#fucking end me i have walked 13k steps and counting today
Note
It’s a civic duty to bully him a little /silly /lh
at this point i don't think our bullying is little anymore
#💬 — just chatting.#fucking end me i have walked 13k steps and counting today#i am walking in the mrt station as we speak
1 note
·
View note
Text
pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)
summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.
but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.
or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.
warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex
a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?
--
Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.
He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.
You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.
Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.
You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.
(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)
However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.
“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.
Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan.
“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)
“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.
“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”
You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.
Jesus Christ.
“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve.
“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”
Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable.
You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.
And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.
“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”
The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?
That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)
“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”
The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.
You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)
“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.
You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.
“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is.
“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”
That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.
“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”
For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church.
Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?
Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?
You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside.
(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)
The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’
The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.
… Anyway.
You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.
Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.
“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”
“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?”
Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.
“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.
(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)
You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.
“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”
At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.
“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.
The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.
“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement.
“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”
“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”
You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”
You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.
You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble.
You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”
Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”
Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.
By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.
“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”
You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom.
“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.
You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised.
Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.
“How’s your shoulder feeling?”
“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.
“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.
The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.
“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”
When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”
--
Your luck doesn’t last.
“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”
You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”
Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.
“What do you think sounds best?”
“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”
“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”
“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”
Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.
Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”
“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.
“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”
Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.
He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt.
“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”
Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.
“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”
“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”
“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.
When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”
You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts.
“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”
“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”
You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.
“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”
“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”
Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”
“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”
“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”
“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.
There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.
You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.
The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.
The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.
Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.
You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.
Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.
He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.
“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”
He just shakes his head.
“Okay,” you say.
(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)
The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh.
“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.
“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”
He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”
Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”
“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.
“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”
There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.
He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless.
(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)
So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck.
“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”
Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”
Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?
You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.
“Taehyung?”
“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”
You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in.
“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)
His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”
Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.
But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.
The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.
Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?
(You’re going to die.)
It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres.
And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.
It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body.
(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)
Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage.
… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.
… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.
You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.
“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.
Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.
In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.
(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)
“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”
Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.
You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”
(It’s not cool.)
You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.
At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.
But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe.
“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.
It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead.
You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.
Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.
“Better?”
Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.
“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”
You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming.
Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.
(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)
Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.
Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—
Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class.
(What is he doing?)
But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.
They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.
“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.
His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end.
“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.
He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”
“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.
Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”
You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—
Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.
“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”
He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”
It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.
“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”
You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.
“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?”
(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)
(But.)
(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)
“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”
He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.
“Taehyung.” Almost pleading.
“Yes, love?”
You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it.
(You’re not.)
“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.
Before you can think, you nod.
“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”
You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—
His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.
You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing.
“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”
“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.
“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”
“Anything you want,” he murmurs.
Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.
Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.
You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.
“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”
“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.
“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”
You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.
“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”
Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.
You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.
Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.
“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”
“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.”
Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.
When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.
“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.
“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good.
“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”
Of course you want to.
“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”
He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.
“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it.
(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)
You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.
(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)
You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.
“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”
Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.
“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”
Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.
He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.
“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”
Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm.
“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be.
Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.
“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.
And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—
—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.
“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.
“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”
He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”
“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.
There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.
“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”
“You got edible massage oil from your course?”
Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”
You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh.
“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”
Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.
“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.
“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.
That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”
“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”
“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”
It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.
When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.
“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”
His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent.
“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed.
“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.
Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.
“You really are perfect,” he says.
“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.
He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside.
Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil.
There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.
You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.
“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”
“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”
His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.
“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”
A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.
“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”
“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.
Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.
Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.
“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”
“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.
“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”
It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.
(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)
When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.
Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.
“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”
“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”
When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—
The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.
You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.
One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed.
“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”
Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”
“Here?”
He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.
(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)
He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.
You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.
“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”
“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”
And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.
And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you.
Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.
“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”
And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.
He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.
You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you.
When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.
“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”
You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—
“Oh, fuck—”
—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.
When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.
(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)
You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.
“‘M sorry,” he murmurs.
You pause.
“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”
“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…”
You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”
“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”
You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”
There’s a pause. “Really?”
When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.
You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”
When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”
“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.
“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”
“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”
You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.
Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”
Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.
(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)
When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.
“Taehyung?”
“Yes, angel?”
You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”
Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.
“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”
“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”
And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.
--
(“Hey, Pickles.”
The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.
“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”
Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.
“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”
Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.
“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.
“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”
Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)
--
taglist: @beyoncesdragon
#magicshopnet#btswritingcafe#taehyung smut#taehyung oneshot#taehyung x reader#bts#bts smut#v smut#v oneshot#v x reader#taehyung#taehyung fluff#bts oneshot#kim taehyung#taehyung imagine#taehyung scenario#bts fic#bts fanfic#joy.masterlist
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
You Belong With Me
Genre: Fluff | ANGST ANGST | Implied smut | Friends with Benefits
Word Count: 13k
Pairing: Jimin x Reader
“Oh fuck...” Jimin panted beside you, holding onto his chest, “I don’t think I can go to the next class.”
“Shut up and get dressed!” You laughed at him, smacking his arm lightly before getting up and collecting your own clothes.
“Does it get better with time?” Jimin looked at you while you glided your arms down the sleeves of your sweater and pulled it over your head. Only when you looked at him did you realise that he was genuinely curious.
“Stop asking stupid questions and get dressed, Jimin!” you gave him a look before pulling up your jeans and throwing his shirt and trousers at him.
“No! I really want to know...” he whined like a baby and you were beyond amazed at how this man was dominating you mere minutes ago while you were begging him to slow down a bit.
“Well...if you really feel that way then maybe...” you raised your shoulders along with your brows in an all-knowing manner and Jimin instantly caught on what you meant and he was quick with his reply.
“Oh please, Y/N! It’s not because you have a ‘fiery hot pussy’!” he mimicked your voice from when you had said it before he got up from the bed and started putting on his clothes.
“Yeah, Yeah, whatever!” you mocked him as you walked to your table to collect your hostel room keys while Jimin collected your bags. You took yours from him before opening the door and peering out of it to see if anyone was outside. When you were sure that the corridors were clear of any other students, you motioned him forward to warn him before he left:
“Walk straight to the class. If you stop anywhere in the way then you’ll see, Park Jimin!” you whispered to him firmly to which he let out a quiet snort before sneaking out of your hostel. You waited for a few moments before you yourself walked out and locked your door – preparing yourself for another hour filled with torture.
There was no rule that said Jimin wasn’t allowed in the hostel, but you still had to be sure – for you didn’t know what you’d say if someone ever asked you. After all, Jimin wasn’t your boyfriend.
-
You took your seat beside him seconds before the lecture began and Jimin instantly began with his antics that you despised the most. His leg brushed against yours, knees touching as a wave of nervousness crawled up your spine.
“Stop it!” you hissed quietly.
“Why?” he pouted.
“Because people can see!” you retorted.
“So what?” he smirked as his hand grazed lightly up your thigh, making your breath hitch in your throat.
“So...” you struggled to find your words for a moment, scenes from minutes ago flashing before your eyes and clouding your mind. “So they’ll know, and they can’t and they shouldn’t!” You let out in one breath before you slapped his hand away. Jimin chuckled playfully before finally settling slightly away from you. Oh what a little tease he was!
Jimin and you had been best friends for almost a year now. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined that you could agree to something like this or that this day would come. You weren’t sure if you were doing the right thing, but you knew you couldn’t go back now. It had started two months ago, when Jimin had accidentally sent you a picture of his hardened cock which was actually meant to be sent to the girl he was sexting with.
He had apologised repeatedly, telling you that it was an honest mistake and you had accepted it for what he said it was. But you weren’t expecting what came next. A series of texts were exchanged between you and him post the incident where – Jimin being Jimin – asked you if you liked what you saw. Those words were enough to reduce you to a hot, sweaty and blushing teenage girl who later thanked all the gods that Jimin wasn’t there to witness it.
That was when Jimin came to know that you were a virgin, and that you’d never seen a real cock. ‘We have been best friends for a year and I didn’t know this about you!’ He had exclaimed in the most surprised tone ever.
Jimin never stopped teasing you in college after that, asking you if you’d like him to come and accompany you to your room after college when one day he finally suggested that he could help you. You vividly remember how you thought it was one ridiculous offer no matter how tempting it might have sounded until the hour you found yourself underneath him. You were locked in your room as Jimin breathed heavily above you as you urged him to move once you thought you’d be okay.
The two of you had obviously decided that it was going to be a one-time thing and nobody was ever going to know. But it never ends at that, does it? It happened again, for the second time, and then the third time and it wasn’t long before you lost count as you basked in your newly found bliss while Jimin finally found someone he felt comfortable with.
You both had had a very clear understanding that none of you were ready to take things further than that, for you didn’t feel that way for each other to say the least. And that left you to be one thing but anything else – friends with benefits.
This wasn’t the relationship you had thought you’d share with Jimin. You and Jimin both cherished your friendship but since you started playing around none of you could really control the desire once it started burning. The mere idea of it would have made you to cringe if you’d heard it before any of this happened...but that’s exactly where you stood.
“Hey, Y/N?” The sound of your name being called had you blinking your eyes quite a few times before you became fully awake. Sleeping through the lectures was one thing you couldn’t stop doing and that’s why Jimin hated you the most when you dragged him to sit beside you. He was too conscious to not pay attention in class and you were careless enough to snore beside him with no care in the whole damned world.
“Yeah?” You turned around to face Yuki, the transfer student who lived in the room next to yours.
“What’s going on?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
“What do you mean?” You had zero clue of what she was talking about, but that did not last very long.
“You know, you...and Jimin?” she asked with excitement in her eyes while yours widened to look like two huge saucers that one couldn’t ignore.
“Wh-what are you talking about?” You could feel the sweat drip down your back as anxiety seeped into your bones. Had she seen something? Or maybe heard you both when you carelessly let pleasure take over you?
“I saw him leaving your room before this lecture,” she filled you in and you let out the breath you had been holding.
“Oh...” you breathed out in relief, “he just came over to collect some notes.” You lied with some ease this time; thanks to all the other instances where you had to cook up a story so fast your head would spin.
“Ah...really?” she teased you further.
“Yes Yuki, obviously. You know Jimin and I are best friends.” Who also have sex now, you sighed internally. Yuki seemed to have believed you for then she just winked at you and went back to doodle on her notebook. You turned your head to Jimin who was listening with concentration, slightly envious at the fact that everybody came to you when they thought something was fishy. Nobody ever had the courage to go and question him.
—
“Oh thank god,” you mumbled when the dull class finally ended. If it had not been for you being short of attendance, there was no way you would have wasted an hour of your precious time on this tedious uneventful lecture.
“Let’s go!” Jimin chimed as he packed up all his stuff.
“Where?” you questioned.
“To your room,” he said as if it was the most stupid thing he had to answer to.
“Are you serious?” you scoffed at him before turning around to pack your own stuff.
“Why what’s the matter?” Jimin whined.
“Have you not had enough for today?” you scolded him lightly, making sure not to come off too rude or too loud.
“What – there’s a limit?”
“Well...there should be. Twice a week – only!” you declared, swinging your bag over your shoulder.
“What – Y/N no!” Jimin almost screamed as he followed you with hurried steps. “You can’t do this!” he pouted.
“I have to! We decided that it was going to be a one-time thing. I admit that I’m no goody two shoes either but we’ve got to slow down, okay? It’s already a little complicated and I don’t want this to ruin anything between us.” Your voice came out soft as you tried to make him understand. And being the person Jimin was, he was able to make out what you meant as he gave you an eye blinding smile before enveloping you in his embrace.
“Yeah I’m sorry. You’re right – this isn’t just anything. There’s actually a lot at stake.” He gave your figure one last squeeze before letting go and flashing his teeth. “See you tomorrow, then?”
You nodded as you mirrored his smile, glad that you could talk to him about anything and everything and that he understood without being a whiny baby. This was what you were scared of losing.
Jimin wasn’t just any friend to you. When you first joined college around a year ago, you were very conscious about everything you said and everything you did. Jimin had peeled off the layers you had around you one at a time instead of just trying to barge in. The comfort level you shared with him was something you had never experienced before. He could, somehow, make you talk about whatever bothered you – something that you’d always had a hard time with. He could tell when something was wrong just by looking at you, and there was nobody that could calm your nerves like he did when you felt too anxious about something. There was no way you were ready to lose this.
—
The next week went by smoothly and Jimin did not make any advances – even playfully – towards you. He totally respected what you had said the other day and you couldn’t be happier.
It was like any other day after college when Jimin had decided to stay a little longer with you since it was the weekend. The two day a week rule had put both of you through a tough time in the past few days. You had not seen Jimin this eager to fuck in the previous months as he was at the moment – while you were in no better state than him, to speak the truth.
Your clothes were on the floor with your bags in no time as the two of you kissed hungrily. You walked to the bed, never breaking the kiss before Jimin pushed on the mattress and you fell with a bounce with Jimin on top of you. There were hands roaming around each other’s bodies while your mouths explored all the curves and corners like it was the first time.
Jimin was quick to his feet to pull out a condom from his bag while you waited for him to just come back to bed and fuck you into oblivion. You had no idea how much you were craving for this until the moment his lips locked with yours. You cursed the stupid rule you had made just because you were scared people would find out. All this was too good to be sacrificed for such a futile reason. You made a mental note to tell him that you had stricken off the two times a week thing when you were done as Jimin rolled the condom down onto his length.
He wasted no time in climbing back on top of you as he started to ease himself in. You bit your lip from the feeling of him stretching you out without any preparation as Jimin hissed lightly to himself. He dipped his head down to kiss you and started with slow thrusts.
Jimin had barely picked up the pace when his phone started to ring. You looked at him but he showed no expressions that said he cared about the phone call. He continued to move inside you as the ringing finally died in the background. But it did not stop at that. It started ringing again and without a doubt both you and he could feel the energy between you starting to die out. And to make it worse – it felt awkward.
Every time before this when you and Jimin had sex, the two of you were way too engrossed in the feeling of pleasure to feel anything else. And there was never any time to spare after you were done, for it was always between classes.
But this time, as the pleasure started to die out because of the much unwelcomed interruption, you could feel how weird it was to have sex with your best friend. Blood rushed to your cheeks from where it was supposed to be as you averted your eyes from him.
Jimin pulled out of you with an apologetic look, leaving you to sigh at the emptiness and frustration that took over you. He walked wherever he had thrown his bag on the floor. You picked up your bed cover from the nearby chair, not really wanting to be naked in front of him anymore.
“Fuck!” Jimin cursed as soon as he looked at his phone, his hands flying to clutch a handful of his hair in his tight grasp.
“What happened? Is everything okay?” you asked immediately, worried about what was wrong.
“I’m sorry but I’ve got to go Y/N,” he said as he nearly ran to pick up his shirt and jeans. “How could I forget! I had a date with Sarah!”
What?
It was like everything stopped in its place for a good long minute. Your breath was stuck in your throat as you let the information seep in. To say that his words came like a blow of a full speed truck towards you would be a total understatement. Jimin had told you that he had a date with the said girl two days ago. And it had felt like a jab to your chest for a second but you had quickly brushed the feeling away. But – Oh! You had no clue that it would come to mock you in the face like this. Being left behind when you were in the middle of sex for another person was worst of the worst things that could happen to you.
“See you later?” Jimin shot a quick goodbye at you and left in a rush, just like that.
You were left there naked with nothing but your covers around you as you made efforts to breathe. Your mouth ran dry and there was nothing on your mind. You felt...betrayed? But were you supposed to? Should you?
When you and Jimin started having just sex, you knew it would be weird. But now you were cursing yourself for never giving two thoughts to what would happen to your dating lives. You knew you didn’t want to date but what about Jimin? How could you leave out such a vital thing? And most importantly – what were you supposed to do now? It was not like Jimin couldn’t date anyone, then why did it feel like he had wronged you?
You swallowed the lump in your throat and got out of bed to get dressed. ‘It’s nothing big, Y/N, it’ll go away’, you tried to calm yourself as you pulled out a fresh set of clothes. This – what you and Jimin had – was casual. It was not supposed to mean anything. So you decided that it would be best to just forget it and never talk about it again, like it never happened, like it didn’t make you feel anything. ‘You are just feeling that way in the moment’, you told yourself as you tried to believe your own words; ‘He is allowed to go out. He doesn’t belong to you.’
—
You did not hear from Jimin until the next afternoon. He texted you with an apology and went on to tell you how perfectly amazing Sarah was. It was something he always did - texting you after every date to tell you how good or bad it was. But it felt different this time.
A part of you didn’t want to know about his fucking date at all, for it was the very reason he had left you like that, like it didn’t mean anything. Yes, you two were best friends with benefits but that did not give him the right to take it for granted.
You bit you lip harshly while you talked to him like you usually did. How could he not spare two minutes to ask you how you felt? Did it matter so little to him? Or, what if, it mattered more to you than it should?
Your thoughts were complicating the situation further. You didn’t know what you were feeling or where you stood in your own two eyes let alone his. It was getting difficult to sort out your emotions for there were so many running through you presently. You wanted to be happy for him for that’s what a friend would do but you were feeling betrayed instead; you wanted to be normal with him, but you couldn’t.
What was all this?
—
You were eagerly waiting for the college to open for the weekend had seemed to stretch for way too long. You had little to do and a lot on your mind. Every time you tried to balance the two, you failed. Everything had suddenly become very incomprehensible; your thoughts; your feelings; your emotions.
When you finally saw Jimin on Monday, the incident that took place two days ago was long forgotten; or at least he certainly had no memory of it from where you saw it. He just talked about Sarah and it irritated you to no end.
“Y/N, have you ever met someone that you just click with? She is exactly like that!” he had exclaimed as he held you by the shoulders, his mind clearly over occupied with her to see anything else.
“That’s good to know.” Your voice came out quieter than you had expected. But it didn’t make a difference. And it marked the first time where Jimin couldn’t spot that you weren’t yourself.
It broke you a little from the inside as realisation dawned upon you – there was nothing wrong with Jimin; it was you who was feeling too much. Maybe mixing friendship with sex wasn’t a good idea, after all. You just wished you could undo it.
The next couple weeks that passed made you feel even more distant with him. It’s not like he didn’t spend time with you, but when he did, you couldn’t stop thinking about the time Jimin was spending with Sarah. You thought about what they did or talked about, or if Jimin ever mentioned you in front of her. Why in the world had you brought this upon yourself?
On the other hand, Jimin and you continued with your sex life as usual. But you did not need any rules now, for you did not get the chance to deny him anymore. It had started to feel like you saw less of him, and when you did it ended up with you in bed with him. To say that the thought of him only ever coming to have sex did not cross your mind even once would be a white lie.
There were times when you thought Jimin did not want you in his life anymore, or that the only thing he wanted out of you was sex. You also wondered what he thought about you – ‘does he think I’m just an easy person to get into bed with?’ you thought once with tears in your eyes; ‘what does he think of me now, that I would give myself away to anyone?’ Questions like these never stopped haunting you but you knew in your heart that this wasn’t true.
Jimin would never ever think like that especially about you. These were all but figments of your own over imagination but how were you supposed to stop? You did not know how to make yourself believe that his attention was not divided, or he did not think of you as a low life, or that he did not want you in his life for just sex for that matter.
Your mind was in frenzy and you could nearly see yourself going crazy as you sat on the floor of your room, beginning to feel the waves of anxiety crashing upon you. You tried to calmly focus and remind yourself that it was Jimin that you were talking about, but to no avail. You were far too gone to see things for what they were.
But you had successfully decoded one thing from all the mess – your worst fear had come to life:
You did not see Jimin as just a friend anymore.
—
“Hey are you okay?” Jimin asked you one day when you sat beside him doodling something on the back of your text book.
“Hm? Yeah I’m fine,” you replied, never looking up at him.
“Are you sure? You don’t even sleep through the lectures anymore,” he chuckled lightly and you could cry over the fact that Jimin knew you like the back of his hand. You cursed the hormones that had blinded you the day you decided to have sex with him. You cursed that day and that bloody hour that had ruined the one thing you held so close to your heart.
“Yes I’m sure.” You managed to say with a tiny smile, not wanting to answer any more questions.
“Okay!” He chimed.
There were a few minutes of silence before he spoke to you again.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you...”
“Hm?”
“Sarah wants to meet you.” His words had you snapping your head in his direction, taking him a little by surprise. In that moment, you wanted nothing but to rip off your arms and throw them at that bitch – who you held responsible for everything, somehow.
“I’ve been telling her about you and I didn’t even realise that you two haven’t met until she said it,” he paused to look at you and you immediately turned your eyes away. This was too much...all this was too much take. You could feel your heart in your throat as you tried to swallow it away.
“Ah, I see,” you mumbled.
“Mhm...so how about today during the break?” he wiggled an eyebrow at you and you let out a forced giggle.
“That’d be great!” you said as you licked your lips that had suddenly gone dry.
Your heart was beating frantically at the thought of seeing them together. You couldn’t be alone with them, no! That would be nothing but the end of you.
Yuki!
Yes, Yuki. She was the closest person to you after Jimin and she wouldn’t say no. You could ask her to come with you, and that way you would be able to excuse yourself, too. You were just thinking everything through when your eyes went to your watch. It was almost time to break.
As soon as the teacher left, Jimin got up, a big smile plastered across his face and it had butterflies fluttering inside you. It made you wonder when it actually started to happen; when his presence had you feeling nervous and when his gaze made your heart thump against your rib cage. Was it something new or had it always been like that?
“Let’s go?” His voice broke the chain of your thoughts.
“Yes. You go first I’ll be there in a minute...” you let him know and waited for him to be outside the room before you ran to Yuki and stopped her.
“What happened?” She was startled as she turned back to you with eyes widened in surprise.
“I need your help?” you got to the point straight away.
“My help...what is it?” she raised an eyebrow at your sudden request.
“Jimin wants me to meet her girlfriend. And honestly, I don’t want to be third wheeling...” you were quick to make up something that was believable enough.
“Oh, I see...” Yuki caught onto your point in a second. “So you want me to come with you so we can excuse ourselves and then leave,” she completed your thought and you nodded.
“Exactly...”
“Okay, no problem. When do we go?” she asked, swinging her bag over her shoulder.
“Now!” you said and before she could respond, you were already dragging her by the hand. You did not want Jimin to speculate anything, so you left as soon as Yuki agreed.
—
It was easy for you to spot Jimin just by his hair in the crowd of students that chattered away like there was no tomorrow. Oh what would you give to have your fingers glide through the soft strands of his hair.
It was when you walked a little closer that your eyes landed at Sarah, and the sight made your stomach churn and a lump to form in your throat.
“There they are...” you squeaked to Yuki who was still searching through the crowd for Jimin.
“Let’s go,” she said and this time she had to pull you by the hand to make you walk.
“What if we don’t go?” you asked Yuki, making her to stop and look back at you.
“But why?” she asked.
“Why...uhm – because look at them, they are talking and seemingly enjoying each other’s company...let them have it, d-don’t you think?” your breath was already staggering just by looking at them so engrossed in each other and you did not know what would happen if you were to sit near them and listen to them talk.
“It’s okay, Y/N. Jimin asked you to be there, didn’t he? He is your best friend. And I promise I’ll excuse us in just ten minutes,” Yuki assured you and you started walking with her half heartedly.
Best friend.
That was what you were to him, and that’s what the problem was. You knew he would put you first in every situation, but he wouldn’t think of you like you wanted him to; never.
Jimin spotted you from a distance and waved you over. You and Yuki took a seat across them before Jimin started introducing you.
You had to force yourself to smile at Sarah and Yuki who sat beside you was beginning to understand that something wasn’t right. She could tell that you were growing uncomfortable from the way you repeatedly shifted in your seat but it wasn’t because you didn’t want to intrude their space; it was something else.
You couldn’t lie to yourself and say Sarah was a bitch, for you realised she was actually a sweet woman when you talked to her. You could see why Jimin liked her but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look her in the eye and tell yourself that it was okay. She would always be the person who had the one thing that you couldn’t get – Jimin.
“Jimin tells me that you’re his best friend,” Sarah smiled at you as you took a sip of water. Those two words never failed to make you wince.
“He does...haha,” you gave a humourless laugh, causing Jimin to squint his eyes at you while Yuki looked at you with pitiful eyes. She knew exactly what was wrong.
“I really hope we get along nicely, Y/N.” Sarah spoke with honest emotions, while you on the other hand had difficulty even forming proper thoughts. So you just looked at her.
“I know you two will,” Jimin came to your rescue, clearly sensing the uneasiness in your demeanour but still clueless as to what was it for.
Sarah looked at her watch, “Oh, I have to go, my friends must be waiting. I’ll see you later?” she said before as she turned to Jimin.
She put her hand on Jimin’s that rested on his thigh and you chest tightened so hard you thought you would faint. Jimin, as if instinctively, put his other hand on hers and squeezed it a little while you wished you had gone blind before witnessing it. Your heart sank to the deepest pits and everything inside you suddenly felt hollow. Your breaths came out in short gasps while Yuki observed the whole scene, totally forgetting her promise.
You clutched the hem of your shirt so tight your knuckles turned white. You felt your face heat up when Sarah leaned in to whisper something in his ear and that’s when you knew you couldn’t take it anymore.
You got up and shot a quick ‘I gotta go’ before leaving the scene for good. Yuki followed you as Jimin looked at your back, shocked at the way you just left.
“I’ll go and see what’s wrong,” Jimin excused himself, not taking another look back at Sarah before he ran after you.
You ran to the ladies room and braced yourself with your hands on the edge of the basin while Yuki just stood there, ready to offer any help if you needed it. You were sure you were having an anxiety attack with the way your breaths came out shallow and your vision blurred. Your head was spinning as you tried to catch on your breath. Yuki rubbed your back as your feet began to stagger a little.
“You need to get out of here, Y/N!” Yuki said worriedly beside you.
“I-I can’t...” you said gathering whatever energy you were left with.
“Let me help you. You should be out in the open,” she said as she supported you while you dragged your feet to wherever she was taking you, holding onto your chest with one hand.
It took you several minutes to at least grasp your surroundings. You were out in the open in fresh air and it instantly calmed your nerves. You took a few more deep breaths before the anxiety died away entirely.
You looked at Yuki who was still worried about you. “I’m sorry I had you worried.”
“Are you okay now?” she asked you but before you could reply you heard Jimin calling your name from a distance. You turned around to look at him running towards you at full speed. When he reached you he was totally out of breath but that didn’t stop him from shooting questions at you.
“Are you okay? What happened?” he asked, taking a step closer to you.
“Yes, I’m fine—” you started saying but Jimin was quick to wrap you up in a hug tight enough to knock the air out of your lungs.
“Oh thank god! You had me worried there.” Jimin’s voice was laced with nothing but concern and care and you wanted to just cry into his shoulder and tell him everything there and then. You wrapped you arms around him when he didn’t let go and inhaled his scent, so sweet – something that felt so familiar yet different to you.
“But what happened? It’s so unlikely of you to just leave like that?” he asked once he let go of you.
“I-I needed to use the washroom really bad,” you said sheepishly, failing to convince even yourself let alone anybody else.
“Seriously Y/N?”
You just nodded in response, considering that it was too risky to change your words now.
“Alright,” Jimin mumbled, but he had some inkling that you were lying and hiding something from him. It wasn’t like you to keep secrets from him, so he waited for you to come and tell him on your own instead of putting any pressure on you.
—
That night in hostel, Yuki joined you in your room after dinner.
“What is all this about?” she got straight to the point as she stood in front of you, hands folded over her chest.
“What?” You knew well enough what she was talking about, but you gave it a try, thinking—rather wishing that it was about something else.
“You know what Y/N...I know you like Jimin!” she blurted out and you sighed in defeat. There was no point in beating around the bush now.
“What am I supposed to do Yuki?” you cried, unable to control it – finally finding someone you could talk to.
“What do you want to do?” she asked in return, “How long since you started feeling that way?” she asked with care and made you sit down on your bed.
“I don’t know...about either of the two. I just suddenly realised that I can’t imagine him being with another girl.” A tear fell down your cheek.
“I’ve been noticing the difference in you two for the past few months. What is exactly happening?” Yuki asked the question you dreaded the most. Honestly, you wanted to tell her everything but you decided against it, feeling ashamed to tell her about your exact relationship with Jimin. It wasn’t something you were proud of or wanted people to find out about.
“We just started hanging out a little more. I don’t know when I started feeling that way to be honest. I’m not sure even now, Yuki, if it’s the possessiveness towards a friend or something else,” you told her the half truth, covering it up with something believable before you started telling her everything else.
“Do you think you should tell him?” Yuki asked after attentively listening to everything you had to tell her.
“I’m scared...I’m scared that he’d run away. He will run away Yuki! He sees me as a friend and nothing more and I’m scared I will destroy it if I tell him,” you sobbed.
“You’re not just a friend to him, Y/N, and you know that very well. He cares for you like nobody else. In fact, he hardly talks to any other girl besides you,” Yuki said, stating the facts for you to look at them optimistically.
“But he talks to Sarah now,” you commented ruefully, the image of her and Jimin holding hands doing rounds in your head all over again.
“It’s probably just another short lived relationship Y/N, plus they’re just dating it’s nothing serious,” she tried further to make you understand and decide what you wanted to do.
“You think so? You still think so after watching them being all cuddly today? It was so intimate Yuki it made me sick to my very core!” Your words were turning bitter by the moment.
“What do you want then?” Yuki was starting to lose her cool, the frustration of not being able to reach to a conclusion evident in her tone.
“I just know that I can’t let him go...that’s too much a price to pay,” you muttered and Yuki immediately comforted you with a sympathetic hand over your shoulder.
“How long will you torture yourself like this?” she asked weakly.
“For as long as I can take it...”
—
It had been a couple of weeks since your first encounter with Sarah. You had been trying your best to stay your usual self around her and had made some progress. Yuki tagged along with you more now and you couldn’t be more thankful. You just wished you had enough courage to tell her everything without leaving a single incident out, but alas!
Jimin, on the other hand could tell there was something terribly wrong with the way you were behaving with him. You two had mutually decided to stop having sex for you considered it to be Jimin cheating on Sarah, and you did not want to be a part of it. But that did not stop Jimin from hanging out in your room, enjoying the level of comfort you two had built up in the past months.
Jimin would occasionally ask for cuddles, and you denied him every time except the ones where he was just too difficult to resist. He could tell there was more behind your denials than just the reason you had given him but he couldn’t bring himself to ask you directly, afraid that he would be invading your space by doing so, and there was no other way to know.
Jimin couldn’t stand to look at you all lost and void of the cheerful energy that you used to carry around you. He just wanted to know and put an end to your problems, if only he knew. He spent his days worrying and wondering, looking for any type of clues to know what was going on in that little head of yours until one day he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked you one day when it was just you and him in the canteen, no Yuki and no Sarah. But you were waiting and bracing yourself for the latter to arrive.
“Yes?” you replied without looking at him or anywhere in particular for that matter.
“Look at me,” he demanded and you heaved in a breath before doing as asked. It was visible on his very face, the fact that he knew – he always knew even without you saying a word. You saw the hardships he was going through himself because he saw you suffering for an unknown reason, and you just asked yourself if this was not enough to make someone fall in love, what was?
“What’s wrong?” he finally asked.
“Nothing’s wrong, Jimin,” you forced your words along with a smile, trying to sound as natural as possible.
“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. I did not ask until now because I thought you just needed some time before you come and tell me...but I can’t wait anymore. Tell me what happened?” he asked you so softly you could feel your heart melting behind your ribcage.
“No seriously, it’s nothing...” you tried to convince him.
“There you are, lying again, as if I can’t see it. Tell me Y/N; you don’t let me anywhere near you, always finding excuses to get away from me. Sometimes they are so ridiculous that I can’t believe you expect me to actually buy them. You said you didn’t want to have sex anymore and you had a valid reason, so I accepted it, but you push me away even when I want to just hang out. Have I done something to hurt you? Tell me if I have...” Jimin sounded so helpless you wanted to comfort him as you cursed yourself for making him feel that way. It was the last thing you wanted, for him to think that he could hurt you.
“Is something wrong back at home?” Jimin speculated further, his brain going through every possible scenario that could make you go so quiet all of a sudden. “Come on Y/N give me something...it’s eating me alive!” he pleaded.
You gave a thought to telling him the truth and putting him out of his misery, but before you could give even a second’s more consideration to it, you noticed a familiar figure walking closer to where you both sat. And your heart sank. Just when you two were finally opening up a little for the first time in weeks – ugh! You hated that woman.
Sarah walked to where Jimin sat and stepped behind him, placing her hand on his shoulder possessively before looking at you.
“Hey Y/N,” she smiled at you and you mirrored her expressions before looking away immediately. You could sense as the familiar feeling of your chest tightening and your throat constricting returning to you, leaving you breathless, gasping for air. This did not go unnoticed by Jimin. He was quick to pick up on your reactions.
“Sarah, do you mind giving us a minute? We were actually in the middle of something...” Jimin asked without much thought and Sarah was slightly taken aback by his sudden request, but she was quick to cover it up.
“Oh...sure. I’ll be right outside, okay?” she smiled before kissing Jimin on the cheek and then stood up to leave. Her gesture from seconds ago made you ball your hands into fists. Sweat beads formed on your forehead from how much struggle you were going through just to breathe.
You were about to get up and leave to avoid making the situation worse, but Jimin held you down by the hand.
“What is troubling you?” he asked sternly this time, hating to witness how you were withering away right in front his eyes.
“I-I told you it’s nothing Jimin,” you still stood firm on your reply, sure that now wasn’t the time to tell him. You would destroy a lot if you did.
“Stop that! I can’t see this anymore...just tell me what’s wrong? Is it Sarah? Has she said something to you? Does she make you uncomfortable?” Jimin shot more questions at you, desperate for an answer, for anything that could tell him what bothered you.
You took a few breaths before meeting eyes with Jimin. You could tell how infuriated he was feeling. His face glistened with sweat as his hair clung to his forehead. He was breathing with short puffs of air and you knew you’d have to calm him down before he lost him temper entirely.
“Listen to me...you’re over thinking this,” you said as you collected your own self, “it is nothing like what you think. You know I’ve always had anxiety issues, Jimin. It’s nothing new and nothing big, trust me,” you weighed your words before you calmly made him understand, seeing his face return to its normal colour from the red that had taken over it.
“I’ll believe you this time, Y/N, but promise me you’ll tell him if something’s wrong?” he said as he extended his hand to hold yours tightly, while all you could think about was Sarah’s hand in his. You hated whatever it was inside you that didn’t let you enjoy one moment with him without bringing up Sarah in your thoughts.
“I will,” You smiled. “Now go, she’s waiting for you,” you said half heartedly and Jimin got up from his chair.
“Just know that you mean more than everything to me, Y/N. You know I’ll do anything to make you feel better; you just have to name it. Don’t be so hard on yourself and talk to me, okay?” he said before he held you for a few seconds, your head resting on his stomach and oh how hard it was for you not to cry.
His words came from his heart and went straight to yours and for a second you felt like Jimin felt the same towards you, but you knew better. It wasn’t possible. He was dating another woman, it was just impossible.
You closed your eyes shut and let the tears fall when Jimin left. Yuki must have been watching from a distance for she was there beside you the very next second.
“Oh Y/N...” she sympathised. “It hurts me to just look at it. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for you,” she said as she rubbed your arm while you just sat there.
“I almost told him today, Yuki,” you confessed and her eyes widened.
“What?! Then what happened?” she asked with a mixture of shock and curiosity.
“Well, I thought maybe I should and then suddenly Sarah came...” you explained, still thinking about how she always had his hands on him authoritatively and it wrecked your nerves.
“You’re being too hard on yourself Y/N, just tell him and get it over with,” Yuki suggested.
“I still don’t know Yuki...maybe I will, very soon. It’s his birthday next week. I’ll wait till then and then I’ll see...” You were still uncertain as to what you wanted. Of course you wanted Jimin to love you like you had began to, as unexpectedly as it was, you just didn’t know how or if it was at all possible.
“I really wish I could do something for you.”
“You’re already doing enough Yuki. Thanks...” You smiled lightly before checking your watch and realising it was almost time for the next class.
“Let’s go! Professor Kim hates it when we are late,” you ushered Yuki towards your classroom, trying to push away all the thought of Jimin and Sarah and what they must be doing.
—
You couldn’t stop thinking about Jimin’s last birthday, and how happy you were – just the two of you together for the whole day. Of course, there weren’t any feelings back then but the thought filled you with warmth but you also felt sad at the same time, for you couldn’t have it this year. ‘He is obviously gonna spend his day with Sarah,’ you thought.
“What are you thinking about now?” Yuki asked as she came to you with two plates of noodles in her hands and placed one of them before you.
“Nothing...just about how happy I was with him last year,” you sighed.
“Come on Y/N don’t be so low. This year is going to be just as great,” Yuki tried to reassure you.
You nodded as you played around with your food. The two of you then ate in silence until Yuki nudged you with her elbow, directing your attention to the last person you wanted to see walking towards you.
“Hey! How are you guys?” Sarah beamed at you good naturedly.
“We’re fine,” Yuki replied with a smile on your behalf as well, secretly wishing for Sarah to just leave after the pleasantries were exchanged, but to her utter dismay she made herself comfortable on the chair right opposite you.
“Have you seen Jimin?” she asked and the sound of his name tumbling from her mouth made you sick.
“No...” you lied, knowing that he had gone to meet a professor – enjoying the silly notion of knowing something she didn’t.
“Ah good then...it’s his birthday in a few days,” Sarah said, squinting her eyes slightly as if thinking about something.
“We know,” Yuki replied with a slight sarcasm in her tone. It should have made you happy, but being mean to Sarah wasn’t what you wanted. She wasn’t a bad person, it were the circumstances that had made you to hate her so badly.
“Well, I was thinking about what I should get him...” Sarah said, evidently trying to think hard about what to do.
“Well...Y/N gave him a really heartfelt gift last year,” Yuki said purely out of spite, wanting to let Sarah know that you were way better than her in every way possible.
“Really? What did you give him, Y/N?” she asked curiously, her chin resting on her palm as she took great interest in what was to come.
“”I-I made him an album...” you said and your mind went back to that day.
You had spent months making that one thing for him, a collection of your times together. And Jimin had held it above everything else, thanking you with tears in his eyes as he flipped through the pages.
You had made him a hand-made album from scratch, collecting the worst pictures of you two that accounted for the best of the memories. You had left a note beside each one, reminding him how goofy and silly you two have been in the past and he had loved it. He had acknowledged the effort you had put into every single page.
You could still see how his eyes had widened when he had pulled it out of the wrapping papers. He had mumbled a ‘what is this’ before you urged him to open it further. He had held it to his chest for a good moment before beginning to leaf through the pages, living those moments again like you had while you glued every picture.
“You made him an album?” Sarah asked with shock laced in her voice.
“Yes...and Jimin had loved it,” Yuki further teased her as she especially emphasised the word, earning herself a smack on the thigh from you. But she did not stop there, quite adamant on making Sarah feel as little as she could. “You should have seen it, Sarah...it was the most beautiful thing I had seen someone make for a person. Oh what would I give to have someone give me something like that piece of wonder,” Yuki bragged further, not willing to stop anytime soon.
“Oh god...this makes me nervous. Ah I really need to give him something really good. Do you have any ideas?” Yuki had successfully made Sarah feel helpless and clueless as to what she was supposed to do. You could see the confusion grow on her face as she thought of ideas but nothing came close to how Yuki had defined your present to be.
“I don’t really think anything can match it Sarah, plus you don’t have time to make something for him now,” Yuki mocked her to no end and as much as you wanted to enjoy it, you knew she didn’t deserve it.
“You’ll find something, Sarah, don’t worry. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, let it come naturally,” you finally spoke, trying to lighten the burden Yuki had suddenly huddled upon her.
“Maybe I’ll make something for his next birthday, but I really hope I think of something before his day this year,” Sarah lamented. “I’ve got go now. I’ll see you later?” She flashed her signature smile before she walked away.
But her words had stuck with you...next birthday?
You had rarely asked Jimin about how things were going with Sarah, what he thought about the relationship and where he saw it going in the coming time. But the fact that Sarah thought she would be spending his next birthday with him could only mean one thing – things were going smoothly between them. The mere thought was enough to leave you heartbroken as all your hopes – if you really were left with any to begin with – to shatter to pieces.
“I gave her a good time,” Yuki said proudly, interrupting your analysis or their relationship.
“I think I should go to my room, Yuki. I really need to lie down,” You told her as you got up, leaving your lunch almost entirely uneaten before you walked to your room. You needed some space, some time and definitely to maintain some distance with Jimin. He would sit beside you no matter what and you couldn’t be close to him at the moment.
You locked your room from inside and allowed yourself to breathe. You cursed yourself for not being able to subside your desires and your expectations, for thinking that something could really happen between you and Jimin.
You closed your eyes once you were lying flat on your back on your bed, thinking about all the possibilities that could show themselves if you decided to confess your feelings. If it had not been for the fear of losing him, you would have wasted no time in doing so. But you weren’t sure how Jimin would react...he might be accepting of it but what if he wasn’t and started hating you? That was the thought that scared you the most.
—
“Where’s Y/N?” Jimin asked Yuki after ten minutes had gone since the lecture started with no sign of you showing up.
“She went back to her room,” Yuki told him.
“Why?” Jimin’s eyes widened the instant those words left her mouth.
“She wasn’t really feeling well,” Yuki told him the truth, low-key wanting him to find out everything regardless of what would happen after it.
“What happened to her? Should I go and see her?” Jimin fired questions at Yuki, unable to control himself after what he had just heard.
“I don’t know Jimin...she just said she wasn’t feeling well,” Yuki shrugged, getting back to her work but watching Jimin from the corner of her eyes. He was hardly able to concentrate on anything the professor said. He finally took out his phone and texted you, but did not get any reply. He sent you three more texts but all of them went unanswered like the first one. He desperately waited for the lecture to end so he could call you or see you or anything.
Yuki could see the way Jimin was squirming restlessly, looking at the professor but his mind wandering elsewhere, thinking of nothing but you.
“Yuki...can you tell Y/N to check her phone? I don’t want to call her in case she’s sleeping. And take care of her for me?” Jimin asked for a favour as soon as the professor left and Yuki smiled to herself.
“Don’t worry I will.” Yuki said before walking away.
—
You talked to Jimin later that evening and saw him the next day. He looked at you with worried eyes, noticing how you were quieter than usual.
He had asked you if you were okay after every lecture, successfully making you laugh lightly at how he was so serious about something so trivial. You had just taken half of the day off.
“Will you stop worrying Jimin...I’m fine. I was just tired so I left,” you turned to him when he did not stop pestering you.
“Well then next time tell me before you leave. I don’t feel like sitting here without you,” he pouted as he chided you.
“Fine...” you gave in, not really wanting to argue anymore.
“What have you prepared this time?” Jimin suddenly asked as he leaned forward to look at you.
“For what?” You were clueless as to what he was talking about.
“Really Y/N...you are asking this?” he feigned shock, looking at you like you had committed a crime.
“Yes I am. Care to tell me now?” and as soon as these words left your mouth it clicked.
“It’s my birthday in two days you dumb head!” he complained before moving and turning away from you. But you could not pay attention to him, for all you could think about was Sarah all over again. She’s going to be the one preparing a party; she’s going to be the one standing beside him while he blew the candles, not you. Hers will be the most important wish and not yours. Oh there was so much that wasn’t going to be yours – including Jimin.
Jimin noticed how you had zoned out again, thinking about something but always denying it whenever he asked.
“Okay Y/N, I caught you red handed this time. What were you thinking, tell me!” He demanded as his voice changed – suddenly stern and no longer playful.
“My answer’s the same,” you said without much thought and Jimin sighed in frustration. He was getting tired of you running away from things, not telling him any of it and avoiding him on top of everything.
“You know what Y/N...I’m not going to talk to you until you tell me. The choice is yours now!” Jimin was helpless. He could see no other way of making you speak and as much as it hurt him to say that, it was his last resort.
“Whatever you want, Park Jimin!” You hated how he had put that condition in front of you, but a part of you was thankful that you wouldn’t have to face his questions. It was entirely up to you now.
Jimin huffed at your response, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before you’d come to him. After all, it wasn’t easy for either of you to stay away from the other for long...but little did Jimin know that you’d been doing things far more difficult than being apart for more than just days.
—
You considered staying in to be a safer option for the two days that were left for Jimin’s birthday. You were growing restless and impatient with your feelings, and now was the worst time of all. And since Jimin had already said that he wouldn’t talk to you until you tell him, you wouldn’t have to answer to anything for he always kept his word.
Jimin, on the other hand, grew restless too but from different reasons. There were things that troubled him – emotions and feelings to be more specific – but he was unaware of what they were, where they came from or how to deal with them. He just felt uneasy. And to top all that off, you were behaving like never before. He wanted to do something for you, if only you would let him.
Jimin respected your wish of not wanting to tell him, but deep inside he was not ready to be left out of anything that concerned you, that disturbed you or caused you any stress. He was so used to knowing everything about you that being uniformed haunted him. Jimin knew it was just the habit he had developed over the months that tormented him...or was it something else?
When Jimin did not see you at college the next day, he knew you were trying to avoid him. It was agonising to sit through the day without you, and he regretted making such a rash decision. As Jimin took out his phone from his pocket, his hand hovered over your name, but the stubbornness to keep his word and make you speak got the better of him. ‘It’s now or never’ he thought as he got up to go and meet Sarah.
—
The fact that you had nothing to do in that one room was an absolute bane in the given situation. Your mind was clouded with thoughts of your best friend and his girlfriend even more than before. All you could see was them chattering away happily, holding hands and even kissing each other. Your brain brewed the worst possible scenarios for you to lament over.
Sometimes you would imagine Jimin being so happy with Sarah that your existence seemed to be wiped out of his life; other times you would imagine Sarah being the wicked person you viewed her as and making Jimin turn against you.
For the two days that passed, you had done nothing but tortured yourself with similar thoughts and made up scenarios. Yuki had come to check up on you and you secretly wished that she would tell you something about Jimin, but there was never anything. She just tried to talk you out of confining yourself to that room and you denied her request every time. That was what you needed at the moment, or so you thought.
When Jimin did not text you or call you even once, something died a little inside you. Maybe you did not matter that much to him anymore. ‘He must be talking to Sarah,’ you always concluded. Those two days did more damage than any other times, making you believe that you had lost Jimin forever...for two days was the longest time you had gone without talking to him, and the fact that he hadn’t tried even once made your body go limp as your hopes shattered completely.
—
The sound of your phone chiming at the new message made you jump out of your bed. You desperately wished for it to be from Jimin.
23:24, Jimin: It’s my birthday tomorrow Y/N. I know we are not talking but at least wish me and be there. It’s incomplete without you.
Your eyes welled up after reading his message, not sure what to make of it. Was he angry with you...or sad? Did he really miss you?
23:27, Y/N: of course I’ll be there...
You typed and sent and held your phone to your chest. You blamed yourself for everything, for turning things bitter between you and Jimin when they were going just fine. You blamed yourself for pushing him away and making him as miserable as you were...and he had not even done anything wrong.
You wished Jimin over a text at midnight before you cried yourself to sleep. You dreaded the day that was to come; for both yourself and for Jimin.
How did you end up like this?
—
There was an evident layer of awkwardness between you and Jimin when you saw him the next day. Yuki saw it too, and that’s why she decided to puncture it a little.
“Happy birthday, Jimin!” She extended her hand towards him as she wished him from her heart.
“Thank you, Yuki...” It was visible how much effort he had to make just to smile.
“Happy birthday...” you took some inspiration from Yuki and extended you hand too.
Jimin scoffed internally at you and stepped closer to envelop you in his embrace.
“Thank you, Y/N,” he mumbled in your hair with a hint of sadness and your heart beat skyrocketed. You had not seen it coming but Jimin couldn’t hold himself anymore. He needed to feel that you were there, at least physically if not mentally.
You couldn’t meet eyes with him when he let go, and thankfully the professor arrived just in time to save you from the struggle of speaking anymore.
You could not focus as usual so you rested your head on the table, eyes diligently watching Jimin as he listened to the old man speak. Oh how long it had been since you actually looked at his face without being interrupted or being too shy.
Jimin could tell you were looking at him but he did not want to disturb your silent observation. He kept his eyes straight while his heart and mind wandered elsewhere.
Three classes passed without you and Jimin saying even a word to each other before it was finally the break time.
“Let’s go,” Jimin said when he realised you had no plans to go anywhere.
“Where?”
“To the canteen, where else?” he chuckled lightly and your heart fluttered.
You looked to the desk next to yours only to find it empty. “Where’s Yuki?” You questioned.
“She left already...while you were thinking about god knows what.” Jimin had a helpless expression over his face. And you hated that you were the reason.
You got up from your seat and walked with Jimin, waiting for Sarah to pop out from some corner and remind you that you were expecting the wrong things from the wrong person.
When you reached the usual spot where you and Jimin always sat amidst the crowd there was already a small cake on the table for him. You swallowed, knowing full well that it was from Sarah if not you.
Yuki appeared behind you shortly while you just started at the piece of bread in front of you. Jimin looked at the cake and then at you and Yuki mirrored his actions. All the thoughts that you had brewed up and fed yourself over the past days were regurgitating so quickly it made your body tremble. Sarah was all that was on your mind.
She had already sent him the cake, and it wouldn’t be long before both of them were standing together right in front of you, smiling at each other. All these thoughts were making it difficult to have a control upon how you were reacting.
“Y/N, what is wrong?” Jimin was quick to come to your aid as he held your quivering hands in his, trying to calm you down while you just started in the distance.
“I ca-can’t,” you mumbled under your breath so quietly none of your two friends could understand.
“What?” Jimin asked as he moved his ear closer to your mouth.
“I can’t...I can’t do this,” you exhaled.
“What are you talking about Y/N, tell me?” Jimin softly cooed near you.
“No-no...” you shook your head a couple of times before freeing yourself from Jimin’s hold and taking a step backwards. Jimin looked at you with a puzzled expression painted over his face.
He took a careful step towards you but you had just had enough. So you turned around and ran away from him, from that, place, from Sarah. You ran straight to your room and locked it, deciding that you wouldn’t open it no matter who came.
You walked lifelessly to your bed and let yourself fall down, listening to the sound of the rain that had started to pour outside before your own control gave in and you broke down into bitter sobs. Your whole body shook from the impact of the emotions you had been pretending not to have. You cried helplessly into your pillow, cursing yourself for getting too close, for getting too attached to only end up like this.
Why Jimin? You asked yourself and the images of you two spending time together without a care in the world flashed like a movie before you. You remembered how you used to be two happy people instead of a fucked up set of friends who could not sort and control their emotions.
It had been a while since you had left the dreaded scene and a part of you wondered what Jimin must be doing; was he celebrating with Sarah? Did he not miss you? Did he even care anymore? Fresh tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of how drastically things had changed. Earlier, Jimin couldn’t even stand you not being around and today, on his special day, it did not even bother him in the slightest.
You were staring blankly at your ceiling when the sound of someone knocking your door startled you. You knew it was Yuki and she had come to comfort you, but you did not want to talk to anybody.
“Let’s talk later, Yuki,” you shouted from your position on your bed, loud enough for her to hear. But either she did not hear it, or she deliberately ignored you as she knocked again.
This time you did not respond, thinking that she would leave if you did not answer but she did not. She kept on knocking and it drove you mad. You got up with a frustrated sigh and walked to the door in a total mood of giving her a hell. You opened the door ready to spew fire but stopped when you noticed it wasn’t Yuki.
“Jimin...” you breathed out. He was all drenched from the rain outside. Water dripped from his hair while some of the strands clung to his forehead. “Oh my god! why did you step out when it was raining?” You ran to fetch a towel from your wooden cupboard to dry him off.
“What can’t you do Y/N?” Jimin asked you, stopping you right in your tracks before you could even reach the cupboard.
“Wh-what do you mean?” You turned around to face him, taken aback by his sudden question.
“What you said earlier...what is it that you can’t do?” He took a step forward and you instinctively did the opposite, somehow wanting to have some distance between you two.
“Jimin...” your breath faltered.
“Tell me Y/N,” He took another step, closing the door with his foot.
“It’s nothing...” you looked at your feet as you said those words, finding it extremely difficult to hold his gaze.
“Are you sure it’s nothing?” he asked you in a low voice and your head snapped up. What did he mean? You just nodded in response, searching his face to tell you something as he moved even closer.
Jimin held you in your place and moved his face so close to yours his breath tickled you. You could feel the wetness from his jacket sleeves seep into the fabric of your top and form patches on both your shoulders.
“Are you sure?” he asked again and your breath hitched. You swallowed, unable to take your eyes away as his stared into you. A warm current ran down your spine but you managed the courage to nod your head again. That was when Jimin dived in and planted a chaste kiss on your lips, making every functional thing inside you to fail at once. His forehead touched yours; making you feel the cool sensation of water droplets that now beaded your forehead while the kiss contrastingly left you hot and sweaty.
“Still nothing?” Your eyes widened as those airy words left his mouth and your face heated up even more if that could happen. Jimin noticed the evident shock on your face and the corner of his lips slightly twitched upwards.
He took the opportunity to hold one side of your face with his hand as he kissed the apple of your other cheek. You stared at him, looking for answers to the million new questioned that surfaced from Jimin’s unforeseen actions.
“Yuki told me...”
“What?” You scared your own self from how abrupt and loud your voice was. “When...what did she say?” ‘Oh what has she done,’ you thought internally. The thought was so disturbing that you did not even realise that Jimin had come to see you and he had kissed you after he got to know everything.
“Everything that you should have already...” his tone was complaining.
“Oh my god what are you doing here Jimin? What about Sarah? We can’t do this...I already told you we can’t! I’ll understand if you can’t talk to me I deserve this...this is all my fault...” you rambled on and on without a pause. You shook your head unbelievably at what Yuki had done. You were sure that was it for you and there was nothing you could do about it.
“Will you listen for once?” Jimin said impatiently when you walked away and turned your back to him. When you did not speak anything, he took his queue to utter his next words:
“I broke up with Sarah.”
You turned around to look at him, to find a trace of sadness or guilt but there was nothing.
“Why, when?” you enquired as you walked closer to him to offer your comfort if need be.
“Two days ago...” he filled you in.
“Why didn’t you tell me Jimin?”
“You are one to ask that question, Y/N,” he taunted you without the intention to hurt. “You didn’t tell me about anything for weeks...I asked you everyday but you never said a word. Did you only have this much of faith in me, in us?” Jimin was hurt; you could hear it in his voice. You stared at your feet as your heart filled with guilt. Did you really give up on Jimin? The realisation was finally hitting you.
“I was—”
“What if Yuki hadn’t told me?” Jimin asked as he cut you mid sentence. “Where did this come from, Y/N...this distance between us, the thought that I wouldn’t understand? You really think so little of me?” his words broke your heart more than when you thought couldn’t have him.
“I was scared...” you heaved in a breath.
“Of what...me?”
“Of ruining our friendship,” you finally looked at him and your stomach twisted upon seeing his face. His eyes had started to redden.
“You think this wasn’t ruining it?” he fired at you; he was angry, and you couldn’t complain.
“What happened with Sarah?” you asked him, suddenly reminded of her and prayed that you weren’t the reason behind it.
Jimin stayed quiet for a second too long before he spoke, “she was uncomfortable with us. It left me with nothing but a choice.” He shrugged as if it was the most common thing and walked to get himself a towel.
“You broke up with her because of me?” you asked to confirm and your love struck heart fluttered as if it had grown wings of his own.
Jimin took off his jacket before he dried his hair and walked to you.
“I already told you, Y/N, you mean more than anything to me. I wasn’t joking when I said that...” he looked straight at you while he said those words and you felt yourself fall deeper if that was possible.
“Then...the cake?” You thought about the one thing that had triggered you.
“It was from Yuki. She bought it for you to give me,” Jimin told you and you felt more stupid than ever. And that is when it hit you. ‘Yuki told him, and he’s here...’ Your eyes widened to their full capacity as you looked at him.
“Why are you here, Jimin?” you asked him, dreading the worst case scenario. Your thoughts were everywhere, unable to focus at anything in particular.
“Why do you think?” he asked teasingly, but his face changed immediately when he saw you tearing up. “You know what, Y/N, in the past two days, I was more upset because I couldn’t talk to you than because of my breakup. I have been feeling things I didn’t even understand for weeks now...and when I tried to see through them I only ever saw your face fading away. I watched you grow distant and I hated myself for letting it happen, for not stopping you and trying more...”
“It wasn’t your fault...” you choked out, trying your best not to cry.
“It was! I knew there was something wrong with you and I did nothing. But I have thought about nothing but you, Y/N. I thought about you whether you were with me or not, I thought about you when I was with Sarah and I feel stupid I even started dating her. When Yuki told me everything today, it answered everything I wanted to know. It pained me not to see you, to not know what went through your mind when you looked at me. It hurt me to my very core to see you suffer and wear away with every passing day and not know the reason; and the fact that I couldn’t do anything about it...I can’t even explain it...but if this isn’t love Y/N, then I don’t know what is,” Jimin heaved in a breath as he finally said what you had only imagined in your dreams.
“Jimin...” you let the tears fall freely as you soaked every word that he had said like a dry sponge.
“I’m sorry I did not realise this earlier...but why didn’t you say anything, Y/N? Do you not trust me?” Jimin’s voice sounded betrayed. He had not expected you to keep something so big from him for so long a time.
“I was afraid Jimin...I was afraid that it would scare you away. You were already with Sarah and I didn’t want to be the cause of...” you trailed off, sniffling as you thought about everything you had seen and done in the past weeks.
Jimin took a step closer, closing all the distance between you and cradled your face in his hands. “Since when did you start thinking so much around me?” It pained him to see this change in you.
“Since I fell in love with you,” you blurted in a breath and Jimin’s features softened. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, offering the intimacy you had been craving for more than just days.
“Promise me you won’t do anything like this again...” he asked of you.
“I promise,” you said lightly.
“I love you,” he kissed your nose.
“I love you too, Jimin,” you finally said the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for ever but never left.
Jimin titled his face and his lips brushed with yours, sending tingles through your body before he enveloped them completely. Your breaths mingled as your lips danced together, leaving both of you breathless from all the emotions and feeling that you were swirling in.
“Oh...” you interrupted when he slightly pulled away, “I didn’t make you anything this year,” you said with regret in your voice and Jimin chuckled in response.
“This...this thing we have here,” he said as he entwined his fingers with yours, “this is better than any present I can ever have.” His words made your cheeks turn crimson and Jimin adored the way you looked.
He made you look at him and this time you snaked your hands around his neck and pulled him in for a euphoric kiss filled with love and longing that had piled up inside you for so long. Jimin’s hands caressed your sides and then travelled to your ass and settled there for a second before he scooped you up, making you squeal in shock into his mouth.
He lowered you on your bed, finally pulling away only to suck on the sweet spot beneath your earlobe that he was well aware of. He nibbled before kissing his way down to your throat, this time taking special care to leave marks on you, for now you belonged to him.
It did not take long before your naked bodies moved together in the rhythm you had already formed, reaching your ecstatic highs but it was not followed by the rush of finding your clothes and leaving this time. Instead, Jimin stayed on top of you after you were finished, liking how your sweaty bodies heaved in unison.
Sure he had seen you naked a hundred times before, caressed you and felt your skin under his finger tips. But this time, he took his time to admire the way your eyes dilated, the way you looked when he entered you. He noticed the roundness of your breasts and natural aroma of your skin. He noticed how your body shivered when you reached your peak. This time, he felt every inch of your skin while his own burned under your touch.
This time, it wasn’t just sex; it was two people making love to each other with no regrets and no boundaries. This time, there was no being afraid and running away as he finally lay beside you and enveloped your frame entirely into his, for this time...he was there to stay.
This time, you belonged to each other.
#bts scenario#jimin scenario#bts jimin#jimin smut#jimin fluff#jimin angst#bts smut#bts fluff#bts angst#you belong with me#berrykookie#bts fanfic#jimin fanfic
274 notes
·
View notes
Text
clairvoyant. (m) part nine.
masterlist
pairing: jungkook x reader , taehyung x reader
word count: 13k
warnings: lots of crying, mentions of sex, but nothing scandalous happens
author’s note: let me know what you think, i live off feedback and attention no cap lmaoo also this series is almost over and im upset and forcing myself to not drag it on
Jungkook is sat hunched on his bed, his feet dangling in front of him as his eyes focused on the floor. The sound of Taehyung slamming the dorm room shut made him flinch slightly, his body finally relaxing now that his room mate was gone.
He slumped back on the bed, his head nearly missing the wall behind him as he settled back into his sheets. He wiped his sweaty palms on his sweats, shutting his eyes and trying to calm his racing heart.
Taehyung had just chewed his ass out, he had been holding it in after you told him what had happened between you, Jungkook, and his stupid friend. You hadn’t meant to say anything at all but when you and Yoongi made it into your room Taehyung was already waiting there, taking note of your flustered appearance and thats when the questioning commenced. You had tried to play it down but with the way Yoongi looked Taehyung knew whatever happened had hurt you.
For the next few days Taehyung had just given Jungkook the silent treatment, ignoring when Jungkook asked him innocent questions or made small talk. Taehyung was petty, leaving the drawers to Jungkooks desk pulled out so Jungkook would ram his knee into them when he entered the room, not closing their room door fully when he left in the morning so Jungkook would have to decide if he wanted to drown out the noise of the hallway with his pillow or haul himself out of bed to shut it.
The last thing he had done was unplug his phone from the charger, successfully letting his phone die in order for the alarm to not wake him up on time for the class Taehyung knew he shared with you. Luckily Jungkook’s internal alarm had woke him up and that had apparently been the tipping point for Taehyung, his quick words and low jabs coming out and succeeding in wounding him.
Jungkook had never seen Taehyung as scary, or intimidating but the malice in his eyes as he tore him a new one made a fear creep up his spine. Never had he thought Taehyung was a violent man but when he had given him an open ended threat of not wanting to see him near you Jungkook decided that Taehyung was in fact very scary.
All the younger one could do was sit there and take it, refusing to make eye contact and silently praying that he wouldn’t get decked because even though Jungkook was buff he was also completely clueless on how to fight. His muscles were useless and he didn’t think he’d have it in him to even fight back if Taehyung swung first so when Tae stormed out it was a blessing.
A shuddering breath left him and before he knew it he was crying, his hands balling into fists as he felt the hot tears stream down his face. A small whine left his lips as he tried to get himself to stop crying like a fucking child, one of his fists slamming into the mattress beside him.
“Get yourself together.” His voice strained, aggressively wiping at the tears on his face as he sat up in bed again. His chest hiccuping and a few more tears slipping past his lashes. He had been holding that down for a while, not wanting to cry when Taehyung was there & still having some dignity left to not cry in the shower but he couldn’t sit here and act like he was the victim.
Jungkook took a deep inhale before standing up, going to his desk and swiping at his computers trackpad to see the time since his phone was lying dead on the desk. It was 7:30, Taehyung had apparently decided to become a morning person in order to tell him off.
He stared at his screen for another moment, he had half an hour to get ready for your shared class and he was dreading it. He had only seen you once since what happened but thanks to the fact that you had this class twice a week he was going to have to relive it again today. It didn’t help his nerves, seeing you ignore him entirely as you walked past his seat to go up to yours just made him want to fix everything.
Taehyungs threat still rung in his mind but considering that his friends words had been the reason he was in this predicament he decided that if Taehyung wanted to beat his ass then so be it.
He had made peace with the possibility of getting jumped by Taehyung, and possibly Yoongi as well because he seemed like the type to fight to kill if his friends needed him too.
He could feel the dark cloud of dread creeping up on him as he approached the cafe he had been avoiding, he had to suck it up and face it in order to do what he wanted. The cafe door felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as he pulled it open, the warmth of the building hitting his face, the smell of coffee making him realize how much he missed his morning cup.
Jungkook patiently waited in line, his eyes peeking behind the counter and thanking whoever was responsible for Jisoo not being on the clock. He ordered himself his typical americano, ordering your drink of choice as well, an iced coffee with white mocha and half and half, something he used to get you on the regular, before making his way to class.
His phone was still lying on his desk, charging this time, so he hoped he was early enough to class to be able to leave your drink without having to actually talk to you.
When he makes it past the students huddled around the door his eyes scan the upper row, sighing in relief when he doesn’t spot you in your seat. Jungkook sets his cup and backpack down at his desk, going up the steps until he reaches the last row. Jackson is sat at his seat next to yours, a very confused look on his face when he sees Jungkook approaching.
“Sorry dude, seats taken.” His reaches over, spreading his palm over the expanse of the desk top.
Jungkook hesitates as he holds the iced coffee, “Oh, yeah I know. This–uh, this is for Y/N.” Jackson relaxes at that, his hand coming back to rest on his own desk and a smile on his face, “Damn, I don’t get one too?”
Once again Jungkook blanks and his classmate takes pity on him, letting out a laugh, “I’m just teasing you. I’ll let her know you left it.”
“Okay.” He sighs, rolling his lips together as he sets the drink down, “I’ll just, uh, leave this here.”
He doesn’t wait for a response, nervously skipping down the stairs and sliding into his seat, his head immediately downcast and focusing on the shiny surface of his desk.
When you walk in its like he can sense it, his body tensing up, desperately wishing he had his phone so he could fiddle with it and not look as nervous as he feels. He spares a glance up at you when you pass his seat, seeing you with an oversized university hoodie and your hair in its natural state, your attention very clearly not on him.
As you walk up the steps you spot the iced coffee on your desk, smiling when you slide into your seat and turning towards Jackson, “Did you buy me this?”
Your hands grasp the cup, stirring the straw to properly mix the half and half into your drink and thats when you spot the black scribbling on the side. Jungkook being the name scrawled into your cup and you freeze.
“You wish I bought you coffee.” Jackson jokes, “Freshman dude got it for you.” He points down at Jungkook and he can feel the back of his head burning from the attention. This was a bad idea, why did he do this?
Your heart betrays you as it swells in your chest but you’re stronger than this, only letting yourself take a tiny sip, okay a gulp, before getting up from your seat. The ice in your drink rattles together as you clench it on your way down the steps, the class is filling up but the professor hasn’t walked in yet so you don’t draw attention to yourself.
Jungkook holds his breath when he hears your shoes against the floor, seeing you appear from the corner of his eye and he thinks you’re gonna talk to him but you keep walking until you’re stood by the teachers desk, right in front of him.
Thats when he properly looks up, his eyes widening when he sees you staring straight at him until you look down at the trashcan by the desk and drop your drink into there with a wet thunk. Your eyes meet his again and see the clear sadness in them, but again you’re stronger than this. A fucking iced coffee is not going to be his method to fix this, he had hurt you and if he wanted to make amends he was gonna have to try harder than this.
Jungkook crumbles under your stare, choosing to focus on his hands fidgeting on top of his desk as you went back to your seat.
Jackson sat there slack jawed, turning to you with wide eyes when you sat back down, “I fucking knew you had it out for him, you still sure you don’t want me to set him straight?”
Jungkook hears that too, sinking further into his seat and thanking his luck that the professor chooses now to walk in, saving him from having to hear an answer to Jacksons question.
The rest of your day continues without a hitch, the practice exercises you had to do in your lighting studio class taking up your brain and letting you forget about the coffee dumping incident of this morning.
You exit your building and your hair gets swept up by the cold wind, your hands wrapping around it and holding it down. Taehyung spots you rewrapping your scarf and pushes off the building he was resting on, he was absolutely freezing as he waited for your final class of the day to end but he had grown to like seeing you at this hour. He approaches you, his smile hidden behind his own scarf but the way his eyes crinkle up let you know he’s grinning at your struggle.
When he reaches out and grabs the ends of the scarf you give up, letting him wrap the material around your neck twice until its fully protected from the cold air.
“Thanks.” You mumble out, accepting the kiss he gives you and smiling when he lifts up the edge of the scarf to cover your lips.
“You’re welcome, how was class?”
He reaches into his pockets and pulls out a pack of hand warmers, giving you one that you clutch onto as he wraps his arm around you to pull you in for extra warmth.
“Good, every time I leave this class my love for natural lighting grows. I fucking hate soft boxes, like I get it, totally essential or whatever but nothing and I mean nothing will ever top the beauty of golden hour.”
Taehyung chuckles at your mini rant, another smile spreading across his face when you wrap both hands around his waist and give him a gentle squeeze. The position has you both waddling awkwardly towards your building but he doesn’t care.
You had yet to clarify what your feelings meant but Taehyung didn’t care, he was a patient man, especially when it came to you. He had told you how he felt and now the ball was in your court, whatever you chose to do with that information was okay with him but with the way you’re holding onto him like you don’t wanna let go, you don’t blame him for hoping you want the same as him.
“Golden hours when the suns kinda setting and everything is like glowing almost right?”
You hum against him, your chin resting on his chest as you look up at him and smile, “Yes, exactly right. The prettiest almost magical portraits come from that lighting.”
He grins right back down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Teach me how to take photos one day, I wanna take a pretty almost magical portrait of you to make it my lock screen.”
He had been saying things like that often now and it just made you blush, not used to hearing Taehyung say such mushy cute things, the cute things you were accustomed to him saying was him calling you a twinkie as he stared at his cum leak out of you. It definitely took some getting used to, for sure.
“Sure, maybe you can replace the canvas of your ass with a picture of me instead.”
He laughs loudly as he remembers something, “I just might, Namjoon finally told me I had to cover up my ass or take it down because one of the students complained when he saw it one day. I currently have some post it notes over my butt cheeks as a compromise. I’m sure a photo of you would be nicer to stare at too it’ll give Jungkook a nice reminder to back off.”
You separate from him as you both enter your building, waving at Joy and entering your elevator, his hands being quick to grasp yours almost as if he just needed to keep touching you. “What do you mean?”
He clears his throat awkwardly, leading the way out of the elevator and towards your room, “I kinda...went off on him this morning?”
You gasp at him as you open up your door, waving at Wendy as you both step inside and start taking off your scarves and coats, “Taehyung, why?”
He gives you an innocent shrug, getting comfy on your bed and patting the space beside him so you can snuggle up, which you immediately do, “Im sorry, I was pissed okay. Theres no excuse for what him or his friends did and he has to know that acting like that is gonna get him his ass handed to him one day.”
The groan you let out just makes him laugh, especially when you bury your head on his chest. He wraps his arms around you, fingers raking through your hair as his eyes meet Wendys, shes smiling as she works on her laptop and he smiles back at her before looking back down at you when your head peaks up again.
“Is that why he did what he did this morning.” You speak more to yourself but Taehyung frowns, “What did he do?”
“Okay relax,” your hands pat his chest, “he just bought me an ice coffee. Left it on my desk, didn’t say a word to me, I threw it away in front of him though.”
“Did he seriously not get it?”
You sigh as you sit back up, reaching over for your laptop in order to pull up netflix for you guys to watch something, “I’m sure he got it loud and clear now.”
Jungkook had in fact not got it loud and clear. In his defense this was the only thing he could think of doing that didn’t involve going up to you out of class and risking getting jumped, sure Jungkook was dumb but not dumb enough to believe he could take on Taehyung and Yoongi.
He had tried reaching out to you via text message but when his usual blue bubbles had turned green and never stated they were delivered he realized he had officially been blocked. You had also gone ahead and blocked him off your instagram as well, the only way he knew what you were up to was thanks to Eunwoo, the only one of his friends who was sympathizing with him.
So for the time being iced coffee was his way in, his pockets were hurting seeing you continue to toss drink after drink away in the trash but when the third time came around and you didn’t stomp down the steps and Kobe your drink into the trash in front of him he felt like he was making some progress.
Until class is dismissed that is. You were prepared, having all of your things prepacked and ready so when your professor let you go you could bolt right after him.
You had the drink in your hand, the majority of which you had consumed because you were a fiend for caffeine, your bag was thrown over your body haphazardly as you took the steps two at a time to match Jungkook’s pace.
He was halfway out the door when you reached the bottom, chasing after him as he made a sharp turn and continued down the hallway. You probably looked like a psychopath as you hunted down a giant freshman but you didn’t care.
He was completely oblivious to you as he exited the building, thinking he could relax when the fresh air met him and thats exactly when you pounce. Your finger coming out to jab him in the arm and he lets out a small yelp, his heart kicking up when he sees you step in front of him and the look on your face is not the one he had been expecting.
You’re breathing heavy from having to practically run after him, the plastic cup being crinkled in your grasp and he stares at it, trying a smile out when he sees that you had drank it.
“Stop this.”
Jungkook looks up at you again, his eyes wide in the classic Jungkook way and you have to look away, instead focusing on the center of his nose to not let his eyes sway you, “I just–“
“I didn’t throw it away today because someone told the professor I was dumping liquid into the trash and I’m not trying to get in trouble because you don’t know how to fucking act.”
Just as he thought he had made progress it all falls apart in front of him and his expression pains you, the look of utter defeat on his face hurts you.
“Im sorry, I’ve tried reaching out but you blocked me on everything.” He says the words so quickly, scared you’re going to cut him off again before he can speak.
“Of course I did Jungkook, you hurt me. I don’t want you to reach out. Don’t be simping over a slut like me, right?” You drop the iced coffee on the floor between you two before walking off, the cup stays standing up and thankfully not splashing all over his shoes and pants.
Jungkook just stands there, his cheeks turning red when he notices the attention he’s getting from the students that were walking by. His hand comes up to awkwardly rub the back of his neck, bending over to pick up the cup and dispose of it before he’s speed walking with his head down, no destination in mind.
There really was no way out of this for him, he wished he could be more assertive, confident even when it came to talking to you. Maybe then he would be able to properly explain himself before you cut him off and threw words in his face that he swore weren’t true.
Jungkooks chest ached, the seed of a crush that had burrowed its roots was barely hanging on. He was trying to keep it in tact but you and his friends had taken to digging and stabbing the soil surrounding it and now he was the one hurting.
He walks deeper into campus, arriving into the makeshift lounging area, a bunch of benches and tables set around with trees and plants scattered in between. Jungkook deems this spot is fine enough and hunkers down into the ironwood bench, his body hunching over as he rests his elbows on his knees with his head hanging low.
His eyes are shut for a minute or so, the small chatter of students around him filling his ears, the crunching of leaves being heard approaching him, and then the sound stops in front of him. Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, cracking an eye open and seeing a pair of tan strapped boots a few feet away from his, and thats when he lifts his head up and meets the blank stare of Yoongi.
The older one is stood there, a beanie on his head and his bag strapped on, an unreadable look on his face that only makes Jungkook nervous. Had you told Yoongi that he had bought you coffee and now he was going to get jumped? On campus? Really?
“You know,” Yoongi starts, his sharp eyes looming over Jungkook, taking in his appearance and look of pure sadness, “I’m normally a really understanding guy but I can’t for the life of me make sense to how you fucked up so badly.”
Jungkook can only swallow, not entirely sure where this conversation was leading to. Yoongi didn’t seem pissed, but he was usually really good at holding a pokerface.
Yoongi had been walking around campus, killing time between classes when he stumbled upon Jungkook looking like a wounded animal on the bench. He knew Jungkook had hurt you and if you didn’t want to give him the time of day anymore then that was your call, Yoongi being as observant as he always was, knew there was more to whatever the fuck happened. He had grown a soft spot for the kid and the time they had spent around each other let him see that what happened between you two was so very out of character for Jungkook.
He wanted to figure it out, blame it on his boredom or his love for problem solving, but he also knew that Jungkook most likely couldn’t talk to anyone right now so he also wanted to do this for him.
“Are you here to kick my ass?” Jungkook mumbles out softly, his mind already accepting defeat.
Yoongi frowns, “What? Kick your ass?”
When Jungkook nods, suddenly flinching when Yoongi starts to laugh, “You really think I could kick your ass? Thanks man.” Jungkook cracks a smile, letting himself relax now that he knows he knows Yoongi isn’t a physical threat. “Where are your friends?”
Yoongi ruffles his messy hair and readjusts his beanie as he waits for an answer, Jungkook sighs, rubbing his palms down his pants, “I don’t know, haven’t really talked to them much lately.”
After that evening Jungkook had distanced himself, it was the first time he ever raised his voice and Mingyu never expected it. He had only stayed in constant contact with Eunwoo but because his friends had formed their friendship before Jungkook joined the bunch he just felt it was best if he was the one to step back. He wasn’t sure if it was temporary or not but he wouldn’t be going back to acting like buddies unless something was discussed.
Yoongi hums, his hands gesturing to the spot beside him and Jungkook nods, reaching over and grabbing his bag to plop onto the floor by his feet. Yoongi chuckles to himself at the motion as he sits, how Jungkook was always so quick to accommodate for friends, and that’s exactly how he knows what he had done was very much not Jungkook.
“So are you gonna tell me what happened between you and Y/N?”
Jungkook gulps at the question, his heart not ready to rehash this again with Yoongi of all people, would he run to you and gossip over whatever he said?
“I mean you saw it all happen.” Jungkook mumbles out, referring to that evening when his group ran into you and Yoongi.
The older boy sighs, resting his elbows on his knees to lean forward slightly, his eyes focused on the hedges a few feet away because he knew Jungkook would squirm if he stared at him. “No, what I saw was your friend be a douchebag and Y/N telling you off. It feels like I’m missing a pretty big chunk of the picture.”
He can feel Jungkook fidget in his seat, his thighs rubbing against Yoongis as he tries to readjust himself. Jungkook feels like hes sat in front of the principles office after getting in trouble at school except Yoongi is far more terrifying than any school principle, even as hes sat there patiently waiting for Jungkook to say his half.
He just groans softly, his palms coming up to cup his eyes in shame, dropping back onto his lap as he leans fully against the bench, “I was an idiot, thats what happened.” Yoongi hums in agreement and Jungkook isn’t even offended at that, his mind being made in telling Yoongi everything he hadn’t been able to tell his friends. His friends hadn’t known that you were helping him with the girl problems he swore he had, his friends just thought Jungkook was swooned by you, his mind fixating on the relationship you had with his room mate and forming that into a mindless crush.
But he tells Yoongi all of it, tells him about the cafe meetings and text messages, leaving out details of any sexual activities you did but he admits to hoping his date with Jisoo didn’t work out because you were the one thing constantly on the back of him mind. How he had let his dumb friends influence his thinking when all he had wanted to do was come clean to you.
“I like her, so much Yoongi and I fucked it all up and the worst part is she thinks I saw her as this object I wanted to obtain but fuck–“ his eyes look up at the sky, frowning at the grey overcast, “theres no saving it is there?”
Yoongi licks his lips over as he stares at him, the distraught look on his face shows how sincere hes being and Yoongi doesn’t doubt him. He had been telling you about Jungkook’s feelings before this had all crashed and burned and its because he saw the way Jungkook acted around you compared to the moments he’d see him in passing.
“If I’m being honest, I think there was still a chance until you sealed the nail in your coffin when your friend called her a slut and you said nothing to defend her.” He shrugs at the expression on Jungkooks face, “Y/N’s stubborn, and I know she acts hard but if you really want to try to make this better no one can help you but you. I’m not going to give you tips or pointers because she’s my friend and if she wants you to keep your distance I’m going to respect that.”
Jungkook sighs with a nod, “I’ve brought her coffee these last few classes and she kept throwing them away and today she yelled at me for it.”
Yoongi laughs and Jungkook finally looks offended, a pout forming on his lips, “Dude really? You’re trying to buy her attention with coffee?”
“No thats not what I’m doing.”
“Hm, kinda is man. Have you tried not bolting out of class and going to talk to her like a human being.”
When Jungkook looks embarrassed at the realization that you had told your friends of his olympic worthy bolts Yoongi just laughs harder, his hand coming out to shove his shoulder playfully. He’s pulling out his phone, seeing the time and getting up, “I gotta get going to class but its just a suggestion, or you can talk to her out of class. These aren’t tips though, I swear.” He raised his hands in front of him before giving Jungkook a wave and walking away.
Jungkook waves back and sags into the bench when he’s gone, his hand coming up to ruffle his hair and he finds himself grinning for the first time in a while. If Yoongi told him to try then maybe he still had a chance.
It’s not until a few days later, on the last Saturday of the month, that you realize you might need to speak to Jungkook. You’re sat at your desk at work, organizing files in their respective folders, you’re grumpy and anxious since today is the day where you would have to be Jimin’s plus one at his parent’s event. You love Jimin, really you do, but you’ve been to a handful of these events with him over the course of being his friend and his parents were not shy to lay on the back handed compliments and sly digs to get under yours and his skin.
The thought of having to be in a stuffy dress, surrounded by people all of which were insanely more financially stable than you could ever dream to be, trying to make small talk and going along with whatever lie Jimin decides to throw into the mix was making you irritable and your hands clammy.
“Okay, what’s your deal.” Yoongi challenged, his hands slamming down onto his own desk with a loud slap. He was officially fed up with you, having to hear the small remarks you let slip under your breath at literally anything he did or said today was pissing him off because he had done absolutely nothing to you.
His harsh tone snaps you out of your small grumpy haze, a pout forms on your lips as you sink into your chair and slowly spin to face him. The way you look in your chair cracks him, a smirk spreading across his face when he sees the dramatic change in emotion, “Are you on your period or something?” He teases.
That makes you sit up straight again, the scowl returning on your face as you stare him down, “I’m going to ignore how demeaning that question is, but for your information no, I’m not due until the 22nd you asshole.” You let your head hang back over the chairs headrest, the thoughts of the awaiting night flashing through your head, “I’m just dreading having to go help Jimin fulfill his wish of making his parents stare at us in horror.”
Yoongi hums at that, a curious look on his face as he just waits until you lift your head back up to give him another glance, “What?”
He only gives you a shrug, his eyebrows raising up softly as he sneaks a glance at the calendar icon on his computer screen that says its currently the 28th, “The 22nd huh?” That doesn’t give him a reaction at all, your mind was whirling too much from everything consuming your life so it doesn’t register, “Y/N, are you with child?”
That gives him the reaction he was hoping, your eyes bulging out as you whip back around to grab your phone from its place beside the computer. “Shut up,” you choke out, your now shaky hands unlocking the device and going directly for the period tracking app you had, the loading screen taking its sweet time until it finally opens up. The small dot on the circle calendar that shows your typical ovulation cycle and period cycle is now hovering a little past the date you were supposed to be starting said period.
“Oh god, can you imagine the offspring you and Taehyung would create, demon child I tell you.”
You only give him a weak laugh as you lock your phone again, late periods were fine, it’s not like they never happened to you before. Plus you were on birth control, always on top of making sure you took it at the same exact time everyday, even taking the placebo pills to not fall out of routine. But that sinking feeling still lingers in your gut, the realization that you and Taehyung actually hadn’t slept together since the night he asked you out on a date, how he had used a condom and finished on your face. Then comes the small flashes of the two mistakes you made on halloween night, fucking Jungkook without a condom and begging him to cum inside you.
“Yeah.” Is all you can muster out at his comment, he takes note of the forced smile on your face and can tell you’re starting to panic a little and he’s not sure why since the amount of times you’ve let Taehyung bust inside you has lead to one other pregnancy scare before. But when your now glassy eyes come back up to look at him, his own face falls, the unspoken question hanging in the air.
Was it Taehyung’s?
That same question haunts you the entire night, as you get to Jimin’s apartment and finish getting ready with him, the both of you decked out in expensive outfits that are down right insulting, not even him joking with you as you got into the car was enough to get you out of your head.
Jimin takes note of this, more so when you both arrive at the event, the way you cling onto his arm like you do during these things is normal but the way your eyes focus on the floor or chandeliers with a spaced out look on your face is not the norm.
The way you float along side him as he talks to the majority of the people here, this being one of the rules his parents give him that he respects, you barely speak up. Its a stark contrast from the way you two usually behave at these events, he’s used to the way you add on the small white lies he tells, how meeting new people was exciting because you could come up with a brand new scandalous story on how you two met. Jimin refrains from that today, the spacey look on your face only making him worry.
It’s not until two of the shareholders he’s currently speaking to, out of formality, start to give you weird glances, possibly wondering if you were under the influence of something from how out of it you looked, that Jimin respectfully excuses the two of you.
His arm wraps around your waist as he leads you towards the hallway, out of earshot from the nosey guests here and the way you let him drag you away without any complaints only worries him further. When the soft music no longer reaches your ears you seem to come back, your eyes blinking as you focus back in on where you are, seeing Jimin stood in front of you with his hands on your shoulders as he presses you against the wall gently.
“Are you on anything?” He asks softly, his head peaking down to stare up at you, your eyes aren’t hazy anymore but its clear your mind still isn’t fully tuned in, “Y/N, you gotta let me know if you took something ‘cause you’re kind of scaring me sweetheart.”
His hands come up to cup your cheeks, turning your face up to properly look at him and something about the way he stares at you, worry clear on his face and his lips pursed in concern, snaps something inside of you. Your eyes well up with tears, your lower lip trembling slightly as your face crumbles, hot tears spilling past your lashes and splashing against his hands still on your face.
“Jimin, I’m so fucked.” You garble out, the confession only making you cry harder which in turn makes Jimin even more worried. A few people attending the outrageous event pass you two in the hallway, giving you an odd glance but Jimin just glares at them, moving his body to cover you properly as you have a breakdown.
“What’s wrong?” His mind is desperately trying to remember if he saw you take anything, maybe you had drank something spiked, it could be a combination of things. “Did you drink too much champagne?” He tries to make light of the situation but his words only make you grip the lapels of his suit and tug him closer to you, burying your face into the black material.
Another sob leaves you, his hands wrapping around your body and holding you close, “Jimin.” You whine out, your voice sounding so broken and helpless and he knows something more serious is wrong. He glances behind him, into the full room, everyone mingling around with glasses in their hand and he spots his mom, grasping another flute of champagne as she stares directly at him and you.
She has the ever present disapproving stare on her face, watching her son holding you as you cry in a hallway. A few of the guests had jokingly mentioned your behavior to her in passing and the last thing she needed to hear was that her son and you were currently on drugs.
Jimin watches as she shakes her head and makes her way to another group of people, his jaw tensing at her judgmental gaze, “C’mon, lets get out of here.” He speaks to you softly, his fingers patting your head to get you to calm down, your breath hiccuping until you even it out slowly.
“O-okay, I’m sorry.”
He shushes you with a smile, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the back entrance of the building, “No, don’t be, I’ve been wanting to blow this joint for an hour now.”
Jimin knows he’s going to get the lecture of a lifetime for leaving but a couple of threats about his money being taken away seemed less important than his best friend having a mental breakdown. You let him drag you along the hallway, your other hand wiping underneath your eyes to try to fix your appearance any way you could.
By the time you two make it outside Jimin had already messaged the driver his parents had provided him with for the night, the black car already being parked out back. When you slip inside Jimin just asks him to take you both home, his fingers pushing the button to bring the partition up and you sink into the seat, avoiding his gaze.
The carpeted floors seems infinitely more interesting than you admitting to why you were absolutely losing your mind, you didn’t want say it out loud, scared that letting the words fill the air would somehow make them truthful. If you actually were with child like Yoongi had so kindly put it you wouldn’t know what to do, this had happened once before with Taehyung but you had gotten your period before you were even able to take a test so it had become kind of a joke.
But this, yeah this wasn’t funny, the possibility of being pregnant after sleeping with Jungkook when you two weren’t even talking any more was a nightmare and nothing could make this a laughing matter.
“You fucking scared me.” Jimin admits, resting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward in his seat, the layout of the car letting him directly face you. “Thought you took too many downers, you looked so out of it.”
You finally look up at him, your eyes red and burning from your tears and the mascara that bled into them, your cheeks are puffy and streaked up, a frown on your face when you see how sincere he looks. You hadn’t meant to scare him, you didn’t even realize how you were acting and the way anyone would perceive it. “I’m sorry.”
He waves off your apology, he didn’t need it, he was just relieved you had stopped crying, “Tell me what’s wrong.” Jimin watches as you chew on your bottom lip, your hands fidgeting on your lap as you give him a lame shrug. He stays silent, not wanting to speak until you fess up.
“I think,” You start, taking in a deep breath while your thumb scraped the nail polish off your index finger, “I might be pregnant.”
Jimin, much like Yoongi, knows how to keep his reactions in check, his face doesn’t move a muscle while he stares at you thoughtfully. His mind however is currently freaking out, trying to flick through any possible response he could give you that won’t end up making you cry again.
“Have you taken a test?”
Shake.
“Okay, have you told Taehyung?”
The silence that fills the car at his second question lasts for what seems like forever, the way your face twists up at his name, your eyes once again filling up with tears as you stare at your best friend. That same unspoken question hanging in the air.
Was it Taehyung’s?
Jimin doesn’t need you to answer it, the look on your face is confirmation enough, your words inside the event and the way you clung to him as you cried was more than enough. He brings the partition down a crack and tells the driver to stop at a convenience store nearby instead, telling him to drop you guys off there and that you’d walk home since his apartment wasn’t far from there.
The pair of you must look like a sight, Jimin dressed in his black Armani suit while you stood in a black Alexander McQueen dress he had forced you to wear, it would look picture worthy if your under eyes weren’t caked in mascara and you weren’t standing in the aisle that held pregnancy tests. Jimin hovers beside you for a moment as you stare at all the different options, stepping aside for a minute only to come back with a small green basket that was full of different things.
You’re clutching onto a pink box that promised to let you know 6 days sooner, your eyes glancing down at the basket he held, “What’s all that?”
He lifts it up higher with a smile, “Well, tissues and your favorite comfort snacks in case you...you know,” he gestures with his hand, also not wanting to speak the cursed words out loud, “and alcohol to celebrate if you’re not.”
As you stare at the items you feel the urge to vomit out of nerves, the possibility of not being able to celebrate is very probable. Your hand clutches the box with more force, bending the cardboard material slightly. Jimin reaches out and peels it out of your grasp, taking it upon himself to reach past you and grab two more tests from different brands and stuffing them in the basket as well.
“I think you should call him.”
Thats all he tells you, a sympathetic smile on his face as he walks around you to go pay for everything, leaving you in the middle of the aisle. The lump in your throat is back again, your hands twitching by your side at the thought of having to talk to him. As much as you don’t want to see him, or talk to him, you know Jimins right. In the off chance that you were...you know... it would make sense to have him there, he was partially responsible so it wasn’t fair that you’d be the only one suffering through this.
With much hesitation you reach into your small crossbody purse and pull out your phone, the screen lighting up instantly and showing you the recent messages Taehyung had sent you, asking you when you’d be home from the event along with an invitation to watch movies at his dorm since Jungkook wouldn’t be there.
When you read his name your brows furrow, why wouldn’t he be there? If he was out with friends would he even want to talk to you, would he even care, the Jungkook you knew before would but you weren’t even sure if that was still the case. You opt for sending him a text, simple and to the point, it would give him the option of reading it and responding instead of having a forced conversation on the phone.
You unblock his number and open up your thread of messages, not being able to delete the entire thing after blocking him. After sending the message you lock your phone and stuff it back into your bag.
Y/N 11:28pm
We need to talk, it’s important.
On the receiving end of things Jungkook is stood in the backyard of a party Eunwoo had forced him to go to, his room mate Moonbin was currently trying to force him to chug whatever concoction was in his cup.
“No, I’m good–“ Jungkook mumbles against the plastic, Moonbin not caring as he tips the cup up, the cold liquid hitting his lips as he squeezes them shut, spilling out and down his face, successfully soaking his shirt in the strong liquor.
Moonbin just laughs, pulling the cup away, his eyes looking at the large wet patch on Jungkook’s chest, “Oh shit, I’m sorry.”
Eunwoo rolls his eyes, playfully shoving his friends shoulder while Jungkook shakes his head, “It’s alright, I’ma just,” he motions his hand towards the house again, the both of them nodding in understanding.
Jungkook slips his way in between people, a small grimace on his face as he feels the way his shirt now sticks to his skin as he makes his way towards the bathroom. He didn’t know why he agreed to come to this party, he didn’t hate parties, but he was used to going to them with your group. They seemed less intimidating when he was surrounded by seven extra people, and as much as he liked Eunwoo and Moonbin, he didn’t feel entirely comfortable in this environment with them.
When he manages to get into the bathroom, luckily not occupied by lovers, he grabs a fist full of toilet paper, peeling his shirt off of his chest and wiping the excess moisture from his skin. His white shirt is officially ruined, stained a faint red color and reeking of–his lifts it up to his nose and sniffs–vodka he thinks?
After tossing the soiled napkins he rests against the sink, fishing his phone out of his pocket to glance at the time and when he sees your name flashing on his home screen he momentarily wonders if he had in fact drank the poison Moonbin has spilled on him.
You messaged him. You had unblocked his number. You wanted to talk, and apparently it was important.
He slides the message open, his fingers hovering over the screen as he thinks of how to properly respond. A loud bang comes from the door and he flinches, “Hold on!” He shouts out, typing out a one words response of where before hitting send and exiting the bathroom.
Jungkook ignores the man stood by the bathroom door, shoving past him and through the bodies of everyone in the living room as he heads for the front door. He doesn’t bother letting his friends know that he’s leaving, already out of the house and walking down the street of a neighborhood he wasn’t familiar with.
His phone is clutched in his hand as he walks, the two short vibrations making him pause as he brings it up to his face, seeing you tell him to meet you at Jimin’s as soon as he could.
You’re sat on Jimin’s couch, your phone resting on his coffee table, the screen lit up after you read the message Jungkook had sent ten minutes ago, confirmation that he was on his way. Jimin was stood in his kitchen, trying to occupy himself while the both of you waited, he had been opening and closing his cabinets and rearranging whatever was inside them for a few minutes now, the constant slamming of the wood would normally get to you but right now your eyes were just glued on the three tests resting beside your phone. They were still in their boxes, you could have taken them before Jungkook got here but you didn’t have it in you.
So when you hear three brisk knocks coming from Jimin’s front door you shoot up from your spot, ramming your shin on the coffee table in your haste to get to the door. You bend over with a groan, clutching your leg in pain while Jimin beats you to it, opening the door with a gentle greeting.
His face scrunches up when he catches a whiff of Jungkook, his hand waving in front of his face as his eyes catch onto the wet spot on his shirt, “Fun night?”
Jungkook looks down at his shirt as well, “No, not really.”
He steps inside and spots you stood by the couch, not exactly sure how you should greet each other. He takes notice of your outfit, the black dress looking elegant on you even without your heels on, and he briefly remembers you mentioning the event Jimin needed you to come with him to, “You look nice in that dress.” He can’t stop himself from complimenting you, even though it makes you squirm as you stand there.
You ignore the compliment entirely, rolling your lips together as you take a look down at the coffee table, reaching for one of the boxes and holding it close to your chest. Jungkook follows the motion, his head tilting slightly until his eyes decipher whats written on the box, “I might be pregnant.”
It takes him a minute, his mind wondering why you could have possibly text him to come talk about this, and then he’s also remembering the two dreadful mistakes that happened halloween night. The way he had no complaints about fucking you raw, the idea of cumming inside you spurring him on and he can’t believe he had let himself act that stupid.
Jungkook takes the few steps necessary to reach you, standing a foot in front of you with his eyes wide in that same classic Jungkook way, “Have you taken it yet?”
“No, I was waiting for you to get here.” He watches as your face grimaces, your fingers pinching your nose as the stench of vodka hits it, “You reek, are you drunk?”
He shakes his head immediately, his fingers pulling the damp fabric again and Jimin takes sympathy on him, pushing away from his spot lingering by the door to go to his room and fetch him a clean shirt to wear, coming out with a black shirt. He tosses it at Jungkook wordlessly before announcing that he’d be leaving to give the two of you some privacy.
You force yourself to look away while Jungkook yanks the liquor soaked shirt off of himself, not giving him a glance until he’s dressed again in your friend’s clothes. “Sorry, my friend spilt his drink on me before I left.”
That didn’t matter, you honestly didn’t care if he was drunk or not, this might be a little easier if the both of you were drunk. Your fingernails start to wedge underneath the seal of the box, peeling the cardboard flap open. Jungkook reaches forward and grabs the second test on the coffee table, his trembling hands mimicking your actions. His mind was currently blank, not yet coming to terms with the fact that you could be pregnant with his child. He couldn’t think about that right now, maybe in a bit he’d feel the dread that usually comes with this but for right now all he heard in his head was static.
“Are you gonna take all three?”
You toss the empty box onto the table, holding one of the small plastic sticks in your hand, rotating it in your grasp with uncertainty, “Maybe? Should I take two and save one for tomorrow just in case?”
Jungkook doesn’t know, he’s completely clueless on what to do but he finds himself nodding because sure, leaving one test up for chance for tomorrow morning seemed to ease some of the anxiety off your face. “Yeah, yeah that sounds good.”
“Okay.”
When he pulls out the remaining test he feels the first hint of fear creep up his spine, the plastic feels heavy in his grasp, these stupid flimsy things held the answer on whether both of your lives would change or not. His brows push together as he reads the blue font on the edge of the stick, his mind now thinking of the what ifs.
He wants to throw up.
The sound of you walking towards the bathroom makes him look up from the test, seeing you standing at the edge of the hallway with an expectant look on your face, “Do you want me to come with you?” He manages to ask even though his throat feels dry.
You hold the test tighter in your hands, “Can you, I’m sorry I’m just kind of scared.”
Jungkook stands up straight, forcing his nerves away because you were whats important right now, he nods at you as he makes his way towards you, “Yeah, of course.” You thank him silently, hearing him trailing behind you as you enter Jimin’s bathroom, catching sight of yourself in his mirror and cringing at how you looked.
You set the two tests on the countertop, your eyes analyzing them, picking out the first one with the pink cap on the top of it. Jungkook can only stand there, watching as you walk towards the toilet thats right beside the sink, the dress you wear is long enough to fully cover you as you reach underneath it and tug your underwear down but he still finds himself looking away. He chooses to haul himself onto the countertop, a few feet away from you with his eyes glued to the obscure photo Jimin had hung up on the wall.
He hears the shuffling of your dress as you pick the material up around you, trying your best to bunch it up as you uncap the test and awkwardly wedge it between your thighs when you finally sit down. The idea of peeing in front of Jungkook, on a pregnancy test nonetheless, feels too domestic, too out of place for your current situation but it needs to be done.
You thank Jimin for forcing you to chug as much water as you did before he got here, your urge to pee aiding in the task. After a few seconds you pull the test out from between your legs, handing the plastic part to Jungkook and he hands you the second test, already uncapped as he sets the first one down gently on the black granite.
No words are exchanged as you do this, you just needed him here with you so you wouldn’t feel so alone, whatever you were feeling you knew he was feeling too and as much as you knew Jimin would be there for you, he wouldn’t be able to relate to these emotions right now.
Once the second test is done with and you’re no longer sat on the toilet, patting your hands dry after washing them you stand there, nibbling on your lip as Jungkook sets a timer for five minutes on his phone, “I can’t stand here and wait.”
He agrees, stepping his way out of the bathroom and motioning for you to follow him back out to the living room, plopping down onto the end of the couch. You walk around the coffee table, sitting on the opposite end of the same couch, bringing your legs up to clutch your knees to your chest as you rest your head on the back of the couch.
Five minutes feels like forever, the two of you lost in thought as his phone counts down the minutes. You can see Jungkook’s face, the way his hands are raking through his hair nervously, his nose twitching ever so often as a million emotions cross his face. God you didn’t want to be pregnant, not like this. The thought makes tears mist your eyes again, it starts as a silent cry, one or two tears slipping down your face undetected but once the dam is broken you can’t contain the sniffles you let out.
That catches Jungkook’s attention, his head whipping over to look at you, balled in on yourself as you cried, your shoulders shaking with every gasped breath you took. Seeing you look so broken and scared makes him slide his way over, not letting his uncertainty stop him from wrapping his arms around your body and bringing you into his chest.
For a brief moment he thinks you’re going to shove him back, but your arms let go of your legs as you let Jungkook hold you close, hearing his own breathing stuttering as he tries to hold in the tears he desperately wants to shed. “What are we supposed to do?” You sob, feeling his hands gently rub your back as your own hands finally wrap around his frame, needing all the comfort you could take.
“I don’t know,” he admits softly, his jaw clenching when that only makes you cry harder, “whatever you wanna do.”
You don’t believe that, “Really?” You rasp out between gasps, “So if I am and want to keep it you’re fine with that?”
He nods, licking his lips in thought, “Yes, if that’s what you want.” His hands pull you in tighter, “Like I said, whatever you wanna do.” Jungkook wanted kids eventually, ideally when he was married and had a good job, but if this was the cards life gave him and you wanted to keep it then so be it. The thought of this happening was scary, the image of having to tell his parents, of having to rethink the five year plan he had, having to potentially become responsible for a tiny human was frightening but he wasn’t going to force you to do anything, especially when he could only imagine what thoughts were swimming in your head.
When your breathing evens out, your hands still holding him close, he can’t get himself to revel in it, to enjoy the feeling of you holding him like you don’t hate his guts because he knows its just because of this. After this was done you’d go back to hating him, regardless of the outcome so when his timer rings out he dreads having to let you go.
The two of you pull apart from each other, your hands weakly rubbing away the stray tears as you stare at him, seeing his face is just as red from the silent tears he managed to shed. You share a look, a deep breath being let out between the both of you, you couldn’t put this off any longer so you force yourself to get up and somberly make your way back to the bathroom.
The light was left on, both of the used tests being face down since you and Jungkook couldn’t bare to stare at the small countdown on the tiny screen, you and him stand at the doorway, the reflection on the mirror showing just how distraught and unprepared you are for whatever the results are.
“Should we each flip one over?” He suggests, his fingers twitching at his sides, just wanting to get it over with.
“Yeah. Let’s do that.”
He reaches for the pink capped test and you grab the blue one, your fingers lingering on the sides of it with uncertainty, “On three.” He begins, seeing you nod in the mirror as you stare down at the stick.
One.
Two.
Three.
The both of you flip the test over, mentally bracing yourself as your eyes make out the tiny words on the gray screen. A small gasp is shared between you two, eyes wide in disbelief you crane your neck over to read the words on the test Jungkook holds and he does the same, not wanting to react until you know they both say the same thing.
not pregnant
“Oh thank fuck.” He whispers out, the test falling out of his grasp and clattering against the floor. Jungkook crumbles against the sink, resting his weight on his elbows as his head hangs low. You let yourself finally take a breath, dropping your head back to stare at the ceiling with the test still clutched in your right hand. The turmoil in your brain halts for a second, no longer thinking of how your life is on a downward spiral just when it had finally seemed to fall together.
The bathroom is silent for a moment, the pair of you trying to compose yourselves from the roller coaster of emotions that transpired in the past 15 minutes. You weren’t pregnant, you weren’t going to become a mother and Jungkook wasn’t going to become a father. Thank fucking god.
“Would you really have let me keep it if I was?” You break the silence, leveling your head back down and staring at his hunched over frame, his own head peaking up to stare at you resting against the nearest wall of the bathroom.
“Yeah.” He admits quietly, sending you a small nod as he looks into your eyes with the utmost sincerity.
“Were you ready to be a dad?” You give him an incredulous look, once again not believing he’d be ready to uproot his entire life over one night together. Hell, you weren’t ready to be a mother, you were selfish and the only thing you were focused on was finishing school and not being in debt. Having a kid was not in your near future.
Jungkook stands up again, giving you a shrug and staring at the marble floors, “No, not at all,” The relief on his face is clear as he takes in a breath, “but considering I had no complaints about not wearing a condom I don’t think I’m in any place to tell you what to do with your body.”
That wasn’t an answer you had been expecting, and for a moment you’re reminded on the Jungkook you had developed a crush on, the one that was always so willing to sacrifice his own comfort to make his friends feel better. When you had been in this position with Taehyung, after knowing you were in the clear, you had text him asking him what he would have done if you were actually pregnant and all he had sent you was the cartoon meme of a lady tossing a child into the air like a basketball.
It had made you laugh because realistically, that would be the route you would take but hearing someone voice how it was indeed your choice was nice, comforting even. You’re grateful it didn’t have to come to that though, hypothetically you know what you would’ve done but if you actually were pregnant you’re not sure if that choice would change.
He stares at you again, seeing how your face looks at ease now, your eyes focused on your feet pressed against the cool marble floors. “I’m sorry.” He begins, scared of where this conversation would lead to but he needed to suck it up, he had to properly apologize to you. If you shouted at him and threw him out afterwards he could live with that, as long as he was finally able to speak to you.
“That I’m not pregnant?”
“No,” he shakes his head, resting his back on the wall adjacent to the sink, seeing the realization sink into your face at what he was apologizing for, “I’m sorry for handling my emotions the way I did. For focusing on myself and not thinking of how it would affect you.”
A tiny scowl makes it way across your face, your free hand curling into a fist at your side but he looks about ready to barf so you let him continue, “I was scared of how our relationship would change after that morning, which sounds stupid now considering thats exactly what ended up happening because of me.” He’s forcing himself to maintain eye contact, not wanting to look away from you, “It was never my intention to make you feel like I was using you.”
He sees the flash of anger in your eyes at his words right before you bite, “How the hell did you think I would feel after that Jungkook? We sleep together and you immediately drop me, what did I do for you to treat me like that, should I not have asked you to have breakfast after?”
“No, god no. You didn’t do anything.” He wants to bang his head against the drywall, wanting to release his inner frustrations out on himself, “It was all me, I could feel the crush I had on you growing and I knew you didn’t want a relationship so I didn’t want to confess and then put you in an uncomfortable position. My friend’s got in my head-”
“Do you not have a mind of your own?”
He stops mid sentence, his head tilting slightly at your words, “What?”
You stand up straighter against the wall, your arms crossing under your chest while you glare at him, “You’re telling me that instead of doing what you wanted to do, you rely on whatever the hell your friends told you. The same friends that called me a slut I’m assuming.”
His face scrunches up at that, an apologetic look on it as he sighs, “I’m sorry-”
The hand you raise up stops him from apologizing again, “I don’t want to hear that, whatever you say now won’t change the fact that you did nothing when I needed you to.” He could say sorry a million times for the way his friend acted, tell you he fought him or yelled at him for what he said, none of that mattered because he had stayed silent in front of you. “I just want to know what they could’ve said that convinced you that treating me like this had a better outcome than admitting to a crush.”
Jungkooks eyes drop back down to the floor, landing on the forgotten pregnancy test laying beside his feet, the tip of his shoes pushing the plastic on the floor. He wants to go back to that day, he knows what his friends said shouldn’t have influenced him because he knew you, but the way they hounded him made him doubt everything. He had already been so unsure of the way he was reading things and their reaction just made him feel like he had no idea how to behave in situations that they claimed were regular occurrences for them.
“They told me I was stupid for thinking of telling you how I feel, that there was no way you’d see this as more than one night because you have Taehyung, to just let it go because you didn’t view sex the same way I probably did.”
His words just make you frown, “Jungkook, was I ever a bad friend to you?”
He shakes his head, his courage gone, no longer being able to look at you.
“Did I ever make you feel uncomfortable?”
Once again he shakes his head.
“So then why did you think you couldn’t talk to me. You know me better than any of your friends do, why were their opinions of me more important than yours?”
“I don’t know, but they shouldn’t have been. I was just scared of admitting my feelings.”
A sigh leaves your lips, you weren’t in the mood to shout at him, or argue, you were emotionally drained for the night. “You wanna know why I liked you Jungkook?”
He finally looks up again, his eyes dimming slightly at the word liked, past tense, you had liked him. “You’ve always been sweet to me, you trusted me enough to come to me for help, you always let us drag you along to places I could tell you didn’t want to be at just because you knew it would make one of us smile. Every time we hung out together I knew it was genuine, you were hanging out with me because you wanted to, not because you were expecting to get something out of it, but then you did this and it has me wondering if everything leading up to it was a lie.”
The hurt is evident on your face and Jungkook just wants to make it right, he doesn’t like being on the receiving end of this, “No I promise it wasn’t, I loved spending time with you, it wasn’t all for some end goal. You were the first person to make me feel comfortable in school.” He recalls the first day he saw you in your shared class, the way you had let him know he didn’t have to be wary talking to you, the open ended promise of a friendship before you parted ways.
“I literally gave you a black eye with my camera when I met you.”
“Yeah, but I deserved it right?”
That gets you to crack a smile, the way he scrunches up his face as he remembers the way your camera had felt when it sucker punched him in the face. He hadn’t deserved it, no one deserved to get a bloody nose and black eyes on their first day of college, you had just said that to hurt him.
“Yeah, you did.” You tease him, seeing the way he relaxes slightly when you let out a small laugh.
“I’m really sorry Y/N, I don’t expect you to forgive me, or not hate me anymore but I just needed you to know why I acted like a dumbass.”
The air falls silent once more, the both of you look utterly defeated, drained and vulnerable while you stand in the giant bathroom. You bring up the test that was still in your grasp, your lips pressing together as you reread the text. “Jungkook, you were ready to become a fucking dad, I don’t think I could totally hate your guts.”
Jungkook can feel his chest ache again, his hands clenching at his sides, urging the feeling to go away, he couldn’t think about the stupid seed of a crush still hanging on to his heart. The both of you had been through enough tonight, you admitting to not being able to hate him was good enough for him.
“Really?”
You push off the wall and toss the test into the trash bin by the toilet, Jungkook bends down and picks up the one on the floor, handing it to you as well. “Yeah really, you’re on thin ice though.”
The soft smile you give him makes him sigh in relief, “I’ll be on my best behavior. Scouts honor.”
You snort as you turn and walk out of the bathroom, hearing him flick the light off and follow you back out to the living room, you pass the coffee table and turn into the kitchen, pulling out the bottle of red wine Jimin had bought, grabbing the giant bag of chocolate chip cookies and wine opener as well before walking back out towards the couch.
Jungkook eyes the items in your hand, flopping onto the couch as you sit beside him, holding the bottle of wine between the two of you. You hand him the wine opener and he makes do, twisting the end of it into the cork and popping it open quickly, setting the device onto the coffee table, “To not becoming parents.”
The bottle is raised high between you as you smile, bringing it to your lips and taking a giant gulp of the fruity liquid, wiping your mouth as you hand it to Jungkook. He repeats what you do, taking a massive gulp and setting the bottle down with care, scared of spilling the red liquid on Jimin’s light couch.
To not becoming parents.
Somewhere in between finishing the bottle of wine, you find yourself sprawled out on the couch, your legs curled up by your chest with your head resting on Jungkook’s thigh. In turn his body is sinking into the couch, his head resting on the back of it, one of his hands laying on the arm rest while the other gently plays with your hair. You’re lazily munching on a cookie, the warm feeling of being wine drunk settled into your bones, Jungkook’s touch only aiding in making you feel sleepier.
“I think I’d be a really shitty mom.” You mumble out between chewing, your hand reaching down between your legs to stuff your hand into the cookie bag once more.
“What, why?”
Jungkook feels you shrug against his legs, “I don’t know, I’ve never really been maternal, kinda selfish.”
His eyes are shut, his cheeks are flushed and he feels warm but content, “Don’t say that, do you want kids?”
“Maybe, thats why it scares me though.” The thought of having a kid and being a lousy parent is what stopped you from visualizing a future with a family, you didn’t want to be a shitty mom. Flashes of the way you were raised flick behind your lids when you shut them, the strained relationship you have with your parents, the reality that some people really should’ve never become parents. The last thing you’d ever want to do is bring a child into the world and instead of nurturing it with unconditional love all you manage to do is tear them down.
“I think you’d be a great dad though.”
Your words are quieter now, your eyes slipping shut as he hums in thought. You could picture Jungkook as a dad, married to someone just as sweet as he was, living near the beach or somewhere suburban. He’d be the kind of dad who took his kids to all their sporting events, teaching them a little bit of everything because Jungkook had that talent. To think that might have been kickstarted tonight if things had gone differently.
“You think so?” Its a soft question, almost as if he hadn’t meant to voice it at all but you mumble out a yes in response, smiling once more when you hear him sigh gently, almost picturing the grin thats surely on his face.
Silence falls over you two again, and for a moment you think maybe he had fallen asleep since you weren’t too far from it, but his fingers continue to comb through your hair, “Are you with Taehyung now?” He asks shyly, he had heard about you going on dates and hanging out with him alone more often but he didn’t want to assume anything again, thats exactly what got him in this predicament in the first place.
“No, I’m not.” The words fall from your mouth instantly, almost as if you’re eager to let Jungkook know he had a chance, no matter how small, you want to blame it on the wine, on anything really, but you can’t deny that Jungkook had you charmed the minute you met him, the feeling only growing as you got to know him more.
His fingers freeze in your hair for a split second before continuing like your words had no affect on him. He smiles though, his lips curving up softly, his eyes blinking open and tilting his head down to stare at your drifting form, nuzzled onto his thighs in a way that made him forget the events that had happened these last few weeks.
When he doesn’t speak you take it upon yourself to tease him the way you knew best, “So, you had a crush on me huh?��� Your words are mostly slurred together from sleep slowly taking over but he hears you clearly.
Expecting him to be bashful, scoff and deny it, pretend like he was over it but instead he sighs, his body sliding down the couch half an inch, the hand in your hand coming down to drape across your shoulder softly, “Yeah, I have a crush on you.”
The words replay in your head, the soft warmth in your chest spreading throughout you and you really can’t fault the alcohol for it, for the way you feel fuzzy at the confession of him still having a crush on you but you reel it in, shutting your eyes once more and humming in response. The two of you slowly drifting off on your best friends couch after the events of tonight, exhausted and relieved all at once.
When Jimin finally makes it back in a little before 1am he holds his breath, shutting the door softly when he makes out the shape of your silhouettes sleeping on the couch. His eyes lock onto the empty wine bottle and he feels his body sag in relief, thankful that you had drank the alcohol in celebration and he wouldn’t be walking into another scene of tears because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold his own back this time.
Jungkook looks boneless on his couch, his head hanging off the side with his mouth dropped open slightly, his hand is still draped across your shoulder while you sleep soundly on his thighs, the dress you wore to the event still on you and the two of you look like complete messes but Jimin still smiles.
He reaches out and grasps the empty bottle, gently pulling the bag of cookies from where its wedged between your legs, deciding to save the lecture on crumbs for tomorrow morning. As he pulls back, giving you and Jungkook another once over he freezes when he sees Jungkook’s bleary eyes blinking at him in confusion.
“Congrats.” Jimin teases softly, ruffling Jungkook’s hair with his free hand, seeing the soft smile that spreads across his face, his body sagging into the couch once more.
“Thanks.” He murmurs, adjusting the arm draped around you to go back to raking through your hair. Jimin and his eyes lock once more, a silent conversation between them and Jungkook understands and hopes that the second morning after plays out better than the last.
#btsghostie#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#taehyung smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook fluff#bts smut#bts fics
286 notes
·
View notes
Note
fics featuring curly but not in a threesome way? loool
Three Men and an Eggplant Emoji - drunkkenobi | E, 5.8k, Complete
Once again, someone on Reddit draws Shane’s ire. Once again, there are sexy results.
adventure in life, consistency in coffee - punk_rock_yuppie | T, 22k, Complete
Ryan and Shane meet in a coffee shop, except it's a lot more complicated than that.
is it safe to just be who we are? - uneventfulhouses
To feel Shane’s finger touch the choker so softly ignites the deepest parts of his fantasies, the ones where Shane takes his hand and closes it around his throat, just tight enough to make it difficult to breathe. Ryan’s breath is so shallow it makes him dizzy.
“What’s this?” Shane asks, voice barely audible over the music and chatter in the bar. Ryan keeps his eyes on Shane’s face, just to watch the way his eyes light with fire when their eyes meet again. It’s enough to send curls of arousal swimming in his stomach, lower even, his pants suddenly a hair too tight. Shane drops his hand and Ryan swallows as he straightens his posture, squaring his shoulders.
“Like it?” Ryan breathes.
or; ryan wears a choker and shane's into it.
if i knew what you'd do - abovetheruins | T, 2.9k, Complete
"Who the hell is Shane?"
Ryan sinks into his seat. "Necromancer," he mutters, ignoring the embarrassed flush seeping into his cheeks. Fuck, this is humiliating. It's one thing for the others to know; he can put up with Steven and Curly's teasing. Telling his boss is another matter entirely. "Look, it's no big deal, he just likes to... fuck with me."
He knows he's chosen the wrong words the moment they leave his mouth. At his sides, Steven and Curly are practically giggling.
a dangerous night (to fall in love) - abovetheruins | T, 3.4k, Complete
The scent that had stolen Ryan’s attention was coming from the area where the man was standing. A curious sniff at the air confirmed that it was still present and just as tantalizing to Ryan’s empty stomach, so with a roll of his shoulders to work out any lingering anxiety, he took his first step into the street.
As he neared the man, twisting through the crowd and mumbling apologies when he bumped into someone, Ryan couldn’t help but notice how much stronger the scent grew. With each step it became more apparent, a constant tease on his senses, sharp but sweet at the same time, like sugar coated in flame, or frost. He’d never smelled anything like it.
no one's got me quite like you - uneventfulhouses | T, 15k, Complete
Andrew nudges Ryan's shoulder. “I have a question: are you and Shane busy tonight?”
Aside from general editing, Ryan doesn’t recall having any plans for the rest of the day. He can’t necessarily speak for Shane, but chances are he doesn’t either, unless Netflix and Chill with his cat counts.
It doesn’t.
“No?” he says, cautiously, because for the most part, when BuzzFeed employees ask him these things, it’s usually for something that he doesn’t necessarily want to do. But for the sake of views, Ryan tends to sacrifice himself.
“Cool. We’re doing a video.” Andrew turns to walk away, like that’s the end of the conversation, but Ryan calls after him.
“About what?”
or; today on worth it, shane and ryan evolve into a couple during three double dates at three drastically different prices.
want you in my room - beethechange |. E, 13k, Complete
As they watch, Tall Guy takes his beanie off, revealing a mess of thick, shiny brown hair. He runs his hand through it to shake out the hat hair and Ryan feels like he’s stuck in an Herbal Essences commercial, except he’s the one making inappropriate lustful noises.
Ryan adjusts his snapback, determined. He is, after all, wearing his very finest basketball shorts, without even a single hole at the hem, and the knowledge puts an extra spring in his step.
“I’m gonna climb that dude like a tree,” he tells Curly.
Almost Cool - blacktofade | E, 30k, Complete
While filming the Yuma Territorial Prison episode, Shane gets bitten by what he thinks is a bat. Spoiler alert: it's not.
the light the moon sends back - bodhirookes | T, 28k, Complete
“I thought I imagined it,” Ryan says eventually, still looking at the other side of the woods. “I had to know.”
For a moment, there’s nothing but the wind in the trees. And then he hears the low growl that’s haunted his every passing thought for days. The creature creeps closer, a rumbling noise following the growl. It sounds threatening, but also confused.
“Know what?” it hisses, close enough that Ryan can feel when it speaks, and then he turns around.
He turns around, looks up into those piercing eyes, and says: “I had to know why you didn’t kill me.”
Or, Ryan moves to Michigan to find himself again, and ends up finding more than he could have ever bargained for.
Bewitched, Besotted, Bewildered - MercurySkies | T, 9.4k, Complete
'Fae are tricky people. Shane is trickier.'
Names are powerful things, when Shane seemingly knows Ryan's without him ever having told him, his true motives are called into question. All Ryan has to go on are the lessons taught by fairytales and his own instincts. Ryan attempts to learn about Shane's true nature as Shane tries to accept himself, despite the misconceptions and fears of others.
darling, everything's on fire - bodhirookes | T, 8.1k, Complete
Shane gets the call at 2:51 in the morning.
“‘Lo?”
“Madej, I need you here immediately.”
In some other lifetime, it would have taken Shane at least twenty minutes to wake up from a call like this. But after seven years of working at a hospital, he’s almost coherent by the time the call hits the ten second mark.
“What happened?” Shane asks, pushing himself up with a groan.
On the other end, there’s a slight pause, and then Quinta’s strained, tight voice tells him: “There was a fire.”
Or, Shane is an ER nurse who gets called in to help with the aftermath of a huge fire and discovers that no one knows what has happened to his firefighter partner.
Precipice - makemadej (santamonicayachtclub) | E, 35k, Complete
“I don’t even know how to flirt with him,” Ryan grumbles. “We live in a world where tightening each other's harnesses and sleeping in the same bed is literally just another day at the office. How do I top that?”
“Any way he'll let you,” Curly says immediately.
(Or, the one where Ryan gets a nipple piercing.)
Lost a fic? Check out our fic found tag, and if you still can’t find it, send us an ask!
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Electrify My Heart
summary: Dan Howell picks his college major almost at random. Even after a gap year, he doesn’t know what he wants to do, so he supposes he might as well pick whatever will make him the most employable and impress the largest number of his relatives. Within his first semester, he knows he made a mistake and switches out. Except Dan’s major isn’t law. It’s computer science, and Phil is his TA.
rating: PG13
wc: 13k
notes: for all the notes go read the ao3 version but tldr ty @itsmyusualphannie for being beta and ty to lots of other ppl and imposter syndrome real
read on ao3 or under the cut
College was hard, Dan decided, and his classes hadn’t even started yet. All he had wanted was coffee, and god, why did everything have to be so hard? He was waiting in line at a coffee shop on campus with some cutesy name- “The Daily Grind”- and a ridiculously long line. Really, it should not be taking this long to get one iced coffee. He was just beginning to wonder if he should give up and go somewhere else when someone slammed into him from behind. Dan stumbled and fell.
“Oh my god. I am so sorry.”
Thank god Dan hadn’t gotten his coffee yet. “You’re fine,” he said automatically, standing up.
“Seriously, I’m sorry. Are you alright?” A face with shaggy black hair and blue eyes peered intently at him.
“Yup,” Dan said, “Pretty sure.”
“Let me at least buy your coffee for nearly killing you.”
Dan froze. “Uhhhhh…”
The boy laughed. “Calm down, I’m not asking you out. I just mean coffee. Don’t worry.”
“Oh,” Dan said, relieved. “Uh, yeah, that’d be great. Coffee, I mean.”
“Great,” he said. “I’m Phil, by the way.”
“Dan.”
It turned out that Phil was a grad student in computer science, the same subject Dan was majoring in. Dan’s eyes glazed over when Phil started talking about what exactly his specialization was (something about human-computer interaction and other words Dan didn’t understand), but Phil steered the conversation away from that pretty quickly once he noticed Dan’s reaction.
“So you’re a freshman? How’s the college life treating you so far?”
Dan shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess. It’s kind of nice not having my parents around, but also, I’m really bad at doing adult things.”
Phil smiled. “It’s okay, I didn’t really know how to cook until I got an apartment my junior year. As long as you know the basics-”
“No,” Dan interrupted. “Like, I’m really bad at doing adult things. I set my ramen on fire because I didn’t know you needed to put water in.”
Phil was clearly struggling to remain composed. “Recently?” he inquired politely.
“Yes,” Dan said.
Phil laughed, and the way he laughed made Dan feel like there was a slowly growing bubble inside of him. “I’m sorry,” Phil said, “But look on the bright side. That’s actually hilarious,” and Dan had to admit it was.
When they parted two hours later, after all the ice in his coffee had melted, Dan had added Phil on every social media platform known to man and had Phil’s number saved in his phone with instructions to text if he had any issues.
Dan wanted to, he really did. He had never wanted to text anyone so badly. He gathered the courage to send a “Hi! It’s Dan!” text, then quickly threw his phone across the room, only to pick it back up immediately when it buzzed with Phil’s response.
It was just a smiley face. Why was Dan so excited about a fucking smiley face? A fucking smiley face that Phil probably only sent because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Dan spent the rest of his weekend in his dorm, leaving only to attend exactly one welcome event and spend a truly disturbing amount of time (and money) at The Daily Grind, hoping he’d run into Phil again. Why Dan didn’t just text him, he couldn’t explain. He hadn’t sent anything since the introduction text and Phil’s smiley face reply.
If the universe wanted him and Phil to be friends, the universe would have to work a bit harder.
***
Classes started the next Monday. After the disaster that was the one welcome event he attended, he had spoken to exactly zero people, unless you counted the barista at The Daily Grind. He was almost relieved when classes started just because he’d be around other people again, and if that didn’t say something about how isolated he was, he didn’t know what did.
His relief quickly vanished when his alarm went off at seven am for his eight am calculus discussion section. He dragged himself across campus to his classroom, where he promptly fell asleep when given a worksheet. No one in his group woke him up, and when the TA came around to collect their worksheets, Dan sheepishly turned in a piece of paper with his name on it and a few scribbled numbers he must have written before he passed out.
Dan looked longingly at the time on his phone. He really didn’t have time to take a nap before his next lecture, but oh, he desperately wanted to. He considered skipping, but he knew he should at least attend the first lecture to get an idea of what the attendance policy was like.
He found somewhere on the main quad to sit for a bit, but he must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, a bell was faintly buzzing in a nearby building, his CS 115 lecture was starting right now, and he still wasn’t sure exactly where it was.
He ended up being around ten minutes late, and as he paused outside the wooden double doors to catch his breath, he again considered just not going. He checked the time again and groaned. He really did feel bad walking in so late, but it was either that or not at all. He straightened up, wiped his hands on his shorts, and opened the door as quietly as possible.
His eyes worked over the seats, searching for an empty spot. There was an entire empty row in the front, but there was no way in hell Dan was sitting there. He spotted a seat in the middle of the back row, and briefly debated turning around and leaving so he wouldn’t have to ask the people at the ends of the row to move.
After looking around again, he braced himself and walked up to the end of the row.
“Excuse me?” Dan whispered.
The girl sitting at the end of the row rolled her eyes and tossed her blue hair over her shoulder, closing her laptop and standing up so Dan could pass.
“Thanks,” Dan whispered, moving past her, which required them to be far closer than Dan was entirely comfortable with.
The rest of the row was mostly a blur of groans and snickers, but everyone at least moved their laptops back so Dan could step over their knees.
Finally, Dan sat down in his seat, his ears burning, and pulled out his laptop.
The professor paused. “And if everyone could make an effort to be on time next time,” she said with a mildness that terrified Dan, “That would be appreciated. Thank you.”
Dan shrunk into his seat. An auspicious beginning to his college career. Hopefully, his lab later in the day would be better than his lecture.
It was not. After standing in line for at least twenty minutes and eating a rushed lunch and attending a two-hour-long lecture for his film class, which was interesting but incredibly long, he showed up to his lab.
He was on time, at least. He even managed to find an empty table. But then the empty table started filling up, and his tablemates all wanted to talk to him, and it was almost a relief when the TA walked in to start class. His relief vanished when he and the TA made eye contact.
It was Phil.
Phil’s eyes widened slightly, but he recovered quickly. He pulled out his laptop and adjusted his glasses. “Welcome to your first lab section,” he said. “I’m Phil Lester, your TA. I’m here to help you work through your lab problems, homework problems, and Machine Project, but they’re ultimately graded by the online autograder, which I have no control over, so bring up any issues about grading to Professor Ross. Any questions?”
Someone’s chair squeaked.
“Okay then,” Phil said. “Today’s lab is to download, configure, and familiarize yourself with IntelliJ. I’m sure that sounds easy, but even experienced programmers have issues getting used to IntelliJ, which is why we’ve devoted a lab period to it. Your instructions are online. Let me or the CAs know if you need help with anything.”
The lab passed with mind numbing boredom, but by the end, with the help of his tablemates and a bored-looking Course Assistant, Dan had IntelliJ up and running.
As he stood to leave, his stomach growled. He really should have picked a lab that was earlier in the day, but whatever. Even if Dan was able to figure out how to use his student portal, it was probably too late to transfer lab sections. He glanced at Phil, but he seemed absorbed in helping another student, so Dan just put his laptop in his backpack and trudged away.
He stepped outside the Computer Science Center and took a deep breath, aiming himself towards his dorm and a thirty-minute walk home, but he was interrupted.
“Hey! Hey, Dan,” Phil said, running after him. “How’d I do?”
Dan looked up. “Phil?”
“Yup,” Phil said. “It’s so funny that you ended up in my class. It must be fate.”
Dan wrinkled his nose. “I don’t believe in fate.”
“Well, you’re no fun,” Phil observed.
“There’s a thing called coincidence.”
“I’m just trying to think of a smooth way to ask you to coffee again, Dan. Work with me here.”
“Is that allowed?” Dan asked.
“Being friends with people in your lab section? It’s not exactly encouraged, but I don’t grade you or anything, so as long as I don’t display blatant favoritism it should be fine.”
So he really did just mean coffee. Again. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“You won’t. Besides, if I did get in trouble, which I won’t, it would be my fault, not yours.”
Dan shrugged.
“Anyway, if you’re not comfortable with it, that’s fine. But I really liked you and thought it would be nice to spend time together sometime. You know, if that’s cool. I know you probably have a ton of work right now, but if you get a chance.”
Phil was nervous, Dan realized. “I think I’d like that,” he said slowly.
Phil smiled. “Text me,” he said, reaching out to touch Dan’s hand briefly. “Anyway, which way are we headed?”
“My dorm’s kind of far.” It was the farthest dorm from the main quad, actually, since Dan had put off registering for housing until a week before the deadline.
“My apartment’s definitely farther. Want a ride?”
“Where are you parked?”
Phil jerked his head to the left. “Like ten minutes that way?”
Dan hesitated. Yes, he did want a ride from Phil. But Phil’s car was parked on the opposite side of campus from his dorm, and it would probably take just as long to walk to Phil’s car and get a ride to his dorm as it would to just walk there.
“Sure,” he said before he could regret it.
“Cool,” Phil said, starting to walk. “So, how are you liking CS so far?”
“It’s fine,” Dan said cautiously, following him.
“No, really,” Phil said. “I do course development for CS 115. I want to know if I made it better or worse.” He flicked his hair out of his face. “I also want to know how things are going for you, of course,” Phil added hastily.
“The homework’s been kind of hard,” Dan said hesitantly.
Phil nodded. “Did you take APCS in high school?”
Dan shook his head.
“No prior coding experience?” Phil continued.
Dan nodded.
Phil nodded. “Yeah, that would do it. Coding has a really harsh learning curve, and Java, in particular, is really unpleasant to beginners. If it were up to me, the class would be taught in Python or something, but we already have so much infrastructure for Java, and a lot of people in the CS department don’t like Python, so it’s probably not happening.”
“Oh.”
Phil shrugged. “Sorry, you’re probably not that interested in how I think your class should be taught. I kind of do that sometimes, talk about things I think are really interesting but no one else does.”
“It’s fine,” Dan said, and weirdly, it was. When Phil talked about things, he had this way of drawing people in- Dan could listen to him for ages. “The way you talk about it makes interesting.”
It was hard to tell in the slanted light of the setting sun, but Phil might have blushed. “Thanks,” he said, “But you really don’t want to get me started on my thesis topic. It’s embarrassing how much I talk about it.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Dan reasoned.
“My ex-boyfriend cited it as one of the reasons he decided to break up with me,” Phil said.
Dan winced. “I’m sorry.”
Phil laughed, but it wasn’t the laugh he normally laughed. This laugh was harsh and brittle. “It’s not your fault.”
Dan didn’t have a lot of bad breakup stories, but he thought he’d try. “I dumped my ex-boyfriend because I found him on Tinder under a fake name.”
“How’d you know it was him then?” Phil asked.
“Oh, he used his real photos. Just the name was fake.”
“Yikes.”
“You could say that again,” Dan said. “Anyway, I lived. It wasn’t that great of a relationship anyway.”
They had reached Phil’s car. Phil fished in his pocket for his keys. Dan awkwardly stood by the side of his car, debating whether to sit in the front or the back seat, before deciding he was not a twelve-year-old being given a ride by his friend’s dad, and ducking into the front passenger’s seat.
“Which dorm?” Phil asked, starting the car.
“Walton,” Dan said.
“Nice,” Phil said. “I didn’t go here for my undergrad, but I hear that’s one of the better ones.”
Dan shrugged. “It’s okay. I got a single, which is nice, but it’s kind of far from all my classes.”
Phil nodded.
“Do you know how to get there?” Dan asked.
“Not really,” Phil confessed.
“Me neither,” Dan said.
“Can you navigate?” Phil asked. “If I tried to Google Maps and drive at the same time I would one hundred percent kill us both. I have no coordination.”
“Encouraging,” Dan said, pulling out his phone and typing his address in.
Phil laughed. “It’s okay. I’m not the world’s best driver, but I’m not the worst, either. Probably.”
“If you say so,” Dan said. “Okay, take a left here.”
Phil turned.
“Okay, then go straight for a while-”
“That’s what my mom said when I came out as bisexual.”
Dan sputtered. “What?”
Phil clarified. “Well, she said she hoped that wouldn’t stop me from settling down with a nice girl someday. But later it turned out I was gay, so joke’s on her.”
“Oh,” Dan said. He hadn’t known Phil was gay, and that knowledge sent a knot to Dan’s stomach that he decided to ignore. He was not attracted to Phil, he reminded himself firmly. “I haven’t told my parents I’m… whatever, yet.”
Phil nodded. “That’s fine. Coming from high school, I assumed that most people were out to their parents, but it turns out that lots of people aren’t out to their parents. I actually feel like most people aren’t. I don’t know, maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part, but I just wanted to let you know. Plenty of people have gay lives at college and their parents don’t have any idea.” He paused for a moment. “Sorry. That was probably weird.”
It was, a little bit, but Dan didn’t say so. “Thanks,” he said. “Um, right here. I mean, turn right. Sorry.”
“Got it,” Phil said, turning. He abruptly braked for someone crossing the street. “God, I hate driving on campus.”
The person crossing the street turned around and glared. “I think the feeling is mutual,” said Dan.
Phil started driving again, more carefully this time. “At least it’s not winter. Driving in the winter here ranks as one of the worst experiences of my life.”
“Is it that bad?” Dan asked.
Phil laughed. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Dan blushed. “No.”
“I bet you didn’t even bring a coat.”
“Was I supposed to? Can’t that wait until Thanksgiving?”
Phil glanced at Dan, incredulous. “You didn’t bring a winter coat?”
Dan shrugged. “Is that bad?”
“Dear god. You’re going to die. When it gets cold, remind me to lend you a coat. I have extra.”
Dan’s face was still hot. “You don’t need to-”
“I want to.”
Dan felt like his face was on fire. “That would be nice. If you don’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it,” Phil said.
Dan shrugged. He was glad that Phil was focusing on the road and couldn’t see his face, which was probably getting redder by the minute.
“Some people do that,” Dan said.
Phil glanced at Dan and smiled. “I don’t. Whenever I offer you something, I mean it, okay?”
“Okay,” Dan said, staring at his feet.
Phil laughed. “You sound like I’m yelling at you. I’m offering you help, Dan. If you don’t need it or you don’t feel comfortable getting it from me, that’s fine, but don’t say no just to avoid being a burden. You’re not.”
“Sorry,” Dan said.
“You don’t need to apologize,” Phil said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Sor-” Dan started, then stopped. “Thanks,” he said.
“That’s better,” Phil said.
Dan laughed. “Are you sure you’re not majoring in early childhood education? You sound like my kindergarten teacher.”
“Pretty sure,” Phil said, “But I was actually looking into being a professor for a while.”
“Wait, really?”
Phil laughed dryly. “Yeah. That dream lasted about three months into my Master’s. There is no way I could survive a Ph.D. program.”
“Oh,” said Dan. “Sorry.”
Phil glanced over at Dan. “You’re doing it again.”
“I am sorry, though. That sucks.”
Phil shrugged. “It really isn’t that bad. You can get some pretty sweet jobs with a Master’s degree in computer science. Just not generally jobs being a computer science professor.” Phil pulled up outside Dan’s dorm. “Anyway. This is you, right?”
Dan started. “Yeah. It is. Uh, thanks.”
Phil smiled. “Yeah. No problem. Let me know if you need a ride anywhere again.”
“I will,” said Dan, who had no intention of becoming such a burden.
“Or if you ever need any help with anything CS-related or anything. You’re not bothering me, I swear. I love computer science and I love helping people.”
Dan couldn’t help but doubt that. “Thanks,” he said, still with no intention of becoming such a burden.
“Have a good night!” Phil called as Dan stepped out of the car.
“You too!” Dan said, shutting the door.
***
Dan’s first week of classes flew by in a blur. He had more homework than he’d ever had in his life, and he was handling it badly. Luckily, most of his professors seemed pretty understanding about it- his film professor gave him an extension on a reading quiz he completely forgot about, and none of his CS homework assignments were due until two weeks into class.
Before he knew it, the first Machine Project for CS 115 was released. He mostly ignored the initial release since the deadline wasn’t for two more weeks- he had plenty of other homework to do anyway. A truly astounding number of papers to write for his English and film classes, a crushing number of assignments for his physics and calculus classes, and the daily homework problems for CS 115 on top of all that.
He continued isolating himself. He wasn’t proud of it, but it seemed like everyone around him had condensed into social groups while he wasn’t paying attention, and now even when he tried, they wouldn’t let him in.
He didn’t mind too much. He wouldn’t pretend it was fun, eating meals in the dining hall on his own and sitting by himself in every lecture, but social interaction was too painful to be worth it. Besides, he wasn’t even sure if he had time to have friends. It wasn’t like he had an abundance of free time to kill.
Anyway, he had Phil. Dan was still a little bit scared of him- he was a grad student after all, and Dan was just a freshman- but they talked sometimes outside of class. Phil sent Dan memes about computers that he didn’t always understand. Dan replied with memes about video games they both played. They usually talked after Dan’s lab. Phil offered him a ride home again, but after Dan declined once, he didn’t offer again. They met up at the coffee shop once to study together, and even though Dan didn’t get much done that day, just being around Phil made him feel much better.
It was already the deadline day when Dan finally remembered his MP. He hadn’t meant to leave it this late, he really hadn’t, but everything was so overwhelming and there was so much going on and it couldn’t be that bad, could it?
He had woken up early. It was ten am. His deadline was eleven pm. That was plenty of time.
He pulled out his laptop, following the instructions on the course website, and surprisingly managed to download the MP starter code with no problems.
Actually completing it was a different story. He had read the instructions over a couple of times, but he still wasn’t exactly sure what to do. Still, hesitatingly, he started typing. There were some red squiggles underneath some of his lines of code, but he ignored them for now. He searched the crowded upper menu, selected the “Test Checkpoint 0” option from the dropdown menu, and clicked run.
A scarily large number of lines with red symbols next to them appeared. Trying not to panic, Dan did his best to decipher them. Each line started with the word “error,” which was probably very bad. It was mostly a mix of errors that read “; expected” and “illegal start of expression,” with one “reached end of file while parsing” error thrown in at the end.
Dan stared at his screen. What file, he wanted to know, and what the fuck was a parsing? He stared at the errors some more. He hit run again.
He got the same error messages. Again.
After some more staring, he decided to go to office hours. He packed up his laptop and checked his phone to see who was holding office hours right now. His heart started beating a bit faster when he saw that Phil was holding office hours for eight hours starting in fifteen minutes.
Well. It couldn’t hurt to see Phil. It gave him something to think about on the thirty-minute walk to the Computer Science Center, at least.
He really needed to figure out the bus system. This was way too much walking.
Office hours for CS 115 were held in the same room as labs. It was large, spacious, filled with enough tables and chairs that the forty or so students in his lab always had room left over, but today, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find a seat. He stood inside the door, scanning the room for a seat before giving up and aiming for a spot on the floor near a table and an outlet. He plugged his laptop in and raised his hand, waiting for help. Miraculously, a CA came to him within a few minutes. “What’s the issue?” he asked.
“Um, I don’t really know,” Dan said. “My code won’t compile and I’m getting this error?”
The CA bent over to look at Dan’s screen. “You probably have a missing parenthesis or curly brace somewhere,” the CA told him. He flicked shaggy blond hair out of his eyes.
“Where?” Dan asked.
The CA double-clicked on the error message, which brought his cursor to the start of one of Dan’s method names. “Somewhere above here, probably.”
“But where?” Dan asked.
The CA shrugged, already moving away. “I’m really sorry, there are a lot of people I need to help. You’ll have to look for it yourself.”
Dan scowled and stared at his code, looking for the line with the error. His eyes flickered between lines of code, scanning for matching parenthesis and curly braces. His eyes blurred. It looked fine. It really looked fine. Was there really something wrong? He hit the run button again.
The same error message appeared. Dan groaned in frustration. He went back to hunting for his mistake.
Half an hour later, Dan found his mistake. This time when he ran his code, the test suites started running too. Dan let out a breath he had been holding for much too long and let his shoulders sag, relief coursing through him. He didn’t even care that he failed every single test. The fact that his code ran at all was honestly a miracle. He stared at the new error messages, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. He had no idea what he was even looking for, but he stared at it resolutely, fighting back a yawn.
He was just about to give up when Phil materialized in front of him. “How’s it going?” Phil asked.
Dan looked up. “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were doing office hours today,” he lied.
Phil smiled. “Surprise, I guess. How goes the coding?”
Dan explained the situation.
“So you’ve moved on from getting a compile error to getting a runtime error!” Phil said. “Now you can start debugging.”
“Lucky me,” Dan said.
Phil laughed. “Debugging isn’t fun, I’ll give you that. But when everything falls together? It’s the best feeling in the world.” He glanced around. “I should get to helping people.”
“What if I need help?” Dan complained.
“Raise your hand,” Phil said, trying and desperately failing to wink before sweeping off to help other students. “See you.”
Dan returned to his laptop, hiding a smile. His smile slowly faded as he worked. His code was not as easy to fix as he had hoped it would be when he first got it to compile.
He worked on it for about an hour, during which a chair opened up at a nearby table and he scrambled for a seat. He raised his hand.
It only took a few minutes for Phil to arrive. “So what’s the issue?” he asked, leaning over Dan’s shoulder.
“I’m not really sure,” he admitted. “There’s, um, a lot going on.”
Phil nodded. “So, where did you start?”
“Kind of everywhere,” Dan confessed.
“Okay, well, don’t do that,” Phil said. “How about you start with the first method?”
Dan scrolled up. “This one?”
“Sure. It doesn’t really matter.”
Dan had some code written there, all spaghetti lines splashed with lines of red like tomato sauce. He resolutely ignored the slight pangs of hunger in his stomach. “It’s failing the tests.”
“Well, you’re not done, are you?”
Dan felt slightly silly. “No,” he mumbled.
“Then how about you get it done?” Phil said. “Read the documentation a few times and ask me if you have any questions, but try to find answers in the documentation first.”
Dan scowled. Phil smiled. Why was his stupid face always so fucking happy?
He read the documentation, like Phil told him to. When he got confused, he read it again. It slowly started to make more sense.
He started typing again, working on a single method this time instead of jumping around. The first two went okay, but he got stuck on the third for an embarrassingly long time.
He looked around and raised his hand, but the TAs and CAs all looked busy, and none of them seemed to notice. He sighed and put it down.
He must have sighed really loudly, because the girl next to him shot him a look.
“Sorry,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s fine.”
He glared at his screen again, hoping that the error in his logic would suddenly jump into focus. It didn’t. He sighed again.
The girl next to him glared again.
Dan meant to apologize, but he accidentally said something else. “Can you help me?”
For one frightening moment, he thought she might snap him in half. But then she didn’t. “With what?” she asked.
“I don’t know why I’m failing this test case.” He turned his laptop towards her.
She hesitated for a second before looking. Her eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, I got that error before.” She reached over to scroll on Dan’s laptop and pointed out a section of his code. “You see here? You’re not checking that the input is valid.”
Dan stared at it. “But-” Something clicked. “Oh,” he said. “Oh.” He reached for his keyboard and added a few lines of code above the section she had pointed out. He ran the autograder and held his breath.
A hundred percent. Thank god. He allowed himself to look up from his laptop for the first time in an hour and realized the room was almost empty except for him, Phil, the girl sitting next to him, and a few other scattered students.
Dan spent a few more moments glancing at Phil, trying to gauge when he would be done so they could leave at the same time, but Phil didn’t look like he was going to leave anytime soon. Dan watched as Phil sat next to another- student? course assistant? TA? Dan couldn’t tell. Phil laughed and threw his arm around the other boy.
He knew Phil had an ex-boyfriend, Dan realized with a jolt, and it sounded recent, but he had no idea if Phil was currently seeing anyone. There was a lot he didn’t know about Phil. Ears burning, he buried his face back in his laptop, trying to look busy, even though he didn’t have anything left to do other than submit his work.
He snuck another glance at Phil. Phil didn’t have his arm around the other boy anymore, but they were hunched together over the same laptop, shoulders pressed together, exchanging glances and the occasional laugh as the other boy explained something, animated. A bolt of jealousy shot through Dan’s stomach. He tried to ignore it.
They were just quiet enough that Dan couldn’t make out the details of their conversation, but just loud enough to be distracting. His eyes were drawn back to them again and again.
Dan had always been a jealous person. He had learned to cope with it over the years, but nothing ever seemed to make it go away completely. It stemmed from a place of insecurity, he knew, because as nice as Phil might be, as nice as anyone might be to Dan, there was no way they would ever really like him. And if they did, they were just seconds away from realizing what a bad deal they got with Dan, how much better they could do.
Dan wrenched his gaze away from Phil again. He could submit his work when he got back to his dorm. He waited until Phil’s back was turned before slipping out the door.
***
The next Monday, when Dan slunk into the back of lecture and sat in the closest seat to the door he could find, he realized he recognized the head in front of him. He tapped her shoulder to say hello.
“What’s your name?” Dan asked. “I just realized I never got it this weekend. Sorry.”
She glanced at him, startled. “Helen.” Her blue hair rustled, and suddenly something clicked.
“Hey, wait. Did we meet on the first day of class?”
She stared at him. “Were you that guy who was late?”
Dan nodded. “Yes.”
Helen laughed. “God, I thought Professor Ross was going to kill you.”
Dan smiled, embarrassed. “I thought so too. I’m Dan, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Dan.” She smiled.
“Really?” Dan asked. “I’m going to be honest, most times we’ve met before I haven’t made a great impression.”
Helen froze. “You totally think I’m a bitch; I’m so sorry.”
“No, no,” Dan started, but Helen was already talking again.
“I’m so sorry, I was just super stressed that first day of class and when I saw you the other day I hadn’t finished my MP yet and I-”
Dan cut in. “Seriously, you’re fine.” He smiled. “And you helped me anyway, which is what really matters.”
Helen took a deep breath. “Cool.”
“Cool,” Dan said. “So, do you-”
Their professor started speaking, interrupting Dan. “Later,” Helen said, swivelling to focus completely on class.
Dan envied the totality of her focus, the way she was able to switch it on and off like it was nothing. The only thing he had ever been able to focus on with that kind of intensity was video games. He reluctantly turned back to the front of the room and tried to herd his thoughts into something resembling order.
He failed. No matter how much he tried to pay attention to the lecture, his thoughts kept drifting back to Phil. Phil, offering to buy some dumb freshman a coffee. Phil, offering him a ride home. Phil, teasing him when he asked for help and telling him to wait in line. Phil, helping him anyway.
Dan smiled. He couldn’t help it.
Oh god. He had a crush on Phil.
There was no way he could be expected to focus on class now. No way.
He tried anyway. He wrote some notes on a google doc. Something about inheritance and pets and dogs and cats and he wondered if Phil was a cat or a dog person and fuck. He was fucked.
He tried really hard to focus. He really did. But when class ended, he had about five lines of notes that probably wouldn’t even make sense to the professor if he showed them to her.
His mood brightened slightly when he noticed Helen waiting for him at the door of the auditorium.
“Hey!” he said, hurrying to meet her.
“Hey!” she said. “So, how was lecture?”
“It was lecture,” Dan said. “How do you expect me to say it went?”
Helen shrugged. “I took APCS last year, and we’re finally getting into stuff that I haven’t seen before. I actually really like it.”
“This is my first programming class,” Dan said.
“Oh, wow,” Helen said. “I would probably die.”
Dan was dying a little bit. “It’s pretty rough,” he admitted.
“Why are you taking it then? Is it a required class for you?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Dan said. “This is my major. Unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately?” she asked.
Dan shrugged.
She let it drop. “It’s required for me too. I’m actually a double major, though; this and film studies.”
Dan stopped. “Wait, are you by any chance in my film class too?”
“FS 105?” she asked.
“Yes!” Dan smiled.
“One o’clock, Tuesdays and Thursdays, with Professor Min?”
Dan nodded again. “We should try to sit next to each other.”
“Sure!” she said. “Can I give you my number?”
“Yeah,” Dan said, digging through his bag and handing her his phone. She quickly put her number in and handed it back.
“See you around!” she said.
“See you!” Dan replied. He made the usual walk back towards his dorm, but he felt a bit lighter than normal this time.
***
After seeing Phil with the other boy in office hours, Dan tried to avoid Phil at his next lab. He managed to escape a tiny bit early while Phil was talking to another student. The next week, he wasn’t so lucky. When he tried to duck out, Phil was already waiting for him outside the classroom.
“I haven’t heard from you in a bit,” he said.
Dan shrugged. “I’ve been busy.” It wasn’t a lie. Most of his classes were completely kicking his ass at the moment, and he still hadn’t started the next MP, which was sure to be a completely new level in the history of ass-kickery.
“Classes are catching up to you?”
Dan nodded.
“You seemed stressed at office hours. I hope MP Zero went okay?”
Dan nodded. “I think I just left it a bit late.”
Phil huffed. “That’s a mood if I’ve ever heard one. I’m the world’s worst procrastinator.”
Dan felt that that title should probably belong to him.
“Anyway, I hope you’re doing okay,” Phil said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The first semester of college can be really rough.”
Dan blinked. Was Phil… worried about him?
“Thanks,” Dan said, his voice coming out startlingly watery.
He hadn’t expected Phil to show… genuine concern for him. Maybe he wasn’t just some dumb freshman Phil had picked up out of pity. Phil seemed to… actually care about him.
Phil nodded. “Let me know if you ever want to talk,” he said softly.
Dan nodded, not trusting his voice.
“See you around,” Phil said, patting Dan’s shoulder and moving past him with a quick, almost embarrassed smile.
“Yeah,” Dan echoed to an empty room. “See you.”
***
Dan was determined not to leave the second MP to the last minute. He started it an entire week before it was due.
He downloaded the starter code and read a bit of the documentation, then decided he deserved a break. He picked up his phone and texted Phil.
i’m bored, he said.
Dan barely put his phone down before he got a reply.
Mood, Phil said.
Dan opened the text. He wasn’t even sure how he would reply, but Phil was already typing again.
Where are you?
Dan glanced around his dorm room. dorm, he sent.
Where’s dorm? Phil asked.
Dan settled back into his pillow of blankets. you know where i live, he replied.
I forgot.
Dan laughed. ur the worst friend, he typed.
Just remind me lol don’t mock me like this
Dan wanted to push it further, but he also wanted to know why Phil wanted to know where he was. walton, remember? he sent.
That’s only ten minutes from where I am rn lol, Phil sent back. Wanna meet up?
Dan only hesitated for about ten seconds this time. sure, wya?
Phil sent him the address of the coffee shop where they first met: The Daily Grind.
Dan responded with a thumbs-up emoji. He shoved his feet into his sneakers and left his dorm faster than he would have thought humanly possible.
It was embarrassing, he reflected, how easy it was to get him to go places Phil would be. Maybe he would go to classes more often if he got someone to text him saying Phil would be there ahead of time.
The walk was supposed to be ten minutes. Dan swore the anticipation made it feel like at least twenty, but according to his watch it was actually seven and a half.
He arrived at the coffee shop only slightly out of breath. He saw Phil almost right away, but had to wait ten minutes in line for his coffee before he was able to slide into the seat across from Phil.
“Hey,” he said.
Phil smiled. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“Okay. I got started on the next MP today.”
Phil’s eyes lit up. “Good!” he said. “Not too hard, I hope?”
“Yeah,” Dan said, deciding to quickly change the subject. “What are you working on?”
Phil frowned at his screen. “Thesis things.”
“Writing?”
Phil shook his head. “No, not yet. Just looking at data.”
“Can I see?”
“Sure,” Phil said, turning his laptop around, “But it probably doesn’t mean much to you.”
It didn’t, but Dan nodded anyway. “Nice,” he said.
Phil shrugged. “It’s not really nice at the moment, but thank you.” He paused. “Did you bring anything to work on?”
Dan had his laptop and most of his notes for his classes, so he could work on those, he supposed, but he didn’t want to. “I was hoping we could just hang out. If you’re not too busy, anyway.”
“I could use a break,” Phil admitted, closing his laptop. “What do you want to talk about?”
Dan thought about it for a moment. “Tell me about your thesis topic,” he eventually said.
Phil started. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” said Dan. “Just make sure to explain it to me like I’m three, because in Computer Science years, I am.”
Phil nodded slowly. “So, I’m studying human-computer interaction. Do you know what that is?”
“No idea,” Dan said, sipping his coffee.
“Well, it’s basically- like, we communicate with computers using a keyboard and mouse. Or a touchscreen if you’re on a phone, or a touchpad if you’re on a laptop, or whatever- you get the idea. And mostly that works okay, but what if there were better ways to communicate with your computer?”
“Are there?”
Phil shrugged. “Well, I like to think that what we have now is better than crawling around inside a computer and reconnecting vacuum tubes like they did seventy years ago or whatever.”
Dan nodded.
“But then when you get to weird, complex stuff like AI, it’s like, we could communicate with this the way we communicate with regular computer programs. But we could also do literally everything in the terminal, and we don’t, partly because it’s a pain in the ass and partly because it makes technology super inaccessible to non-tech people.” Phil paused. “Like, could you imagine scrolling through Instagram by running a program in the terminal and putting in a new command to see each photo, and there was a special command to like or comment or share? That’d be a terrible user experience.”
“I don’t even know how to do anything in the terminal,” Dan confessed. “I think the only time I’ve ever opened it is when someone else did it for me.”
“Exactly!” Phil said. “It’s also really unfriendly to beginners. Like, can you even imagine having to program computers in an era where you’d actually have to program in actual machine code? I would die.”
Dan confirmed that, he, too, would probably die under those circumstances. Or just pick a different major.
“So anyway, to make, for example, things like AI more accessible to people without a PhD, or people without any technology background whatsoever, we need to build user interfaces for those. And those user interfaces might not look anything like computers we’re used to. For example, some people are looking into AIs you can communicate with the same way you’d communicate with another person, or computer programs that are controlled by your brain. I mean, they’re a long way away, but I’m actually doing some research with that.”
“That’s… really cool,” said Dan.
“So yeah,” Phil said, messing with his coffee mug. “It’s way more complicated than that, obviously, but that’s the gist of it.”
“Thanks for telling me,” Dan said.
Phil shrugged. “Thanks for listening. I know it’s not really interesting unless you’re already interested.”
Dan shrugged. “I’m interested in you. So it’s interesting.” He realized the way that sounded when the words were just halfway out of his mouth, and he felt blood rising in his cheeks.
Phil’s cheeks colored. He cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he said awkwardly.
Dan tried really, really hard not to die. Luckily, Phil changed the subject. “So, how’s everything else going for you? Like, the not-CS stuff.”
Dan decided not to tell Phil that his life was, in fact, falling apart, and he had no friends. “It’s going okay,” he said. “My classes are honestly really intense, though, I haven’t had much time outside of them.”
“You said you got a start on MP One, though, right? That’s good.”
Dan shrugged. “I cloned the repo.”
“That’s still a start,” Phil encouraged.
Dan shrugged again.
“Feel free to ask for help if you need it. Office hours are basically 24/7, and this time I’m not doing Sunday office hours, so I’ll have some free time then if you want me specifically.”
“I think I’ll be okay,” Dan lied. “But thanks.”
“Yeah, any time,” Phil said, looking down. His phone buzzed and he jumped. “Fuck.”
“What?” Dan asked.
“Sorry,” Phil said. “I have class in fifteen minutes.” He glanced down at his phone. “I mean, it’s just a lecture….” He trailed off.
“No, you should go,” Dan said. “I have class soon too.”
“Yeah,” Phil said, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Sorry. Um, see you soon?”
“Yeah, of course!” Dan said.
Phil hesitated for a bit, leaning towards Dan as if he was going to give him a hug before lurching back again and awkwardly waving goodbye. “Text me,” he said, before leaving.
Dan did, eventually, just not under ideal circumstances. The next week, he sat down to start actually coding for MP1.
He didn’t understand the documentation or the starter code, or what an object was and why it was oriented and programming. In general, as the kids would say, he was not vibing.
He considered texting Helen, but then he remembered how stressed she was before the last MP deadline and thought better of it.
He remembered Phil’s offer to help. He hesitated, but reached for his phone anyway.
i need help, he texted Phil.
Don’t we all, Phil replied nearly instantly. With what?
MP1, Dan said.
We can meet up if you want? Unless your question is pretty basic, then you can just ask now
Even though Phil had offered to help him, a wave of relief crashed through Dan when he realized Phil really meant it. He hesitated. meeting up would be good if you’re not too busy
I’m not! I’m just hanging out at the daily grind all day. Let me know if you want to stop by.
Dan didn’t want to look too desperate for help, but at the same time, he was. i’ll be there soon, he replied. He tossed his laptop and charger into his bag and left the library.
***
“That was fast,” Phil commented when Dan slid into the booth across from him.
“I was nearby,” Dan said.
Phil closed his laptop. “So what do you need help with?” he asked, leaning across the table.
“I think something’s wrong with my constructor,” Dan said.
Phil frowned. “That’s like, half the checkpoint. Can you be more specific?”
“Uhhhh,” Dan said. “So, I think the issue might be that I’m having trouble with the concept of a constructor.”
“Okay,” Phil said. “What part?”
Dan felt his face go red. “All of it?”
Phil sighed. “Can I use your computer?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Phil tilted Dan’s laptop towards him, pulled up a browser and quickly navigated to the course home page, and then the slides for last week’s lecture.
“Here you go,” Phil said, clapping Dan’s shoulder. “Let me know if you have any questions about the notes.”
“Thanks,” Dan said sarcastically. He spent about 15 minutes reading through the slides before switching to watching the lecture videos at two times speed, reaching over to tap Phil on the shoulder and ask questions whenever he reached anything that confused him.
Then, when he finally finished reviewing lectures, he started the MP. It made a bit more sense now. A bit.
After he had written out most of the checkpoint, he ran the test suites, but again, his code wouldn’t compile. It listed a few errors this time, luckily not as many as he had gotten last time he had the missing curly brace. He frowned at his screen, unable to decipher what exactly they meant, before flipping his computer to show Phil and tapping his shoulder.
Phil pulled his headphones off to examine the screen.
“Hang on,” he said. “Are you writing out the entire thing before trying to compile and test it?”
Dan looked up at Phil. “I mean, not the entire thing.”
“But most of it?”
“I guess, yeah.”
“Don’t do that. Run your code literally as often as possible. It makes it easier to tell when you break it. Didn’t they mention that in lecture?”
Dan shrugged. He honestly wasn’t sure what was happening in lecture these days.
“Well, they should have,” Phil said, returning to his coffee. “Anyway, the first two errors are probably telling you you’re missing a semicolon, and it looks like the third doesn’t recognize a variable or method name. Common culprits for that will be typos or forgetting to declare it properly.” He paused to scroll a bit through Dan’s code. “Yeah, just take a look at each error on its own, fix it, try running your code again, and see if it makes it better or worse. And in the future, run your code more often so you’ll generally only have to fix one error at a time.”
Dan groaned.
“Debugging never gets fun, kid.”
Dan wrinkled his nose. “I’m nineteen. Don’t call me kid.” He decided not to comment on the other reason he thought it was weird for Phil to call him kid.
“Sure, kid.” Phil reached over to pat his head. Dan swatted his hand away.
“Oy. Don’t mess up my hair.”
Phil laughed.
“I’m serious. I spend like an hour straightening it every morning. If you mess it up I’ll kill you.”
“Okay, okay,” Phil said, leaning back. He raised his hands in the air. “No hair touchy. See?”
“Good,” Dan said, returning to his work. Occasionally, he stopped to ask Phil questions. Phil was annoyingly unhelpful. He refused to answer half of Dan’s questions, instead redirecting him to google or the documentation.
“It’s my sacred obligation as a tutor,” Phil said. “You’re never supposed to just give people an answer. You have to give them the skills to find the answer themselves.”
“Did you memorize that from a handbook somewhere? That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”
Phil shook his head, looking hurt. “I wrote the handbook we use to train Course Assistants.”
Dan laughed. “Of course you did.”
Phil looked insulted. “Someone had to.”
Dan relented. “I’m sure it’s a great manual.”
Phil sat back, still pouting slightly. “We didn’t have any training procedures before I took over the program.”
“Thank you for your service,” Dan said.
“You’re welcome,” Phil said. “Now get back to work, kid.”
They fell into comfortable silence. Phil put his headphones back on, and Dan slipped his earbuds in.
He was actually making decent progress when Phil interrupted him by pushing Dan’s computer screen down slightly.
Dan looked up.
“It’s getting late. I think I’m going to go back to my apartment,” Phil said.
“Oh,” Dan said. “Okay.”
Phil started clearing his books of their table, then hesitated. “Want to come with?”
Dan’s heart started to beat faster. “Yeah, sure,” he said, doing his best to sound normal.
“I hope that’s not weird. Sorry, I just get my best work done there, and it’s getting close to dinner- if you don’t mind staying for dinner, anyway, we could also grab something on the way.”
“I’m cool with whatever,” Dan said, starting to pack his things.
“Instant ramen it is!” Phil said. “I also have mac and cheese if you’d prefer that. The college staples.”
“Sure,” Dan said. “It beats dorm food. They’re having meatloaf tonight.”
Phil winced. “Is that as bad as it was at my undergrad?”
Dan shrugged his backpack over his shoulder. “Probably. Meatloaf is bad everywhere.”
Phil laughed. “Don’t tell my mom I laughed at that.”
“Why do moms everywhere think meatloaf is so great?”
“I wish I knew,” Phil said. “Maybe I’d be able to get them to stop making it.”
“The one thing technology can’t do,” Dan mused.
“I promise you there’s a Silicon Valley startup dedicated to that somewhere.”
“Really?” Dan asked.
Phil rolled his eyes. “There are dumb silicon valley startups for almost everything.” He stood up. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” said Dan, following.
“My car is in the shop,” Phil explained. “I hope you don’t mind walking.”
“That’s fine,” said Dan, who would never dream of saying anything even if he did mind.
“It’s not too far, just twenty minutes. I normally walk it, actually, since parking on campus is hell.”
“I walk that far all the time. I still haven’t figured out the bus system,” Dan admitted.
Phil laughed. “Wait until it gets cold. You’ll figure it out soon enough.”
“God, don’t remind me,” Dan mumbled. Phil laughed.
They spent the rest of the walk in comfortable conversation. Phil asked Dan about his family, and Dan asked about his in return. Dan told Phil about his younger brother at home in California and his parents who were so insistent that he get his degree. Phil told Dan about his older brother who already ran his own business, was engaged to his girlfriend, and was only a year and a half older than him.
“It’s kind of hard to measure up to that,” Phil said with a slightly bitter laugh. “I mean, I love Martyn, I really do, but I’ll never be like him.”
“Is it your parents pressuring you about it? Or just yourself?” Dan asked.
Phil shrugged. “Mostly me, I guess. It’s nothing they’ve really done, I just… feel like I’m not what they’re supposed to want. Even if they don’t mind.”
“You’re getting your Master’s degree,” Dan said, “In a subject that will actually get you a job after you graduate. That’s better than a lot of people can say.”
Phil was quiet for a moment. “But I’m me,” he said. “I dropped out of my PhD program and my grades in undergrad sucked and I don’t even know why they let me in here. And my parents want me to hurry up and have babies, and I’m, well, gay.” He shook his head. “Sorry, that’s so dumb. I was joking with that thing I said the other day about my mom, they don’t mind. Literally everyone around me is fine, I’m just… not. I don’t know, I can’t imagine someone not being disappointed in me.”
“No,” Dan said. “I get it.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes.
Phil cleared his throat. “That was sad.”
Dan laughed. “If you want sad, we can talk about my relationship with my dad.”
Phil shook his head. “That’s okay. Unless you want to.”
“There isn’t much to talk about. He’s just, y’know. Vaguely a homophobe.”
“I’m sorry,” Phil said. Dan could see the pain reflected in Phil’s eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
“Yeah,” Dan said. “But thanks,” he added more softly.
“Sure,” Phil said.
Dan cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “You mentioned you knew a lot of dumb silicon valley startups?”
Phil laughed. “Luckily, most of the worst ideas never got that far. Mostly, I’m just annoyed about how pushy those people get. I once had a guy try to talk to me about his password manager startup the week before finals while I was in the library trying to study.”
Dan laughed. “Did you let him?”
“That’s the worst part,” Phil said, letting his voice rise to a whine. “I didn’t want to be rude and tell him to go away so I just sat through his entire ten minute pitch. It was awful.”
“Oh no,” Dan said, giggling.
Phil thumped his shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me,” he whined. “It was traumatizing!”
Dan laughed harder.
“Don’t pretend you’d be any different,” Phil reproached.
“You don’t know me,” Dan defended himself. “Maybe I’m secretly super confrontational.”
Phil wrinkled his nose. “Sure, kid.”
“Don’t call me kid,” Dan reproached.
“Sure, child.”
“That’s worse. I will have you know I am a legal adult.”
“Sure you are,” Phil said.
Dan pouted. He didn’t look that young. “I’m not that baby-faced,” he said.
Phil looked skeptical.
“I’m not,” he insisted.
“Sure,” Phil said, smiling. “Anyway, my apartment’s just over here.” He led Dan to a door just a few feet into an alley. He jiggled his key in the lock, pushed his shoulder against the door, and led Dan into in his apartment.
Dan didn’t really know what to expect from a college student’s apartment, but he supposed Phil’s apartment fit the stereotypes. It was small and dimly lit, but mostly clean, with a common area with a sofa and a TV connected to a kitchen and a hallway that Dan assumed led to the bedrooms.
“We can work in my room, if that’s okay,” Phil said. “I don’t want to bother my roommates.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Dan said automatically. Inside, though, he was freaking out. Phil’s room? He was almost 99% certain Phil didn’t mean it like that, but if he did...
Phil must have noticed the look on Dan’s face, because he paused. “Are you sure it’s fine?”
“Yes,” Dan insisted.
“Was it what I said earlier? I was just teasing,” Phil said softly. “You’re not that baby-faced. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.”
Dan’s face felt warm. “No, it’s okay. Sorry, I just-”
“You don’t need to apologize if I made you uncomfortable,” Phil said.
“You didn’t,” Dan said.
“You’d tell me if I did, right?”
Dan shrugged helplessly.
Phil shook his head. “I swear to god.”
“I’ll try,” Dan said.
“Good. Now, do you want to go to my room or do you want to stay in the living room?”
“Your room is fine.”
“Okay,” Phil said, leading Dan through his living room, down a hall, and into his room. He immediately dumped his backpack onto a pile of (hopefully) clean laundry. “Sorry it’s a mess,” he said, clearly embarrassed. “I wasn’t expecting to have anyone over today.”
To be honest, Phil’s room was pretty messy, but Dan wasn’t in a position to judge. Living in a single dorm room without his mom to yell at him to pick up his dirty laundry meant things could get pretty bad in his room.
Phil gestured to his bed. “You can sit here if you’d like. There’s also my desk.”
Phil’s desk was buried under mountains of papers, and it looked like there were some stacked on his chair too. There were way too many papers for someone whose main assignments were submitted via GitHub. Dan sat down on the bed.
“Cool,” Phil said. “I’ll be back in a minute, just going to make the ramen. Make yourself at home.”
Dan was tempted to snoop, but he opened up the MP again instead, staring at his code. He was only failing one test suite now, but he couldn’t figure out why. He checked the time. He only had an hour before he had to submit his code.
He frowned, as if glaring at his code would make it suddenly make sense. He thought he might be making progress when Phil’s door opened, interrupting his thoughts.
Phil handed Dan a mug and a spoon. “Sorry,” he said. “All the bowls are dirty.”
“That’s fine,” Dan said, setting aside his laptop. He could take a few minutes to eat.
It seemed like Phil had the same thought process, sitting next to Dan on his bed with his own mug and bowl. They ate quickly in companionable silence, but Phil was the first to finish, downing the last of his broth and setting it on his desk. Dan followed his lead.
Before Phil could get too absorbed in his own work, Dan tapped his shoulder.
“Can you help me with this for a sec?” he asked.
“Sure,” Phil said, looking over Dan’s shoulder. He paused for a moment, head cocked to the side, before speaking again. “That for loop- why does it only go until the length of the array minus one?”
“Because otherwise-” Dan stopped. “Oh. I was trying to avoid an index out of bounds exception, but I guess I didn’t need to do that there.” He was acutely aware of Phil’s shoulder pressed into his back.
Phil shrugged. “Let’s see.”
Dan changed the code and ran the test suite again.
Slowly, the symbols next to each test case turned green.
Dan stared at it, unbelieving.
“Don’t forget to commit and push,” Phil said.
Dan nodded, still in shock, his hands moving to submit his work almost automatically. “It worked,” he said breathlessly. “It worked!”
Phil closed his laptop and set it aside. “Really,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I was right?”
“Literally shut the fuck up,” Dan said, putting his laptop on top of Phil’s and flopping down so he was lying right next to Phil. “You’re so fucking annoying.”
“Really,” Phil said, laughing into Dan’s shoulder.
“Yes,” Dan groaned, and then Phil’s eyes were right there, so close, and then they were even closer, and their lips were touching, and it was nothing and everything like Dan had imagined.
Phil was warm and soft and solid in his mouth, under his hands, beneath his skin. His hands ran over Dan’s chest, dipped under his shirt. Dan gasped.
“You okay?” Phil asked, his normally light eyes dark with concern and something else.
“Yeah,” Dan said. “Yeah, that felt… really nice.”
“Okay,” Phil said, running his hands down Dan’s arms. “We don’t have to-”
“I want to,” Dan said, gripping Phil back. “Please don’t stop.”
“Okay,” Phil said, and he kissed him again, and this time he didn’t stop.
Afterwards, when the heat and grasping hands were done, Dan sat up, but Phil pulled him back down.
“Don’t go,” he said, wrapping his arms around Dan.
So Dan didn’t.
***
Dan’s alarm was blaring. He shifted, mindlessly, reaching for his phone to turn it off.
He fell out of bed. “Ow,” he mumbled, finally getting his phone to shut up.
Phil’s head poked out from his bedsheets. “Dan?” he asked groggily.
“I have a class,” Dan said, pulling his boxers on.
“It’s so early,” Phil said.
“Yeah,” Dan snapped. “That’s how eight am’s work, Phil.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Phil said, sitting up. “Do you need anything?”
“How long does it take to get to the main quad from here?” Dan asked, yanking his shirt over his head.
“Like half an hour? I can walk you-”
“Fuck,” Dan said, looking at his phone (which was at a disturbingly low percentage). “I’m going to be late.”
“You can skip, Dan, I really want to talk to you-”
“No, I can’t,” Dan said harshly. He was tying his shoes now.
“Okay,” Phil said, “But Dan, we really need to-”
Dan left before Phil could finish his sentence.
***
He wasn’t sure if he should have bothered going to class. All he could think about was Phil anyway. The way his hands felt tangled in his hair. The way his mouth felt on his skin. Certainly not definite integrals.
He had classes back to back until his CS 115 lab. He didn’t even have time to go back to his dorm to change, just to scarf down a quick meal in the dining hall. He hoped no one noticed he was wearing yesterday’s clothes, but who even would? It wasn’t like anyone cared enough about him to pay enough attention.
He considered skipping his lab. He never really got anything out of it, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face Phil possibly ever again.
He checked his grade. Well. No chance of missing lab, then.
He slunk in the back of the classroom and chose the closest seat to the door. He tried not to make eye contact with Phil when he walked in. Phil didn’t even seem to notice Dan. He looked disgustingly put together, Dan thought. He had no right to look like everything was fine.
Phil approached his lab table. Dan looked down.
“Dan?” Phil said. “Can I speak with you after class?”
Dan’s face was hot. He continued staring resolutely at the table. “Fine.”
“You and your boyfriend fighting, Howell?” the guy at the end of his lab table mocked.
“That was inappropriate, Nathan,” Phil said.
Nathan just rolled his eyes. Dan’s face got even hotter.
He didn’t finish his lab. At a certain point, he gave up trying. He was useless at coding, and he was even more useless with Phil standing behind him every time he turned around. He scowled, staring at his screen, willing a solution to appear. He was almost grateful when Phil dismissed the class and he could put his laptop away and give up.
He started to head out the door when he heard Phil’s voice.
“Dan,” Phil said.
Dan turned around, rolling his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
Phil blushed. “I hope you didn’t forget about our meeting,” he managed, flustered.
“How could I forget?” Dan asked, sarcasm lacing his voice.
“Dan.” Phil took a deep breath. “I’m trying to give you some leeway right now, given the situation. But that is not an appropriate way to speak to your TA.”
Dan stared at Phil sullenly.
“Okay,” Phil said. “Dan, you’re not doing very well in this class.”
Dan continued staring.
“I’m not here to encourage you to drop the class or anything. Hopefully this is a temporary setback we can work through. There are a lot of resources available to you as a student of this university. We want you to succeed.”
“That’s nice,” Dan said. “Anything else?”
Phil sighed. “Dan, can we talk?”
“About what?”
“I think you know what. You kind of ran off this morning.” Phil took Dan’s silence as encouragement to keep talking. “Dan, I- I shouldn’t have done that. I’m your TA, and you’re my student. That’s bad enough. But Dan, you’re my friend. I wanted to make sure that everything we did last night… that you were okay with it.”
Dan stared at the ground.
“I would never want to hurt you. But you need to tell me if I did.”
“You didn’t,” Dan said.
Phil relaxed slightly. “I’m glad. But I’m still sorry.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “It was that bad, huh?”
“I just meant- Dan, I really like you. But I can’t do this while you’re my student. I’m sorry. I just can’t. Maybe next semester, if we’re both still interested, but right now, I’m just not comfortable with that.”
“Great,” Dan said.
“Really, I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends.”
Dan’s stomach twisted. “Friends.”
“It’s okay if you can’t do that. It’s okay if you never want to see me again. You can switch lab sections. You can-“
“No,” Dan said. “You’re literally my only friend. I’m not losing you over something as stupid as this.”
“That’s really sweet,” Phil said. “But you really need to get more friends.”
“I know,” Dan said. He did, unfortunately, but knowing he needed more friends didn’t mean it was easy to make them.
“Dan. If we’re going to be friends, I just need you to know I really am sorry. It was my job not to cross any boundaries, not yours, and now I’ve gone and made it all weird.”
“Stop acting like this is all your fault!” Dan exploded. “Stop sitting there fucking apologizing like you did something I didn’t want. I’m nineteen, I knew what I was doing, and if I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t have fucking said I wanted it.”
Phil stared at Dan. “Dan, I- look, I’m just saying-”
“Well, stop.”
Phil raised his hands defensively. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Okay then. I guess we’re done. Unless you have anything else you want to say.”
Dan glared at him. “No.”
“Okay. See you next week, unless you decide to switch lab sections.” Phil reached for his coat.
“Wait,” Dan said. “I have a question.”
“About?”
“Computer Science.”
“Okay,” Phil said, stepping closer to Dan.
“Do you like CS?” Dan asked quietly.
Phil sighed. “It’s, well, it’s a love-hate relationship. And to be completely honest, I hate it more than I love it most days. But when I love it, I really love it. And even when I hate it, I really do believe that software has the power to change the world. And I want to be a part of that change.”
Dan nodded, staring at the floor.
Phil moved even closer. “I know a lot of people go into CS for the wrong reasons,” he continued, even more gently. “It sounds cool or the starting salaries are so high or they want the power to reshape the world in their image. And then they get here and it turns out computer science is hard, and frustrating, and time consuming, and sometimes, it’s just not for them. And that’s okay. It doesn’t make them any less valuable to society or less intelligent.”
Dan stared even more intently at the floor, willing himself not to cry.
“Are you thinking of changing majors?” Phil asked.
“I don’t know,” Dan said, and his voice came out disturbingly watery. “What would I even change it too?”
“You can figure that out. It’s okay if you do. It’s not for everyone.”
“No, it’s not,” Dan said. He blinked and suddenly the tears that he had been trying to hold back rushed out. “It’s not,” he repeated, this time through a sob.
“Dan,” Phil said, reaching for him, then closing his fist on thin air. “I’m really sorry.”
“For the last time, Phil. Stop apologizing.”
“I just want you to be happy, Dan. I hate seeing you like this.”
“That must be really fucking hard for you, Phil. Want to tell me more?” Dan couldn’t help the bitter laugh that spilled from his throat.
Phil watched helplessly. “Computer science is hard, Dan. Especially if this is your first class. Computer science is frustrating and confusing and hard and no one’s code ever works right on the first try and if you’ve never had a breakdown over an assignment you either have incredible time management skills or you’ve only been doing CS for like a month or you’re a liar. And I’m not going to pretend that doesn’t suck, but you come out from it a better version of yourself each time. I’m the programmer I am today because of all of the times I’ve failed.”
Dan couldn’t help the waves of anger that rose up sharp and aching in his lungs. “That’s great, Phil, thanks. Thank you so much for being helpful. Really, it’s all going to be fine, because even though I’m fucking miserable, I’ll be a better person at the end of the day.”
“If you’re really that miserable you should drop,” Phil said.
Dan was silent.
“The drop deadline for CS 115 is in a week,” Phil said. “You have time to think about it.”
Dan nodded and wiped at his face.
“Can I help you with anything?” he asked desperately.
“I don’t think so,” Dan said.
They stood in silence for a few more moments before Dan left. “I don’t think we should talk anymore,” he said shakily, before walking out. Dan didn’t look back, and Phil didn’t follow. He went back to his dorm room, where he was finally able to cry again.
***
The actual moment was rather anticlimactic. The form was less than a page, and all he needed to do for it to be official was get his academic advisor to sign it, which wasn’t difficult, considering his grade in CS 115. Then he uploaded it as a PDF to his student portal and his major change was approved two days later.
Dan expected to feel better afterwards. Somehow, even though this had been sitting like a pit in his stomach for months, he just felt worse.
Without CS 115, his schedule felt weirdly empty. He had gaps in his schedule where he used to go to lecture (sometimes), study, work on the MP, and have mental breakdowns.
He left his dorm more often. He paid more attention in his other classes. He even made a few friends from his film class that he studied with sometimes. They even had time to hang out when they weren’t doing homework. One of the girls in the group probably had a crush on him. Dan supposed she was kind of cute. He didn’t know. He didn’t know much of anything lately, including what the fuck his sexuality was and whether or not he wanted to mess with some girl’s feelings in the process of finding out. And that was without even considering whatever the fuck had happened with Phil- if he was ready to move on from that relationship, if it could even be called that.
Dan filled his life with the things college was supposedly supposed to be about. He went to parties. He spent time with friends. He stayed up too late. He experimented with his look, leaving his hair in its natural, curly state instead of straightening it every morning. He wore clothes that weren’t baggy sweatshirts and jeans. He painted his nails. He even started wearing a tiny bit of makeup.
So why did he still feel so empty? It was probably natural after a breakup, or whatever you were supposed to call what had happened between him and Phil.
Dan had no reference for “normal.” He didn’t know what this was supposed to feel like, but he had a hunch that it wasn’t like this.
He stumbled through his days. He made an appointment with his school’s mental health center, but he wouldn’t be able to see a therapist for at least three weeks. Midterms were coming up, the woman on the phone explained, and they always filled up quickly around then. For now, all he could do was wait.
About two weeks later, he got a text from Phil.
You down for coffee today? I know you said you didn’t want to see me which I totally understand but I really miss you and I want to talk some things over.
Dan wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t even sure if he did want to see Phil again.
idk i have a lot of homework
Phil replied almost instantly. You can bring your homework! I have some work to do too
Dan hesitated.
His phone dinged. We can be study buddies lol. It’ll be fun
Again. If you don’t want to come that’s fine. I just wanted to talk
Dan picked up his phone. sure, he typed, sending it before he could regret it.
Alright! 3:00?
sure, Dan sent again.
Perfect! See you then!
And then Dan had nothing to do but wait.
He regretted not asking Phil to meet up with him earlier than three. Now he was just going to spend the next two hours feeling incredibly anxious.
He tried to work on some homework, but he couldn’t focus. He could feel the same feelings he used to have for Phil bubbling up inside of him again, and he did his best to shove them down. Last time they spoke, Phil had said he wanted them to be friends. He had also had sex with him, so Dan felt Phil was sending a few mixed signals, but that wasn’t the point.
Dan wasn’t even sure what he hoped to gain out of a conversation with Phil. Closure, maybe? Some sort of reconciliation?
He certainly wasn’t hoping for a relationship. Was he? He wouldn’t have agreed to meet with Phil if he didn’t at least want to be friends. Probably.
He let himself imagine it. Just for a second.
He shut his laptop, grabbed his keys, and shoved his sneakers on. He needed a walk. He went through the process of leaving his dorm almost automatically, taking the back staircase instead of the elevator so he wouldn’t have to run into anyone else. Once outside, he shoved his hands in his pockets, doing his best to ignore the chill in the air.
He had put on his angstiest short playlist before he left, but when it ended about half an hour into the walk, Dan’s hands were too cold for him to even consider taking them out of his sweatshirt pockets for long enough to select a new playlist, so he just went back to his dorm, collapsing on his bed. He checked his phone. He still had an hour to go. He glanced longingly at his Xbox.
He probably had time for a quick game, he decided, reaching for his controller.
After just under fifty minutes of Skyrim, he felt much better. He rolled out of his bed, and after messing with his hair for a bit in the mirror, he put his thickest sweatshirt back on and left for The Daily Grind.
He spotted Phil almost immediately, staring at his laptop with two coffees sitting in front of him.
Dan approached.
Phil looked up. “I’ve got our drinks,” he said.
“That was fast,” Dan said.
Phil shrugged. “Maybe I got here ten minutes early to make sure you had your coffee when you got here. Who knows?”
“Thanks,” Dan said, sipping his coffee.
“Yeah, of course,” Phil said, and the way he said it made it sound so much like Dan had done him the favor that he almost believed him for a second.
They sat in silence for a while, before Dan spoke. “I submitted my major change form.”
Phil’s face lit up. “Dan, that’s great! What did you decide to change it to?”
“I was thinking something more arts-based. I’m taking a film class this semester and I really like it. I also really like the idea of creative writing. I don’t know.”
“Well, the good thing about most humanities majors is that it’s way easier to pick up a double major or a minor than in engineering. I actually really wanted to minor in English in undergrad, but I just didn’t have the time.”
“Wow,” Dan said. “How didn’t I know that?”
Phil shrugged. “I don’t talk about it a lot. Everyone has dreams that died, I guess. It’s impossible to fit them all into one life.”
“What if I don’t have any dreams?”
“You’ll figure it out,” Phil said with so much confidence that Dan almost believed him.
“I guess,” Dan said.
They were quiet for a few more minutes. “I dropped CS 115 too,” Dan said.
Phil looked up, his smile slowly growing. “I’m that shitty of a TA, huh?”
“I feel bad,” Dan confessed.
“I always felt bad whenever I dropped a class in undergrad,” Phil said. “I can’t imagine dropping out of an entire major.”
Dan focused on his coffee. “You said you liked being a TA because you liked to help students succeed.”
Phil paused. “I did,” he said. “And I do. It’s probably the most rewarding part of my job, and I’m going to miss it a lot after I graduate.”
“Even after watching people like me fail?” Dan asked.
“Dan,” Phil said. “No. You didn’t fail. You realized a subject wasn’t for you. That’s incredibly different.”
Dan shrugged. He didn’t really want to get into an argument with Phil, but he still felt like a failure, and he wasn’t sure anything could change that.
Phil sighed and changed the subject. “So how have things been going for you?”
Dan filled Phil in on the changes in his life, and Phil talked a bit about what had been going on in his. They avoided any difficult topics, choosing to stick with idle chitchat instead, but the pit in Dan’s stomach was growing.
There were some things he needed to ask. He gathered his courage. “Are you doing anything today?”
Phil looked slightly surprised, but he just shrugged. “Depends why you ask.”
“I’d like to hang out some more. If that’s okay.”
Phil blinked. “Hang out… why?”
Dan shrugged. “You’re really cool and I’d like to be friends with you.”
Phil looked disappointed. “That’s all?”
“Well.” Dan took a deep breath and looked at Phil’s eyes, studied their not-quite-familiar composition of blue and yellow and gold. “Maybe more. If you’d like.”
Phil reached across the table to take Dan’s hand. “I think I would.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a few more moments before Dan spoke. “You know, it’s getting cold out.”
Phil smiled. “It is. You still need that jacket?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Want to head to my place then? You can grab it there, and we can… hang out. Do whatever you want.”
Dan smiled. “Sure.”
Dan left Phil’s apartment the next morning. He forgot Phil’s jacket.
Oh well. He’d just have to come back.
28 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
dollestte
iz
seramarias
Under the Willows
iconsandtvshows
icons & tv shows
cemeterything
LATELY, IF I TRY, I CAN SEE AROUND BLIND CORNERS
