a conversation, you'd give him that. From what you'd read, you already knew he liked being in the glare of publicity.

You were taking a gamble when you walked right up to their statute of work without a disguise. If the someone at the gazette saw you, you hoped that they would get the ball rolling. All that would be left to do is recruit Mr. Lockwood.

But Lockwood hadn't been the one to greet you at the door. You tried not to appear too shocked, but no one really expects to see someone geared in oversized cleaning gear. Whoever it was looked more alien than human.

"Arif's?" the curly haired boy inquired.

You were tempted to scratch your head, because what in the world was an 'Arifs'?

You were conjuring up a response, but then the boy was shoved aside. The girl who had taken his placed looked both inquisitive and sleep-deprived at the same time. Some kind of recognition happened in her eyes and you smiled, mirroring hers.

The curly haired boy looked positively disturbed by it.

"Hello," you said delicately. "does Mr. Lockwood happen to be in at the moment?"

"He is," the girl said. "You must be the Darling of London. I've seen you in the papers. My friend, Norrie, would be so happy if you could—"

"Luce?"

You weren't usually struck by strangers but you knew right away, that it must be him: Anthony Lockwood. He had the timbre and tone of a well-trained celebrity. It was no wonder the gazette was tripping over themselves to write him.

"Lucy's busy smiling at the Darling of London, or whatever she called her," the curly-haired boy reported, akin to a child who wanted to see their sibling be scolded.

"George," Lockwood turned his attention with a terse intonation. "why don't you pop on the kettle?"

George's smirk fell. He muttered something at Lucy before retreating to the door beside the stairwell. The wide berth he left gave you your first glimpse of the gazette's most recent favorite.

Anthony Lockwood was a spectacle in a suit and tie, looking exactly like his pictures in the papers. He cleaned up nicely enough. You just couldn't help but wince at the disarray his hair was in.

"Lucy, will you please?" Lockwood gave Lucy a look. She cast a glance at you before hesitantly joining George in the kitchen.

You made a mental note to ask about her friend, Norrie, later. It's the least you could do for her saving you from George.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Lockwood turned his attention back to you. He leaned easily against the doorframe, giving off the impression that he was conversational enough, even if you weren't being very good at being polite.

"Welcome to Lockwood and Co., I'm Anthony Lockwood," he said courteously, flashing a smile that would make the press go crazy. You've seen just one like it on cast mates, but he had done it so well you know he'd practiced to get it perfect, or maybe he was naturally good at smiling. You wouldn't know. His voice waded through your reverie. "How can we help you?"

"The kind of help I need isn't a usual request, Mr. Lockwood," you said forwardly. You glanced over his shoulder before offering a chaste smile. "May I come in?"

—

You didn't expect an audience of three after being lead to the receiving room. Then again, you should have. The reasonable assumption was that you were here for ghost-related troubles. You weren't sure how to clarify that you weren't.

You accepted a cup of tea and took in the air in the room before proceeding. Lockwood was sat right across from you, attentively bent toward you. Lucy was trying to keep on a amiable façade in her seat (likely to get a signature for her friend). George was... being himself. He was an odd one, but he had rid himself of his space suit, so that was nice. None of them seemed to be hostile though. That was always a good thing.

"I have a personal favor to ask of you," you started. You rested your hands over your knees, retaining your resolution. "and it involves the recent rumors about me."

"Which one? The one about your prissy attitude or the inevitable downfall of your entire family?" George wasn't as ignorant as he made himself out to be. He took a sip of tea when Lucy glared his way. Lockwood didn't look too surprised by his snide, George must regularly be like this.

You stifled a laugh of your own, amused by his forward nature. "Both, to be honest. The gazette has been generous with their slander lately." You tapped your finger on your knee. "One can only take so much . . . That's what brought me here. I need your help to keep them under control. You'll be properly compensated, of course."

"Miss Darling—" Lockwood started. It wasn't your name but you let it be since he sounded genuine enough. "—we are a psychical agency. What you're asking, it's out of our area of expertise."

"I am aware of that, but I'm not making this request to Lockwood & Co.," you said firmly. You steeled yourself when you set your eyes on him. He flinched under the intensity. "I'm asking you directly, Mr. Lockwood."

George hunched forward, unsuccessfully staunching a laugh. Lucy had straightened in her seat, eyes bugged out of her head. And Lockwood? The surprise on his face couldn't have been fake. He blinked and blinked, but his brain couldn't catch up.

You went on. "My family's been involved. I can't sit idly by while their names are being tarnished. I need something to dissolve those rumors, or at least distract the public enough to forget about them."

He cleared his throat but it was clear he was still ruffled by your earlier admission. "And how would I contribute to that?"

You tried to sound professional, but even your most prim tone sounded odd when it came to a request like this. "I need you to court me."

George stopped trying to muffle his laughter. He even grew bold enough to take a biscuit to snack on. "This is rich. 'Court' and 'Lockwood' in the same sentence? Never thought I'd see the day. You're better off with someone like Quill Kipps, Miss Darling—was it? At least he can act."

Lockwood shot a glare at George but he didn't budge, smiling as he devoured his biscuit. Lucy had recovered and gave her two cents. "George is right. Lockwood doesn't have the best track record in terms of subtlety."

Lockwood looked affronted. "I'm not as bad as you make me out to be."

"You're right," George said gleefully, smiling at you with his eyes. "He's worse."

"You know what," Lockwood said with renewed inspiration. "I'll help you, Miss Darling. Regardless of what my colleagues have to say." He turned his attention to you. You almost cracked a smile at the sheer determination in his complexion. Anthony Lockwood clearly despised being bad at anything. "I'm at your service, starting this very second." He poked the table to enunciate every word. Amused didn't feel like an apt word to describe what you were feeling.

"I was hoping you'd be the opposite of subtle," you said with a polite smile. "You're an enigma to the gazette, Mr. Lockwood. I need you to attract as much attention to us as you can."

He lifted his chin with that award-winning smile. "Consider it done."

George was still grinning to himself, finishing off his biscuit with a dodgy sort of laugh. Lucy had thrown herself back, likely holding in a sigh by the way her shoulders sunk.

Regardless, you felt hope rush through you as you reached across the table, sealing the deal with a handshake that shouldn't have been half as memorable as it was.

—

Lucy's Norrie had set off the domino effect, and you would be forever grateful for it. It didn't take long for the gazette to catch wind and write up their narrative.

!! LOCKWOOD & CO.'S SPECIAL CONNECTION TO LONDON'S DARLING

Recipients, it has come to our attention that London's Darling has shipped out a special signed poster for a friend from Lockwood & Co. The two parties have never had an interaction prior to this instance. We suspect a budding alliance from two very distinct worlds. More about Lockwood & Co.'s most recent escapade on page 7!

It was the first time you finished reading an article without your jaw tensing. It was doing well for your family's temperaments as well. Your mother was now inquiring about the blooming relationship between you and a certain someone instead of agonizing over the manic rumors told about the family. Whenever asked, you feigned ignorance and left the conversation at that.

—

The next time the gazette wrote about London's Darling and Lockwood & Co., it had been about a genuine act of kindness that had been caught on camera.

The trio had finished up a case late in the morning and you dropped by to gift them a hearty breakfast. You didn't intend for the gazette to pick up on the minute interaction, but they always found ways to weasel their way into things. If you didn't despise them so, you would have given them credit for their tenacity.

!! LONDON'S DARLING NOW BECOMING THE DARLING OF LOCKWOOD & CO.

Recipients, an insider recounts the story of seeing our Darling at 35 Portland Row. Coincidentally, the official offices for the psychical agency, Lockwood & Co. She narrates that the starlet had hand-delivered doughnuts and some other necessities; Actively taking time out of her bustling schedule to tend to the operatives she has recently befriended. For the first time since her limelight debut, she has a heart! Our insider also notes a particularly bright smile from the agency's founder and boss, Anthony Lockwood. Is this another one of our Darling's summer flings? See page 4 for news about Darling's controversial role in unveiled coming-of-age film.

You saw a couple reading the recent print as you were walking to Portland Row. They were particularly giggly, so it was safe to assume that the public was falling for your theatrics.

You arrived to Lockwood's abode with a smile.

—

"The gazette's gone feral, haven't they?" George exasperated, throwing the paper on the table after he had cut out Lockwood & Co's bit in the headlines. "You didn't even have to try for this one, did you?"

"Not at all," you chuckled. "They have a way of finding out, even if we don't mean for them to."

"They could have chosen a better picture," Lockwood murmured, eyes permanently narrowed at the cut-out George had hung on their wall. "I did not look that worn out that morning."

"I can't remember it, so I can't lie," Lucy said passively. She slid a pot of tamarind soup through the disarray of cups and papers. It gave you a wider glimpse of the doodles on the cloth. Lockwood had explained the nuance of the doodles earlier. You strongly believed anyone would find the scrawled notes (and insults) endearing.

You leaned over the table as the fragrance of the soup wafted into the air, like tendrils of smoke tempting you for a taste. You held back a smile and tried not to stare at their dinner for too long. You had more self-control than that, but, despite your best efforts, your stomach had a mind of its own.

Your stomach didn't usually rumble but it had chosen that specific moment to do so. You tried to play it off but the members of Lockwood & Co. had already paused in their steps, turning to you with varying levels of surprise. George looked disturbed; Lucy, startled; and Lockwood, amused.

"Hungry?" Lockwood asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not at all," you waved off. He saw right through your stoicism with a growing smile. "It was just a stomach cramp," you insisted.

He didn't move his eyes away from you as he pulled out a chair, but didn't sit in it. "Can't send you home with your belly doing that, can we, George?"

"The gazette might as well write us up for being terrible hosts," George said agreeably.

Lucy set out an additional plate and bowl. "We have a reputation to uphold, you know."

There was an air of something you couldn't quite place. You saw Lockwood's smile first, amused and welcoming all at once. From the corner of your eye, you found George and Lucy doing the same. There was no other word that could describe the moment other than 'warm'. With a feeble smile, you sat in the chair Lockwood had pulled out for you and tried not to look like a mangy raccoon in the midst of a famine.

Only when the sound of clinking cutlery and plates filled the room did you muster the courage to speak again. "Thank you for having me."

"Don't mention it, Starlet," Lockwood said, nudging your side. "You're the reason our clients have been burgeoning lately."

"Who knew a movie star had so much influence?" George asked rhetorically. "If we keep this up, we might be able to afford more biscuits."

"Even if that happens, the biscuit rule stays," Lucy stated, pointing her spoon at George.

There was always something gleefully odd about this place. Sometimes, it was hard to keep up. "What is this biscuit rule?" you asked, looking between all three of them.

"I'll tell you after dinner," Lockwood promised, carefully placing a bowl of soup next to your plate. "Eat. You must be starving."

You withheld the urge to smile but found that, even with your experties in pretending, you had a hard time acting in the company of Lockwood and Co.

—

"How strict is the biscuit rule rotation?" you inquired Lucy.

You had never experienced sleeping over at someone else's house. Doing so, at your mature age, felt a little zany. Not that you could do much about it.

The expert (Anthony John Lockwood) was firm about not letting you walk home at this dark hour. Even more so because the sun had set earlier than expected. Hence, the reason you found yourself rooming with Lucy for the night.

"Strict," was Lucy's answer; half with you, half not. She was at the vanity, writing in a journal. Likely for her friend, Norrie—if their names scribbled on the front was anything to go by. She looked so focused, you would have guessed she was aspiring to out-write the folks at the Daily Gazette.

Defeated, you heaved a sigh and submitted yourself to a few moments of quiet in a place so unfamiliar.

The bed bounced under your weight. The springs you heard in the mattress reminded of you of home, yet, the stars on the ceiling reminded you that you weren't. Most of them clung on but some had fallen off, leaving behind star-shaped irregularities in the paint. You counted four fallen stars before you were reeled back by the feeling of another weight falling beside you.

"Comfortable, Miss Darling?"

Lockwood.

You righted your posture. He sat up with you, taken-aback by your shift in demeanor.

"Yes," you said stiffly, combing down your hair. "Thank you for letting me stay the night."

"I couldn't let you go in good conscience," he said offhandedly. "Don't be tense. I'm only here to offer pajamas."

Your eyes found the neat pile stacked right beside him. The little act of kindness had warranted him a smile, one he returned with equal sheepishness.

"Thank you," you said again.

"It's no trouble." He flourished his hand as he said it. The springs creaked again when he shuffled off the bed. "Sleep well, Miss Darling."

"My name or just 'Darling' is fine, Mr. Lockwood. 'Miss' is much too formal."

"It's Anthony then, darling." He said it with such resounding charm, you almost regret allowing him to continue on that way. "Sleep well," he trailed off.

He stared at you, like he was looking for something in you. You were accustomed to getting weird, prolonged glances in the street, but you felt conscious when it was him. You blamed it on First Sleep-over Jitters. When you finally averted your gaze, he snapped out of his reverie. With a noncommital smile, he jerked a thumb at the door. "I'm right downstairs if you need anything."

"I'll keep that in mind, Anthony." As you said it, you couldn't shake the feeling similar to stepping into a classroom for the first time. There was a flash of surprise on his face before he schooled his expression, back to his notorious smile.

You wouldn't have known, but he couldn't shake the thought that he'd never heard his name sound so nice before.

He held back a smile as he said, "Goodnight then, darling."

You did worse at hiding yours. "Goodnight, Anthony."

You said his name so carefully, he ought to think he was important. Even if the smiles exchanged were bashful, it encapsulated his world.

He retreated to the steps, halting to occasionally look at you before Lucy had gotten sick of his snail pace and told him to bugger off. She had taken her side of the bed when her journal entry for Norrie was finished.

"Is he always that odd?" you asked her, taking the pajamas and heading to the bathroom to change.

The clothes were light, but they weighed much more to you. Who could blame you for admiring a simple shirt and pajama pants? That was your first sleep-over, after all.

Past your ogling, you could still hear Lucy's voice through the door. "Who, Lockwood? Not usually. Suppose he wants to make a good impression."

"Because I'm your highest paying client?" you inquired in a sing-song tone, slipping the shirt over your head. You should have expected the smell of lavender to engulf you.

Lucy snorted, laying back on her pillows. "Because he's a fan, Miss Darling."

"You can call me by my name, Ms. Carlyle," you chuckled, trying to keep your tone even as you examine which way the pajama pants go.

"And you can call me by mine, Miss Darling," she retorted.

When you got your pajama situation under control, you poked your head out of he door. "Touché, Lucy."

She tipped her invisible hat. "I try, Miss Darling."

"Is my name ugly?" You questioned, tone bordering on a sigh. You set yourself down on the vacant side of her bed, planting straight into the pillow on contact. "Just tell me that it is, I won't be offended. Why else would people avoid it like the plague?"

"Miss Darling does sound odd, doesn't it? In my opinion, it's quite regal. You should change your surname to it, honestly. The word just fits you."

You exhaled, catching sight of the stars on the ceiling once more. "And who gave you that absurd idea?"

"Lockwood did," she told you, taking you by surprise. You physically reeled at the fact. "He watched—What was the name of that film again?—Timeless. You played the teenage version of the main character. He wouldn't shut up about the movie for ages, said your character was his favorite. I believe her name was—"

"Darling..." you whispered the same time she said it.

"—and he kept going on and on and on about how you were the epitome of the word. He wouldn't put a stopper on it," Lucy shook her head, recalling his raving vividly. "We couldn't get him to shut up, even while we were off on fieldwork. Eventually, it stuck with us. I couldn't unsee you as 'Miss Darling'. Then the press started calling you 'The Darling of London'. It only proved his case. If there was a word more fitting than 'insufferable', 'Lockwood' would be it."

You believed snorting was the only correct response to that.

"I'm surprised he hasn't fallen over himself trying to impress you," she chuckled. Lucy crossed her arms over her belly, cozying up to her pillow. "Don't tell him I told you though. He might take away my turn in the biscuit rotation. He can be petty like that."

"Sounds childish," you muttered.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Lucy said with a shrug. "He already thinks he's God's gift."

"He's in the good graces of the Daily Gazette. So, he's close enough to it for me," you chuckled.

"Only you would think that." Lucy shook her head. "Go to sleep, Miss Darling. Else you'll have nightmares 'bout him."

"Is that a real warning?"

Lucy shut off the lights. "Yes," she said into the dark.

It was far too late for you. Just seeing the gentle limerence on the ceiling brought your thoughts right back to him.

Unbeknownst to you, Lockwood couldn't put his mind to rest either. Him knowing you were just a stairwell away was an involuntary shot of adrenaline.

—

Amusement parks smelt like burned popcorn and sugar. It was unbearably noisy but the neon lights and the shining attractions negated the cons. Lockwood thought he might just kiss you for bringing them here on a Thursday.

There were enough people to make the place feel alive but it wasn't so crowded that they couldn't get on the rides they wanted to try.

He namely appreciated that fact because Lucy and George didn't look too upset about being out of their element. They looked excited, even. Lucy was glancing at a shooting game and George was oddly fascinated by the horror house.

As if driving them here wasn't surprise enough, you dropped a heavy pouch in each of their palms with the simple instruction to knock themselves out.

After agreeing to meet up before dark, the group broke into three. Lucy went off to win herself a rapier, George was off to scare the clowns in the horror house, and Lockwood was trailing behind you.

"You can do your own thing, Anthony," you reassured, lined up for cotton candy. "I can handle myself in daylight."

"Darling, I'm a gentleman. I can't leave a dame alone in such a vast scape," he replied, bold enough to tap your nose. "What kind of make-believe boyfriend would I be if I did?"

He was amused by the way you rolled your eyes. Lockwood was convinced that only you could make something so trivial so enigmatic. Warmth prickled on your cheeks, turning them the same shade of pink as the cotton candy the store owner handed to you. You ordered one for Lockwood before telling him, "Press isn't here—they'd have to pay the tall entrance fee to enter. At ease, soldier."

"Negative. I'm staying by you—as a very concerned friend," he rebutted with resolve, asking for a brief pause to receive the cotton cone spun for him. "Is that so bad?"

"I thought you three deserved to enjoy some time away from work," you confessed.

You didn't know where to head so Lockwood steered you toward a bench, guiding you with one hand on the small of your back. It took all your effort to keep your expression neutral but you continued to chatter, biting down the urge to grin like an idiot.

The only way you knew how to distract yourself was to speak. And speak, you did. "You're either working with ghouls or with me for you know what. I thought you'd be sick of me by now," you joked.

"Of you? Never."

He said it like it wasn't an arrow straight to your heart, and you couldn't shirk the feeling that you should have prepared yourself better. He was Anthony Lockwood, after all.

Like the heathen he is, took a sizeable bite out of his fluff of cotton candy. In your favor, your attention was drawn somewhere else. His upper lip was crusted in princess pink sugar and he was flashing his princely smile, completely unaware of his mustache. You pressed your lips together to keep your laugh in.

He lowered his head, trying to meet your eyes, to no avail. You screwed them shut and curled into yourself to keep your composure.

He cocked a brow. "Cute as you are, I want to know what are you laughing about."

"Nothing," you said unconvincingly. You took a glance at him and snorted.

With a pinched expression, he looked at himself in the reflection of a metal stall then he rubbed the sugar away with the sleeve of his coat, scarlet tinging his ears.

"Never speak of this," he told you.

You mimed yourself zipping your lips and he nodded, satisfied.

Your composure broke the moment he crossed his arms and hunched into himself like a kid.

—

You'd been to that same amusement park many times in your life. You rode the same rides back when you were a starlet in the entertainment world. You won the same prizes when you wanted to impress your parents. You ate the same food you did when you were a tyke.

All those memories, and none of them compared to experiencing all of it with Anthony John Lockwood. His incandescence weaved into every new memory, leaving his face seared into the back of your eyelids. Even if you tried to deny it, the pain in your cheeks reminded you that you spend hours on end smiling with him or at him.

Despite your best efforts, his presence made you feel something you never expected to feel for anyone. There was no word for it, and you refused to give it a name.

When the sky theatened to turn orange, you snagged his arm and drove him all the way to your favorite ride. Even if you craned your neck all the way, you could never see the top of the ferris wheel. Perhaps Lockwood could, but you were too timid to ask.

The decorative lights looked weak in daylight but it was magical nonetheless. Nothing could complete your day like hopping into your favorite gondola and seeing the park from all the way up.

When you pulled him back, he had to complain. "That one was empty." Lockwood frowned at the dandy green gondola that circled past.

"No, no. We can't take that one, it has to be this one."

Lockwood had never seen so much excitement shine through your usually collected demeanor. It was like a breath of fresh air. He couldn't bring himself to fight you on it.

When the coral pink gondola swung to a stop and creaked its doors open, you pulled him right into its bowels. The interior was vandalized with countless pens and markers. Even in the chaos, he recognized your penmanship. It was messier than it was now but it was undeniably yours. Only you swooped your 'y's that extravagantly.

Someday soon, I'm going to be the biggest star you'll ever see!

Some of the ink was scratched off but the message stood the test of time. He wondered if you remember even writing it, but one glance at you told him all he needed to know. You paid no mind to the vandalism, eyes enthralled by the rising view outside. He felt his cheeks ache from the beginnings of a smile. He forced it down when you laid your eyes on him.

"Just wait 'til we reach the top. The pathways form a giant star if you look down. There's nothing quite like it."

Endeared, he asked, "How did you find that out?"

If your smile was anything to go by, the memory was very fond to you. "The first time I passed an audition, my parents took me up here and told me to look down. I was terrified of heights back then but they told me some things were worth conquering fears for." You let out a seraphic laugh at the memory. "I saw the giant star . . . and I swore that I'd be a bigger star than it one day; that all their sacrifices would be worth it. They did their best to support me and my pipe dream. I would pay back their labor, ten-fold."

"And you did," Lockwood said in an out-of-breath kind of way. You didn't know what to make of it.

"And I did," you whispered in reply. "I even scribbled my promise somewhere in here. I don't remember where exactly. May have been scratched off."

"Maybe," Lockwood chuckled, leaning his side against the wall; hiding your kiddish penmanship from your view. He had no explanation as to why he did, but he'd rather you to focus on the present. You achieved a lot between then and now. He thought it was much nicer to look forward than to look back.

He didn't realize how long the trip to the top would be. The silence didn't feel tense or forced, it was comfortable. Like an air of understanding had made the air warm instead of still.

Perhaps it was you and how unguarded you had become since stepping into the gondola, but all he knew was that your honest heart inspired him to be brave. He took a leap in a brightly painted gondola, miles up from the ground, just about to touch the clouds.

"My family would have loved seeing this," he said.

Your eyes tore away from the view to look at him. Curiosity whirling in those eyes of yours. "Where is your family? I don't think I've seen them. Are they abroad?"

When you looked at him like that, he forgot all his fears. "They aren't around anymore."

Your expression heartened. You turned all your attention to him. "I'm so sorry, Anthony. I shouldn't have—"

"No," he interrupted you, a ghost of a smile on his face. "I want you to know."

Your lips quivered, forming something that was a half-smile, half-frown. "I don't know what to say..."

"You don't have to say anything. I just thought you should know." His eyes fell to his knees, picking at the frays of his coat sleeves to distract himself. "My parents were researchers. They wanted to know what rituals other cultures had to communicate with spirits and keep themselves safe. They were working when they passed away. My sister, Jessica, she was ghost-touched." Everything came out when he was looking directly at you. Knowing you were paying attention was solace enough. "You should have seen the ghost when I was done with him, ha. As for my family . . . Even if they're not around anymore, they continue to remind me of the most valuable lessons. I do my best to never forget."

"Must be why you're so protective of Lucy and George," you said lightly, offering him a sunrise of a smile that brought back the color into the world.

"I am," he said with renewed confidence. "I'd do anything for them."

"Like make deals with prissy, troubled actresses?" you jested, bumping your knee against his.

His lips twitched, threatening a smile. "Yeah." He bumped his knee to yours but didn't move away, content with being close to you in any way you'd have him. "Exactly."

A smile crept up your face. "You have a wonderful family now, Anthony."

"I would say the same but I realize I haven't met them yet."

You threw your head back, laughing. The sound was so precious, he wished he had half the hearing of Lucy to remember it well. "Someday, Anthony. Someday..."

"I'll hold you to it."

The light that filtered in turned yellow, touching your face with gold. The sun was dipping between the far hills and, finally, your gondola had reached the pinnacle of the wheel.

You gently cupped his chin to turn his attention to the view. Your touch made his breath hitch, but the view had successfully stolen the air from his lungs. Even in his wildest dreams, he couldn't have predicted just how breath-taking the view was.

True to your word, the amusement park was laid out in a way that made the pathways draw a star—the stall lights that began to appear accentuated the shape. The stripped roofs of the attractions were like swirling patterns that encircled the the display. For lack of a better word, it was stupendous.

Your voice matched the sereneness of the moment. "My grandparents said that seeing fireworks from the top of a ferris wheel was an experience like no other, but with the Problem and the curfew, we might never be able to see something like it..."

"Wouldn't hurt to dream though, would it?"

You chuckled. "No, it wouldn't..."

Vaguely, in the reflection of the window, he saw your smile. A true, unfiltered smile. It's the brightest you'd ever appeared to him, and it was worlds better than the view you were gawking over.

The magic fizzled when the gondola began to decend, bringing you closer to earth and away from the utopia in the middle of a ferris wheel.

He couldn't recognize you once your mask came back on. Lockwood didn't realize why until he saw a flash of light in the corner of his eye.

The gazette had spilled coffee all over a perfectly good day.

—

!! LOCKWOOD'S DARLING

Recipients, we can confirm that there is a blooming romance between London's favorite Starlet and Lockwood & Co.'s charismatic leader. In the middle of a busy week for both individuals, they set aside time for a romantic ferris wheel ride in Starcrest Amusement Park—an ideal recreational venue for families and couples. See also: additional reports from our inside sources on page 7.

!! A DARLING'S DARLING

Recipients, we have more news on London's most fetching young couple. Both Darling and Lockwood have been growing bolder in putting their relationship in the spotlight. Recent reports state that Darling had invited Lockwood and Company to her film set — a feat of trust we haven't seen from her until she'd been swept of her feet by her latest and only suitor, Anthony Lockwood. He even presented her a bouquet of her favored flowers upon visiting. Backstage photographs from our insider on page 3!

!! A NOT VERY INVISIBLE STRING

Recipients, London's most captivating young couple was spotted wearing matching red-string bracelets, shifting to the 'private but not secret' path in their relationship. However, we always fetch you the ripest updates on their heart-stopping romance. More on page 4!

—

You were more than pleased by the sound of swishing newspaper and the snip of scissors. George had extracted another pretty picture of the recent news and hung it on the wall of achievements.

"Featured on a handful of headlines and it hasn't even been a year," Lockwood said, sounding very pleased with himself. He barely lifted a finger and Lockwood and Co. already had five additional clippings to their wall. "Gazette patrons are calling in to have us take care of visitors with all this media exposure." He set his hands on the stair newel and set his chin on them, looking up at you. It may have been a trick of a light but he was more radiant from where you were standing. "I have you to thank for that."

"You're the one helping me," you smiled. "I haven't heard a bad word about myself or my family. The peace is . . . unsettling. They really are bent on painting you as a saint, Anthony."

"Am I not?" he smiled.

You returned it, just as joyous. "That's the charisma I need for my birthday ball."

That made him straighten and grow brighter, if that were possible. "Birthday ball?"

You nodded, returning your eyes to Lockwood & Co.'s wall of accomplishments. "Lucy and George, too. It's a black tie event, and, yes, you may bring your rapiers."

He tilted his head, jarred. "What kind of people will be in attendance if we're allowed rapiers?"

"The most terrifying kind," you said with exaggerated dread, starting for the door. "Extended family I don't know well and journalists."

He sped ahead, clicking the door open for you. "Petrifying."

"Very," you chuckled. "Can I expect you to be there?"

He leaned toward you and you deluded yourself to believe he was doing so for his own benefit, but you knew damn well that there was a camera in the corner of your eye. Lockwood had caught sight of it before you, crowding you against the doorframe to paint the stomach-fluttering picture of a boy who simply couldn't resist being near his girl.

The idea was far more appealing than it was supposed to be.

His voice sounded saccharine up close. "What kind of flowers does your mother like?"

You titlted your head. "What for?"

"It's common courtesy to gift the in-laws. It wouldn't hurt to be prepared." He grinned at you, and you couldn't help but return it.

"She likes roses, and my dad is a fan of Ferrero Rochers."

"Noted," he chirped. He tugged a strand of your hair lightly before pulling away, taking his warmth with him.

You mustered a convincing enough smile. "Goodbye, Anthony."

"Goodbye, darling starlet."

He should have known you were going to do something. You grew up under the limelight, after all.

You've kissed many boys but he hoped you don't kiss them like you kissed him. Truthfully, it was only a kiss on the cheek, but he'd recall the feeling of your lips at the most untimely moments. He was ghost-touched because he couldn't shirk it.

—

You gave them a plot of the house. So, they did expect your house to be massive. What you did not tell them was the fact that your birthday ball was a masquerade ball. Lockwood was quite struck as he watched people file in with half their faces concealed under frivolously decorated masks. Lucy and George were just as confused.

"You're sure you didn't hear her say anything about this?" Lucy asked, hugging her arms as the evening chill began to creep in.

"Positively. Would I lie about something like this?" Lockwood replied, readjusting his grip on the generous bouquet of roses.

"Lie or not, we have to head in eventually. Unless your girl has a butler or handmaid who'd fetch us," George nipped. It was bad enough that Lockwood had forced him into a suit, but he had to stand in the freezing cold while passerbys walked right into the grandeur of your family's estate. The chandeliers casted gold silhouettes across the shadows. George bet it was warm in there. "Perhaps a visitor will come put us out of our misery."

"Keep your shirt on, George," Lockwood said firmly. "Perhaps having us enter without decoration was her intention."

"Who goes to a masquerade ball without a mask?" George scoffed.

"Lockwood & Co., apparently." Lucy rolled her eyes. She cast a nervous glance behind her but found lanterns had been lit. They smelt of lavender, reassuring her that despite your family's reputation, you weren't ignorant to the Problem. "Shall we head inside or face the treacherous cold?"

Lockwood, thoroughly done with their snideness, promptly decided on the former. He rolled his shoulders back and righted his posture before joining the line to the threshold.

"I see a buffet," Lucy said with new-found energy. Suddenly, the cold wasn't so unforgiving.

"Is that a chocolate fountain?" George inquired. Even if he did his best to keep his tone even, they caught the subtle intonation on the word 'chocolate'.

"Compose yourselves," Lockwood reminded primly. "we are representatives of the agency as well as guests, so, do try to mingle before losing yourselves in the smorgasbord."

"Sure."

"Absolutely."

Lockwood didn't know who said what, but he knew their answers were merely supplementary. They would bolt for the buffet as soon as the made it past the front door. At least their concerns about the lack of disguise were put to rest.

As they neared the doors, the warmth from the inside began to thaw away their frigidness. By the time they stepped into your abode, they were swallowed by the luxury. The word 'cold' didn't exist in a place as decadent as this.

The velvet curtains were pulled back fully, showcasing ceiling-length windows that glimmered with reflections of your guests, . A large chandelier illuminated the ballroom, washing everyone in supple, golden light. It brought out everyone's best features. Even the floor was polished so perfectly, it could have been a mirror.

If he didn't know better, Lockwood would have thought he walked right into a fairytale. He didn't realize Lucy and George had made their escape until he looked behind himself to find them gone.

He didn't have to idle by for very long. Like how sun rays pierce through storm clouds, you parted the crowd. You shone under the chandelier-light, a star put on earth, and you smiled so brightly he had to think you only smile like that for him. Lockwood lost his words, but his mouth was moving.

You were chuckling when you neared. Only when you dodged the roses and leaned on your toes to kiss his cheek did he realize that you didn't supply yourself with a mask either. His earlier guess had been right.

Whatever mirage he was in the middle of was cut through by two more figures coming into view; your parents, most likely. You resembled them a lot.

His joints went rigid but he was experienced enough to project an easygoing energy. All while he repressed bubbling exclamations.

He played on his best smile and reached for your father's outstretched hand. They met in the middle for a firm handshake.

"You must be the lad our little darling speaks so highly of," Mr. Darling chuckled. He had the kind of smile that put everyone in the room at ease. It reached his eyes. He must be the one you inherited your eye-smile from. A nail of guilt hit him right on the head because it was obvious that the man didn't know his daughter's romance was a fad. "Anthony, is it?"

"You're correct," Lockwood said amiably. His smile widened as he watched your mother's eyes gravitate to the bouquet of roses. "Anthony Lockwood, at your service, sir. And ma'am . . . These are for you." He offered the arrangement to your mother, who accepted them with the grace of a royal. You must have inherited that from her. He would have found it adoring if another strike of guilt didn't come down on him.

"How courteous," your mother said, hiding a smile behind her newly acquired bouquet. Her eyes moved to you and you shared a look Lockwood didn't quite understand. His stomach churned. Your mother then shot a peculiar look at him — like she could see right through him. It made his blood run cold.

Lockwood didn't have the option to ponder on it. Your father had seized Lockwood's attention with a firm pat on the shoulder. Lockwood had to tense his back to keep himself from toppling over.

As grayed as your father was, he had the kind of voice that commanded authority. "Don't be coy, boy. You can call us Ma and Pa. If our little starlet likes you enough to introduce you to us, you must be something special."

Lockwood glanced at you, momentarily paused by your smile. "She's the special one between us, sir—"

"Pa," your father corrected.

"Pa," Lockwood rectified smilingly. He wasn't sure what about it made him feel so melancholic and comforted at the same time. "I should be groveling at her feet. I'm very lucky to have caught her attention."

"I like the way you talk. It's no wonder she's so taken by you, Anthony."

Your father surprised Lockwood with a boisterous laugh. He was sure the room tremored for a moment. Lockwood was happy enough to laugh with him, the same time his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

The exchange was interrupted by your mother's squeal of delight. She had found the Ferrero Rochers laying in the bed of roses. She, with bright eyes, brandished them to her husband and Mr. Darling looked positively thrilled by the surprise.

"And thoughtful, too." Your father gave Lockwood the kind of nod you'd only get after you ask for their daughter's hand in marriage. "He's a keeper, little darling."

Lockwood's smile shook. Your mother looked at him strangely once more. He tried to regained himself.

Guilt.

GUILT.

It was drowning him, yet, he kept his cool. (At least, tried to.) You didn't seem to notice the change in his attitude.

You, with your rosy cheeks and resplendent smile, hooked your arm with Lockwood's and said, "I know, pa. That's the plan."

—

"That was not the plan," Lockwood respired, loosening his tie as soon as he stepped into open air. Even when he breathed in lavender, his lungs felt as if they were stuffed with cotton.

You had lead him to a balcony to give him a moment of reprieve only to be met with a glare. So much for being bad at acting, you were convinced his earlier niceties were real.

You regarded him with crossed arms, your cool façade practically a wall between you. "I invited, and you came. That's all that happened here."

"You made a spectacle of me," he rasped, his breath coming out as frost. "I would have been alright with that, but you brought your parents into this. They don't even know you're doing this, do they?"

The way he motioned between you as he said 'this' made you feel like someone's dirty secret. The way you faltered was laughable. Your heart clenched and your nails dug into your palms. You replied the only way you knew how: stronger.

"I don't see what the big issue is, Anthony," you scoffed. "I pay you, you do as I say. What if my parents don't know it's a ploy? The point is to set the stage for the press. I told you that."

"God," he laughed without feeling, raking a hand through his hair. He was heaving like he had just ran a marathon, face turning red. "You don't get it do you? We don't play with people. I don't want to play with people. And that's your family, starlet! Does it not bother you that you are lying to their faces?"

"No, it doesn't," you replied, stoically, standing your ground. "and neither should you. You know I'm doing this for them."

"Are you?" Where you stepped back, he stepped forward. He scoffed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "It's ironic that a whole ballroom of people hiding behind masks are more honest with themselves than you are to yourself."

"What are you implying?" Your words come out through gritted teeth.

He stood tall, more intimidating than you'd ever seen him. The gauntness in his eyes were more pronounced then. His stature made your composure slip. His words made your knees buckle. "You're an actress. You're a professional at what you do. Even in your own home, you have a façade. Maybe you are, in some twisted way, doing this for the sake of your family, but I can't see that anymore. You're stringing them along . . . As far as I can see, you're just as bad as the gazette makes you out to be. I don't even know if you've been lying to me for the sake of keeping your mask on."

You feel the full force of his words drop down on you. Taking a few steps isn't enough to quiet the rush of throughts crowding your mind. All you see is his despondent face and a hundred and one headlines flash before your eyes.

He takes your hand—making you wish the circumstances were different—before he dropped his red-string bracelet into your palm. It felt heavier than it was supposed to. You couldn't pry your eyes away.

When he turned and left, your thoughts turned into white noise. He had taken every joy with him, deserting you in the muted chatter of what was supposed to be a celebration.

—

!! TROUBLE IN PARADISE

Recipients, it is to our sorrow that the couple that took the country by storm, Darling and Lockwood, seems to have called it quits. Lockwood no longer flaunts the bracelet that had started a trend for couples on this side of the globe. It is unknown whether he had lost it during a skirmish or willingly stopped wearing his. With Darling's trail of broken hearts, it's safe to assume the worst. The Starlet seems to be continuing activities, as usual. The ice princess, unmoved by a romance put to the grave. On a lighter note, read more about Lockwood & Co.'s achievements on page 7.

—

The gazette went for the jugular with that one. For once, they wrote something that had some truth to it. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Even your newly developed habit of morning walking barely helped your heartbreak. You've never mourned for something that never was, but, damn, did it hurt. You knew you were in too deep when your feet carried you right to 35 Portland Row.

You stared at the agency plaque for an unnecessary amount of time before you folded yourself over and hugged your knees. At the time, George and Lucy would be out running errands before a case and Lockwood would be arranging their bags inside. Perhaps the security of knowing their schedule made you so confident to sit and wallow the death of what could have been.

Yet, you couldn't mourn that in peace. The silence was interrupted by a shutter. You lifted your head and spotted a paparazzo who didn't even try to hide his presence. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties and already fading. He had a smile on but it set off alarms in your head. You didn't have to ask. You had a feeling. The gazette was all too good at dampening a sunny day.

You stood up quickly but found yourself backed against the wrought-iron gate.

"The Darling Starlet of London... Quite the title. Never thought I'd get to see you in person." His smile widened. You didn't budge. Even with your fiercest glare, he didn't get the message. He looked down at his camera before his smile fell. "Do you know how upset we were when you started going out with that... that pathetic excuse of a human—"

"He's an agent," you cut off. "and he's the reason degenerates like you get to walk the streets without being ghost-touched at every turn."

"Degenerates?" He laughed, covering his mouth. "Oh, Darling Starlet—" The name you found home in was chemical coming from him. "you should know that we made you. He's lucky the chief likes him enough. You'd be nothing without us."

"Without the gazette?" You scoffed, tempted to roll your eyes at the fool. "You do more harm than good."

"But we make or break a career." His hand came away from his mouth, revealing a smile made of pointed teeth. "and what would happen to your folks if your reputation makes a sharp decline, hm? Your father needing all that medicine, your mother taking care of him... What would happen if our little darling turned out to be a little bitch?"

Your anger was boiling over, but the fear of that possibility had crippled you. Words died in your throat. Your will fizzled to nothing. You felt blood drip into your palm, nails clenched into your flesh.

You were still trying to regain yourself when the cold of the gate was pardoned from your back. A familiar warmth replaced it, an arm coming around your middle and a voice that quelled all your fears sounded in your ears. A rapier crossed the distance, severing the neckstrap around the photographer and sending his camera into the pavement. It's lens shattered and the photographer let out a yell.

"If you ever talk to my girlfriend like that again, a broken camera will be the least of your problems."

"Anthony J. Lockwood," the paparazzo snorted. "Your agency hinges on the exposure you get from us. Don't play hero when you know you're defending a sham."

"I'm defending my girlfriend," Lockwood's grip tightened on your hip, and his rapier shined in the light. Your heart did immeasurable things in lieu of Lockwood's doing. "and if you ever threaten my family like this again, I will come after you. The gazette isn't the only publication in London, and I've built a rapport with enough people in the industry to secure my place. I'm not afraid of you."

"You—"

Lockwood turned you around, covering you from view and urging you toward the door. "Head inside, darling. I'll take care of this."

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for resentment or even hate, but found none. His eyes were sunlight through bottles of whiskey. The smile had disarmed you, finally getting through to you.

You took a few hesitant steps before he nodded, assuring you that it was alright. He made sure you were safety inside before he returned his attention to the photographer.

"I do have morals. So, I'll be civil." Lockwood poised his blade. " That said, get off my street before I show you how proficient I am at my job."

—

Some part of you was desperately hoping that things would smooth themselves out after what had transpired. When he offered you his coat before telling you that he'd be walking you home, you knew you were in over your head.

That same night, you flipped the events over in your head. Clenching and unclenching your newly bandaged hand to remind yourself that it was real.

You didn't get much sleep with his voice echoing in your ears and his eyes burned into the back of your eyelids.

—

Your mother must have known something was wrong with you. You mistaked salt for sugar in your morning coffee, you walked into a wall on more than one occasion (a large vase had fallen victim to your daze), and you refused ice cream for the first time in your life.

In the middle of the day, Mama Darling decided that she'd seen enough. She set her knitting things down and urged you to put your book down. You obliged because you couldn't absorb the words anyway.

"My darling girl," your mother started. Her tone is so heartfelt, you felt yourself lax in your seat. A smile came to your face as she caressed your cheek, just as she'd always done. "You've always been such a kind child. So selfless . . . Your only flaw is that you need to know when to let go of your fear and let us handle ourselves, dearest."

You stared at her, lost. She simply smiled, taking your hands in hers. "I know your recent escapades with Anthony were a play, my dear girl." Your spine calcified, heat prickled your eyes. "I always knew. I'm honest when I say he's good for you. He brings out your ugly smile— Don't frown, I mean it in a romantic sense. I know the look of love when I see it, dearest. Don't sacrifice it for pride or fear, my girl. Go get him back."

"Ma," you shuttered, pausing to collect yourself. You were choking on yourself and that wasn't the worst of it. Your vision had blurred from your tears. "you and Pa need me to focus on my career. I have to—"

"No, you don't." She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and swiped her thumb across your cheek. "You'll always be a princess in the eyes of the public, dearest. Any person with two eyes and common sense will see that. You just have to break out of your shell, actually talk to the journalists. Just not the ones from the Daily Gazette—they are something else entirely."

"They are, aren't they?" You manage to laugh through your tears. Only your mother could make you feel these many things at once. She saw right through you. "Right now, Anthony doesn't even want to talk to me. I'm so scared that if I try, he'll tell me everything I don't want to hear. I'm scared he'll see all the nasty things the gazette talked about and hate me for them."

"Darling," your mother said sternly. "we just went over the fact that the gazette is complete and utter bullshit."

You can't help but snort. The rare curse from her had broken through to you. "Sorry, Ma."

"Don't be sorry, my dear girl, be brave." She flipped your hand over and drew lines across your palm. She did it three times before you realized what she was doing; she was drawing stars. "Some things are worth conquering fears for."

The Starcrest ferris wheel. Stolen smiles. Dreams of fireworks.

Your mother smiled at the renewed light in your eyes. She didn't question you as you bolted to the exit.

"Home before dinner! You may bring Anthony!" she called just before you smiled and closed the door behind you.

—

"Lucy?"

"No, this is George."

The world must hate you. You couldn't do much about that. You coiled the telephone wire around your finger as you took a deep breath. "This is... darling."

"I don't know anyone with a ridiculous name like that. Sorry."

You bit your cheek, inhaling the urge to sigh. "The prissy actress."

"Oh. You." He shuffled, crossing his arms. "Speak, before I hang up."

"I have a favor to ask of you," you winced, already expecting the worst.

"What's in it for me?"

You took a breath. "What do you want? Biscuits? An allowance? Access to the VIP collection in the library—"

"All of that, and you have yourself a deal."

"Done."

—

"George— You're usually against room invasion," Lockwood quipped, allowing himself to be dragged up the steps. "and Lucy wouldn't be happy about this."

"When I tell her what I bargained, she'll be fine with it."

"Bargained?"

"Not that important right now, Lockwood. Sit. And for all things grotesque, don't move."

George had pushed Lockwood into the mustard seat beside the attic window. The latter was ready to protest, confusion evident.

A resounding pop had interrupted him. The lights in the room shifted. The shadows stretched and receeded. It took a moment for Lockwood to realize that there were fireworks going off outside.

On the third floor, he had a bird's eye view of the shower of sparks in varying shades of blues, reds, and yellows. He was wondering where the firework show had come from, but his questions were put to rest with a singular look onto the street.

Other than the tins of fireworks, he saw you—looking much like a panicked frog while lighting the fireworks. You looked absolutely ridiculous. His perceptions of you had been thrown to the wind, and he couldn't help but smile.

The last firework burst into pink sparks, lighting up his eyes and your silhouette; embedding itself into his memories. When the air had cleared, he cracked the window open.

"What are you doing down there? Have you gone mad?"

You cupped your hands around your mouth, shouting an answer at him. "Lighting fireworks! You like dem?"

He shook his head, endeared. "How do you even know how to light them?"

"I don't! It was about time I learned!"

"You really are a lunatic..." he chuckled.

You cocked your head. "What did you say?"

"Come in!"

You showed him your thumbs, scuttling to the front door.

Lockwood had never raced down the stairs so quickly before. He apologized quickly to George, who he had almost bumped to ground floor, and Lucy, who had just gotten home with groceries. He raced for the door; hair a mess, breathing short, but smiling widely. He greeted you with the same smile he had on when you first met.

Cute as he was, you couldn't take it anymore. You reached up, fingers brushing his forehead and fixing the strands that had been bothering you for ages.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing you said. You were still heaving from outrunning fireworks but he wasn't in much better shape. "I was scared, and my first instinct was to act like I don't care, but I do. I care so much. About you."

"I got the message," he laughed, looking over your shoulder to the smoke remnants of the showcase.

"No, I'm not done." You took a breath, bracing yourself for it. "I want you to know about me, too. Pa has been sick for a long time. He worked through it so they could afford my commute to and from auditions. The money Ma made was used for medicine or keeping me in school. We struggled for a long time. Some days, I couldn't sleep because I felt so helpless. I wanted to give back to them with every fiber of my being. When I finally could, I never wanted to go back to having nothing. I was willing to do anything to stay where I was—"

"Darling, I get it—"

"—and I lost sight of who I was doing it for. I was so comfortable in allowing anything just to keep a pristine reputation—"

"Darling—"

"—and I hurt you. I never meant to, I'm so sorry. I realize now that I was wrong and I should have been more honest with you because I don't just want to be colleagues anymore—"

"Oh, shut up already."

He bunched your shirt in his fist, pulling you to him with the anticipation born from a thousand dreams. When his lips touched yours, it felt like all of this was worth the wait.

You were sweet and a little smokey, he could have laughed but settled with smiling into the kiss. You stole a breath from him when you nipped at his bottom lip. He could have spent the night like that but the resounding boom from outside made the two of you jump, breaking away from The Best Kiss Ever™ to see the last of the fireworks finish off the moment with golden sparks.

Lockwood couldn't stay upset. After a short laugh, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him right back to you—giving him another kiss to think about for the rest of his life.

—

!! THE COUPLE OF THE CENTRURY, BACK AGAIN !!

Recipients, after a short-lived break, the couple of the century are back—stronger than ever! Various photographs have been taken of them: Dancing in the foyer of the Darling estate, partaking in Mrs. Darling's notorious tea parties, and running away from premiers to steal time for themselves. To see more of them, see page 4!

That was possibly the last good article written about anyone coming from the gazette. Not long after that, they began to be brazen in their attempts to tarnish your reputations. They published photos of the two of you flipping off the photographer, spitting your tongues out at unwanted paparazzi, and spreading the most degrading rumors you had ever heard.

At the same time, the gazette had been losing viewership to London Squire, who was only gaining traction with every article written about the It Couple of Europe. Soon enough, the gazette had lost all credibility; reduced to a mere scandal sheet. It was a breath of fresh air.

The public was enamored by your honest nature and respected the fact that you'd prefer to keep your relationship private. Though, you would be the talk of the town once the Squire got a hold of an exclusive interview.

The topic? Vows, silver rings, and rapiers to cut wedding cake.

DARLING-LOCKWOOD

— It's now official. Our Darling Starlet is off the market after exchanging vows with Lockwood & Co.'s founder and president, Anthony Lockwood. The union took place this weekend in a private ceremony with close family. The couple reveals that the ceremony was grand but they would like nothing more than to keep it to themselves. We are honored that both Mr. & Mrs. Lockwood has given us the opportunity to publish a few pictures taken during their most special day. The writers here at London Squire send all our warmest regards to the newly weds.

The picture wasn't much; Just a scene recreated from the movie that earned you the title of 'Darling'. Even when you shared his name, he persisted in calling you his darling starlet. Though, he takes the utmost pride when he does call you his missus.

NOTE ➺ i don't know if i can get all my 1989 tv songfics done in time but i plan to get them all published before the end of 2023 !

i hope this finds you when you need it. as always, don't be afraid to leave your thoughts in the comments or reblogs. i love to read feedback so don't hold back!!

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄#1989 tv songfic collection #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood x you #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood angst #anthony lockwood fanfiction

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