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asahicore · 10 months

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kiwi and layla - sjy

pairing. jake x fem!reader synopsis. in which you mistake jake’s backpack for your own, making you each go home with the other’s bag. both of you are too curious for your own good, so you quickly find out that you excel in the subject the other is failing - a mutual tutoring agreement ensues, and it turns into much more than what you had expected. genre. high school au, f2l, lots of fluff and some angst too, f2l, shy reader x outgoing jake warnings. food & swearing, mention of parent death and divorce, kms jokes, jake being stupid but also really cute (lmk if i've missed any!) word count. 26.3k a/n. this is part of the unexpected collab !!! go check out the other fics and caelin thank u for hosting <333 hope u guys like this one, it took me a while but i had so so much fun writing it !!! i love my jakey in here he's a little bit confused but he's got the spirit. @zreamy thanks for being the world's awesomest beta reader and a decent friend ig... 2 baddies wouldnt be the same without you... lifeguard wet body sunghoon coming soon guys dont miss it! as always pls remember how important reblogs and feedback is for us writers!!! it's what keeps us going <3 enjoy!!

listen to the playlist!

This was not your backpack.

In your defense, it looked so similar to yours - scratch that, it was the exact same as yours - that you couldn’t possibly have been able to tell the difference between the two bags until you’d opened one of them. Just a basic black Eastpak that probably a hundred other kids in your school owned with nothing to tell them apart, because you hadn’t had the mind to add a little something to it and make it recognizable. You hadn’t really needed to - your backpack was always on your back, next to your seat or in your locker. There was no way you might lose it or mistake it with another.

Until today, obviously. Instead of having a chill last class before spring break like every other teacher, your psycho math teacher Mr Choi had decided to give you a major test on this otherwise beautiful Friday afternoon. While other students watched a movie or played Kahoot, you were stuck in a cold classroom with algebra questions in front of you. Mr Choi had argued that this would be better than having a test after the holidays and ruining your time off with studying, but a test was a test, and math was math, so you hated the idea anyway.

To eliminate all cheating possibilities, Mr Choi made his students only take a pencil and eraser with them, leave their bag at the back of the classroom and put their phone in a box he kept on his desk. Plus, with his hawk eyes watching intently, there was no way to sneak answers on a small sheet of paper or even on your palm.

When the test was over, your brain was so fried and you were so eager to get the hell out of there that you didn’t even notice the two identical black backpacks next to each other, you just grabbed the first one you saw, not even questioning that it might not be yours.

And indeed, yours it was not. From your snooping around, you quickly found out it belonged to one Jake Sim.

You knew Jake. Although you’d been attending the same school for the past three years, you could probably count the number of times you’d talked on one hand - but you knew him. Or at least, you knew of him. You knew that he was good at STEM subjects and that he was on the soccer team; you knew he was a really sweet guy and was easy to talk to, even for someone shy like you.

Most importantly, you knew he was friends with Park Sunghoon. This was important because you had liked Park Sunghoon since the moment you’d laid eyes on him - or rather, your whole friend group had. It might’ve sounded extremely odd to others, but you and your friends had a few random people at school you liked to keep tabs on or create backstories for, and Sunghoon, because of his dashing looks that had struck all four of you in your first week of freshman year, was one of your victims. Well, you liked to think of them as characters on a TV show rather than victims, but to each his own. Your other characters included that popular sophomore who already considered herself a celebrity because of her ten thousand followers on TikTok anyway, the French and Spanish teachers you were sure had a thing going on, and that one guy in Yena’s biology class that only showed up every two weeks but always looked stoned (hat guy, Chaewon liked to call him, even you’d never once seen him with a hat on). It was all harmless, really - none of you ever actually went up and talked to them, just discussed them among yourselves.

Perhaps Sunghoon was different, because each of you had had a class with him at some point, so you’d all had at least shared a word with him. You probably hadn’t talked to him more times than you’d talked to Jake, so the information you knew about him was pretty surface-level - he was an ice skater, but everyone knew that, and he was shy like you, which was immediately noticeable. He also had one of the most handsome faces you’d ever seen. But again, everyone who saw him knew that.

You, Yena and Chaewon had debated whether one of you should just go ahead and make a move (Hyewon didn’t participate because she already had a boyfriend, but she was all for approaching the boy). You guessed you could describe what you felt towards Sunghoon as a sort of crush, even if it was one you shared with your friends - you found him cute, and you got nervous when he was around. But you were more the watch-from-afar-and-pine type, so you were satisfied with liking him from a distance. You didn’t think you actually had the guts to strike a conversation with him - that was more Chaewon’s thing.

However, this didn’t mean you weren’t curious about the contents of his best friend’s backpack. Your being shy didn’t mean you weren’t interested in other people’s lives - if anything, you were quite nosy. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but you were just a regular teenage girl, so this was fine, right? After just a few minutes of snooping, you found out Jake Sim wasn’t hiding any big state secrets in his Eastpak, anyway. Just some textbooks, notebooks, and a lot of single sheets of paper. It was pretty messy in there.

Your idea of him being good at STEM subjects was correct - he kept all of his graded tests in the sleeve pocket of his math notebook, and there was not a single one that had received a note under 95. He even seemed to be doing some extracurricular exercises - there were formulae that were completely unfamiliar to you and that you were sure you hadn’t done in class. You found it slightly insane, but that might have just been because you despised math and wouldn’t understand why someone would want to do more of it than was required of them.

His English homework was another story. His essays had more red from the teacher’s pen than his own black ink, and from the grades on his reading comprehension tests, you highly doubted he’d actually read any of the assigned books. You weren’t in the same English class but apparently had the same teacher, Ms Park, so you were studying the same thing. You couldn’t help but cringe as you read his answers on a Pride and Prejudice reading test - he seemingly kept mixing the sisters up, assigning actions and character traits to Lydia that clearly belonged to Jane. At least he somewhat got Darcy right, writing that “he’s probably not as bad as he looks,” with no further explanation.

As you aimlessly flipped through his English notebook, curious about the way he took his notes - or if he even took any - you noticed some scribbles in the margins. Looking closer, some of them were in his handwriting while others were in an unfamiliar one. It looked like some sort of conversation, so you assumed the other writing belonged to his deskmate. You also did this with your friends in classes where the teacher was very strict about no chatting in class.

dude coach said if I fail any of my classes I would be out of the team, you read Jake’s handwriting.

Wait seriously????

yeah and I suck at english so Im scared it might actually happen

You just need to study more bro

bro I DO but this shit is hard

Then find someone to help you

neither of you guys is that good in that subject either tho

Ok ouch but also just find someone else then

bro who

IDK man

Y/N maybe ? she’s good at English and she’s nice so she might say yes

there you go about y/n again dude MAYBE you ask HER to teach you some sonnets

Shut up you’re the one who needs help dumbass

whatever isn’t it weird just asking her randomly though like i dont want her to feel like she has to say yes

Lol if she sees your grades she might do it out of pity

fuck u man

You were surprised to see your own name written there - it felt weird knowing that Jake and his friend were talking about you, for some reason. And what if that friend was Sunghoon? You had a hard time believing he not only knew you existed, but thought of you as good at English and nice. You liked to think both of these things were true.

He was also spot-on about saying you would agree to helping out Jake in those subjects, but what he got wrong was thinking you’d do it out of pity. Clearly, you and Jake were in very similar positions. You didn’t have any sort of club you’d be kicked out of if you failed a class, but it sure as hell wouldn’t look good on your college applications, so you needed to get your math grades up.

Jake and you both desperately needed something the other person could help with, so you had a feeling he wouldn’t turn down the offer that was brewing in your head.

—

This was not Jake’s backpack.

He noticed it right away - it was much heavier than his own and the straps were tighter around his shoulders than they should be. He looked inside for some clues about who it might belong to, and luckily, the first thing he found was a journal that had Y/N’S DIARY written on the cover page in big, pink letters.

Unluckily, however, he’d also noticed that you had practically sprinted out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang, and indeed, you were already far gone when he tried looking for you around school. He had to get to soccer practice anyway, so he put the issue to the side for the time being.

When he got home, he had to shower then have dinner, so it wasn’t until 8 p.m. that he remembered he had your backpack. He had meant to text you straightaway about it, and he knew it was wrong to look into someone’s belongings, but he couldn’t help himself, especially when his best friend Sunghoon had liked you for ages. Maybe this was an opportunity to find out more about you.

Your mind-blowing grades in English don’t come as much of a surprise to him, and after reading through your most recent essay, he thought you definitely deserved them. Your essay was on a Shakespeare play he had never heard of - you apparently also had Ms Park for English, and he didn’t know she was doing Shakespeare in class, so he wondered for a second if you were actually crazy enough to read another book and study it. As if 300 pages of Jane Austen weren’t enough as it was.

What shocked him were your math grades. It was like looking into a fucked-up mirror: while you excelled at English, you sucked at math; while he excelled at math, he sucked at English. You were just as close to failing your math class as he was at failing English.

Now that he thought about it, maybe Sunghoon’s idea hadn’t been so dumb - you could help him out, and he had an actual argument as to why you should, rather than just using pity on you.

As he put your stuff back in your bag, he was reminded of something - your diary. For some reason, the pretty floral pattern on the cover made him feel even worse for opening the journal in the first place, but he did it anyway. Either you’d only just picked up the habit of writing in a diary or you had finished your previous one recently, but this one seemed pretty new, as only about ten pages had been filled with your neat handwriting. Judging from the dates at the top of almost every page, you wrote in there everyday, and Jake only felt even worse that you hadn’t been able to write in it that day.

Still, he flicked to the first page and started reading. And he read and read, unable to take his eyes away from your diary. He thought he wouldn’t have cared much and a page would have satisfied his curiosity, but the way you wrote about the people around you and about yourself fascinated him. Basic high school things like friend drama and annoying teachers actually became interesting through your words. You didn’t use particularly complicated sentences or unheard-of words, on the contrary, you used simple language, and that spoke a lot more to Jake than any of the classics he’d attempted to read for class.

And then, he saw an all too familiar name in an entry dated from just a few days ago.

I sat next to Sunghoon today. It was during physics and both of our desk partners were absent, so Mrs Kim made me change seats. She always does this, and I used to wonder whether she hated to see an empty seat or to see a student sitting on their own, but whatever the reason, today, I was just happy about it. This isn’t our first time sitting next to each other in class, but I was still nervous, since I wasn’t expecting it. I hope he couldn’t feel the awkwardness practically oozing off of me or the way I very obviously struggled with the exercises (obviously, anything to do with math is not my forte). We shared my textbook because he’d forgotten his, and he showed me his notes when he saw I couldn’t keep up with Mrs Kim as she told us what to write down. We only exchanged a few words but I was satisfied when class was over. It’s odd, because you’d think someone would want to talk to the person they like and get to know them more, but I don’t feel that with Sunghoon. Maybe it’s because we’re both so introverted, and he seems to have just as hard a time as I do starting conversations, so I’ve sort of accepted our silent fate. I’m fine just continuing to steal glances at him from across the cafeteria.

After that, there were a few more pages of writing up until yesterday's entry, but it was the only mention of Sunghoon. Jake had apparently been wrong to think that a girl’s diary would be full of rantings about her crush and things along the lines of “omg, he looked at me today”.

But you had very clearly referred to Sunghoon as the person you liked, and Jake wasn’t going to let that go so easily. This was precious information that he held in his hands now, so he had to figure out how to deal with it properly for your sake as well as his friend’s.

Turns out there was more he could help you with than just algebra.

—

Seeing Jake Sim in a setting other than school was slightly odd, if you were being completely honest.

You had just been about to text him about the backpack mix-up when you’d received a message from the man himself, asking if you could meet up the next day to exchange them. In response, you’d asked where you should meet, thinking he’d offer either his house or yours, or some halfway point between them, but he surprised you by proposing some café in the center of town. They have good hot chocolate there, he’d said, and that had been enough to convince you.

And also I have something I want to talk to you about.

Your stomach had turned at this message - what on Earth could Jake Sim need to discuss with you had been your first thought, and then you realized you also had plans you wanted to share with him. So his idea of going to a café was actually good for you, too.

You’d only been waiting for about five minutes when he appeared at the café, red and panting from seemingly sprinting to his destination.

“Y/N, I’m sooo sorry,” he immediately said when he saw you waiting. “I was planning to be early, but when I got on the bus I realized I literally forgot your bag, so I had to go back but the next bus wasn’t for another twenty minutes so I just ran the whole way here, and now I’m all sweaty, and I’m late, and I’m really sorry.”

He’d rushed through his sentence and was breathing heavily as he looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer. He seemed so genuinely sorry for such a small thing that after your surprise faded, you started laughing. It was his turn to be surprised, and he immediately stopped talking at the sound of your soft giggles.

“It’s okay, Jake. I haven’t even been waiting five minutes,” you explained, smiling. “Let’s just go in, yeah?”

Jake’s heart did something weird just then, and the feeling was so unfamiliar and confusing that he decided to promptly ignore it. As if in a daze, he stood still for a couple of seconds until the sound of a bell ringing, the one the café had on its doors to signify the entrance or exit of a customer, snapped him out of it. He followed you into the shop, let you order and pay for you both (“I’m the one who took the wrong bag, it’s the least I can do,” you’d said) and sat across from you at a booth in the back.

You gave each other your respective bags back, then started chatting as you sipped on your hot chocolates (Jake had been right - they really were delicious). He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and whether he sensed you were a reserved person or was just naturally talkative, you liked that he both managed to do most of the talking and ask you loads of questions at once. Usually, you wouldn’t have really cared to listen to someone go on and on about their passion for soccer and the recent game that their team had won, but for some reason, you were hooked on Jake’s every word. The way his eyes widened in excitement as he recounted the winning goal he scored, the way the volume of his voice decreased as he filled you in on the team gossip even though no one was listening to your conversation, the way his grin turned into a proud smirk as he mentioned his coach congratulating him - every single one of his actions had you mesmerized. You’d never seen anyone so expressive in their speech, never seen anyone punctuate every sentence with a movement or a facial expression. It was just fun, listening to him.

Even when he didn’t talk, he stayed expressive. He asked you whether you did anything outside of school, and he listened intently as you told him about the theater group you’re in, humming and nodding and laughing at all the right moments. Usually, you wouldn’t have talked about it for more than thirty seconds, afraid to bore others with unnecessary details, but Jake’s reactions and the questions he asked made you actually feel listened to and like what you were talking about was interesting. So you grew more confident and told him what you loved about acting and about theater, about your own gossip (the arrogant actress who got the lead role and thought she was better than everyone else, that one guy who was clearly flirting with three girls at the same time), and you almost couldn’t believe Jake seemed so entertained by your stories.

“So, you said your group focused on more classic plays, right? Does that mean you’re good at English Lit?”

With his spoon, Jake scooped some whipped cream into his mouth, hoping he was appearing as nonchalant as he was trying to be. He had to make you think he’d deduced that just now and not because he had been snooping through your backpack just the night prior.

You, however, could not have cared less how he’d figured it out - you were just grateful he had segued into this topic of school and grades, because you’d been wanting to bring it up yourself but had no idea how.

“Um, yeah, actually, it’s my best subject. Math, on the other hand…”

You chuckled as his eyes widened and he leaned in across the table, pointing his spoon at you as he spoke. “See, that’s interesting, because math is my best subject, but I suck at English Lit.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, trying to sound genuinely surprised even though this piece of information was not at all new to you.

“Yeah,” he said, looking back down at his almost-finished drink with a small smile on his face.

“You know-”

You and Jake had spoken at the same time, and your eyes locked for a second before you started laughing. You gestured at him to go on first.

“I actually need pretty urgent help in English. Coach said he’ll put us out of the team if we fail even just one of our courses, and I’m very close to failing that class.” He took a moment to let out a sigh. “So, if you want, we could help each other out. Me with math, and you with English.”

His eyebrows were slightly furrowed and he bit his lip as he looked at you expectantly. You thought he looked far too nervous for such a simple request, expression more like a boy who’d just asked his crush to the prom rather than offering mutual help you both desperately needed. You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips - you had never known Jake Sim to be so… cute. But he was waiting for an answer, so you pushed the thought out of your head.

“That’s a great idea, actually,” you replied, as if you hadn’t had the exact same idea. You were just relieved you hadn’t even had to bring it up yourself. “I also really can’t afford to fail math. It would look terrible on college applications.”

Jake let out a long, loud exhale. “God, yeah, college, I hadn’t even thought of that. Even more motivation to get better grades now,” he said with a chuckle.

You chuckled along, then cleared your throat and sat up straighter. You watched with amusement as Jake mirrored your actions and even the fake serious frown in your brows. You presented your hand for him to shake, which he did without hesitation.

“So it’s a deal then. We’ll tutor each other until we’ve gotten our grades up.”

“Deal,” he replied. As you both withdrew your hands, he dropped his serious facade and burst into giggles, a sound you hadn’t expected from the boy but somehow fit him well. You watched his face closely for a second, noticing the curl of his lips and the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, before breaking into laughter yourself.

You stayed in the café for another half hour, going over details of where and when you’d meet, of what exactly you needed help with (“Everything,” you’d said, to which Jake had replied “Same”), and just talked some more.

“I’m taking the 53 that way,” Jake said when you exited the café, pointing towards the bus stop.

“Oh, so am I!” you exclaimed.

“Seriously?! What’s your stop?”

And that’s how you and Jake figured out you only lived two bus stops away from each other.

“That’s so cool! It’ll make it easy to meet up then,” he said, and you hummed in agreement. After a pause, he added: “But if we live so close to each other, how come we didn’t go to the same schools earlier? Aren’t you usually supposed to go to the one in your district?”

“I used to live in another part of town,” you explained. “Then my parents divorced when I was in middle school, and I stayed with my dad because he lived closer to the school I was at, but I moved to my mom’s place for high school.”

“��Cause she lives closer?”

“Yeah, basically.” There was more to it, but you didn’t think Jake would be particularly interested in your parental issues - although you surprised yourself for even considering telling him. If Jake sensed that you weren’t saying everything, he didn’t push, just swiftly changed the topic as you waited for the bus to come.

When you got home some time later, the first thing you did was open your diary and start writing. It had felt wrong not to write in it even just for a day, so it was a relief to feel the pages between your fingers and the familiar scent of the paper and your perfumed pen. You wrote without thinking too much, simply letting all of your musings out into your diary and freely brushing the tip of your pen across the pages.

You didn’t ever reread your entries right after writing them, but if you had that day, you might have noticed all you could write about was the boy you’d drank a hot chocolate with.

—

Spring break week passed by far too quickly, and it was on the first Monday back at school that you and Jake met again. He had soccer practice on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, while you had theater rehearsals on Thursdays and Saturdays, so you’d agreed to meet up every Monday and Wednesday after school. Since his mother worked as the school nurse, she drove him to and from school everyday - so on Monday, you met Jake in front of the nurse’s station, waiting for his mom to wrap things up before she drove you both to their home.

You had been surprised to learn that the kind nurse that never asked too many questions and always let students take a nap if they didn’t feel well was Jake’s mom, but upon reflection, it made sense. Once you knew, it was almost obvious that she had raised him - they shared the same friendliness, the same comforting smile and the same ability to make conversation. The whole ride home, she asked you about yourself and thanked you for agreeing to tutor “our little Jakey,” because “God knows he needs the help.”

You couldn’t help but laugh when a blush crept on Jake’s face and he looked out the passenger seat window with an embarrassed frown, muttering something like “Thanks a lot, Mom.”

She noticed his reaction and laughed along with you. “I’m just saying, Jakey-poo. It’s good to know to ask for help when you need it,” she cooed, reaching a hand out to ruffle his hair. This only made Jake groan loudly and hide his face in his hands. You didn’t know Jake very well, but this flustered, red-faced side of him was definitely one you liked seeing.

The first thing that greeted you when you reached Jake’s house was a happy welcome home bark.

“You have a dog?!” you exclaimed, unable to reel your excitement in.

“Yeah! This is Layla,” Jake said, giving energetic rubs to the Border Collie that made her whole body shake side-to-side but that she seemed to thoroughly enjoy.

“Hi, Layla,” you cooed, crouching down to her level to let her sniff you. She decided you were a person worthy of petting her. “She’s so cute!”

“I think she likes you,” Jake said, a grin on his face, as he watched Layla presenting her belly to you and asking for scratches there. “Do you have a dog?”

“We have a Corgi at home. And a cat, too.”

“That must be fun,” Jake chuckled. “Do they get along?”

“Depends. They have a bit of a love-hate relationship.” You looked up at Jake, and it was uncharacteristically quiet as you locked eyes for a couple of seconds. You both looked away at the same time, surprised by the sudden eye contact.

You gave Layla one last rub and lifted yourself up. “Um, should we get started?”

Jake paused for a second as if he’d forgotten what you were here for in the first place, then started nodding his head quickly. “Right, yeah. Let’s go to my room. Downstairs is just one big room and my mom will probably watch TV or make dinner or something, so it might be distracting…” he explained, lightly scratching the back of his neck. It seemed like he was embarrassed to be bringing you to his room, which you couldn’t help but find endearing.

“Okay, sounds good,” you said with a smile, hoping it’ll reassure him.

You followed him up to his room, ignoring his complaints as you lingered on the framed photos on the wall next to the stairs and giggled at his baby pictures.

“Do not look at those,” he said with a warning tone that didn’t scare you in the slightest. When you didn’t listen, he grabbed your hand that had been pointing at a photo of baby Jake in the bathtub and forced you to keep walking.

“Why?” you asked, a slight whine to your voice.

“‘Cause it’s embarrassing! I was an ugly baby.”

“What?! You were so cute!”

“Whatever. I’d rather study English than talk about this, and that’s saying something.”

When you looked at Jake, you were surprised to find that he actually seemed upset about this. You weren’t sure what was so wrong with looking at his baby pictures, but the last thing you wanted to do was make him mad, so you stayed quiet and continued your way to his room. Once there, although you were infinitely curious about all the posters, pictures, figurines, trophies, and other small tokens of Jake’s life, you didn’t ask him about any of them, just sat next to him at his desk and opened The Picture of Dorian Grey, the book you had both been studying in Ms Park’s class.

You’d agreed on spending forty-five minutes on English, have a small break, then spend forty-five minutes on Math. It wasn’t a lot, but you both had other homework and things outside of school you needed to do, so you’d decided to start out that way and see if it worked out.

You were glad to see how seriously Jake was taking this - he listened intently to what you said and asked questions when he didn’t understand something. You quickly figured out that what he didn’t like about English Literature was that the answers weren’t as straightforward or as logical as they were in math, and even worse, that multiple answers were possible depending on the reader’s interpretation.

“It just all feels like a guessing game,” he said, resting the side of his head on one of his palms. “How am I supposed to know what this dude meant? And if it can be analyzed in different ways, how can Ms Park tell me the way I understand it is wrong?”

“It’s all about the way you justify it,” you explained. “You can’t just say whatever. Ms Park will look out for how you use the text to support your answers.” You then went on to pick out a specific part of the book, asking Jake to analyze Dorian’s mindset in that scene.

“He sounds like he’s going insane,” Jake said flatly when he was done reading, getting a chuckle out of you.

“Exactly. How do you know that?”

“I don’t know, just the words he uses,” Jake replies, shrugging.

“Okay, underline those words,” you instructed gently. Jake sighed, but he complied.

“There.”

“Good. What can you say about those words?” When Jake just looked at you like a lost puppy, you reformulated your question. “What do they have in common? What type of words are they? Are they common nouns, verbs…”

Jake looked back at the words he’d underlined on the page. “They’re… adjectives?” he said, tone unsure.

“Exactly!”

Jake paused. “So?”

“So now you can say that the author uses many adjectives to convey the gradual loss of sanity of the main character.”

“Oh.”

When you looked at Jake, he wore an expression like the words on the page were finally starting to make sense to him. “That’s the content. You can also look at the structure. See how many punctuation marks there are? Commas, semi-colons, question marks… It’s like he keeps cutting himself off. His thoughts are all over the place.”

Jake nodded slowly. “So, I just need to look out for things like that?”

“Basically, yeah. And the more you practice, the more these things will stand out to you. It actually becomes somewhat repetitive sometimes.”

Jake let out a shaky breath. “That’s actually relieving to hear,” he said with a chuckle.

Thirty minutes passed by like this as you showed Jake ways to make sense of a literary text. When the timer rang, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out wide with a sigh. He put his hands behind his head and let it hang back, and the way your stomach flipped at the sight of his exposed neck and Adam’s apple made you look away immediately. You could barely meet his eyes as he turned his head to look at you, still in that same position, and, with a smirk, asked if you were ready for some snacks.

You gulped, trying to look as normal as possible. “Uh, yeah, sure!”

Downstairs, Jake presented you with all sorts of snacks - there were so many, you felt like you were in a convenience store. This was worlds away from your ingredient-only household. You opted for some biscuits and a banana while Jake made himself a bowl of cereal. A very distracting ten-minute long argument then ensued about the order of milk and cereal - horrifyingly, Jake poured his milk before his cereal. You thought it was a myth that some people actually did it that way, but Jake very proudly defended his choice.

“I bet you eat pizza with pineapple on it, too,” you said half-jokingly, only for your joke to punch you right back in the face.

“Duh,” Jake answered.

You could only shake your head in defeat. “Let’s just get back to studying before I murder you.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Jake said, laughing. “That’s harsh.”

“And you’re a freak,” you retorted, a grin blooming on your lips.

“You know, you remind me of my friend Jay,” Jake mused as you walked back up the stairs. “He has so many of these small battles that he just won’t let go of. He got super worked up over an argument about mint chocolate chip ice cream once.”

“Let me guess, you like that ice cream?”

Jake shrugged. “It’s not my favorite, but I’ll have it once in a while.”

“God, Sim, you just get worse and worse.”

You sat back down at his desk and started eating. “I bet you think I’m weird for liking math too, right?”

“That’s the worst offense of them all.”

Jake’s sudden quietness caught you off guard. When you turned your head to look at him, he was already gazing at you with a smile and a sort of thoughtful glint to his eyes, resting his chin on his palm. It sounded like he was thinking out loud when he spoke next. “Guess we’re perfect opposites of each other. Like two peas in a pod!”

The realization of what he’d said dawned upon him as soon as the words left his mouth. He slowly lifted his head as his eyes widened. “I don’t mean- just, you know, since you’re good at English and I’m good at math, and- you know… I didn’t mean it in a weird way, or anything…”

His eyes kept glancing back and forth between you and his bowl of cereal, as if he was scared of looking directly at you but wanted to check your reaction.

As a smile grew on your face, you kept your eyes trained on your biscuits so he wouldn’t see your flustered expression. But when you looked at him again, he held your gaze, mouth slightly agape. You didn’t have it in you that he had gotten the idiom completely wrong. “I know, don’t worry.” You chuckled. “We are opposites of each other. You just better be as good at teaching math as I am at teaching English,” you teased.

You watched as a smirk tugged one corner of Jake’s lips up and he raised an eyebrow. “Who said you were good at teaching English?”

You gasped. “You said you understood better now!”

Jake’s smile softened as he giggled. “I’m just teasing. You are a good teacher.”

You sat up straighter at the compliment, a proud smile on your face. “Your turn, Mr Sim. I’m all ears.”

“Right,” he said, mirroring your posture. “Shall we start by going over Mr Choi’s test from last week?”

Your smile dropped instantly at this. Reluctantly, you fished your graded paper out of your bag. You already knew Mr Choi was a psychopath, but you still didn’t understand where he found the will to grade thirty papers over the weekend. You avoided Jake’s gaze as you handed him your test with a big, red, circled D- at the top.

You cringed as Jake sighed. “At least it’s not an F, right?” he said in what you could tell was an attempt at reassurance but somehow only made you feel worse. He looked over your answers quickly, trying to find what in particular you struggled with. “All right. Let’s start from the beginning, yeah?”

For the next forty-five minutes, Jake went over each test question with you, breaking them down and explaining how to solve them in a way you understood. The words he used were so much clearer than the half-assed explanations you were used to from Mr Choi, and for once, math actually made some sort of sense. Your brain still felt broken after almost an hour of numbers and greek letters, but at least, you felt smarter rather than dumber at the end of it. You had never been more grateful for the sound of a phone alarm than the one signaling tutoring was over.

“That wasn’t half-bad, right?” Jake asked with a wide grin.

You felt so tired, you could probably pass out right then and there, but Jake looked so proud of himself after you had been able to complete an exercise correctly on your own that you didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. “Right,” you replied, mirroring his grin. “You’re an okay teacher, I guess.”

He jokingly glared and tutted at you, but you both laughed right after. “I need to walk Layla, so I can walk you home, if you want?” he offered as you started packing your things. His words had an uncertain tone to them, as if he wasn’t sure you’d still want to spend time with him after this - but it only took you a second of thinking to realize you’d rather continue hanging out with him than going home on your own.

“Sure! I need to walk Kiwi too, actually.”

“Your dog’s name is Kiwi?!”

“Yes,” you said, chuckling at his fascinated tone.

“That’s an adorable name.”

“Thanks, I chose it.”

“Oh, then I take it back. Worst name I’ve ever heard for a dog.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, lightly hitting him on the head with your math notebook, making him raise a hand in self-defense as he laughed.

“Sorry, sorry. Does your cat also have a fruit name?”

A pause. “Mango,” you mumbled, and he immediately burst into laughter again. You side-eyed him as you zipped up your bag.

“Wow, you have amazing taste in pet names, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you said, laughing along. Then you realized something, and you suddenly stopped laughing, looking up at Jake with wide eyes that made him slightly start to panic. “Oh my God, Jake, are our dogs going to meet?”

“Our dogs are going to meet,” he echoed in a sort of fascinated whisper. You both understood the other - dogs becoming friends was the cutest thing ever.

“Let’s go,” you whispered back excitedly.

When you reached the living room downstairs, you bid Mrs Sim goodbye, then went to the entrance to put your shoes back on. “You two sure get along well,” you heard her say to her son with a suggestive tone. Even though she had dropped the volume of her voice, the door was wide open and there were only a few meters between you, so you’d heard her loud and clear.

“Geez, Mom,” Jake groaned, seemingly irked by his mom’s insinuation.

“It’s just you’ve never brought a girl home, Jakey-”

“Okay, we’re leaving now! Layla, come!”

You hadn’t even realized how wide you were grinning until Jake saw you tying your shoelaces and grumbled “What are you smiling so hard for.”

“Nothing,” you giggled, and your smile grew as you watched a grin break through his pretend-upset expression.

You sighed contentedly as you stepped outside, letting the crisp early April air hit your face. You tightened your scarf around your neck and buried your hands in your pocket and you and Jake started walking side by side, Layla happily leading the way. The streets were fairly quiet at this time of day, save for the yells of children still playing in their backyards before dinner and a few cars of people coming home late from work.

Only the first five seconds of the walk were silent, until you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. “So, never brought a girl home, huh?” you asked with a teasing smirk.

Jake let out an offended scoff and looked up to the sky as if God could help him out of this one. Sadly, He didn’t, so Jake had to find an answer himself. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Why not?”

Pouting, Jake spared you a sideway glance. “Because you’re a girl,” he replied, voice lowered to a mumble.

You chuckled at this. “Very astute observation, Jake.”

“No, I- Ugh,” he groaned before laughing along with you. “I don’t need a girl to know how bad I am with- well, with girls.”

“I can help with that,” you said before you really thought about it. “I mean, I’m not a love expert by any means, but I can maybe give, I don’t know, pointers or something if there’s someone you like-”

“There’s no one I like,” Jake quickly cut in. “Um, not right now, at least.”

“O-okay,” you replied, nodding. “That’s fine.”

“What about you? Do you like anyone?”

As Jake asked the question, he realized he already knew the answer - you liked Sunghoon. How could he forget?! Half of his plan had been to make you get closer to his friend, but he hadn’t even started thinking about that yet. In his defense, he’d come up with that plan three days ago.

Your answer surprised him. “Um, no, me neither. Not right now, at least,” you said, repeating his words with a smile on your face. You locked eyes for a second before looking away at the same time, chuckling.

“Right,” he said. He knew what he had read in your diary, so maybe you were just too shy to admit you had a crush on his friend of all people.

An unexpected awkwardness settled between the two of you, and you more than anything wanted it to go away. Even though it’d only been a few days since you and Jake had started getting to know each other, you already felt comfortable enough to be yourself around him, and it usually took you weeks before reaching that level with anyone. This hadn’t happened since you met Yena and Hyewon at the beginning of high school - they had been friends since middle school, and so had you and Chaewon, and when the four of you met, you had instant chemistry. But maybe it was slightly too early to start talking about crushes with Jake.

For once, you were the one to break the silence - you asked him whether he knew what he wanted to do after school. Basic question, but you were genuinely curious.

Looking a little bashful, he confessed his dream had always been to be a math teacher and soccer coach at a middle or high school. You told him he already had the talent for it, and when he blushed at your words, you made sure to tease him for it.

“I’m not sure yet,” you said when he returned the question. “I know I wanna go to college and continue doing English Lit and theater there, but that’s about it.”

“That’s already good enough,” Jake said with a smile. “Still got time to figure out what comes after, right?”

You naturally mirrored his smile - there was something contagious about Jake’s puppyish grin that made it hard not to smile yourself. “Right.”

The three of you reached your house quickly after that. Your mom still hadn’t come home from work, so Kiwi was even more excited than usual for your arrival home. You and Jake watched fondly as your dogs sniffed each other for a few seconds before starting to run around together. The fact that they got along made you really happy, perhaps unreasonably so, and you started bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet as you watched them play. “Our dogs are friends!” you exclaimed excitedly.

When you turned to look at Jake, he wasn’t watching the dogs like you had been - he was gazing straight at you, eyes soft with something that made your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t look away, and it was only after a few seconds that he seemed to snap out of the sort of daze he was in. He cleared his throat and you finally tore your eyes away from him.

“Let me just- Kiwi! I need to put his leash around him,” you said, speaking quickly to dissipate the weird atmosphere as best as you could. You led Jake down the path you usually took with Kiwi that led to a park in your neighborhood, and you were relieved when normal conversation started again.

Jake insisted on walking you back to your house even though he had left his earlier. He made a whole show of not going until you’d walked inside and closed the door, so you’d rushed to your window to shout his name and wave goodbye at him, which made him laugh.

You turned back to Kiwi when Jake and Layla had turned a corner and you couldn’t watch them anymore. “Are you happy you made a new friend, Kiwi?”

The Corgi barked happily at you in response - probably more at hearing his name than because he understood your question, but still, you liked to think you could communicate with your dog on such a level. You chuckled and took him in your arms. “Me too.”

—

Apparently, you couldn’t even wave to someone in the hallway without being interrogated about it anymore.

“Y/N, did you just say hi to Jake Sim?” Chaewon asked like you’d just insulted her whole family.

It was 10 a.m. on a simple Tuesday morning, the day after Jake and you had studied together for the first time, and you’d just walked past the boy - so of course, you said hi to him. Maybe, your heart started beating slightly faster when you’d noticed him approaching. Maybe, it was nice to be on the receiving end of his friendly grin.

“Yes?” you replied, sentence coming out more like a question.

“Since when do you say hi to Jake Sim?!”

“Since today, I guess.”

“But why?!” She’d raised her voice so much, you’d gotten strange looks from other students in the hallway.

“I told you!”

She shook her head slowly at you as if to say, No you didn’t!

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Chaewon and her early onset short-term memory loss. “The backpack thing? And agreeing to tutoring each other? I wrote to the group chat about this!”

“Oh, that! Of course I remember that,” she said, even though you knew she had forgotten about it and remembered it just now. “So, has that started already?”

You reached the classroom for your next class and sat down in your usual seats next to each other, waiting for the teacher to arrive. Busy hallways like these were the perfect place for gossip, because they were loud and nobody paid attention to others’ conversations. “Yeah, yesterday afternoon.”

Chaewon gasped. “And you didn’t tell us?!”

“Will you quiet down? I was going to see and tell you guys today anyway.”

“Okay, so, tell me about it.”

“But-”

“Tell. Me.”

You wouldn’t see Yena and Hyewon until lunch in two hours, and you knew Chaewon didn’t have the patience to wait until then. So you sighed again and obliged, telling her about your afternoon with Jake in every detail you could remember, because she would ask about insignificant things anyway.

To your surprise, the first thing she said when you were done talking was this: “Y/N, do you like Jake?”

Your mouth opened slightly in shock at the question, but before you could even retort, you started giggling. “No, I don’t,” you said in a way that sounded like you very much did.

“Oh my God! You so do!” Chaewon said, giggling along with you. “You whore, you’ve only talked to him, like, twice,” she joked.

You gasped fake-dramatically and slapped her arm. “Oh please, look at Hyewon and Jaemin, they started dating after a week of talking.”

“Yes, and they’ve been going one year strong, so clearly, you need to ask Jake out and get this over with. You’ll get a boyfriend and a math tutor all-in-one, it’s a perfect deal!”

“Don’t get too carried away, okay? Jake and I are friends. Like you said, we barely know each other right now.”

You meant this - sure, you had had a really good time with Jake both times you saw him, and you were looking forward to your next tutoring session, but you chalked it up to the excitement of making a new friend. Plus, barely last week you felt some sort of way towards his best friend - wouldn’t it be weird to practically transfer your feelings from Sunghoon to Jake?

“Whatever. Yena and Hyewon are gonna freak when I tell them,” Chaewon said excitedly.

You shook your head at your friend but couldn’t keep down the amused grin on your face. “You guys are insane.”

“Oh please, like you’re not the president of our Park Sunghoon fanclub. I can’t believe you’re leaving us for his best friend!”

“Hey, if anything, less competition for you, right?”

Chaewon opened her mouth to say something, but the teacher arrived, starting the lesson before having even put her bag down - Mrs Lee always arrived late but never wasted a second of class when she was in the room. Your friend resorted to sticking her tongue out at you instead, and you chuckled at her childishness as you opened your History notebook.

—

Jake was a complete, total, utter idiot. His plan had consisted of two things only, and he’d somehow managed to forget one of them, even after talking about it with you, albeit vaguely. It had taken him two weeks and one Park Sunghoon to even remember it.

Between Jake’s soccer practice, Sunghoon’s ice skating practice and Jay’s being away at boarding school, the three friends only had one night every week on which they were all free - Friday night. So, every Friday, they planned some sort of hang out at one of their houses and gamed or watched movies all night.

Kinda like date night, but for bros.

This was one of those bro nights; namely, the one in the second week of you and Jake tutoring each other. The boys had decided to go to the burger joint they like that night and were in the middle of a french fry fight when Sunghoon mentioned your and Jake’s new friendship.

“So, Jake… what’s up with you and Y/N?”

Jake halted in his motions, redirecting to his mouth the fry he was about to throw at Jay. “Nothing’s up with me and Y/N. What makes you say that?”

“Just, you know, you seem like you’ve become actual friends. Talking in the hallways and walking your dogs together and whatnot.”

“Y/N as in Y/N? Sunghoon’s Y/N?” Jay said, halfway through a bite of his cheeseburger.

“She’s not my Y/N-”

“Yes, Y/N as in Y/N, you idiot,” Jake cut in. “And like you said, we’re friends.”

“Is she the girl you posted some BeReals with?” Jay asked, and Jake nodded. “She’s pretty! No wonder Sunghoon likes her so much.”

Sunghoon sighed as he let his head hang low. “God forbid I find a girl cute, because I’ll mention it once, two years ago and you guys make me out to be in love with her.”

“Sunghoon, you act like girls don’t exist, so of course when you not only mention a girl, but describe her as cute, that means you’re in love with her!”

“But I’m not! We were literally having a whole conversation about girls, I happened to see Y/N and her friends from far away, I said she was cute, and now you guys won’t let me live it down. Jay, you weren’t even there!”

“Yeah, but the way Jake told me about the whole thing, it really sounded like you liked her.”

“Why would you trust Jake to relay something like this correctly?!”

Jay paused and tilted his head. “You have a point there.”

“Hey!”

“So you don’t, like… like her, or something?” Sunghoon asked, looking at his friend as he sipped on his Pepsi.

This made Jake stop. Did he like you? Wasn’t the fact that he was considering it sign enough? Surely, if there was nothing there, he would have answered no right away.

But there was no use thinking about it. You liked Sunghoon. And as much as he liked to deny it, Jake knew Sunghoon liked you, too. After two years, there was finally an opportunity for the two of you to get closer - Jake wasn’t about to get in the middle of that. If anything, he should help his friends out. Then, when you and Sunghoon eventually got married, Jake would have the honor of saying it was all thanks to him in his best man’s speech.

“No, I don’t. Don’t worry, Hoon, I’m not gonna steal your girl away from you.”

“Again, she’s not my girl-”

“Whatever you say. I’ll introduce you guys.”

Even if Sunghoon didn’t think he liked you yet, Jake knew it was just a matter of time - his friend just needed to spend a few hours with you to realize he did. You were pretty, smart, funny, nice, had the sweetest laugh he’d ever heard, got along with dogs, and even though you sometimes had weird opinions, it was always fun, talking to you. It was easy and comfortable. Anyone with taste would fall for you.

Anyone, except for Jake, of course.

—

For the past three weeks, you and Jake had gotten along perfectly, but today, on this bright Tuesday afternoon, you really wanted to strangle him.

When he’d invited you to come and watch him at soccer practice, you’d been surprised, but happy - usually, you invited people to watch an actual game, not just practice. But you were just glad for the opportunity to spend more time with him.

Without realizing it, you were giddy with excitement the whole day, counting down the minutes until classes were over and Jake’s practice started. Jake had told you to just head to the bleachers while the players got ready in the locker room, but when you reached said bleachers, someone was already sitting there, looking at something on their phone. You recognized him immediately as Sunghoon. He didn’t notice you right away, so you had time to wipe the surprise off of your face - you hadn’t thought anyone came to watch practice, but Sunghoon was probably here for Jake, just like you.

“Hey,” you said quietly as you sat down next to him. Even though you were technically still on school property, this was the first time you saw Sunghoon outside of somewhere like a classroom, a hallway or the cafeteria. You weren’t as nervous as you thought you’d be, seeing him unexpectedly like this.

You chuckled when Sunghoon started at your sudden arrival. “Oh, hey, Y/N,” he said, chuckling too, albeit somewhat awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t hear you coming.”

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile as you sat down next to him on the bleachers. You didn’t know what sort of distance was appropriate between you two, if you should sit close or far, but you stopped yourself before you could overthink something as trivial as that. Neither of you said anything for a few seconds and you wished practice had started before you got here, so that you’d have something to look at other than an empty field.

You broke the silence before it became too uncomfortable. “So, do you come watch Jake often?”

You’d been fiddling with your hands as you spoke, only turning your head to look at Sunghoon as you awaited his answer. Your eyes didn’t even meet for a fraction of a second before he whipped his head to look at the field, as if unable to look at you and talk at the same time. At least he had a nice side profile for you to look at.

“Um, just on Tuesdays. I have ice skating practice after this, so I come here first, then he comes with me to the rink,” he replied. He glanced at you, lips pressed into a thin line that somewhat resembled a smile and that pushed dimples into his cheeks. You simply hummed in response.

“What about you, how come you’re here?”

“Jake asked me,” you replied. Sunghoon let out a long “oh” as he nodded, turning his head back towards the field again. You didn’t think you’d ever had such a slow conversation. It was like you and Sunghoon both repeated your words ten times over in your heads before saying them out loud.

“Are you coming to my practice, too?” he asked after another pause.

The question took you aback slightly as you hadn’t even considered it, but it could be fun, seeing Sunghoon practice ice skating. It’d also be fun to hang out with Jake. “If it’s fine with you, then yeah, why not,” you replied, smiling at Sunghoon. He glanced at you again before looking away with a smile, an actual one this time that showed his teeth and made his eyes crinkle.

“Yeah, sure. People usually only come to actual shows, so I like it when someone’s there to watch practice.” Before you could find something to say, the players arrived jogging onto the field, immediately starting their warm-up laps. Some were serious about it and stayed focused as they ran, while others goofed around, running backwards and slapping other players on their butts before sprinting away. Jake, of course, was part of the latter group.

Now that something was actually happening on the field, you and Sunghoon had an excuse not to make conversation anymore. You tried to ignore it, but it was so awkward you wanted to die. You realized now why you were so attracted to people like Jake and Chaewon - without even being aware of it, they brought you out of your shell and made you feel at ease. You wished you could do that on your own, but you were always too scared, so you needed that person who was confident enough showing themselves to you first to make you feel comfortable doing the same. You and Sunghoon, unfortunately, were too similar in that sense to do that for each other. So you just sat there in silence, observing Jake and waving back at him when he caught your gazes.

The ninety minutes of practice didn’t go by in total silence - you asked Sunghoon about some soccer rules you didn’t get, and he shared some anecdotes from his and Jake’s earlier teenage years, including a very entertaining story about a tantrum 9-year-old Jake had thrown when he hadn’t agreed with the red card the referee had given him. You weren’t sure how the topic came up, but at some point, you even shared pictures of your pets. Sunghoon had one of those small crusty white dogs, but you kept your laughter in and cooed over how cute she was.

But still, most of the time, you were watching Jake. You had never been interested in soccer or any sort of sport that involved balls until now. Somehow, he managed to make flushed cheeks, a heaving chest and hairline beaded with sweat look glorious. In total honesty, you were paying more attention to the player himself than to the sport, to the point that you barely noticed when he scored a goal during their practice match. It was only when Jake started cheering and high-fiving his teammates that you realized what had happened, and you gave him two thumbs up and a wide grin when he looked your and Sunghoon’s way, proudly shouting “Did you see that?!”

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks right there and then. The way your heart swelled as you watched his excited, puppyish grin take over his features was undeniable - you liked Jake. You like liked him. Your gaze continued to follow him as he finished his celebratory lap. If you could’ve seen yourself right then, you’d probably have been embarrassed by your awestruck expression and slightly agape mouth, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Much to your dismay, you realized that Chaewon had seen right through you. You hadn’t wanted to read too much into your feelings, but they had become too obvious to ignore. You hadn’t experienced them yourself since middle school (Choi Soobin had really been a heartbreaker back then), but you’d heard about the telltale signs of a crush too many times not to know about them. It was now clear that the way you felt about Jake and the way you had felt about Sunghoon were worlds apart. Feeling nervous around him and your heart skipping a beat when you made eye contact; wanting to see him smile; laughing at all his jokes, even the bad ones; missing him even though it’d been seconds since you said goodbye, and counting down the days until you saw him again. And, yes, looking at his pictures on social media over and over again. You did all those things, so you knew there was no point in lying to yourself anymore - you liked Jake Sim.

It didn’t help that he was always kind to you, never making you feel stupid for not understanding something in your tutoring sessions and being patient enough to explain the same thing over and over again. He always paid attention to small things, which never failed to make your heart race, like asking after your aging cat’s condition after you’d told him he had a health check-up over the weekend or stocking up on your favorite snack the week after you’d told him about it. He’d also immediately picked up on your habit of teasing the people you felt comfortable with and you loved how he returned it tenfold. It was as much fun debating with him over nothing and making him shut up with your senseless arguments as it was being rendered speechless when he came up with the perfect retort.

And of course, there was no denying that Jake was ridiculously attractive. There were times you got so caught up in the way his lips moved as he spoke or the way his fingers looked as he pointed at numbers on the page that your mind completely blanked out and you stopped listening to his words for a few seconds. You didn’t know what to make of his small chuckle and smirk when he noticed your gaze fixated on him, but you knew it wasn’t good for your heart. And let’s not even get started on the fact that sitting so close to him meant you could smell the lingering scent of his cologne every single time.

Even now, with flushed cheeks and hair slicked back with sweat, you want to run onto the field and give him a big smooch on his cheek, telling him you were proud of him for scoring that goal.

But even though you were getting closer and he had offered for you to come watch his practice, you squashed down as best as you could any hope that he might feel the same way about you. Even if he insisted he was bad with girls, Jake was popular at school, and you were sure there were many other girls who had a crush on him - so why would he like you of all people?

Sunghoon’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Every time he scores, he acts like it’s the first time he’s ever done it,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head at his friend’s over-dramatic antics. The coach was trying to get Jake to calm down so that the game could resume.

“He’s so cute,” you said, voice quiet, before you could stop yourself. But as soon as the words were out, you realized what you’d done, and your eyes doubled in size as you turned to look at Sunghoon. He had whipped his head to look at you, too, and his eyes were just as big as yours. Then, he burst into laughter, and you hoped the Earth would suddenly open beneath your feet and swallow you whole.

When his surprise had subsided, Sunghoon turned to you again, an incredulous but amused glint in his eyes. “Did you just call Jake cute?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, slightly frowning as you avoided Sunghoon’s gaze. “I just meant, you know, it’s cute how excited he got. I didn’t say he was cute,” you mumbled, knowing you were doing a poor job of defending yourself.

“That’s exactly what you said, though. You said, and I quote, He’s so cute.” You glared at Sunghoon. Who knew he would only become talkative once it came to teasing you about Jake?

His expression softened slightly when he realized you might actually be upset about this, and he turned his attention back towards the field, smile growing when he found his friend. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

“There’s nothing to be said anyway.”

“Oh? So you don’t mind if I tell Jake that you have the biggest, fattest crush on- hmph!”

You’d cut Sunghoon off by pressing your palm to his mouth, mustering the most menacing look you could to scare him off. “I do not,” you said firmly as you moved your hand away from him.

“Sure, you don’t,” he replied, chuckling. Clearly, your most menacing look wasn’t so menacing.

“I get why Jake’s so annoying now, it’s because he’s friends with you.”

Sunghoon raised an amused eyebrow at this. “He might be annoying, but he’s also cute, right?”

“Shut up!” you shrieked immediately, but you couldn’t stop the grin forcing its way onto your lips.

“Just saying,” Sunghoon said, and you laughed together. Maybe you should’ve been more worried about Jake’s literal best friend finding out you had a crush on him, but you somehow trusted Sunghoon not to blabber about it. Whether because he was nice or because he wanted to watch you struggle with your feelings, you weren’t sure, but at least you felt your secret was safe with him.

You looked back at the field, and just as your eyes found Jake, you saw him turn his head away. Had you seen him just seconds prior, you might have noticed the crease in his eyebrows as he watched you and Sunghoon laugh together. Sunghoon isn’t that funny, he thought, what could you be laughing so hard about?

He didn’t understand the sudden weight in his heart at the sight of you and his friend getting along so well. This was his whole plan after all - force some proximity between you and Sunghoon so that you could talk and hopefully make your feelings clear to each other after some time. Clearly, it was working. So why was it bothering him so much?

He had to turn his attention back to the game, so he could only ruminate over it for five seconds, but for the remaining thirty minutes, he could barely focus on anything. Whenever he glanced back at you and Sunghoon, you were both looking at him and not talking to each other, and that somehow bothered him even more.

He used his time in the lockers to get out of the weird mood he was in - whatever was going on between you and Sunghoon, he didn’t want to ruin it by being grumpy. So when he came back out and found the two of you waiting for him at the bus stop, he put on his best smile.

Having you around made his usual Tuesday afternoon with Sunghoon more fun - after years of friendship, Sunghoon ignored most of his jokes and could tune the sound of his voice out, but you still laughed at everything he said, and his heart swelled with pride every time he made you laugh.

It was only a ten-minute bus ride from the school to the ice rink so you still had twenty minutes to spare before Sunghoon’s lesson started. As always after soccer practice, Jake was famished, so you stopped by a convenience store and got more snacks than you really needed.

You sat next to Sunghoon and across from Jake at a picnic table in front of the ice rink, watching the boy in front of you with fascination as he gorged himself on banana milk and chocolate snacks.

“God, how long has it been since you last ate?” you asked with genuine concern in your voice. Sunghoon followed your gaze towards Jake, only then noticing his friend’s feral behavior as if this was a normal occurrence for them.

“Like three hours,” Jake answered. “I’m starving. So hungry I could eat Sunghoon.”

When he looked up, you were both peering at him with furrowed eyebrows and bewildered expressions on your faces. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you mean that Sunghoon is a horse?” you asked.

Jake mirrored your confused expressions. “What? No, why would I say that?”

“The saying goes, so hungry I could eat a horse, dumbass,” Sunghoon chimed in.

“Why would I eat a horse?” Jake replied, shaking his head and chuckling at you and Sunghoon like you were the ones who had gotten a basic idiom wrong.

“Why would you eat me?” Sunghoon bit back, sounding almost offended.

“It’s just a saying, dude.”

Half-an-hour and two whole packets of biscuits later, you and Jake sat side-by-side on the benches, watching Sunghoon as he did his warm-ups on the ice. This was your first time seeing a professional ice skater and you were transfixed, to say the least. He was just skating across the rink and rolling his arms and neck to get the muscles moving, but it all seemed so effortless and elegant that you couldn’t help but watch with your mouth slightly open, eyes eager to keep up with Sunghoon’s figure.

You were so mesmerized that you had no idea Jake was practically burning holes into the side of your face. Eyes narrowed and nose scrunched in disgust, he couldn’t believe you were enjoying the show in front of you that much. “He’s not even doing anything special right now, you know,” he said, but it only made him realize that when Sunghoon did start doing cool stuff, you’d like it even more.

Your head barely budged in Jake’s direction as you answered him, and your eyes certainly didn’t leave Sunghoon. “Really? It already looks so cool, though.” Jake scoffed, but that still didn’t get your attention, which made him scoff again. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned like a child whose parent wasn’t paying attention to their drawing.

“Cooler than me?”

Finally, you look at me, Jake thought, and his frown immediately dissipated into a grin when your eyes met. But judging by the teasing way your lips curled up, he already knew he wasn’t going to like your answer.

“Cooler than you,” you replied before turning your attention back to the rink.

Jake leans back with a pout, opting to glare at his friend instead of you. He tried to put himself in your shoes and figure out what it was about Sunghoon you liked so much that Jake didn’t also have. Devastatingly good looks? Check. Charming smile? Check. Cute dog? Check - Jake more so than Sunghoon. Brains? Okay, both of them lacked this. Good personality? Check - however, you needed months before Sunghoon revealed himself to you, whereas Jake was outgoing and was comfortable even with people he’d just met.

So why was the bearer of your affection Sunghoon and not Jake?

And why did Jake even care that you liked his friend over him in the first place?

It wasn’t like Jake liked you - he couldn’t like a girl that his best friend liked - so why did this at all matter to him? If anything, the fact that you liked Sunghoon back should’ve been something to rejoice over. It had been, up until now, and Jake couldn’t figure out why. He couldn’t figure out this weird sensation that had plagued him in the soccer field and followed him to the ice rink as he watched you watch Sunghoon with amazement.

Jake was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice when you detached your eyes from Sunghoon, who was talking to his coach, and tilted your head at him. “Jake?”

The boy only let out a low hum, still too upset to look at you.

An amused grin made your lips quirk up. “Are you pouting because I said Sunghoon was cooler than you?”

Jake scoffed, turning his head away from you. “No.”

A pause. “So you don’t mind if I go on and on about how elegant and beautiful ice skating is, while running after a ball and kicking it is the basis of the stupidest sport in the world?”

Jake glared at you, but it only made you smile more. “It’s not stupid.”

Despite himself, his pretend angry facade broke apart at the sound of your airy giggles. Jake didn’t think his ears had ever been graced with such a pretty sound before - he slapped himself mentally as soon as that thought crossed his mind.

His heart did jumps and spins more impressive than Sunghoon’s when you reached a hand out to ruffle his hair, shaking your head at his behavior. For once, he was glad that you turned back to Sunghoon so that you wouldn’t see the bright blush spreading all over his face.

For the next hour, Jake put his weird feelings to the side and watched his friend practice his routine for his upcoming competition. Even he had to admit that Sunghoon looked pretty cool doing what he loved.

You told him you found it all the more impressive because you’d never skated before, so it looked unachievable to you, and an idea immediately formed in Jake’s mind. As soon as Sunghoon’s practice was over, he rushed over to his friend and asked if the two of you could join him on the ice. Sunghoon turned to his coach, who simply shrugged.

“I trust you to look after them,” she said. “Just make sure to be out when the hockey team gets here.”

Before you knew it, Jake was helping you tie up your ice skates (the sight of which made you faint-hearted) and both boys helped you onto the ice rink, each holding onto one of your hands as you tried not to freak out at the feeling of your knees being so wobbly. Sunghoon demonstrated how to move around the ice, and soon enough, you’d gotten the hang of it - but you still made sure to keep Jake at an arm’s length so you could grab onto him every time you lost your balance. Jake stayed by your side, smiling fondly at how excited you looked and cheering you on every time you took a step of your own. Sunghoon, on the other hand, seemed to find it funny to watch from afar and point and laugh every time you stumbled.

After some time, Sunghoon announced he was feeling hungry and decided to go eat some snacks, leaving you and Jake alone in the rink. The wink Sunghoon threw your way when Jake wasn’t looking let you know what his true intentions were, and you couldn’t believe Jake’s best friend had just become your wingman.

“Feeling ready to skate around the rink?” Jake asked. His boyish grin was contagious, and you found yourself matching it even though you were still nervous about moving around too much.

“If you help me,” you answered tentatively, looking at him worriedly as you held out your hand for him to take. The softness of his gaze as he smiled down at you made you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Of course,” he said, taking your hand in his warm one. Your fingers intertwined as if out of second nature and you thought you finally understood why people said their hands were meant to hold someone else’s.

Being friends with an ice skater for such a long time meant Jake had acquired some skill, too, which is why he could so easily show you how to turn or pick up speed. Whenever you lost your balance, he was always quick enough to make sure you didn’t actually fall, picking you up before your backside could touch the ice. He found your frightened expression every time you thought you would fall absolutely adorable, but your pout and slight frown whenever he teased you were somehow even cuter.

He only let go of your hand after some ten minutes (neither of you had even begun to question Sunghoon’s whereabouts by then) when he came to stand in front of you, a serious expression on his face.

“I think you’re ready, Y/N,” he declared solemnly.

“Ready for…?” you asked, scared of whatever he had in mind.

He leaned in slightly and the sudden proximity took you aback, but he didn’t seem to realize. A mischievous smirk broke through his handsome features. “A race,” he whispered, then skated to one edge of the rink and motioned for you to follow him. Reluctantly, you did.

“First to the other edge has to…” he thought for a second, gazing at the ceiling. You wanted to be mad at him for proposing a race when you’d literally just learned how to skate, but how could you when he looked so cute and giddy, searching for the loser’s penalty? “Buy the other ice cream!”

Your eyes were probably the image of tenderness as you looked at him. “Deal,” you said, wanting to sound as playful as him but voice coming out soft. Since when had you fallen so hard for him?

You held each other’s gazes for a couple more seconds before both turning in front of you, getting ready for your race. Jake counted down from three, and your skating wasn’t so bad at first - until you got too cocky for your own good, trying to go at a pace you clearly couldn’t handle. Before you knew it, your knees betrayed you and you found yourself tripping over, your butt making a loud thump sound as it came into contact with the ice.

On your way down, you’d shrieked Jake’s name, and he was at your side in the blink of an eye, holding your shoulder and looking at you worriedly. The pain was immediate, and for a few seconds, you couldn’t answer him and reassure him that you were fine.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked to race, God Y/N I’m so stupid I’m so sorry are you okay I didn’t want you to get hurt-”

“Jake,” you squeaked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m okay, calm down,” you said when the pain subsided, managing a smile. “I’ll just have a sore butt tomorrow.” He chuckled at the word ‘butt,’ but you didn’t have it in you to roll his eyes at his childishness.

“Are you sure you’re okay? There’s an infirmary here-”

“I’m sure, Jakey-poo,” you teased, making him lose the concerned expression as he bore an unimpressed one instead.

“I guess you are fine if you can think to call me that. Come on, up!” he said as he stood up, reaching his hands out for you to take. Just as he helped you up, Sunghoon came sprinting and stood at the entrance to the rink.

“Is everything okay? I heard a yell,” he said, slightly out-of-breath with half a biscuit in his mouth. Guess he really was eating this whole time.

You and Jake laughed and shook your head at him, and you reassured him that everything was fine.

“Good, ‘cause the hockey team’s here and we have to go anyway.”

There was a bus that took Sunghoon directly from the ice rink to his house, but you and Jake had to go back to the school to catch the one you usually took, which meant you had a forty-minute journey in front of you. And yet, Jake’s company made those forty minutes feel like five, and you found yourself disappointed when the bus neared your stop.

“If you want, we can still go walk Kiwi and Layla,” he offered shyly a few minutes before your stop, as if he’d read your mind.

“I’d love to.” You watched as his small smile bloomed into a wider one.

“I’m glad,” he chuckled, relieved. “I was scared you’d be tired of me after spending the whole afternoon together,” he admitted, looking down at his lap with a bashful expression on his face. It wasn’t often that Jake looked timid like this, but whenever he did, your heart tripled in size.

“I don’t think I could get tired of you.” You were too shy to look him in the eye while you said this, but in your peripheral, you saw his grin get impossibly wider and his eyebrows raise. He bumped your shoulder with his, making the both of you burst into giggles.

You were still smiling long after you’d come home from your walk.

—

Unfortunately for Jake, forcing you and Sunghoon to sit together for ninety minutes hadn’t resulted in the two of you confessing your undying love for the other and getting together - clearly, his plan hadn’t worked very well. But Jake, instead of coming up with another strategy, decided he should just basically do the same thing again and hope it went better this time.

Bro night had been a tradition for the past three years that the boys only very rarely broke, in cases of illness, filial obligations or important competitions the following day. This wasn’t any one of those cases, but Jake decided bro night must be slightly sacrificed that night - for your and Sunghoon’s sake. Years down the line, he knew you’d thank him.

This was why he tricked you into thinking you had been invited to bro night (you’d heard a lot about it and considered it an honor to be included) when really, he made Jay promise not to show at the cinema so that you and Sunghoon could be alone. The two of them would make up an excuse about not being able to make it on time and show up later at the diner (“If you want to set them up, shouldn’t we also leave them alone after the movie?” Jay had asked Jake over the phone, and Jake had been unable to explain why he didn’t want you to spend the whole night alone with Sunghoon).

“They ditched us,” Sunghoon had said in lieu of a greeting when you found him at the entrance of the cinema. He turned his phone screen towards you, showing you their group chat - Jay had had some sort of meeting at his school that had run late and Jake had to go to the vet suddenly because Layla kept making weird noises.

“Oh no, I hope she’ll be okay,” you said, voice laced with genuine worry.

Sunghoon just sighed. “I’m sure she will.” He knew what his friends were up to - it almost never happened that one of them was unable to make it to bro night, so two at once? They were clearly lying. He would make sure to tell Jake how worried sick you were about his dog’s fake illness later on just so his friend would feel extra guilty.

You had been looking forward to hanging out with Jake and his friends all day, so you were disappointed to know he wouldn’t make it until later. It wasn’t much comfort that the movie they had picked, some recent Marvel release, was one you were not at all interested in, and you couldn’t even obsess over Jake’s presence next to you instead of the movie because he wasn’t there. You’d have to sit with awkward, quiet Sunghoon for God knows how long - at least the cinema wasn’t much of a talking place.

You declined his kind offer of sharing a big popcorn tub - you didn’t want to risk a cliché reaching-for-popcorn-at-the-same-time moment with Sunghoon, although you’d daydreamed and giggled about it happening with Jake earlier that day. Instead, you sipped grumpily on your Cherry Coke, watching the trailers for upcoming movies and discussing them with Sunghoon. (“I’m so excited for the Barbie movie,” he’d surprised you by saying. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.)

As the lights dimmed, announcing the imminent start of the movie, Sunghoon whispered something that completely changed your mind about Marvel. “It’s so stupid that Jake isn’t here, seriously. He’s been going on and on about going to see this movie since the trailer came out.” Suddenly, you’d never felt the need to pay attention to something more than this.

Well, in your humble opinion, the film wasn’t anything to write home about. It was a lot of loud action scenes with some funny one-liners that, okay, you chuckled at. And the actors were hot. You could sort of see why Jake would enjoy Marvel movies, although you yourself liked films with more social commentary, such as Mean Girls or Bee Movie. You’d need to make Jake watch Twilight one of these days - you were sure he’d like the soundtrack, if nothing else.

At least, you and Sunghoon have something to talk about during your short walk to the diner. As you enter the restaurant, a familiar voice calling out your name catches you off-guard.

“Chaewon? I thought you didn’t work on Friday nights!” you exclaimed, letting your friend bring you into a hug. You gave her a once-over - she always looked so pretty in her work uniform, white t-shirt dress draping her body perfectly, apron cinching at her waist, and short pigtails under her 50’s style diner hat. If the blush spreading on Sunghoon’s cheeks at her sudden appearance was anything to go by, his thoughts might not have been too far from yours.

She pouted, taking your hands in hers and swaying them between the two of you. “I usually don’t, but Yunjin asked me to trade shifts and she always says yes when I ask her, so I felt bad saying no.” You nodded and she turned to Sunghoon.

“Hi, Sunghoon!”

“H-hi, Chaewon.”

“Where’s Jay and Jake?” she asked, looking behind the two of you. You’d told the group chat about your evening plans and a lot of freaking out had taken place.

“Should be here any minute,” you sighed, and when she looked at you questioningly, you told her you’d explain later.

She sat you at a four-person booth by the window and brought you drinks (“On the house,” she’d said with a wink, but you weren’t sure this had been allowed by any of her superiors) for you to sip on while you waited for the others. Every time she was free, she came over to your table and gossiped about the customers. You did not miss the way Sunghoon’s face lit up whenever she approached you.

Jake and Jay see you before you see them. Jay, the only one with a driver’s license out of the three, had picked Jake up, and he was parking his car when Jake gasped loudly, making Jay jump. “I’m trying to park, man, can you be calm?”

“What’s she doing here?” Jake exclaimed, completely ignoring his friend.

Jay followed Jake’s gaze, but he wasn’t sure what his friend was going on about. All he saw was you, whom he recognized from pictures only, Sunghoon, and a waitress that seemed overly-friendly. “Who?” he asked.

“Chaewon,” Jake hissed, like her name was a curse. “She’s ruining our plan!”

Jay sighed. “First of all, this is your plan. Second of all, it was ruined from the beginning. And by that, I mean that your plan sucks, Jake.”

Jake clicked his teeth. “Whatever. Let’s just go,” he said, getting out of the car and heading straight for you. He made sure to give Chaewon a pointed look as he sat next to you in the booth, but she just seemed happy that more people had arrived.

You bumped your knee into his to get his attention. “Hi,” you said with a smile.

He looked at you dumbly for a few seconds before Jay cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hi. This is Jay,” he said, tilting his head towards the boy but not taking his eyes off of you. You and Jay exchanged hey’s before Chaewon took your order, quickly giving it to the kitchen and scanning the room to make sure every table had what they needed, then headed back to your table.

“Is Layla okay?” you asked Jake, worry making your brows furrow.

“Huh?” The sudden mention of his dog took him aback. Why wouldn’t she be okay?

“Layla?” you repeated, tilting your head. “Is she okay? You said you had to go to the vet.”

His eyes widened as he remembered his lie from earlier, and he started nodding frantically. “Oh yeah, yeah, she’s fine, we panicked over nothing,” he said with a nervous giggle. Jake was the worst liar Jay and Sunghoon had ever seen, but you were none the wiser.

“What about you, Jay? How was your school thing?” Sunghoon asked, turning to his friend with a glare and making him choke on his Coke.

“Oh, that was fine too, I guess,” Jay mumbled.

As expected, Jake and Chaewon were experts at leading the conversation, and Jay himself was pretty talkative. They all bounced off of each other naturally, and even Sunghoon knew how to throw in witty remarks now and there. You also participated, but you were more than happy just listening to them and laughing along. You tried not to think too much about how your knee would bump into Jake’s once in a while, or how he seemed to look at you every time he made a joke.

At some point, Chaewon had rushed over to your table, looking right at you with wide eyes and beaming. “Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God, Y/N, hat guy is here!”

You instantly mirrored her expression. “Where where where?” you asked, lifting your body up to scan around the restaurant.

“Over there in the corner, but be discreet!”

You were not at all discreet as your eyes found said hat guy, noting with satisfaction that he was characteristically hatless, and you burst into laughter. “I can’t believe he’s here!”

“Right? Probably has the munchies or something,” Chaewon said, laughing along.

You only noticed then the perplexed looks all three boys were sending your way. “Who the heck is hat guy?” Jake asked, which only made you and Chaewon laugh harder.

“You wouldn’t get it,” she replied airily, waving Jake off as she made her way to a customer who had called for her.

The boys turned to you and you shrunk in your seat at their attention. “Just a guy the girls and I find funny,” you explained, shrugging and glancing quickly at Sunghoon. If only he knew about all the times you and the girls had gossiped about him, even though he’d done nothing of importance.

When her shift was over, the first thing Chaewon did was take off her apron, then dragged you to the bathroom, where she drilled you for details about your cinema “date” with Sunghoon.

“It was not a date, it just ended up being the two of us because the others couldn’t make it,” you insisted, but she wasn’t having it. “There’s nothing to say anyway. We got there, talked a bit, watched the movie, walked here, and that’s it.”

Chaewon sighed, shaking her head as she reapplied her lip gloss. A small smile made its way onto your lips. “I think he’s into someone else anyway.”

You noticed how her hand faltered for a split second. “Oh yeah? Who?” she asked, trying to appear nonchalant, but you knew your friend too well.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, the discussion between the boys back at the table was not too different from yours.

“Bro, I’m literally going to kill you,” Sunghoon whisper-yelled even though you were way out of earshot already. “Do you know how awkward that was?”

“Just so you know, I had nothing to do with this,” Jay said. “I told him that putting two socially constipated idiots like you wouldn’t end well, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Y/N’s not an idiot!” Jake immediately reacted.

“And I am?!” Sunghoon retorted.

Jay just rolled his eyes.

“You are, because this is the second time you’re alone together with the girl you like and you can barely make conversation with her.”

“For the last time, I don’t like her, I just called her cute once in freshman year-”

“Same thing!”

“Jake, I don’t know how many times I can tell you the same thing before you get it. I’ve been around Y/N enough to know I don’t like her like that, okay? We’ve had two classes where we sat together for a whole semester, and we’ve worked with other people in group projects. Not to mention, you’ve made me sit through one of your practices with her. She’s nice. She sends me the homework when I miss class. She even laughs at my jokes sometimes. And her dog is super cute. I’m sure we’d be better friends if we both didn’t have crippling shyness, but I don’t like her like that. I just don’t.”

“But how?!”

“What do you mean how? This sorta thing doesn’t have any sort of reasonable answer, you just do or you don’t. I don’t. Clearly, you do.”

Jake heard the last part of Sunghoon’s words, and promptly decided to ignore them. He had to understand this first - he’d figure out his feelings later. “This whole time, I thought you were just downplaying your feelings, ‘cause you’re an awkward asshole who doesn’t do emotions,” he said, eyes tightly shut and holding his head, the confusion making his brain hurt.

“Okay, ouch. But no, I wasn’t. I really don’t know what got into your head.”

“I know what got into his head,” Jay said. Both of his friends looked at him questioningly, so he went on. “When Sunghoon mentioned Y/N, you probably thought she was super cute too, Jake. But because of bro code and whatnot, you didn’t wanna show any interest. And then as you saw her around more, you probably liked her more, but you thought Sunghoon liked her, so you sort of gave him your crush on her instead of dealing with it. You lived vicariously through him, basically. Except you’re an idiot because he doesn’t even like her like that, so you could’ve shot your shot a long time ago already. I don’t know why you didn’t just listen to him, to be honest,” Jay finished, shrugging.

“You also thought he liked her!” Jake retorted.

“That’s besides the point. The point is that you’re stupid.”

“But- but, what about all those times you talked about her? I didn’t make those up!”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The most I ever said about her was something like, Y/N and I both forgot our textbook today, or Y/N brought cookies for the class because it’s her birthday. You were always the one to notice her everywhere and go, There’s your crush, or something.”

Jake sighed, defeated. He could admit Sunghoon was right about something, and he was wrong - but he hated that Jay was also right. Had he really managed to bury his feelings for you all these years just for what he thought was Sunghoon’s sake? Sure, he was a loyal friend, but that felt a little much.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, recoiling from his friends’ expectant gazes and taking a sad bite of his cheeseburger. “It’s not like she likes me back, or anything.”

He watched in confusion as Sunghoon let out a loud groan, screwing his eyes shut and taking his head in his hands as if it hurt. “This is so frustrating, I’m going to kill myself.”

Jake turned to Jay for some sort of explanation to their friend’s sudden suicidal thoughts, but Jay just looked back at Jake with disgust. “When did you become so dumb? I swear you didn’t use to be like this,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment.

Jake’s eyes flickered between his two friends in utter dismay. “What?”

“Jake,” Jay started. “Do you really, honestly, genuinely think Y/N doesn’t like you?”

The boy leaned back in his seat with a pout. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

Sunghoon’s head whipped up at this. Jake gulped at the intense glare his friend fixed him with - he’d never looked so angry with him, and it made Jake wonder what on Earth he could have said or done that made Sunghoon so upset. “Why?” he asked simply, but the frustration was evident in his voice.

Your diary popped up in Jake’s head. What he had read was clear. Of course, the entry dated from over a month ago now, but why would your feelings have changed since then? Jake sighs deeply, getting ready to reveal to his friends what he’d seen, but then he sees you and Chaewon emerging from the bathroom. “They’re coming back,” he mumbled.

It was Sunghoon and Jay’s turn to sigh. “Just pay attention to her, Jake, okay?” Jay instructed, giving his friend an intent look.

“I already do,” Jake replied, frowning.

“No, really pay attention to her. Then use your pea-sized brain for once in your life, and maybe you’ll realize something.”

A strongly-worded reply was on the tip of Jake’s tongue, but all thoughts of violence and murdering his friend were replaced by images of rainbows and pretty flowers when you smiled at him. He felt like the biggest of idiots for liking you so much and only realizing it now.

“Hi,” he said dumbly as you found your seat next to him again, then stole a french fry from you even though he had many left himself. When you gasped at his audacity, he just giggled.

“Hey!” you exclaimed in protest before stealing a fry back.

If you hadn’t been so caught up in your little world, you’d have noticed the knowing look your three friends exchanged and their simultaneous eye roll.

—

The following Monday, you decided to have your tutoring session at your house instead of Jake’s. His mom was away at a convention for the week, so you’d have to take the bus anyway - since your house was two stops earlier, you offered to switch it up for once. Jake had never actually been inside your house and was curious to see what it was like, so he eagerly agreed.

Kiwi was happy to see him and followed the two of you around the house as you gave Jake a quick tour before going up to your room. When you reached the top landing, you realized that Kiwi was still at the bottom of the stairs and was looking up at you expectantly. “Is she not allowed upstairs?” Jake asked.

“Usually not, but I let her come up when my mom’s not here. Come on Kiwi! It’s okay!”

Kiwi didn’t need to be told twice - she trudged her little body up the stairs, and you couldn’t help but giggle at her adorableness. “She’s so cute,” you cooed, looking at your dog with a huge smile on your face.

“She really is,” Jake agreed, but when you turned your head to face him, he wasn’t looking at Kiwi - he was looking straight at you, a softness in his eyes that made your stomach turn. He snapped out of it when he noticed your round, surprised eyes, and cleared his throat. “So, where’s your room?” he asked, looking around the hallway and avoiding your gaze.

“Over there,” you replied, fighting the smile that tried to make its way to your lips as you headed towards your room, Jake and Kiwi following right behind.

You told Jake to wait for a second as you went to get a second chair. When you came back, he was standing in front of your shelves, upper body slightly bent forwards to observe all the decorations and framed pictures closer. You placed the chair next to your desk then joined him, answering all the questions he had about the items on your shelves. Who’s this? When was this? Where did you get this? In his defense, you really did have a lot of things - you were trying to get rid of your hoarding habits, but you got attached to every small thing that held some sort of significance. You went to sit at the edge of your bed and just watched him, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

It reminded you of the first time you’d been to his house, how upset he’d seemed when you talked about his baby pictures and how you hadn’t wanted to risk looking at all the stuff in his room. You were also curious about things like that, and you wondered once again what had bothered him so much. The question was burning your tongue - although you were nervous to ask it, not wanting to upset Jake once more, you now knew him well enough to know he wasn’t the type to stay mad for long.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Jake replied, fingers toying with your favorite Littlest Pet Shop figurine you had kept from when you were eight.

“Why didn’t you want me to look at your baby photos that one time?”

Jake paused at your words. He stood up straight and set the figurine back on the shelf. He glanced at you before walking over to your bed and taking a seat next to you, leaning back on his palms while you rested your hands underneath your thighs.

“You probably noticed I don’t mention my dad, right? Or the fact that he’s never home?”

You nodded in response. You had noticed it, but you’d never brought the topic up in case it might be sensitive. Jake sighed. “He passed away when I was six.”

You turned your head towards him. To your surprise, his face remained expressionless - you couldn’t detect any sort of sadness or anger in his features, as if he was just reciting a fact. His uncharacteristic numbness upset you even more than any tears could have.

He met your gaze and gave you a small smile. “I was so young that I only have very vague memories of him, like playing soccer together in the backyard or a trip to the beach with my parents and my brother. I only remember his face and his voice from the photos and videos my mom has shown me.” He sighed again, shifting forwards and resting his hands in his lap, fiddling with his fingers. “So when I see these pictures, they sort of just remind me of what I’ve lost? I really don’t like lingering on them. I sort of just ignore them every time I walk up or down the stairs.”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have mentioned them if I’d known-”

Jake is quick to shake his head. “No, no, don’t be sorry. You couldn’t have guessed.” You want to comfort Jake in some way, thank him for telling you something so personal, but you’re not sure what words to use - so, instead, you take one of his hands in yours and bring it to your lap, then cover it with your other one. Your eyes meet for a second - he looks slightly taken aback at first, but then, his eyes drift down to your joined hands, and a small blush spreads on his cheeks.

“I’m- I’m okay, really. Like I said, it happened so long ago that I’m used to not having a dad now. It almost feels like it’s always been that way, which makes it even weirder to think it wasn’t. It’s just… It feels weird to miss someone I barely remember so much, you know?”

You nodded and let out a low hum. “I do know.” Jake tilted his head at you, silently asking you to go on. “It’s different, but I get that feeling of missing something you barely remember. I have these blurry memories of my parents being happy together and the three of us being a happy family, and then all of a sudden it’s hearing arguments from my room and my dad moving out, and they’re asking me, Do you wanna live with mom or dad?”

You watched as Jake moved his hand slightly, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing your hand. “I was older than you were when they divorced, so I guess I have more memories to hold onto, but they hurt more than anything.” You let out a deep sigh. “My dad cheated, so it’s not like I wished my mom had stayed with him, but I was too young to understand what was happening. I just wanted my parents together again.”

When you lifted your head to look at him, he met your gaze, and his eyes were so soft yet so intense, like he was seeing right into you. Then he chuckled. “Do you ever get jealous of other people’s parents?” he asks, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“All the time,” you admitted with a chuckle, relieved to find out you weren’t the only one. “Yena has been blessed with these like, practically perfect parents that are still in love after twenty years, never argue and have a healthy relationship with all of their kids. I’m so in awe every time I see them.”

“Sunghoon’s parents are like that. I feel terrible, but every time they come to cheer him on at his competitions, I just get so jealous, wishing I also had three people coming to see my games and not just two. And I always feel so silly for feeling that way.”

“You’re not silly for that, Jake,” you said, and the honesty in your voice seemed to take him aback slightly. A grin spread on your lips. “You may be silly for other things, but not for that,” you teased, making him chuckle. “I can be your third person, if you want,” you said softly, lightly bumping your shoulder against his.

His eyes seemed to light up at your words, and your smile couldn’t help but get wider at his reaction - that was, until he raised an eyebrow, almost defiantly. “Yeah? I thought you found soccer boring,” he said with a playful smirk.

“It’s not boring if you’re the one playing,” you replied. A small noise of surprise escaped his throat before he could help it, not expecting you to be so forward, and you both burst into giggles.

He cleared his throat when you both calmed down and stood up straighter, trying to put on a cool front. “Of course it isn’t.” He turned his head to look out the window, and the sight of the sunlight perfectly hitting his features and turning his dark brown eyes a hazel color almost took your breath away. “It’s really nice out,” he suddenly said. He turned back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about we ditch the tutoring for today and go out?”

His eyes drifted down to your lips, watching as a smile tugged at the corners of your own. “I’m in.”

That was how you found yourselves sitting at a bench in the park close to your house, eating ice cream and watching Kiwi and Layla play together. You tried each other’s ice cream, and you regretted your choice of simple vanilla and strawberry as soon as Jake’s mango ice cream touched your tongue. Your eyes widened at the amazing taste - it felt like you had bit into an actual mango.

“Good, right?” Jake asked, chuckling at your reaction.

“What the heck, yours is so much better than mine,” you mumbled, pouting at the ice cream in your cup like it had personally hurt you.

Jake thought for a second, looking back and forth between your upset expression and his own cup. “Wanna switch?”

Your heart was screaming yes, but your brain was screaming no. You tried your best to appear genuine when you smiled at him. “No, don’t worry about it. I still like mine.” You looked at him as you scooped another spoonful into your mouth as if to prove to him you were happy with your choice, even going so far as to hum in delight.

Jake just chuckled and shook his head at you, taking your cup and giving you his anyway. You were about to protest until he started eating your ice cream, imitating your previous hum. You quietly accepted the exchange, smiling as you tasted the mango ice cream again and trying to ignore the fact that Jake hadn’t switched the spoons with the cups, so you were using his and he was using yours.

As you ate in silence, occasionally chuckling at your dogs’ antics, Jake stole some glances at you. He wasn’t sure why you looked so much prettier today than all the times he’d seen you before. Or maybe you were just as pretty as you’d always been, and he was just finally letting himself admit it.

He may have had many friends, but there weren’t many people Jake was truly himself around. He always felt the need to be this friendly, outgoing guy that made it seem like everything was going well in his life, but with you, he felt like it was okay to stop pretending. He felt like it was okay to ask for help, like it was okay to reveal the darker parts of his life.

Now that Jay and Sunghoon had practically forced him to see the truth, Jake didn’t know what to do about his feelings for you. He finally understood why he always looked forward to your tutoring sessions, why he was so excited whenever he walked past you in the hallways, and why he was so bothered about you and Sunghoon getting along.

Sunghoon. Because even if Jake now knew that he liked you, he also knew that you liked someone else. And what was the point of letting himself fall for you even more when there was no happy ending in sight for him? He’d only get hurt in the end.

Just as the thought hit him, you turned to look at him and meet his gaze, a soft smile on your lips. Every time you smiled at him like that, Jake felt like he was watching a movie. Everything happened in slow-motion, with flowers falling around you and violins playing in the background. Jake almost felt sick, knowing he was only the second lead in your romance movie. He was the stupid werewolf and Sunghoon was the vampire that glistened in the sun and got the girl. (You had convinced him to watch Twilight, saying it was a mandatory watch to understand who you were as a person. Of course, Jake had streamed it that same night. The soundtrack was surprisingly good.)

Your voice snapped him out of his downward-spiraling thoughts. “You know, I almost got scared that Sunghoon would appear out of thin air and start hanging out with us.”

Jake tried not to sneer at the mention of his best-friend-turned-number-one-nemesis. “Why? Wouldn’t you like that?” he mumbled, clearly doing a poor job of seeming unaffected.

You frowned, then lowered your head, focusing your gaze on your almost-finished ice cream. “No, I’d rather if it was just the two of us.” Jake’s eyes widened, unsure if he’d heard that correctly or not. But before he could say anything in response, you spoke again. “It’s just, he was there when I came to watch your practice and when I thought we were all going to see a movie together, it was just him and me. You would’ve liked that movie, by the way,” you said, looking up at Jake with a smile.

Jake’s heart swelled. He wasn’t sure what what you were saying all meant, but unconsciously, his lips mirrored yours and he smiled back at you. Until he remembered you didn’t like him, and his smile fell immediately. Obviously, you had no idea what he was thinking, so his sudden stony expression sent alarms ringing through your head.

“It’s not that I don’t like him, or anything,” you said, panicked, and Jake had to keep himself from scoffing, “it’s just that- you know. It’s nice to hang out with you outside of tutoring sessions,” you finished, mumbling.

Jake had no idea what you were saying, so he stayed quiet, watching as Kiwi and Layla ran around in circles. You liked Sunghoon, so why would you rather hang out with Jake and not him? You weren’t making any sense.

You, on the other hand, were not liking Jake’s uncharacteristic silence. In hopes of getting his attention, you crossed one leg over the other, shifting on the bench to face him. “Plus, don’t you think he and Chaewon really hit it off the other night? I think that was the most I’ve ever heard him talk,” you said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. To your dismay, it didn’t work. You didn’t know whether he was sulking or genuinely upset - all you knew was you desperately wanted to see a smile on his pretty face again.

“Jakey?” you called out, and your voice sounded so small it hurt his heart. He hummed in response, only glancing at you for a fraction of a second. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” he replied, scooping the last of the ice cream in his mouth. As he tasted the strawberry and vanilla flavors, he couldn’t believe he had given his precious mango ice cream up all for a girl who didn’t even like him back. What a fool.

“I don’t know, you’re all- weird, all of a sudden, for lack of a better word.” You searched for some sort of an answer in his eyes, but he supplied you with none.

Jake sighed deeply. He could feel the ugly mix of emotions in his belly turning into anger - anger at what exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to lay it on you. “It’s just the heat, it’s making me tired,” he said. Sure, it was warm for a May afternoon, but it wasn’t that hot. But you didn’t want to push it.

“Should we go home?“ you offered, and the worry in your voice made him feel even worse. He just couldn’t understand why you were being so nice to him. He knew you probably just thought you were looking after a friend, but he'd rather you not care about his well-being and leave him be. He didn’t need one more reason to like you - he already had plenty of those.

He nodded, mustering as convincing a smile as he could. “Sure.”

The walk home was much quieter than usual. You could feel that Jake was keeping something to himself, and it was killing you; but whatever it was, you wanted him to tell you when he felt ready and not feel forced to. Your hand was aching, desperate to reach out and grab his as you had done before, but you were afraid that would only push him away even further. So you stayed silent most of the time, only commenting on the things around you or speaking a thought out loud when you thought it might make Jake smile. Every time his lips curled up, even ever so slightly, your heart swelled with relief.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake was making up his mind. He knew he needed time away from you to gather his feelings before he could see you as a friend again.

When you reached your house, Jake waited outside with the dogs as you grabbed his bag he’d left upstairs. You hugged goodbye as always, but this one was different - it lasted a few seconds longer than usual, and you could swear Jake held you tighter than he normally would. It felt like he was saying goodbye for more than just a couple days.

You didn’t understand why it made your heart ache so much.

—

The next day, when you walked past Jake and Sunghoon in the hallway, Jake barely glanced at you and only tilted his head in your general direction instead of his usual wide grin and wave. You were so shocked by his sudden snubbing that you halted in your steps right away, looking behind you at his retreating figure. You locked eyes with Sunghoon, who seemed just as confused as you felt. He shrugged at you before returning to his friend and nudging his arm.

On Wednesday morning, you got a text from Jake that he couldn’t make it to your tutoring session that afternoon because of an extra soccer practice to prepare for their game that weekend, something he had never mentioned before.

Thursday and Friday weren’t very different, and your heart became heavier with every time you walked past each other and he acted like you weren’t even there. You desperately wanted to know what you’d done wrong, why he’d started to reply in one-word sentences instead of his usual voice messages and tons of emojis, but no matter how much you cogitated, you couldn’t figure it out. Even when you asked him how his game had gone, a dry Good stared back at you from your phone screen.

That Saturday, your girlfriends came over. Yena had brought beads and strings to make accessories out of, and the mere sight of them had brought fond memories back to all four of you - during your first sleepover in freshman year, this was the exact activity that had kept you occupied for hours.

You got started on them immediately, each finding a comfortable spot in your room as soft music played in the background. You lay on your bed while Chaewon and Yena took over the floor and Hyewon sat at your desk.

“I’m gonna make one of those phone accessories,” Yena said excitedly, reaching for the biggest, most colorful beads.

“I’m gonna make couple bracelets for Jaemin and I,” Hyewon said somewhat shyly but beaming. Yena and Chaewon groaned at her words, but they gave you an idea.

“You guys are vomit-inducing,” Yena replied, and if you didn’t know your friend any better, just going off the tone of her voice, you’d have thought she was being serious. Hyewon just rolled her eyes, used to this daily slander she received simply for being in a relationship.

“I’ll make something for my little sister,” Chaewon butted in, and you and Yena simultaneously ‘aww’ed.

“So it’s aww when Chaewon does it for her sister, and it’s vomit-inducing when I do it for my boyfriend?” Hyewon exclaimed, appalled.

“Little sisters are cute. Boyfriends are gross,” Yena replied matter-of-factly, making you giggle.

“Whatever. You guys are just jealous that you’re dying alone and I’m not. What are you making, Y/N?” she asked before Yena could retort again. The two exchanged a glare as you thought over your answer.

“I’m not saying,” you replied with a giggle.

“She’s making one for Jake, that evil wench,” Chaewon immediately said, making your eyes widen. Yena gasped dramatically while Hyewon smiled at you.

“How did you know?” you asked Chaewon.

“Just your face. You’re so obvious,” she snickered.

“You’re a traitor, Y/N!” Yena exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at you, and you hid your face in your hands, muttering an apology. “Wasting time and energy on a boy.”

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N. Whatever it is you make, he’ll be super happy you thought of him. Then he’ll finally ask you out and you’ll live happily ever after, just like me and Jaemin,” Hyewon said with a serene smile on her face. Chaewon and Yena exchanged a look, then faked a gagging sound. “So bitter,” Hyewon muttered, shaking her head at your friends.

“I’m not sure about that,” you sighed. “I just want to be friends again. He’s been ignoring me all week.”

All three snapped their heads up at you. “He’s been ignoring you?” Yena echoed, and you meekly nodded. “Give me his phone number. No, give me his address. I’m going there right now,” she said, already sitting up.

“Gosh, Yena, it’s fine,” you said, gesturing at her to sit back down, laughing at your friend’s seriousness. “I’ll see him on Monday anyway, I can just see how he behaves then.”

Yena didn’t look convinced, but she yielded anyway. “If he hurts you, I swear I’ll give him a stern talking to. And a broken nose.” You laughed as you thanked your friend.

Hyewon asked for more details about this Jake situation, so you filled your friends in about his mysterious behavior that week. Chaewon had been the only one to see it firsthand, when you’d walked to a class together and Jake had walked past you without saying anything. You told them about his sparse answers to your texts, his lack of response to the TikToks you sent him. He wasn’t even reacting to your BeReals anymore. It was just such a complete switch-up in attitude that you had no idea what to make of it. They tried to come up with reasons for it, but it really didn’t make much sense. It just felt like he suddenly decided to hate you - or maybe you had been interpreting everything wrong, and the two of you had never been friends in the first place.

“This is so confusing,” Chaewon suddenly said, seeming lost in thought. “I thought for sure that he liked you.”

“Liked… me?” you echoed.

“Yeah. Just the way he was when we were at the diner. He kept looking at you and was always smiling and blushing whenever you talked to him. Also the way Jay and Sunghoon were behaving. Boys are so obvious when their friend likes someone, it’s like they’re trying to fumble it for him. And I mean, anyone with functioning eyes can see that you like him too, so I don’t know why he’s doing this all of a sudden.”

Yena sighed. “Boys are stupid.”

“That, they are,” you agreed, sighing as well and returning your attention to your craft. Maybe a simple gift like this wouldn’t fix what was going on between you and Jake, but you had to at least try. You couldn’t let go of your friendship so easily.

Even though it seemed as though he could.

Nothing changed the next week. On Monday, you woke up to a text that pulled your heart down into your stomach.

jakey-poo i think we should stop tutoring each other for now

For an hour as you ate breakfast and got ready for school, you ruminated over your answer, only to ask him a simple why? in the end.

jakey-poo i’m to busy w soccer practice and other stuff we can start again when exams are near

you oh okay

You felt pathetic, but you had no idea what to say. You couldn’t force him into this, and you definitely couldn’t show up at his house and demand a better explanation. If you were Yena or Chaewon, maybe you could - but you weren’t. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask him if the two of you could still hang out outside of that, so scared you were for his inevitable rejection.

During the week, you tried to find a time when you could give him your small handmade gift, but Jake wasn’t even looking you in the eyes anymore. The only time you made eye contact with him over those five days was on Wednesday at lunch - as you walked into the cafeteria, you scanned the whole room, unconsciously searching for him. When you did, he was already looking at you - he was close enough for you to see the slight frown in his eyebrows, the lack of the usual glint in his eyes. But as soon as he’d seen you’d found him, he turned away. You only looked away when Chaewon called out your name.

In the few classes you had together, he always slipped away before you could get to him. Him walking past you like he couldn’t even see you broke your heart a little bit more every time, and by Friday, you had completely given up. Your friendship with Jake was over, and you had no idea why, no idea who or what to blame.

Monday and Wednesday afternoons felt empty now that you had gotten used to spending them with him, and you couldn’t even walk Kiwi without missing him. He seemed to miss Jake and Layla too - he’d sometimes tilt his head at you as if asking where your new friends were, and when you got to the park, he’d gloomily stick to you instead of running around like he usually would, especially when Layla was there.

The worst part was at night, when your thoughts kept you up. You’d reread your and Jake’s text conversations, wondering what went so wrong so quickly, warm tears spilling from your eyes out of sadness and tiredness. On those nights, you’d sneak Kiwi up to your room and let him cuddle up to you in your bed. You’d comfort each other that way.

You had no idea that a couple kilometers away, Jake lay in bed sleepless as well, Layla at the edge of his bed and whining in her sleep. You had no idea that missing you had carved a deep hole in his chest.

—

Enough was enough.

It had been days since Layla had last seen Kiwi, and to a young pup like her, that felt like eternity. Lately, Jake hadn’t seemed happy to go on walks with her like he used to, and he barely had any energy to play with her. She also hadn’t seen you in days, and she wondered if that had anything to do with Jake’s recent despondency.

But thankfully, Layla was a smart girl, so she knew exactly what to do to fix this dire situation. On Friday, she waited for Jake to come back from soccer practice and take her on a walk. As soon as they reached the sidewalk outside of their house, she pulled on her leash in the opposite direction of their usual route. Jake tried pulling her the other way, but she wouldn’t budge.

“We’re going that way, Layla,” Jake said, amused by his dog’s sudden stubbornness. Layla barked back. “Come on!”

She was really not moving. “We never go that way,” Jake said, sighing. “That way’s the-”

That’s when he realized. Layla wanted to go to the park you went to with Kiwi. “But what if we ran into them?” Jake asked.

Layla barked again. She wanted to say, That’s exactly why I want to go there, but of course Jake didn’t understand. He sighed again and obliged, letting Layla lead the way. She had a good feeling that she’d finally see her friends again today.

Jake’s heart started beating faster with every step he took, knowing that you might be out right now, too. When he’d seen you at school, you’d seemed as sad as he was, and he felt terrible for perhaps being the reason behind it - but he didn’t know what else to do. He could either spare your feelings or his. If this was hurting you, he knew you’d move on quickly enough anyway - and when he came to terms with being just friends with you, he’d come back, and everything would be perfect like it used to be. Foolproof plan.

If there was one thing Jake had learned from the tutoring sessions with you, it was that the weather always reflected the protagonist’s inner thoughts. If they were upset, it would be gray and rainy - if they were happy, it would be warm and sunny. Jake glared at the sun, just another reminder that he wasn’t the main character in this story. If he was, it would be thundering and lightning would be striking.

As if his life was a joke, two minutes after Jake and Layla had walked into the park, he saw you. At least you were facing the other direction, so you couldn’t see him, and he could redirect his route to avoid you. But he let himself indulge in the moment for a few seconds. You had laid out a picnic blanket for you and Kiwi and rested on your stomach with your elbows propping you up, reading a book. Kiwi slept peacefully next to you - this dog was the furthest thing from a guard dog Jake had ever seen. You kicked your feet up in the air, flip flops discarded to the side of the blanket. Jake was happy to see you like this, enjoying the warmth of this sunny May afternoon.

He was about to walk away, but a sudden movement caught his eye. Two school kids started running to you, and before you could even register their presence, one of them snatched your flip flops and they both sprinted away, shrieking with laughter like two little devils. Where the hell were their parents?!

Without thinking, Jake started running after them, and so did Kiwi and Layla.

“Hey! Come back here!” Jake yelled, hoping in vain that these kids would listen to someone older than them. Kiwi did his best, but his tiny legs didn’t allow for such a chase - Layla, barking loudly at the thieves, was the first to reach them, and she managed to scare them so much, they tripped over their feet. But unlike them, she was well-behaved, so she sat once her job was done and waited for Jake to arrive.

“What are you two doing? You can’t just steal other people’s things!” he admonished, holding onto his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

Both kids were already teary-eyed. “We just wanted to play a prank, we’re sorry!” one of them quickly said, voice shaky.

“It’s not to me you should apologize, but to her,” Jake said, turning around to point in your direction. That’s when he noticed you sitting on your knees, hands covering your face as your shoulders trembled. “You made her cry!” Jake exclaimed, tone much angrier than seconds prior. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the kids by their shoulders and forcing them to keep up with his quick steps.

You didn’t notice their presence in front of you until Jake prompted them. At the sound of the all too familiar voice, you whipped your head up. Jake swore he heard his heart breaking when he saw your red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. You barely heard the kids’ apology, so amazed you were at suddenly seeing Jake.

“We’re sorry for stealing your flip-flops and making you cry,” the first one said.

“Sorry,” repeated the other one, handing you your shoes.

“Oh, right. Thanks, just don’t do it again,” you replied, sniffing as you took back your shoes.

“We won’t!” they replied in unison before running away once more.

Jake stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure what to say. He watched you stare at your flip flops like you’d never seen them before in your life. “You’re not going to thank me for catching those delinquents?” he asked after a small while, chuckling slightly.

This made you look up at him. He gulped as your eyes met. Then, you burst into sobs again, and Jake started panicking. He crouched down to your level, first holding you by the shoulders then forcing your head out of your hands so he could wipe away your tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“No no no, why are you crying, Y/N?” he asked softly, pulling you into a hug.

You continued crying into his shoulder, ignoring Kiwi and Layla’s confused stares. “You- you- I haven’t seen you in ages!” you exclaimed.

Jake sighed. He didn’t understand why you were crying like this for him, all he knew was that he’d never felt so awful. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair, pulling your shaking body closer to him. “I’m sorry.”

You leaned back to glare at Jake, your bottom lip jutting out in discontent. “Do you even know how much I missed you?”

Jake held your head in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. Mouth agape in surprise, he looked at you with sad eyes. “You… you did?”

Your eyebrows creased. “Of course I did!” Another sob rippled through your body, and Jake took you back in his arms, wrapping them around your shoulders and resting his cheek against your hair.

“I missed you too.”

“Then why did you do this?” you asked, voice breaking.

“Because I didn’t want to get hurt,” Jake whispered back. “But I didn’t think I’d hurt you. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You leaned back again, but this time, you looked confused rather than angry. His eyes were soft as they scanned your face and as he brushed strands of your hair back behind your ears. “Why would you get hurt?” you asked again, bringing your voice to the same volume as his.

Jake sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as if in pain, before opening them again and boring them into yours. “I like you so, so much Y/N. So much so that I don’t know what to do with myself. But I know that you don’t feel the same way, and I was scared that by staying by your side, I’d just fall in love with you even more and get hurt in the end. So I pushed you away because I didn’t know what else to do, but I’m so sorry I- You’re crying again?”

Your fists grabbed at the front of Jake’s t-shirt as sobs raked through your body once more. It was official - Jake was the stupidest person you’d ever met. And you were in love with him.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I like you too, you idiot!” you yelled back. Your tears were probably staining his t-shirt, but you couldn’t care less. He liked you. Jake liked you.

You were too busy crying to see Jake’s eyes slowly widening in disbelief. “You what?!”

Gently, Jake pushed your shoulders back so he could look at you. Even with puffy eyes and a runny nose, you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Pretty like an angel that had graced the Earth with her presence. “You what?” he repeated, just to hear you say it again.

“I like you, Jake. I’m so in love with you it's actually pathetic,” you said with a chuckle, looking down out of shyness. But when you looked back up, Jake’s eyes were going back and forth between yours, the expression on his face like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard but desperately hoped it was true.

As you locked eyes, both of your faces lit up with grins. You burst into laughter together, finding each other’s hands and intertwining your fingers together. Then Jake brought you back into his arms, holding tightly, as if he was scared you might disappear any second. Kiwi and Layla had long walked away to give the two of you some needed privacy.

In each other’s arms, you rocked side to side gently and laughed for no reason other than the incredible fact your feelings were reciprocated. “You stink, you know,” you suddenly said in-between giggles. “You sweat while you ran after those kids.”

“I sweat? You mean I swote, right?” Jake asked a pause.

You leaned back to look at Jake. “Swote?” you echoed, and he nodded. Your umpteenth smile made your cheeks lift. “You have to be kidding-”

“I am,” Jake cut off, mirroring your smile. “I just wanted to make you laugh.”

You gasped and lightly punched his chest before letting your body fall against his again. “You’re so silly,” you said, sighing in bliss at the sound of his giggles.

Then all of a sudden, Jake pulled away and looked at you, almost frightened. “What about Sunghoon?”

“What about him?” you asked back, confused by Jake’s question.

“I thought you- Didn’t you- you know…”

You tilted your head at Jake, a small grin spreading on your lips again. “I don’t know.”

“I thought you liked him…” Jake mumbled, looking away with a pout.

Before you could stop it, a noise of confusion left your throat. You looked at Jake like he was insane. “I can barely have a conversation with Sunghoon, what made you think I liked him?”

Jake pursed his lips and let a resigned puff of air out of his nose. “I, um- Remember when we mixed our backpacks up?” he asked and you nodded, smiling at the fun memory. “I may have, um, I may have read… your… diary,” he admitted, voice getting quieter with each word. He dared a glance at you - you looked horrified, eyes wide and mouth agape. “And you wrote that you liked Sunghoon,” he finished with a whisper.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Jake was bracing himself for a slap to the face or your screams, until you did the last thing Jake expected you to do - you laughed. You laughed so hard and for so long that he got scared you had gone insane and this was the first part of your mental breakdown before you murdered him in cold blood for having invaded your privacy. He would’ve deserved it, he thought.

“I don’t- oh my God, Jake, I don’t- I don’t like Sunghoon. I never really have, or not in the way you think, I can’t- oh my God,” you explained in between giggles, trying to catch your breath but starting to laugh again every time you managed to compose yourself. Jake tried to laugh along, but he was too confused to do so properly.

“You’re not mad?” Jake asked, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head and the last giggles out of your throat. “You read it ages ago, and we didn’t even know each other back then, there’s no point in being mad now. It’s just funny - I know exactly why you think I liked Sunghoon, but I didn’t. Not really. And even if I did, those feelings are nothing compared to the ones I have for you now,” you said, beaming. A blush spread on Jake’s cheeks, and you could tell he was trying (and failing) to contain a proud grin.

You explained to Jake the ‘character’ thing you and your friends had going on and that Sunghoon (and hat guy) just happened to be one of them - you watched as Jake narrowed his eyes and slowly nodded, trying to understand this concept that was so foreign to him.

“You know, it all makes a lot more sense now,” Jake said when you were explaining. “It would’ve been weird for you to like Sunghoon when I was right there.” He smirked down at you as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Oh my God!” you suddenly exclaimed, startling Jake in the process. Dramatic as always, he put a hand over his heart and exhaled loudly. “I have something for you. For us, actually.” You reached into your bag and got out the two accessories you’d made for you and Jake. “These are for us to put on our backpacks, so that we don’t confuse them again. They also match.”

Jake’s eyes were fixated on the string of beads as you placed into his palm. “I tried to give it to you over the week, but…”

A teardrop fell into Jake’s palms, and when you looked at him, you realized he’d started crying. “Jake?” you cooed softly, and he sniffled, wiping away the tears from his eyes.

As a response, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and buried his face in your hair. “Thank you. And I’m sorry. I promise you’ll never go a second without my undivided attention from now on,” he said, voice shaking with emotion, and you hummed happily.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

He leaned back, and you were relieved to find the familiar puppyish grin on his lips. You gazed into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed your head in his hands and pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, but when his face was back in front of yours, your eyes immediately drifted to his lips. They looked soft and plump and pink, and were utterly inviting. Every time you’d started daydreaming about kissing Jake, you’d stopped yourself, not wanting to over-indulge in your fantasies. But was this finally, really happening?

“Y/N?” Jake said quietly. You could swear his face was getting closer.

“Hm?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your face broke out into a grin. Without warning, you pressed your lips against Jake’s - initially just for a peck, but as soon as you started pulling away, Jake chased after your lips and trapped them into a kiss, a proper one this time. You’d never done this before, so it was naturally somewhat clumsy, but you and Jake were so giddy with excitement that you couldn’t care less. So what if you were smiling so hard, your teeth clashed against his, or you kept bumping noses? You were kissing Jake Sim.

The second time around, he let you pull away to catch your breath, and you wished you could photograph the sight in front of you - Jake with flushed cheeks, closed eyes and a serene smile on his face. He was so pretty, and now, he was all yours.

When he opens his eyes and finds you looking at him, his smile widens. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes,” you echoed, laughing. You pressed your lips to his cheek before burying your face in the crook of his neck.

He hugged you to him and the sweet sound of his giggles filled your ears and your heart. “My girl,” he whispered, before leaning his head back, face to the sky, and screaming it loud enough for the whole park to hear. You tried to shush him, but you couldn’t stop laughing yourself out of sheer excitement. Layla and Kiwi came running back to you, barking happily and trying to lick your faces.

“I cried so much today, my eyes are gonna be puffy tomorrow morning,” you said between giggles.

Jake pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. “I’ll make sure you never cry again, Y/N,” he said, and he sounded so genuine, you almost wanted to cry again right then and there.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur - while you and Jake kissed, laughed, talked, and hugged, hours that felt like minutes passed you by. Jake kept on looking at the accessory you made him, poking fun at you for knowing his favorite color even though he’d never mentioned it.

“It was a lucky guess,” you grumbled. “Your room’s walls are that color,” you said, pointing to a particular dark blue bead.

“I love it,” he replied with a kiss to your forehead.

As always, he walks you home - and this time, you can take his hand without any hesitation. Your mom had come home from work while you and Jake were out, and you found her in the kitchen, prepping some veggies for dinner.

As soon as Jake introduced himself, a flash of revelation struck her and she shot you a knowing smirk. “So you’re Jake,” she said, and the boy glanced at you with amused confusion. “That one over there has been badgering me about you these past few weeks.”

Apparently, you agreeing to be his girlfriend had already gone to his head, because instead of looking surprised at your mom’s words, he slowly turned to you with an arrogant smirk gracing his lips. “Has she?”

Your mom nodded slowly. “Oh, yes.” Then her expression slowly morphed into something else as she remembered your red, puffy eyes from the other evening when you’d told her about what was going on with Jake. She raised her kitchen knife and pointed it straight to him, eyes narrowed. “If you ever hurt my daughter again, I’m putting you in the lasagna, young man.”

Jake gulped, smirk completely wiped off of his face. You just watched in amusement. “I- I won’t,” he stuttered, eyes fixed on the blade of the knife.

A wide grin reappeared on your mom’s face as she went back to cutting the vegetables. “Good!”

Jake looked at you for some sort of explanation, but you simply shrugged. He’d just have to get used to your mom’s crazy.

“You know, you’re just as handsome as she described,” your mom told Jake with a wink.

“Mom, please!” you exclaimed, cheeks burning with heat. You liked it better when she was threatening your boyfriend with a knife, but he was relieved by the new turn this conversation had taken.

“What else has she said?”

��Oh, you know, just your typical he’s so smart, he’s so cute, he’s so funny-”

“Okay, that’s it!” you cut in before your mom could spill more on you. You ignored Jake’s noises of complaint as you grabbed him by the shoulders and led him towards the door. “I think it’s time for you to go home, no?”

“Y/N, come on!” Jake whined, giggling.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner, Jake?” your mom offered, making you stop in your tracks. You stared wide-eyed at her but she just looked at Jake, wearing an inviting smile.

“Sure!” Jake beamed. “I just need to call my mom.”

“Oh, invite her along! I always make enough to feed an army, anyway.”

“Really?” Jake asked, incredulous. Since his brother had left for university, it had always been just he and his mom at the dinner table. The thought of sharing a meal with you and your mom filled his heart with warmth.

“Yeah!”

Jake smiled giddily as he got his phone out. “Thanks, she’ll be stoked.”

Although you both wanted to help your mom, she urged you to stay outside with the dogs and enjoy the last rays of sunshine of the day, insisting she didn’t need any help. So you and Jake spent some time throwing sticks for Kiwi and Layla and giggling at their cuteness. Kiwi quickly got exhausted and came to lie down at your feet, but Layla was tireless. “Your dog, your responsibility,” you said as you sat down next to Kiwi, rubbing his tummy and watching Jake throw the stick over and over again for Layla.

Jake was as relentless as Layla, and every time she ran after the stick, he ran to you and pressed a kiss to another part of your face, making you giggle every time. Once on your forehead, once on your nose, once on your cheek, then the other, and once on your lips.

Then his mom rang the bell, and as your mom opened the door for her, the oddest thing happened - they called out each other’s name and hugged as if they were old friends. You and Jake exchanged a confused look before turning your attention back to them.

“What a coincidence!”

“Right! Such a small world, I can’t believe you’re my daughter’s boyfriend’s mom.”

“Boyfriend? Gosh, has he finally asked her out? I was going crazy seeing him moping around in his room!”

“Mom!” Jake yelled, face already reddening as you burst into laughter.

You joined them inside the house and set the table while your mom finished up dinner. Jake’s mom had brought a bottle of red wine as a gift, so she poured two glasses for her and your mom, but you and Jake stuck to Sprite.

Apparently, they knew each other from some yoga class they both went to every Sunday - you found out this was the woman your mom often went out for lunch or drinks with. They were so excited to meet each other like this that they talked most of the time, leaving you and Jake to eat your food quietly and giggling every time you made eye contact or your feet touched under the table.

Just as you were about to take your last bite of lasagna, your phone pinged with a message. Curiously, so did Jake’s. Chaewon had sent a message into the group chat, asking to meet her at work when her shift was done because she was craving an Oreo milkshake.

chae bae y/n u better come ik ur not doing anything better tonight anyway

You scoffed. You were doing something better.

“Shit, today’s Friday! The boys are waiting for me at the diner, I completely forgot,” Jake exclaimed as he read the messages on his phone.

“Language, Jake,” his mom scolded.

“At the diner?” you repeated.

“Yeah, that one we went to last time. Why?” Jake asked when he noticed your surprised expression.

“That’s where Chaewon wants to meet.”

You both turned to your respective moms, silently asking for permission to leave the dinner table.

“Just go,” your mother said with a smile.

“I’ll take Layla home later,” Jake’s mom added.

You thanked them before rushing to get a bag and heading to the bus stop, hoping a bus would come by soon. Twenty minutes later, you were opening the doors of the diner and looking around for your friends, who were nowhere to be found. You were fishing your phone out of your pocket to call Chaewon when a familiar voice caught your and Jake’s attention.

“What are they doing together?” you heard Jay say, followed by loud shushes. You turned your head to find all five of your friends (plus Jaemin) crammed in a booth in the corner that was somewhat hidden from the rest of the restaurant. But they were trying so hard to be discreet that it made their presence even more obvious - they hid their faces with their hands as if that would make them disappear from your view. You and Jake shared a look before chuckling, shaking your head at your friends.

“Whatever, they’ve clearly found us,” Jay sighed and exited the booth, walking towards the two of you.

“Were you guys trying to get us to make up or something?” Jake asked with an amused smile.

“Yeah, we grouped up and planned this whole thing. It was a real team effort.”

“It might’ve worked better if you hadn’t all stayed here, you guys were so obvious,” you chided.

“Tell that to your friends over there! They insisted on watching it unfold,” Jay grumbled, and you looked behind him to see your friends frantically waving at you.

You switched to a bigger booth that could accommodate all seven of you, and as soon as you’d placed your orders, Yena practically pounced on you, demanding an explanation as to how the two of you were already made up.

You turned to look at Jake and smiled at him before answering. “It’s all thanks to Kiwi, really,” you told Yena.

“Kiwi? As in your dog Kiwi?” Chaewon asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“Mh-hm.” In your peripheral, you noticed Jake tilting his head at you.

“You mean Layla, right?”

You imitated his head movement. “No, I mean Kiwi.”

“But Layla made me go to the park today. I wouldn’t have gone there if it wasn’t for her,” Jake insisted, giving you an are you being serious look that you mirrored.

“I wasn’t going to go outside at all but Kiwi kept bugging me to take him on a walk, that’s why I was in the park in the first place. It’s thanks to Kiwi,” you repeated.

“It’s thanks to Layla,” Jake retorted, playfully narrowing his eyes at you.

“Trouble in paradise,” Jaemin whispered, and Hyewon slapped his arm.

The whole table was silent as you and Jake stared each other down, waiting to see who would cave first. It was like everyone could breathe again when Jake’s face broke out into a grin and he rested his arm behind your shoulders. “Okay, it’s thanks to Kiwi,” he conceded, making you hum in satisfaction. You rested your head on his shoulder and ignored Yena’s groan of disgust at the PDA.

But Jake, as always, wasn’t letting you off the hook so easily. “And Layla.”

—

02.06.202X - 12:18

rodrigo hater y/n i can see you being gross from across the courtyard can u guys not feed each other ur still on school grounds and ur ruining my day have some decency

sweet hyewon you guys are super cute <3 jaemin and i only have the same lunch period once a week i miss him

rodrigo hater ugh wheres chaewon she’d have my back

you hyewon love u yena frigg off you’re not going to like this… i think she’s with sunghoon rodrigo hater WHAT

sweet hyewon omg hahahaha saw it coming cuuuuute

rodrigo hater i hate you all so much you’re all kicked out of my celibacy club

chae bae we weren’t part of it in the first place

rodrigo hater GO AWAY YOU TRAITOR

03.06.202X - 09:15

you jake wake up wake up wake up please

jake ??? R U okay?

you kiwi keeps whining i think he wants to see layla come over?

jake . did u just wake me up before 10 am on a sunday morning for this

you i made pancakes?

jake i’m going back to sleep

you but i miss you :(

jake running

07.06.202X - 16:39

stink #1 hey

jake no

stink #1 wtf man

jake im busy

stink #1 smooching ur girl?

jake yeah stay mad bro

stink #1 where’s hoon

stink #2 he’s at ice skating practice with me <3 this is chaewon btw

jake AYO????

stink #1 HE GAVE YOU ACCESS TO HIS PHONE???

stink #2 hehehe bye losers

stink #1 oh my god jake this is huge

jake right… our little boy he’s grown so much

stink #1 i’m getting teary eyed anyway i wanted to say i think we should invite the girls to bro night more often it’s always fun with them

jake oh? if u wanna see yena just say so bro

stink #1 fuck u man

jake ur literally so obvious you get 100% more obnoxious when she’s around

stink #1 idc she laughs at my jokes

jake which is proof that there’s something wrong w her anyway i’ll ask my girl about it

stink #1 ew and thx ^^

09.06.202X - 17:03

jakey-poo y/nnnnnn y/n hellloooooo y/n y/n y/n baby :(((( where are u what r u doing i miss you hello y/n my baby darling angel pls answer me layla misses you

you jake sim

jakey-poo HIIIIII

you jay is a genius i’m anime pomodoroing the hell out of this essay it’s working so well i’m almost done with it already

jakey-poo don’t compliment another man ever again i’m going to cry

you but jay’s your friend

jakey-poo i’ll kill him if i have to

you gosh okay jay’s an idiot

jakey-poo hahaha he is ice cream after dinner ???

you duh

31.07.202X - 21:03

jakey-poo i’m waiting for you outside the theater baby we have a lot of talking to do. i can’t believe you kissed someone else in front of me

you jake baby it was just acting <3 you know you’re the only one i really kiss

jakey-poo i know i am so come here and kiss me quick you did so well and you were so pretty on stage and i love you so much COME QUICK I WANNA KISS YOU

you i’m hurrying i promise but a lot of people are trying to talk to me :(

jakey-poo ofc they are you killed it my baby’s already famous <3

you hehe love you my jakey-poo

jakey-poo STOP IT WITH THAT

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 (ask to be removed/added!)

#@ : uc #enhypen x reader #jake sim x reader #enhypen fluff #jake sim fluff #jake x reader #jake fluff #enhypen scenarios #jake sim scenarios #enhypen imagines #jake sim imagines #enhypen angst #jake sim angst

4K notes · View notes

ncteez · 10 months

Note

my love ⭐️ i love you 🫵☺️ congratulations on 6k, you are so wonderful and amazing and, yes, i love you. i’ll say it again, i love you (aggressive 🤬) u don’t have to do this one bc can i request cheol and prompt #13? IF NOT, i will take the spotify playlist instead <3

(ngl, i forgot the number as soon as i entered ur ask box, but it was like “you can take it, you’ve done it before” hehe)

AGAIN, congratulations and i love u, my favorite person ever

seungcheol + “You can take it, you’ve done it before”

wordcount: 3.9k

tags: huge dick!seungcheol, fuck buddy scenario, he’s super cocky and not the soft boyfriend we want him to be, the one where he was a hook up and now he won’t stop calling at three in the morning, he might be a little possessive and competitive, desperate! desperate! desperate!, reader is very sex-positive and also a sarcastic little goblin, mentions of vernon eating u out while on call with seungcheol lmaoooooo, seungcheol uses vernon in dirty talk lmao, smut (fuck around and find out).

note: i wrote this entirely with you in mind sar, ilysm, i hope u love this as much as i love u & hope u don’t mind that i made vernon a core point of the plot. not proof read.

The Friday night from two weeks ago didn’t cross your mind too often because you’re not too often thinking about the dudes you’ve gone home with from the bar. Given, that was mistake number one.

Seungcheol, apparently, doesn’t do “hook-ups”. What he does do, according to his texts, is acquire fuck buddies. That’s fine with you, absolutely and totally okay. Mostly because you have at least three other dudes texting you for some late-night release and all of them are equally as hot as Seungcheol, at the very least.

You guess you just didn’t expect him to ever text again, especially after a two week period.

Mistake number two was answering his call while Vernon (aka fuck buddy #1), was actively going down on you. It’s not entirely that it was a mistake, if anything it was incredibly arousing to answer that phone and hear Seungcheol on the other line tugging at himself while Vernon was down there flicking his tongue on all of the right spots to get you there at least three times faster than usual. Of course, to Vernon, he maybe thought it was a friend or family member calling, and that maybe it was a game where you needed to be quiet while he intentionally tried to make you moan as much as possible.

He was a little shocked hearing how loud you were over the phone, internally panicking at the last minute and lunging up to hang the phone up for you while also forcing you to come down from an impending orgasm. Upon realizing it was Seungcheol (aka fuck buddy #?) his confidence was shot down just a little bit. Of course, you boosted his ego right back up by praising, complementing, and giving him the best head of his life.

Where was the mistake in any of that? It was hot. You loved it, and even Vernon was slightly on board with the idea of fucking you while letting you get other people off over the phone. At least, that was after he got off a couple of times and felt all soft and appreciative of you.

The mistake was Seungcheol texting you about hanging up when he was close.

Again, it’s not like you were expecting him to ever call you back after two weeks of radio silence, better yet in the midst of Vernon doing what he did best.

You could argue that answering the phone at all was a bad idea, and you have no excuse for that, but at least Seungcheol got a little competitive when you explained why the phone was hung up, and who hung up on him.

“So, you’re not the one who hung up on me?” Seungcheol asks in a slightly annoyed voice. “Anyone could see that you were enjoying yourself as much as I was.”

“Well–”

“Was he afraid I’d get you off first without so much as being in the room?”

“I just think that he–”

“Does he want you all to himself or?”

“Seungcheol,” You raise your voice a bit, looking around the room and confirming that Vernon has definitely already left.

Given, Seungcheol called like fourteen times in the span of finishing up your respective orgasms with the messy boy, you weren’t shocked that he answered on the first ring when you called him back.

“What? I’m right.”

“Well, no. You’re not actually.” You respond, rolling your eyes. “Vernon didn’t even know it was someone I fucked until after he hung up on you. He doesn’t want me all to himself, and he definitely wasn’t afraid you’d get me off first.”

Silence.

“You haven’t shown interest since the first and only time we met up, i’m a little confused as to why you’re spamming my phone like some weirdo.” You trail off a bit, and he speaks.

“Um, because I’m horny?” He answers nonchalantly. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about seeing me again.”

“I can say that, actually. But I wouldn't entirely be opposed to it if you stop trying to go to war with the other people I see.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t competitive until now. You have to admit it’s kind of fun–”

“Yeah. I can admit that.”

More silence for a moment before you hear shuffling on your end.

“So, were those moans for him or for me?”

You pause, a cheeky smile forming on your lips. It’s not normal for your fuck buddies to know about each other outside of being aware that the other exists, but, like, you don’t know. It was really hot to hear Seungcheol groaning and fucking his fist while Vernon was doing his thing on you.

“Both of you.”

Seungcheol hums, pleased.

“I’ll have to try harder next time then, make you forget he’s even touching you.”

“Next time?” You laugh, yawning out the post-orgasm drowsiness.

“Or you can just come over, we both know you wouldn’t need us both to feel that good.”

A direct hit to the confidence you just gagged yourself to give back to Vernon. You will never tell him about the competition that seems to be boiling up with Seungcheol, after all, there’s a reason Vernon is number one, and Seungcheol is only just now becoming a face you’ll see more than once.

“I didn’t realize how confident you are about that, is that a promise?”

“Also a threat.” He laughs, seemingly finished with the conversation before letting out a sigh. “I’ll call you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

Man, did he fucking call. A lot. Usually too late into the night or too early into the morning for you to be aware and aware of his need to get off. Does he ever sleep, actually?

This time though, it’s around ten at night when you get his call and you pick it up for him happily.

“Finally, you call when I’m awake.”

A breathy chuckle.

“You gonna come over or are you just gonna argue?”

You’re going over, fucking obviously. Like, lightening speed going over because even though you’ve only been with him once, you can remember how good he made it feel for you.

“I’ll text when I get there,” You start, narrowing your eyes at yourself in the mirror. “You’re not gonna make me call him while I’m with you, right?”

“I might.” He says, and you can practically hear that fucking grin on his face.

“I’m not doing that.”

Another breathy fucking chuckle.

“Did you forget last time? Felt so good I think you would’ve burned a building down if I asked you to.”

That’s fair, but also incredibly unfair for him to bring up.

“You’re so annoying.” You say, shaking your head and slipping on your shoes.

“Well, you’re the one on your way to come sit on me, so…”

Again, that’s fair, but it doesn’t stop you from hanging up on him, and him sitting in his room laughing about how much you very clearly want to see him again, but seem to love arguing.

By the time you get there, he’s ready, Like, so fucking ready. Between reminding himself of how you looked the only time he’s ever been between your legs, to the way you sounded through a muffled speaker while some loser-ass dude was eating you out– yeah, that got to him in so many ways. The fact that you answered the phone while it was happening was one thing, an incredibly hot thing, but the fact that you answered for him at all after so long of no contact was another.

It’s not like he forgot about you or anything, it’s just that maybe on that night his first option was busy, and so was his second option, and you, his third option, was very busy but still let him in on the pleasure you were feeling.

Maybe, just maybe, you set yourself up to become his number one that night. He had to get with you again. Possibly to prove to himself that he could be your number one choice too, but mostly because the way you talk to him is fun.

It’s about sex most of the time, if any of your few conversations are to go by, but all of this makes him wonder how you act when you’re not horny. Not that it matters or anything, but still. You’re an interesting lay, and he’s excited to see you again.

Either way, when you land those little knocks on his door and he rushes to open it. It’s almost like he entirely forgot what you looked like. You look insanely attractive right now to him, to the point that it’s a struggle to even step back and let you in through his door. It’s hard for him not to use his strength against you, rushing forward and making you sigh out his name against the plush grass on his lawn.

Self control is something he was always proud of, and fuck you for ripping that away from him by so much as fucking other people and still showing up on his porch to let him have his turn.

You look up at him, noting the way his hair falls in his face and his arms flex as he grips the door knob tightly upon seeing you.

“Why do you look so fucking good right now?” He blurts, staring at you.

“Probably because you’re horny?” You smile, taking a step forward and shoving past him without issue or resistance.

That little shove though. Damn, his skin is on fire just from feeling your fingers pressed against his chest to move him out of your way. Probably because you’re moving him so you can get inside and be fucked. He senses eagerness in your own charade of calmness, turning to watch you bend over to slip off your shoes.

“Go ahead and take the rest off too, while you’re at it.” He finally says, closing the door and leaning against the frame as he crosses his arms.

You look back at him with a chuckle, your eyes trailing down and noting the size of that thing in his pants. What, the, fuck. You actually managed to forget that you nearly had to do breathing exercises the last time he slid his cock into you. It’s not even an issue, because you really did love to feel as full as he made you. You’re just shocked that you let that slip your fucking mind.

“Jesus,” You sigh, standing up straight and kicking your shoes out of the way. This time you reach for the hem of your shirt as you walk to him, lifting it above your head and discarding it on the floor as well. “Did you get bigger, or?” You add, instantly grabbing his length beneath his loose sweat pants and gripping it.

The way you nearly see his eyes cross makes you smile wider as you massage him there for a moment.

“I’ll go ahead and let you think that,” He smiles after the feeling of your hand on him settles within his aroused gut. “Miss me?” He whispers now, pushing his hips forward against your hand so you can feel it twitch in your palm.

You’d say no, because there wasn’t much to miss outside of the sex, which you were getting elsewhere. But, seeing him now, yeah, you think you’ll at least miss him once you go home.

He notes your small nod before stepping up closer. His chest is right up against you as he looks down at you, eyes fanning over your face and realizing that this time, he’s really going to fuck you. Like, he’s going to give it his all, if anything, just to become your favorite.

“Come on then,” He smiles, reaching for your hand and pulling it away from himself before guiding you to the room you’ve already been in once before.

It’s the exact same as it was save for different sheets, but your stomach bubbles more than it did that time with him.

The removal of clothes is quick and mostly unnnoticed, if anything it was just an annoyance to get that part out of the way.

And then, he’s doing what he does best, sitting back against his headboard, spreading his legs, and patting the bed between them. You’d assume he wants head but no. No, no. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling your back right up against his chest as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

You feel his hands trail down, no teasing, no playing around. He goes straight to your clit and uses his other hand to spread one of your legs wide open.

“Did his tongue do this?” He asks, swirling two fingers around your clit before sliding them up and down your folds.

You’re not surprised that he’s playing off of the Vernon thing, so you play along too. Feeling his fingers work their magic on you as you lean your head back on his shoulder and continue to listen to him talk.

“Was he eager for it? Grabbing your legs and drooling all over himself?”

You hum out of approval at his words, because you damn right that’s what Vernon does and he’s fucking good at it too.

“I fucking bet he was,” Seungcheol sighs softly against your neck, leaving a warm spot from his breath as he continues to slip his fingers up and down your pussy. He does this for a while, remaining silent and only listening to how wet you get, how swollen your clit becomes. “Did you get this wet for him too?”

You nod again, relishing in the experience of his slow fingers working their magic on you, but then his fingers stop right at your clit and he shifts behind you.

“Can’t have that.” He says, pushing his hips against your back and sliding his fingers down, plunging two of them into you in one go while holding you there against him.

It’s not the feeling of his fingers that turns you on in that moment, it’s the speed of which he plunges them into you and the direct denial of you being just as wet for someone else. Why? You don’t know, but the dynamic is fun considering there is no strings attached at the end of the day, and if he wants to compete in terms of turning you on, you’re more than willing to participate in such an act.

You can feel his effort with the way he curls his fingers, searching for that spot inside of you that Vernon finds with ease considering how many times he’s been inside of you. Seungcheol, only having touched you once before this, never expected to need your pleasure before his own until now.

He watches from behind you. A little tremble of the legs, a small moan– he needs your body to react now as he continues to rub his fingers inside of you. And then, right there he feels you squeeze your legs around his hand, your own hands shooting to his wrist as if to still his movements.

“That it?” He smiles, now putting more force behind what his fingers are doing and rendering you near useless as he continues to work you up. “Didn’t know you would be so sensitive here, listen to it, you’re dripping now.”

He’s going on his little ego boost, enjoying himself, as you sit against him and practically spiral into a world of sex-crazed sensitivity. His fingers hit that spot each time, causing your belly to sear with a burn of pleasure that you can’t help but shake and tremble at the feeling. He’s right, you’re dripping. You can feel it run down your ass, you can feel it against his sheets when you try to lift up for more, only to try and run away from it a moment later.

And then, there comes the sounds.

There is no clit stimulation to be had here, and you’re shocked at our your body forces sounds out of you. You could hold your breath, but the sound would only come out even more desperate as his never once stutters in pace.

And by the time he can feel your legs swing open, offering him full reign of your pussy, he straightens out his fingers and fucks them so deeply into you that you’re actually sighing from relief. No words can explain how good it feels, so you don’t try.

“Come on,” He says between the sounds of his palm hitting your pussy with each inward fuck, “listen to how wet I’m making you.”

You couldn’t avoid listening even if you wanted to, the sound squelching against the walls. You’re embarrassingly wet, except you’re not embarrassed at all. He’s doing exactly what he intended to do. The only thing is, you didn’t exactly see Seungcheol as the type to ask you to listen to your own sounds, reminding you that they’re for him. Asking you to admit it through more of those sounds, through more of that arousal dripping out of you.

You’ll never forgive yourself for letting him go that two weeks without calling you.

“You want me to like you more so bad,” You manage to say in a snide way, despite the moan that comes out after. “What about you? You gonna go another two weeks without doing this to me? Giving it to someone else just to boost your ego?”

The way his fingers halt all movements and his cock twitches against your back at those cocky little words. God, you’re just like him. Perfect.

“Why, you want me to call you the next time someone goes down on me so you can make sure I don’t moan as good as I would with you?”

“Maybe,” You smile, fucking your hips forward on his fingers. “Seems to me like you’re into that, anyway.”

“I am now.” He says, watching the way you fuck yourself against his fingers without shame or embarrassment.

Why wouldn’t you be his number one anyway?

“Fuck, look at you.” He groans, feeling your back moving against his cock all while chasing the pleasure of his fingers. “You want to be filled so bad.”

Damn right you do.

“Yeah?” He asks to your silence, taking back over with his fingers for a brief moment before pulling them out and loving how it still drips down his palm.

You nod silently, letting your legs relax and fall open wide as he shifts behind you. You can feel his hands rub against your waist and urge you to lift. Instantly, you do, because again, you definitely want to be filled up by now, and he’s looking like the best person for the job.

On your knees, you practically let yourself fall forward so that you can present yourself to him. Face down, ass up. He loves it, quickly grabbing a pillow from behind him and nudging you with it.

You accept the kind offer and a pillow before he, ultimately, will fuck you into the next dimension. And that’s exactly what he intends to do.

You’re so wet by now that he can see your pussy pulsing when he grabs his length in his hand, wincing at the sensitivity and ignoring how pathetically heavy it feels in his hand. He knows the relief he’s about to get is going to him him like a ton of fucking bricks, and he doesn’t care. This is the point of seeing you again, after all.

Once again, you forgot. The head of his cock slips between your folds and instantly you’re sighing out of relief and panic. Surely you’re wet enough that the slide will be easier than it was last time. Surely you can handle this.

Except you can’t. At least not immediately.

He slides in about two inches before he feels your body go frigid. He lands a soothing palm against your lower back when he pauses, struggling not to slam into you all at once.

“Relax–” He comments, out of breath himself and rubbing your lower back even more.

He feels the walls of your pussy clench, and clench, and fucking clench, until finally it relaxes around him.

“There you go,” He smirks from behind you, pressing in a bit more and releasing a moan at the way you tense up again. His cock wildly twitches as your pussy hugs only half of his length. Your moan comes out whiny, and he watches the way you bury your face into the pillow.

He rubs again against your back, encouraging you to relax.

“You can take it,” He says sweetly, pushing past the way you clench around him and pressing in further. “you’ve done it before.” He continues, listening to you pant into his pillow and resist the urge to pull away from him.

“Goddamn, so good.” He compliments you upon bottoming out. He can feel your body adjust to him and it’s entirely overstimulating, still, he pushes past the feeling and holds himself in place. “Taking all of it like this, shit.”

He struggles not to call you pet names at this moment, opting instead to continue that massage against your lower back until your walls unclench and ultimately, move yourself against him. The moan he lets out this time is ungodly, and it’s like that one movement from you unleashes his control and in an instant he’s pulling out and slamming back in again.

The room that was just small pants and moans has now become that of the sound of slapping, moaning, and practically crying out of pleasure.

You can’t help the feeling inside of you, a specific type of feral that drives you to meet his hips each time he fucks in, and moan each time his cock hits that same spot his fingers were toying with earlier. That hand on your back helps none by now, as you continuously feel yourself be stretched open by him.

He fucks so deeply, so roughly, and you can’t help but love the difference now between him and Vernon. Which, yeah, Vernon is great with his cock but you’re usually the one riding him to high hell. Seungcheol is really giving it to you right now, making sure you feel every inch, every twitch, every goddamn vein that pulses against your g-spot.

You really can’t help it, when you lift up entirely, forcing that hand on your back to wrap around your middle, up until that same hand grips your tit and he’s sinking lower on his knees to fuck up inside of you.

You stay like that, reaching your arms behind him and pulling his head forward, up against your ear as your entire body shakes at each thrust. There, he talks, and he talks, and he doesn’t fucking shut up. You don’t want him to.

His voice is raspy, out of breath, and super deep. It wasn’t like this the first time you fucked him, and maybe that’s because neither of you felt entirely too desperate for the other. Right now though? With him pleading for you to bend back over, but still holding you tightly against his chest? You know it’s because it slows his pace down, and he wants to fuck hard right now.

“No,” You smile through a moan as he slides in and out of you. “I can feel it more like this.”

That alone is enough for him. He wants you to feel all of him. He wants you to be the one calling when you’re horny.

“Call him,” Seungcheol rasps out, not once stuttering his pace as he continues to plunge himself deep into you. “It’s only fair.”

And you know, if your phone wasn’t across the room with the rest of your clothes, maybe you would.

#seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #[sleepover]#[seungcheol]

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ncityprincess · 3 months

Text

The one before the big ‘three-oh’

Minors do not interact

Happy 29th Birthday to the boyfriend of all boyfriends, the one and only Mr. Johnny Suh🫦🎂

“Man, tonight was crazy fun y/n! Thank you so much, really. How did you score box seats to the Bulls vs the Lakers babe?!” your giddy fiancé exclaimed, high off of the evening’s events. You had just gotten back from the basketball game you surprised Johnny with for his birthday. The tickets cost a pretty penny, but it was worth it. Johnny made all other 364 days of the year magical for you. He deserved a special experience for his big day. It was the least you could do.

Johnny turned on the lights in the house as you took your heels off and set them aside. “Oh don’t worry about it baby. I’m just happy you had a fun birthday. How does it feel being 29, big guy?” The two of you migrated into the kitchen, your typical hang out spot in the house. You loved your little life you’d built with Johnny. From having to share a slice of pizza in your college days, to now being full grown adults and making a comfortable life for yourselves, it was these little moments you looked forward to in life. Making memories with the love of your life made you feel warm inside.

Johnny grabbed two water bottles and handed you one, opening it for you. “You know, normally I’d say I feel the same as any other age, but this year I truly do feel every bit of 29. I guess… it just feels like a serious number because it’s the last one before the big ‘three-oh’, ya know?” Johnny walked up to the barstool you were sitting on and stood in between your legs, cupping your dolled up face. You gave him a tiny, empathetic smile and caressed his large hands.

“You’re gonna be as sexy as ever once you hit those 30’s…just saying” you joked, hoping to soothe his thoughts a little. Johnny tossed his head back and snorted, “wow, thanks babe.”

You giggled along with him, rubbing your hands up and down his broad back. “You’re blossoming into such an amazing man, John. Seriously. I fall more in love with you each day, and it’s an honor that I get to do life with you. I love you so much honey.” Johnny couldn’t hide the blush creeping up on his face even if he wanted to. Of course, always the man of action rather than words, Johnny bent down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. The action said more to you than any sweet words could.

After the kiss slowed, you pulled away from him and ran your hand across the front of his thigh. Maybe there were a few more birthday festivities you had planned for your man…

“Why don’t you uh, get us some wine and meet me back in the bedroom in a few, big boy.” You shot him some flirty bedroom eyes, something you knew he couldn’t resist. Johnny gave you a knowing smile and backed away from you slowly, holding a hand out to help you down from the barstool. He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, and you walked out of the kitchen with a little extra sway in your hips, feeling Johnny’s lingering gaze on your ass.

After giving you what felt like enough time to plan whatever you were conjuring up in that pretty head of yours, Johnny walked into your shared bedroom with two wine glasses in hand, just like you’d asked. He noticed that the lighting was slightly moodier than normal, and took note of the sexy playlist that added to the ambiance in the room. You walked out of the en-suite bathroom wearing nothing but a crimson red silk robe, and a pair of black stilettos.

“Oh well well well, what do we have here baby?” Johnny said as he took in your sexy little look. He gently placed the wine glasses down on the dresser, never taking his eyes off of you. You flipped your hair, the drinks from tonight and the desire to please your man for his special day heightening your confidence. “Hmm, well I guess you can call this your other birthday present, baby.”

“Oh? You mean, it gets better than box seats at the Bulls vs the Lakers?” Johnny flirted. “Why don’t you come unwrap it and find out, daddy.” With that, Johnny all but charged at you and kissed you passionately. You let out a sensual moan, running your hands all over his broad body. After a few moments of making out, you pressed your hands against his chest and pushed him back slightly. “You know what daddy? You’re always working so hard for me. Why don’t you go sit down in the chair? Let me take care of you.” Johnny was hooked under your spell. He would do just about anything for you right now. You guided him toward the chair in front of your bed, and he subconsciously followed.

He looked up at you, mesmerized as you started to put on a little show for him, rubbing your hands all over your body. Your fingers kept dancing toward the rope holding your robe together, but you wanted to drag it out a little more. As if it were right on cue, a particular birthday song popped up on shuffle. The familiar intro played throughout the room, but once the first verse started, the air in the room got a little lighter.

“Wow, very on the nose babe” Johnny snickered. You cracked a smile, giggling at the incredibly literal lyrics of the song. Birthday Sex by Jeremih seemed like an appropriate addition to Johnny’s birthday playlist you had curated beforehand, but in hindsight it did seem a little cheesy. You playfully slapped his arm, slightly embarrassed but also grateful that you two were close enough to be able to share a laugh in intimate situations like this. Yet another reason why you loved Johnny so much. “Shut up!! It seemed like a good song to include at the time. Just sit back and watch, big boy” you scolded lightheartedly.

Johnny held his hands up in retreat, signaling that he was done with the jokes and ready to focus on you. Your hips found the rhythm, and swayed along to the beat. After a few moments, Johnny was hypnotized by your seductive movements. He admired how sexy and confident you were, loving how you moved your body. How did he get lucky to have such a beautiful woman like you?

Johnny’s upper body bent towards you as your fingers inched closer and closer to the tie holding your robe together. You gave him a sexy smile, and played with him a bit. “Aw, you wanna see what’s underneath, don’t ya big guy?” Johnny frantically nodded, licking his plump lips in anticipation. You finally undid the robe, letting it fall to the floor at your heeled feet. There you were, standing stark naked in front of your fiancé. A wave of confidence flowed through your body.

You turned around and bent over slightly, giving Johnny a nice view of your glistening pussy. Johnny let out a soft “fuck”, much to your amusement. You walked back over, stopping right in front of Johnny. His hands automatically moved to your bare ass, rubbing it in appreciation. He looked up at you as if you were the only woman in the world, and it made you feel you alive.

As much as he loved your little peep show, his dick was going to bust through his pants at any second now. Without warning, Johnny stood up and pushed you back onto the bed, shoving his dress pants off and towering over you. You looked up at him dumbfounded, still amazed by the fact that he could manhandle you at any given second. “Babe—baby I’m supposed to be on top of you. It’s your night remember!” You pleaded. Surely he deserved to be the one serviced tonight.

“Shhh, you’ve done enough for me sweetheart. Just need be inside that sweet pussy now. Is that okay, baby?” Johnny looked down at you like the big bad wolf, ready to eat you whole at any moment. How could you resist an offer like that? “Yes daddy. Want you deep inside.”

With that, Johnny rubbed his leaking tip a few times and slowly sank into your dripping pussy. You both moaned in unison, relishing in the closeness of the position. Johnny gathered your thighs on his biceps and placed them around his waist. You locked your ankles in place, bracing yourself in preparation. He built up a strong, quick pace that had you moaning like a whore. “Fuckkkk John you’re so deep baby” you moaned out, wrapping your arms around his neck. Johnny sucked on your earlobe as he pistoned roughly into you.

He was grateful in moments like this to live in a house with just you two in it. Gone were the days of having to tip toe around neighbors and roommates and figure out sneaky ways to pummel your sweet little pussy. He didn’t have to share thin walls with anyone. He could pound into your hole without a care in the world. This is true adulthood, Johnny thought to himself.

Your whiney mewls brought him back to reality, and he turned his head to look down at your gorgeous, fucked out face. Your eyebrows were stitched together, looking up at him with large doe eyes. He loved when you got like this. “Feel good baby? You’re making me feel real good. Yeah that’s it, just lay back and take it.”

You threw your head back in ecstasy, digging your manicured nails into his shoulders. “Ooh daddy I’m so close.” Johnny snuck a hand down to your sex, and rubbed soft circles into your clit. He knew how much you loved a little extra stimulation when you were close to cumming. A couple more thrusts and you were creaming all over his thick cock. Johnny let out a long, deep groan and soon after, you felt warm spurts of cum deep inside you. Johnny thrusted a few more times before he completely stilled with a satisfied groan.

“Fuck baby, this has to be the best birthday I’ve ever had” Johnny said sincerely, playing with some loose strands of your hair. You giggled, still slightly out of breath. “Aw, honey. There’s plenty more where that came from.” You pressed a soft kiss to his nose, and Johnny smiled mischievously.

“I hope you’re not just talking about birthdays, my love.” And with that, Johnny rolled you onto your stomach for a celebratory round 2.

The end 🎂

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rrxnjun · 9 months

Text

dancing in my backseat ✲ l. donghyuck

pairing. film student! donghyuck x film student! fem! reader starring. uchinaga aeri genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. fluff, comedy, suggestive warnings. mentions of alcohol and weed, swearing, sexual innuendos word count. 24k (24.047) a/n. please dont hate me for the fact that this does not have any expected smut in it i tried and it felt too awkward i just COULDN'T. also this fic doesn't fit the image of it i had in my head at all but i actually kind of prefer this version over the prev idea i had anyway <;3

playlist. marvelous - wallows / crash my car - coin / test drive - ariana grande / streets - doja cat / no manners - superm / feather - sabrina carpenter / AEAO - dynamicduo / wet tongue - thomas headon / car crash - eaj / delicious - the boyz / but i like you - boynextdoor

there are only a few things in which men value their social status; one of them being the number of girls in their bed, the next one their rank in league of legends, and lastly, their cars— or— where you would never fuck a guy without a driver's licence.

✲ PART 3 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

If anyone asked you about your relationship with Lee Donghyuck, you’d scoff at them and simply state that the resident gemini was your moral enemy. Was that true? No. No, of course it wasn’t– there was nothing this man has done in his life to get on your bad side, and you truly don’t feel any hatred towards him, but at the end of the day, it’s always easier to say this than to explain the exact feelings you have towards the male without sounding at least a bit overly-dramatic.

See, you don’t hate Lee Donghyuck; you don’t think he’s your enemy either– you just find him absolutely, excruciatingly annoying.

And it’s not his personality, no– although you do admit that the way he carries himself and has such high mind about himself is quite alarming– the way your toes curl and the hair on your body stands up, all alert in sheer ick and disgust, has nothing to do with his ego and everything to do with your experience with the man.

The first time you find Lee Donghyuck intensely annoying is when you get a text one day (having acquired his phone number from one of the class group chats, since the two of you major in the same program), at 9 in the morning, approximately 15 minutes before you have to leave your apartment to get to your fist class of the day. The man picked the wrong time to bother you, since it was Monday, of all days– the beginning of the week always manages to rile you up just because it exists in the first place– and you could give him the benefit of the doubt and say that it wasn’t his fault at all and you woke up grumpy already, but the events that happened after made you so deeply disturbed and annoyed to your core that there truly wasn’t any other word left in your vocabulary to describe Lee Donghyuck than the adjective already mentioned – annoying.

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – hi im in a crisis lee donghyuck (film theory class) – can u pls throw some toilet paper lee donghyuck (film theory class) – we ran out and my roommate already left for class lee donghyuck (film theory class) – pleaaaaase

Staring at the texts appearing on your phone screen in a hurry, you stop in your tracks and furrow your brows at the contact name in confusion. The truth is, you haven’t spoken to Lee Donghyuck that many times– you just know that he’s friends with your friend Lee Yangyang from high school and you two meet occasionally at the said friend’s gatherings. Plus, you had a discussion or two about the beauty of Quentin Tarantino movies when you met at orientation in freshman year, and that's also when you learned that he’s your neighbor; in fact, the window to his flat's bathroom and his very own bedroom face yours. But that’s about as far as it goes when it comes to your closeness. You’re not familiar enough with him to text each other or to think of each other in a time of need, so to have his first texts to you be about him being out of toilet paper is a thing to really dwell on to fully understand the extent of the bad impression this man had on you.

you – what the fuck

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – just open the window and throw me some lee donghyuck (film theory class) – i am good at catching

you – im in a hurry rn. gotta get to class

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – SO DO I why else do u think id be up this early lee donghyuck (film theory class) – so PLEASE throw me the damn toilet paper so im not late today

Shaking your head in disbelief at the conversation you’re currently having, too confused and tired to deal with it so early in the morning, you walk up to your room and look out of the window. Right opposite of you, not being further than 10 meters, if you’re being absolutely exact, is Lee Donghyuck’s head popping out from the bottom rim of his bathroom window, seemingly still sitting on the toilet. The look in his eyes is desperate as he clasps his hands together and mouths “Please!” at you, his face forming into a truly humiliating scowl that makes you wonder if he's truly done with what he'd been doing on the toilet only a few minutes prior.

Sighing, you turn on your feet and escape your room– not noticing the absolutely disturbed and mortified face Donghyuck’s pulling behind your back, thinking you abandoned him and took off for class– and you truly can’t believe yourself when you walk into your own bathroom and take the half-used roll of toilet paper off the stand, murmuring a silent “Fucking hell” under your nose as you walk back to your bedroom and open up your window wide. Donghyuck’s eyes light up now, as if he was a kid under a Christmas tree about to receive a gift from Santa.

“If it falls to the street, I’m not getting it!” you yell after the boy, seeing as he eagerly nods and ushers you with a wave of his hands.

“Just throw it and I’ll be sure to catch it!” he nods, waiting for you to start your career in the new twist on baseball– a sport you’d call a toilet roll throw against the street. His eyes seem focused, knowing this is his only opportunity at wiping his ass this morning (why neither of you thought of suggesting to use the shower instead, you don't know to this day– perhaps it was too early in the morning for such complex strategies), when you surprisingly do your best at aiming for his window– thank god you both live on the same floor– and throw the roll across the alleyway, the paper unwinding only slightly before it lands on the floor of Lee Donghyuck’s pearl white bathroom.

“Thank you so much, you are my savior!” he yells, his head disappearing from the window, leaving you alone in your room to watch the commotion. When nothing happens for a while, you only shake your head in disbelief once again, deciding your job here is over and you can finally take off for your dreaded lecture.

“I’ll get going!” you scream into the void, scratching the back of your neck, aimlessly.

“Mhm! See you later!”

Nodding to yourself, you sigh, closing the window and doing a double take as you’re about to leave your flat for class, hopefully still on time. In disbelief, feeling the second-hand embarrassment seeping to your bones, you put on your shoes at the entrance and swear to yourself that you’re never gonna answer any of Lee Donghyuck’s texts ever again.

The previous scene already established that you’re no stranger to second hand embarrassment. I’m sure all of you have experienced it before– seeing someone desperately flirt with your friend, knowing that they’re not interested… Watching a drama and being absolutely grossed out with the script, wondering how the actors got convinced to take on the role… Hearing someone say an absurd answer in class… There are many, for sure, and the list could just keep going. You saw it with your own eyes as well, when your friend Choi Beomgyu tried hard to impress a girl at the skate park and managed to fall off his skateboard mid-trick, tearing his jeans in the crotch area in the process. Or when your roommate Aeri got tipsy at the club and who she thought was a very fine gentleman to flirt with was actually her ex boyfriend. The list goes on and on.

What about first hand embarrassment, though? You’re sure you experienced it before as well, but if anyone asked you, you’d tell them you don’t remember any embarrassing stories. If it’s because you just don’t want anyone knowing about the shame in your bones or if you really hated those experiences so much you chose to bury them and extract them out of your memory, you won’t tell. You just won’t let the shame haunt you for any longer than it has to, that’s for sure.

So when you walk home from the hairdresser one afternoon and you’re met with your roommate Aeri looking at you with lips pressed together, yet the corners tugging upwards in what you assume (and fully know) is her trying to hold back an amused laugh, you admit that your suspicions were indeed correct when you saw yourself in the mirror at the salon and you’re going to have to live through another embarrassing moment. One that will take days and weeks to outlive as well, since your hair doesn’t grow back overnight– and when you look into the mirror again, you’re terrified.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing, it’s just… you look… well, you know, it’s just…” she mumbles, before she finally breaks into a loud laugh, standing behind you and examining the state of your hair in the mirror of your entrance hall with you, hands coming up to play with your strands and hold them up and down, brushing your bangs out of your face and ruffling the top– trying everything possible to find a single good hairdo with the haircut you have going on right now. “Oh babygirl… what did the do to your beautiful hair…” she mourns, the tone of her voice still amused, but now also kind of considerate.

“I told her I only wanted a trim,” you say, voice weak in what you realize is you holding back your tears and suppressing a mental breakdown, “how the fuck am I supposed to show my face to the world tomorrow?”

Your roommate sighs at you, spinning you around so you no longer can see the disaster on your head, a pout forming on her face as she lightly shoves you deeper into the apartment. “At a second glance, it’s really not that bad, you know–”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” you cut her off, annoyed at her soft eyes.

“I don’t?” she looks at you, shocked irises hardening when she realizes you no longer need her sympathetic words. “Okay, thank god. Man, she fucked you uuup, leave a bad review like, right now. I’d cry myself to sleep if I got a haircut like that–”

“I take it back, I liked your lies better,” you roll your eyes at her, walking over to the kitchen to fix yourself a glass of water to calm down your racing heart. The mental breakdown is still right around the corner and you realize you have to do everything in your power to stop it, because you already have a fucked up haircut– you can’t afford to show up to class tomorrow with puffy eyes and stress-induced pimples as well. Gulping down the cold liquid, you decide to hop into the shower (and avoid looking in the mirror at all costs, which is kind of difficult, since there's three of them just on your way to the bathroom).

Meeting the encouraging eyes of your roommate once you come out of the shower, hair tied up in a towel so you don't have to think about it any longer, Aeri's words reach your ears in the living room. “Come on, I’m sure we can manage to do something with this tomorrow morning,” she smiles, “at least you have a pretty face. You can pull off everything!”

And the truth is, even though Aeri is nice, she’s not always right. You’re met with the fact the next morning as you watch your reflection in the mirror before you both leave for your shared Film theory class, standing next to each other defeated; one breathtakingly beautiful and one looking like the main character from Chicken little. You'd be fine with it if it was only you who was aware of your disastrous image, you would be able to deal with the shame and insecurity silently– but that's not what happens as you’re only reminded by the fact that other people, sadly, do perceive you, against your biggest wishes, throughout the whole day.

You’re reminded by the fact that your haircut is fucked up when Ji Changmin, the guy you share an Animation class with, sees you in the corridor and does the yikes face at you and his friend Sunwoo hides his face from you as they turn the corner. You’re reminded by the fact again when you see Jisu, the ever-so-sweet girl that majors in Finance, the girl that’s friends with everyone in this school, look at you with a considerate look, patting your shoulder when she passes you by before you enter your Film theory classroom.

And most importantly, you’re reminded by the fact when you finally sit down– at the very back of the classroom, which is both valid and understandable, considering your current state– and you’re met with a thud of a backpack to your left, a figure sitting down on the usually vacant spot. Clenching your jaw and looking up to see its owner, mentally preparing yourself for the teasing that’s about to come, you meet eyes with a tall, sleek man, shirt tucked into his black jeans and a sigh of relief escaping his throat as he sits down on the uncomfortable chair. Lee Donghyuck waves at you in greeting when he notices you there, running his hand through his neatly styled hair.

“Hi there,” he breathes out, “can’t believe I made it on time. My alarm didn’t go off and my roommate couldn’t be arsed to wake me, even though our morning lectures start at the same time, so I had to run and my usual seat is taken already… hope you don’t mind me sitting here– woah.”

And here it is again– the feeling of absolute humiliation as the man scans you up and down, eyes bearing into yours with an unreadable look on his face. Is this how he felt when he texted you to throw toilet paper through his bathroom window? Or was he immune to the shame?

“Did you get a new haircut?” he asks, squinting his eyes at you in question.

“Shut the fuck up,” you sigh, already annoyed with his antics– because frankly, you know what will come next.

“That’s an interesting answer to a yes or no question,” he muses, chuckling to himself, “I’ll take it as a yes, though, but it seems like you’re not satisfied with the new look…”

“Woah. You should work with the FBI or something,” you mumble, averting your gaze from him and looking straight in front of you, praying for the class to start fast so you don’t have to interact with your neighbor any longer and listen to him make fun of you for your new look.

“Why? It doesn’t look bad at all,” he says, the tone of his voice fakely considerate, making you want to punch him in the gut, “It’s interesting. I like it. It shows off your eyes and your forehead more, since your bangs are way shorter now,” he says, putting emphasis on the fact that your bangs truly are half their original length– which wasn't your original plan at all– only riling you up more.

“Only thing left to add is that I have a massive forehead, isn’t it?” you ironically smile at him, and the male takes your word for it as his eyes focus on the exposed part of your skin, furrowed eyebrows and all, as he examines your features.

“Not massive, but it’s a little… like, I wouldn’t say–”

“Just don’t say anything, okay?” you sigh, cutting him off and folding your arms at your chest in a poor attempt at defending yourself.

“Geez, why are you so snappy? I was complimenting you, y'know,” he says, and if you were more stupid, you’d even believe him– the tone of his voice still sounds genuine, but that’s just the way your neighbor likes to deceive people, and you know that; you’ve seen it happen multiple times before. “It adds character.”

The comment makes you roll your eyes, all words taken off your tongue– you simply think there’s no use defending your atrocious haircut now (not that you tried defending it before, even you aren't that oblivious). Your gaze is focused anywhere but at your seatmate, counting down the minutes until the class starts and you're taken out of your misery for at least an hour and a half. Your Film theory professor is almost never late and now is the only day you’re content and happy about the fact, because it means you won’t have to listen to Lee Donghyuck for more than approximately 2 more minutes until the small, hunched over frame of your professor strides through the door.

Still, you feel his burning gaze to the side of your face, and despite your best intentions, you snap your head towards him and bite at the annoying gemini.

“Take a picture, it will last longer,” you spit, scoffing at the male.

“Can I really?” he asks, and before you have a chance to disagree, his phone is shoved into your point of view and the shutter comes off, making you lounge after the man in a poor attempt at taking his phone away and deleting the first picture of your new hair ever taken. (Well, except for the one you took crying last night, with a peace sign and your tongue darted to the side against your mirror. You don’t need any more traces of your current haircut than that one.)

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – hi neigbor whatchu doin lee donghyuck (film theory class) – u have a car right

Squinting at the next text conversation with Lee Donghyuck, the first one since he asked you for toilet paper 3 weeks ago, you feel nothing more than pure confusion at the strange questions the man asks you in the middle of the night. It’s Friday evening and your roommate went out with a guy named Eric she met four weeks ago in the gym, and even though you were slightly concerned when she texted you to say she was staying over at his house for the first time, you only showed her support as you went to lay down with no other plans for your evening. Falling asleep to your midnight playlist playing in the background (thanking God for the smart feature that makes the music shut off after 30 minutes), it's completely understandable and predictable that the noise of an incoming text annoys you when you hear it only a few minutes after 2 in the morning. The fact that it’s your neighbor texting you, out of all people, only makes the fury in you bigger as you click your tongue and shoot him a quick text back.

you – what do u want

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – neighbor!!!!! lee donghyuck (film theory class) – you do have a car

Staring at the text that just appeared on your screen, you sigh and decide to spill the truth, preparing for whatever request that’s about to come after you admit to the fact that you do, indeed, have a perfectly functioning vehicle parked behind the building.

you – yes

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – perfect lee donghyuck (film theory class) – do u hav sm time on ur hands

you – im sleeping

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – veryfunny youre replying rn tho lee donghyuck (film theory class) – come on itsa simple request

Breaking your back just to decipher the words through the amount of typos Lee Donghyuck’s making, your annoyance only grows bigger. Has he always been a bad texter? You don’t remember him struggling as much when he was sitting on the toilet three weeks ago– his texts were absolutely clear and with 0 mistakes back then. Maybe he was in a more desperate situation back then, after all…

you – what do u want hyuck its late

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – can u drive me home

And here it goes– in the back of your mind, you somehow knew it was coming. There were only a few reasons why someone would ask if you owned a car, and judging by the fact that it was now 2 in the morning on a Friday night, your neighbor wasn’t trying to sell you a new vehicle just in case you didn't have one yourself. Getting a drive home would be the only logical request from someone asking if you owned a car– it would only be more logical if the person asking you was your friend, and not an acquaintance at best.

Staring at the screen of your phone, counting down from 10 to not snap at the ridiculous request, you watch as the device lights up with an incoming call. You don’t even have to look at the caller ID to know who’s calling, and despite your best assumptions, you pick up with no more thought given, waiting for the person on the other side of the line to speak first.

“Y/N,” he says, voice breathless.

“Lee Donghyuck.”

“Can you please drive me home?” he asks, tone of voice lazy and tired, something about the dragging of his words hinting you that there’s more to the request than you’re grasping right now.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, right off the bat, to clear out any confusion.

There’s a short silence on the other side of the line, one that hints that you’re completely right in your assumptions, but you still want to hear it from the guilty man himself. “Maybe a little,” he admits, snickering, “I was over at Yangyang’s and then he kicked me out and I… my legs hurt too much to walk home.”

Sighing loudly at the man’s antics, you shake your head in disbelief and clear your throat. “I don’t see how that’s my problem?”

“Oh, come oonnn,” he drags out, “it’s not that far.”

“Yeah, so I don’t see how you can’t walk back, then?” you mutter, rolling your eyes at the demanding tone in your neighbor’s voice. If it was anyone else, maybe, just maybe, you’d be on your way already. You never decline your friend’s requests for favors, since you know they’d do the same if you asked, but you don’t really see how Lee Donghyuck, a man you’re not even close to in the first place, could repay the favor. What on Earth was he thinking in the first place when he called you? Were you his last option? Is he out of his mind?

“Because my legs hurt, if you were paying attention, you’d know that I told you before–”

“I don’t really care,” you mutter, “this is not my problem, I’m ending the call now, goodbye!”

“Y/N!”

The tone of his voice is desperate. Laced in agony, even. Still, you don’t care as you cut off the line and close your laptop that's been your source of music during the late night, settling deeper into your sheets. This is not your circus, not your monkeys, and frankly, you don’t really care what happens to Lee Donghyuck on his way home from Yangyang’s house, no matter how drunk or high he is right now. The man has done nothing but annoy you in your short, 23 year old life, and you’re not going to change out of your pajamas just to drive a few miles to get your dumb neighbor back home.

You’re not going to lose your beauty sleep for this. No, not at all.

Still, your eyes only close when you see the light in Lee Donghyuck’s room go on and the shadow of his slouched figure safely hits his bedsheets, another smaller frame coming to close his door and shut the blinds off, turning the light back off.

The next Monday, you find yourself sitting in your Film theory class alongside your roommate Aeri that’s currently snoozing in the middle of the lecture. You can’t really blame her, since she only got home from her romantic retreat (read as: hanging out at Eric Sohn’s house the whole weekend and having sex possibly on every surface of his little flat downtown) on Sunday evening, and you can only imagine that she didn’t have much sleep during her stay there.

And the class was boring, to add another reason for your roommate's nap. It’s not like you weren’t interested in the theory behind every movie, like the topic itself wasn’t interesting– you quite enjoyed wondering about all the special details in each movie that complete the story and make the atmosphere pop just in the right way– but the professor currently standing at the very bottom of the auditorium is old enough to be there when the Lumiére brothers showed the first ever movie to the public back in the 19th century, and his age only matches with the monotonous style of his teaching. Which means that his voice is mellow, but close enough to a lullaby, and with the amount of issues you have when paying attention in general, the lack of focus caused by this only feeds your distraction during the lectures, resulting in you not really being the top of the class in this specific subject.

So when you hear the professor mutter something under his nose about a project in pairs you’ll have to submit until the end of the semester, you feel your heart drop down to your stomach, all alert. Suddenly, you’re 100% present, brain racking about all the possible solutions and ways you could go around this just so you could pass the subject this year.

Because frankly speaking, at the moment, you’re failing the class. And if you don’t manage to get a good grade on this final project, you’re going to have to retake the class next year– and trust me, another year listening to the monotonous lectures won’t make you pass easier, since you can only imagine the boredom will only grow once you’re in this class the second year in a row and you'd already heard all of the lectures once before.

“What was that?” Aeri mumbles under her nose when she notices you staring at the front of the classroom with wide eyes, an expression close to one you'd wear after seeing a ghost (with the age of your professor, you might as well have). She often tells you you look like a deer in the headlights when you get shocked or stressed-out, and you can’t say that comment doesn’t make you insecure. Still, you can’t quite control it when you sigh and turn to your roommate with a distressed look on your face.

“We have a final assignment to do,” you mumble, “in pairs.”

“Amazing, we’re doing it together, then,” she yawns, stretching a little before slumping over the desk again, ready for round two of her nap.

“Fuck no,” you quickly dart, looking at her with furrowed brows.

“What do you mean, no?”

Sighing, watching as she opens her eyes and looks at you with an offended expression on her face, you shake your head in disapproval and lower your voice, careful to explain yourself. “Look, girl, I love you, you know that,” you assure, “but we are both failing this fucking class. And I can’t afford to do badly just because the both of us suck, because I am not retaking this atrocious class ever again, so I suggest that the both of us find someone with good grades to leech from and get this over with.”

Aeri squints at you, seemingly lost in thought– more so contemplating your master plan– before she leans back in her chair and cautiously looks around the room. “You have a point there.”

“See? It’s nothing personal,” you chuckle, seeing as your roommate nods to herself.

“Okay, I’ll flutter my eyelashes at Shotaro,” she turns to you, eyes bright with the newly made plan, “we’re both Japanese, so he’s not legally allowed to turn me down.”

Rolling your eyes at her comment, you only nod in approval to her idea. Shotaro was one of the best in this class, so you can imagine that working with him would satisfy your professor enough to let Aeri pass the class this year. The only thing left to do was find the culprit to your own plan– you needed to team up with someone good enough to at least make you get a D on your final. And since half of the class was just as good as you in this particular subject, there weren’t many candidates left.

Eyes scanning the crowd (thank god you chose to sit in the back again), your gaze lands on a particular man sitting a few rows under you, a little bit to your right. Helplessly searching through the flood of your classmates currently occupying the auditorium, you sigh to yourself in realization, already dreading what’s about to come when the class is dismissed and you hurriedly walk over to the only person that can help you now, before he escapes the university grounds and you’re going to have to shamefully text him or ring his doorbell this afternoon.

“Donghyuck! Wait!” you yell after him, legs taking you closer to the man in question, now standing still in the middle of the moving crowd, watching you in curiosity.

“What’s up, neighbor?” he asks with a lazy smile, the tug at his lips only making your blood boil and your insides tighten into a bundle of nerves. Everything about him was ticking you off, the slouch in his shoulders making you want to stand behind him and fix his bad posture and slap the back of his head so you no longer have to look at him standing like a hermit crab, the glint in his eyes making you want to curl your fingers into a fist and slam your hand against a wall. The seemingly strong emotions of annoyance run through your veins whenever you interact with Lee Donghyuck, it seems, but the senile voice of your professor keeps repeating itself somewhere in the back of your head throughout the whole interaction, and so you choose to take a deep breath in and out before you smile at the man and prepare your best speech– you can't afford to be picky with this any longer.

“Who are you doing the project with?” you ask innocently at first, trying to get some info out of him.

He offers you a suspicious look, but replies nonetheless. “I’m not sure yet,” he sighs, “I was thinking of chasing down Haknyeon, but you stopped me in my tracks…” he shakes his head at you, teasing.

“Hmm, I see,” you mumble, more for the effect than for anything else, “well, what if we do it together?”

There aren’t many instances in which you could catch Lee Donghyuck completely silent. Now is one of them, though, as he watches you with wide, surprised eyes, furrowed brows and his plump lips slightly agape, breathing in a few times before he shakes his head as if to reset the system, snickering to himself. “Us two?”

“Yeah, why not?” you peep, shrugging.

“Look, respectfully,” Donghyuck starts, and you brace yourself for the impact, “your grades in this class aren’t as good as mine, and even though I’d love to do it with you, I don’t wanna be the one doing all the work and–”

“I’ll help!” you snap, maybe too urgently for your own liking. “I promise. I’ll do everything in my power, I just really need your help with this,” you plea, looking at him with what you pray are your best puppy eyes, seeing as the man in front of you chuckles at the expression and averts his gaze from you for a heartbeat, signaling that you were most likely unsuccessful at the attempt.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he shrugs, shaking his head at you, even going as far as taking one step away from you, “see, if you hadn't declined my call on Friday, maybe I’d take this offer as a way to repay the favor, but you know…”

“I threw you toilet paper before, Donghyuck, you can’t be shitting me right now–” you feel your blood boil at the note, the ever so familiar annoyance seeping back into your bones.

“That was nothing–”

“You seemed pretty desperate back then.”

“That was the past, sweetheart,” he chuckles, taking another step away from you, somehow overthrowing your annoyance with pure, embarrassing desperation as you chase after him and stop him with a swift motion of your hand, catching him by his wrist. He stares at you with a shiteating grin on his face, one he always uses to get a reaction from you, and somehow, you know this is all a game for him, a stupid tug of war, but you can’t help it– you are in a desperate situation. So if you need to say please to the man and humiliate yourself in front of him just to pass this class, then so be it.

“Please, Hyuck? Just this once, I swear I’ll make it up to you. Literally, say anything, I’m gonna do it, I just really need to pass this class,” you mumble, a pout forming at your lips as you clasp your hands together– much like he did back when you two communicated through the window of his bathroom– and you swear you can see the gears in his brain turning when he calculates his next move and tells you his answer.

“Anything?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, hoping that Lee Donghyuck still has some dignity in him and wouldn’t ask for anything that would make you uncomfortable. He’s annoying, sure, but he’s not a dick, after all.

“Okay, then,” he nods, tone of voice airy, underlined with laughter, “be my personal driver for the entirety of the project, then. I’ll do it if you drive me places,” he grins, and that’s when your composure falls.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well then, say goodbye to the grade!”

Putting your arm around the passenger’s seat headrest, twisting your whole body as you look back and reverse the car into the parking spot in front of the mall, you see the figure next to you still in its place, eyes alert and staring at you. “If you’re so terrified of me driving, why did you want me to do this in the first place?” you sigh, finally turning back to the front and turning the engine off once you're standing straight between the lines, satisfied with your job.

“That’s- that’s not it,” he clears his throat and gulps nervously, shaking his head. “Anyways, let’s go,” Donghyuck says, slapping his thighs like parents do when it’s time to leave a family gathering, grinning at you widely as he waits for you to get out of the vehicle.

“What do you mean, let’s go? I drove you here, I can go now,” you glare, not satisfied with the way your Wednesday afternoon was going. You only agreed to the deal on Monday, and Donghyuck already made you drive him home after class twice and also asked you to drive him to the school this morning. Having him constantly leeching around you and making you drive him places wasn’t exactly fun, since he always asked weird questions and made fun of your bored face at every red light, so you really, desperately, needed him to be gone already so you could head home and scream into your pillow to unwind the nerves.

“Well, how am I supposed to get back when I’m done shopping?” he innocently asks, pouting at you. “My hands are gonna be full with bags and you’re gonna have to come pick me up, because that’s the deal, and I can’t afford to wait with my hands full until you get back here, so you might as well stay and come with me, so it’s convenient.”

“Nothing about this is convenient for me,” you mumble, but comply with his orders nonetheless. “Why don’t you get a car? Or take a bus back?”

“Buses smell and I don’t have a license,” he mutters, “besides, I have you now to be my personal taxi driver, so I don't need a car,” he shrugs, walking alongside you to the mall.

His confession startles you, makes you halt in your step as the boy looks at you with defeated eyes, already knowing what’s next. This scenario has happened to him multiple times before– he’s best friends with Huang Renjun and Liu Yangyang, he’s in for a teasing at every single action of his that goes just slightly wrong– but to hear it from you will surely feel more humbling to the man. Closing his eyes as if to not see the grin overtaking your features, he sighs. “What?”

“You don’t have a license?” you tease, snickering. “For real?”

“No.”

“Why? You failed the test?” you ask again, catching up to the male and falling in with his quick pace, enjoying the fact that you now have the upper hand on him for once.

“Never really tried getting it in the first place,” he mumbles, shrugging.

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he shamefully ducks his head, “it seems scary,” he adds, making you snort out at his confession.

“Fucking hell dude,” you laugh out now, swatting his shoulder in a teasing manner, “that’s so embarrassing, it’s not even really that difficult in the first place–”

“I don’t know what’s more embarrassing,” he cuts you off, tone of voice laced with frustration as he realizes you are a bit too amused at him admitting to one of his fears, “is it me not having a license or you driving me around because you're failing a class… Hm?” he asks, locking eyes with you, lips pressed shut into a straight line, and suddenly, your composures exchange. He won. Again.

“Anyways, let’s get going!” he smiles, dismissing the previous discussion as he tugs you by your hand into one of the stores right in the middle of the mall.

You should’ve already predicted that shopping with Lee Donghyuck would be exhausting. Not only did he demand to know your opinion on every single thing he tried on, he also wanted you to pick up something for him to try– as if driving him here wasn’t too much work for you as it was. All you wanted to do was walk back to your car and get away from him as soon as possible, but with the way he teasingly poked your sides every time you weren’t paying attention and turned to your phone to entertain yourself with some mindless scrolling on social media, you weren’t able to escape even mentally, no matter how hard you tried.

“Why don’t you try something on?”

“I’m not in the mood,” you glare, walking out of the last store in the whole entire mall, the sky behind the glass doors already dark from how late it’s gotten. You’re pretty sure it’s gonna close soon, but checking the time on your phone, you’re relieved to learn that you still have enough time to get boba from the stand at the entrance of the mall. You deserve a little treat after involuntarily hanging out with Lee Donghyuck the whole day, after all. Call it your girl dinner, or something.

“Taro milk tea with coconut jelly, please,” you smile at the tired barista behind the counter, noticing the way Donghyuck stands next to you and looks at the menu. You expect him to order a drink for himself as well, and surely, he doesn’t disappoint as he smiles at the girl, the tone of his voice sweet and considerate– so far away from the way he speaks to you on a daily basis– as he asks for his own drink.

“Will you pay together or separately?” she asks.

“Separate–”

“Together,” your companion cuts you off, grinning at you when you glare at the man, sighing at his antics.

“Come on, I already drive you everywhere, do you think gas is cheap? Now you want me to pay for your boba as well?” you whine, reaching for your wallet as you frown at the male, his confused eyes bearing into yours when he slightly nudges you from his way, offering the girl behind the counter his card instead. The action shuts you up, making the gears in your brain turn faster as you watch him in the action, and it doesn't fully register yet, but you're left feeling a bit taken aback and sheepish when the cashier hands him the receipt.

“I was gonna buy it for you as a thank you for the nice day, but now you’re making me look like I felt pressured to,” he sighs, shaking his head at your little tantrum. His actions still don’t register in your brain, though, his words resonating all the way through your ears to your Wernicke’s area and right back, hanging everywhere in the air of the mall, shock making your body still. Then, it hits you.

“Ah,” you gasp, feeling the tips of your ears burning with shame at the fact that you managed to ruin his nice gesture, your eyes scanning the space in a poor attempt to not look at him or the cashier still watching your exchange.

“Get your drink and let’s go,” he nudges you instead, rolling his eyes for good measure as he walks out of the mall, nearing your car in the parking lot.

“Look at this, look! Isn’t it funny?” Donghyuck hovers over you with his phone in his hand, giggling to himself as he tries to make you look at the screen. You don’t really know why he’s trying to get a laugh out of you, honestly, but he’s currently doing everything but that as you’re sat in his living room, legs plopped up onto the sofa and crossed in front of you, waiting patiently– but also kind of boiling on the inside out of frustration– for him to pay attention to you.

“Hyuck, I didn’t come here to watch Tiktoks with you,” you say, eyes sharp, tone of your voice cutting like razors– efficiently making him look up from his screen and meet your gaze with an amused grin, “I’m not really sure if you forgot, but I came to discuss the project,” you mutter, sighing.

“Jeez,” you see him roll his eyes, the energy around him still not shifting as he maintains his casual and unfocused composure, but you know that on the inside, he's enjoying the view– your angry face seems to be his most favorite thing to stare at recently, “didn’t know you lack a sense of humor.”

“What?” you look at him, confused, quite frankly, before you shake your head in disbelief at the comment. “You know what, just put the phone away for 5 seconds and finally talk to me about the project, smart boy, or else I’m not wasting my time here any longer and I’m leaving.”

“You’re acting as if you’re the one putting in work,” he mumbles, snickering.

“I will be putting in work when you tell me what to do!”

At your sentence, Donghyuck finally puts his phone back at the coffee table and shifts a little in his seat, facing you and scratching the back of his head, seemingly lost in thought. You let him, convinced that if you speak up and cut off his train of thought, the poor boy wouldn’t be able to get back to it again, waiting for him to be done with his brain weaving so you can pick up on them and ride them out, seeming at least decently smart (or not completely stupid). When he finally speaks up, he licks his lips and shrugs.

“We just gotta pick a theme and do our best portraying it with no words in a 3 minute clip, right?” he asks you in reassurance, as if you were the most reliable source of information when it comes to this class and its assignments.

“Yeah,” still, you agree.

“Well, then we just gotta pick a theme and the rest will be easy,” he nods to himself, reaching back for his phone, which you swiftly take from his hold and hide behind your body.

“Hey–”

“We’re not done talking about this! I’m not letting you use your phone, because you’re just gonna scroll on Tiktok instead of thinking about this,” you squint at him, twisting and turning in your seat as his hands try to sneak around your sitting figure and take the device out of your grasp.

He seems determined as his arm lands on your elbow, a victorious grin smoothly swiped off his face when you sit on his phone and flash him a wide grin. “I’ll give it back when we have the theme down!”

“That’s an invasion of my privacy,” Donghyuck mumbles, and you roll your eyes at him, pointing a finger to his shoulder.

“That’s not what an invasion of privacy means, but whatever floats your boat…” you mumble, watching him sit back in his seat, defeated as his shoulders slouch and his gaze is glued to the wall in front of him. You’re not sure what’s so interesting about the white paint, but at least there’s not the noise of his phone filling your ears right now– you’re more than okay with silence, since you don't get to hear it often when Donghyuck is present. You would like it better if he spoke up and talked to you about the assignment, but if you had to choose between him being annoying and him being quiet, you think everyone knows which one of the two you’d prefer.

“So?” you test the waters after a while, seeing if your project partner decides to finally comply with your request and discuss the important matters.

“So? Do you got any ideas?” he teases, watching you with challenging eyes.

Clearing your throat, caught off guard at the request– you assumed he’d tell you exactly what to do and you just have to do it and follow his lead, essentially not putting in much effort and still being sure of passing the class– but it seems like Lee Donghyuck won’t let you off that easily. You should've expected it. Being difficult is his favorite hobby, after all.

“Well, you’re the smart one here, so…” you shrug, trying the method that always works on men– and that is praising them.

“So you’re saying you’re stupid?”

“If it works in my favor during this conversation, then sure,” you nod, smiling at him in irony. Hyuck gives you a defeated sigh, shaking his head at you before he clicks his tongue at you and finally gives in.

“Okay, so, I was thinking we should pick a theme that fits the current social struggles, but after hearing this, I don't think feminism is our best choice,” he mutters.

“Like you’d know anything about feminism–”

“What do you have me for?” Donghyuck sharply glares at you, clicking his tongue at you in pure offense. “I am a fan of Little women, I'll have you know, of course I’m a feminist.”

“Well, you must be a fake fan, since everything about this deal is just me majorly girlbossing,” you point out, trying really hard to prove your point.

“Are you even being serious right now–”

“Anyways,” you cut him off, “what were you thinking?”

The man sighs and shakes his head at you in disbelief, but still speaks up again nonetheless. “I was thinking, well, maybe we could pick something that would really play into the old man’s feelings, you know, so we get him all sentimental and moved to tears…” he starts off, tone of voice now completely serious, making him sound kind of smart– startling you in the process, “that leaves us with a few possible options. We could do something with the 18 hundreds, or… fishing? I heard he’s into fishing. Or we could do something more abstract and shoot something about youth, since he’s very old and this could get him nostalgic. Or!” he suddenly perks up in his seat, eyes wide and a disturbing grin sitting at his lips, “we could include nudity! He’s a man, after all… wanna shoot porn? We don’t need words for porn.”

In absolute disbelief, you stare at the man with eyes wide open, blinking a few times and taking a few seconds to yourself to process the monologue you just listened to. You knew he was absolutely insufferable, but you didn’t know he was this much of a dumb freak.

Taking your silence for disgust, Donghyuck just nods to himself and purses his lips.

“Youth it is, then… I mean, nudity would be difficult to present in front of the class for sure–” he admits, pouting.

“Yeah, like that’s the only problem with that idea…”

Afternoon classes aren’t your favorite ones of the week and although you absolutely despise waking up early and having to commute to university while you’re still half-asleep and absolutely irritated, there’s nothing that infuriates you more than knowing you could be done with the day already, sitting at home and watching your favorite TV show, only if it wasn’t for the responsibility of having to stay at campus and sit through another hour and a half lecture on a Thursday afternoon, way too late for your brain to be working in those hours.

This is one of the only classes you don’t share with your roommate Aeri– which makes the lecture that more excruciating, since you don’t have anyone with you that you could gossip with about your classmates or friends from back home when it gets too boring and you can't bear sitting in silence and forcing yourself to focus anymore– but there is one person from your circle that you do share this class with, and yes, you already guessed it; it’s Lee Donghyuck.

You don’t know when you’ve gotten so close to the point where he sits in the vacant seat right next to you almost immediately, followed by his friend Ju Haknyeon who you’ve never even spoken to before, but he still does so nonetheless, every Thursday, just so he could annoy you with his only half-funny remarks to every other sentence that comes out of your Animation class professor’s mouth.

“What are you doing this weekend?” you hear Haknyeon ask the devil sitting on your left, and trust me, you don’t really like listening to other people’s conversations (that’s a lie, you live for gossip. You just wish you knew the least amount of information about Lee Donghyuck as possible, because sometimes you learn fun facts you wish never joined your brain), but you can’t really help it this time, can you? Haknyeon doesn’t know what whispering is, and you’re convinced Donghyuck would love everyone to hear him talk and give him attention anyway.

“Not really sure,” Donghyuck replies, “Renjun bailed on me, said he’s going to the shelter with his girlfriend again, so I was thinking, right? You know, I’d looove to go on a road trip, and it’s crazy, you know, because–”

The words coming out of his mouth instantly make you alert, snapping your head around to make eye contact with the man that’s already staring at you with a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing you’re listening to them talk. “Lee Donghyuck, I am not going on a road trip with you–”

“See, Y/N here is my personal driver for the semester, so she can’t really say no–” Donghyuck continues, enjoying the way your face distorts into a pained scowl, your hand coming up into your hair to tug at the roots in frustration.

“If you make me do this, I’m going to open your door while we’re going 120km/h on a crowded highway and throw you out so you die under the wheels of someone else and I don't face the consequences,” you propose, shaking your head in disbelief, your voice shushed due to you still not wanting to be heard by the whole classroom, but still loud enough for both of the boys to chuckle.

“Come on, I bet you’d have fun. I have the best playlists for road trips, you know,” Hyuck teases, poking you with the tip of his pen, to which you click your tongue and move a bit further away from the male.

“The last time I drove you somewhere that was more than a 10 minute drive, you had Céline Dion on loop, so I don’t know just how believable this claim is.”

“That’s disrespectful to the legend Céline Dion is, dear Y/N, and I’d take it back before her ghost comes to haunt you at night.”

“Is she even dead in the first place?” you squint at him, at disbelief of his words.

“She’s not,” Haknyeon chimes in from the side, shaking his head at the both of you before he chuckles, “you two argue like a married couple.”

“I would rather die than to marry him–”

“See, Hak, Y/N just hasn’t realized she’s in love with me yet,” Hyuck adds, clicking his tongue at his seatmate, “but she’s gonna realize it somewhere during our 5 hour long road trip, I’m sure. Just wait, it’s gonna happen soon.”

The class gets dismissed somewhere in the middle of the argument, and as you’re gathering your things to go, you hear the two of them talk among themselves, not really including you in their conversation anymore (which you’re glad for, frankly).

“Are you going home after class?” Haknyeon asks.

“No,” Donghyuck shakes his head in disapproval, and there it is– the shit-eating grin appears on his face when he initiates eye contact with you and snickers, “Y/N and I are actually getting fried chicken at this place downtown, since I got coupons– well, Renjun got coupons for free chicken from his uncle last week, but he doesn’t like chicken that much, so I stole them from him–”

“Huh?” you scowl at him, wondering if you heard right. “I’m not getting chicken with you.”

“Of course you are,” Hyuck announces, “the coupons expire tomorrow, so we gotta do it today. I know you’re not busy, come on.”

“I’d rather choke than to spend any more time with you than I already have today, Donghyuck. Go with Haknyeon,” you say, pointing to the clueless senior staring at the both of you in wonder.

“Yeah, go with me, man,” he shakes his head, “I like chicken.”

“Unfortunately, this offer only applies to people that have a working car that could drive me there, so in case you wanna get your shiny BMW fixed in the next 24 hours, I can save the coupons for you,” Hyuck chimes, smiling innocently at his friend.

“What are you even talking about?” you mutter, tone of voice pained.

“Look, do you wanna get out of the road trip on Saturday, or not?” he stares at you, his gaze flaming as you sigh more for him to hear than to get out your frustration– you learned long ago that it does nothing to calm you down, worse, it makes you even more infuriated.

“Woah, Donghyuck!” you exclaim, fake excitement written all over your features. “Chicken actually sounds so good right now!”

That’s how you appear in one of the fried chicken places downtown, your car parked in their tiny parking lot, with Donghyuck excitedly skipping towards the restaurant with the bunch of coupons in his hands. You don’t really know why he insists on spending time with you– he could get a bus here or drive with one of his other friends that own a car, and you’re certain you are not the only one on his list– so the whole interaction makes you slightly confused. Still, you enjoy the free meal– like any other broke college student would– and when Donghyuck eats, his mouth is usually shut, so you don’t find that many negatives in this whole thing, after all.

“What are you thinking of doing for the project, by the way?” you ask, wiping your greasy fingers on one of the napkins Hyuck had offered to you just a few seconds prior after noticing your dismay at the state of your hands. You don’t like it when you get dirty with food, but you’d rather not eat at all than to eat fried chicken with a fork, so you guess this is the price you have to pay.

“You keep talking about the project,” he shakes his head, chuckling, “don’t worry about it. I have it covered.”

“What do you mean, you have it covered? This is supposed to be teamwork. Just because I drive you around, it doesn’t mean I won’t put my hand in– you’ll complain too much if I don’t,” you mutter after you swallow, rolling your eyes at him. He keeps saying the same thing each time you ask him– you’re suspecting that he has zero idea at all, and he’s just bluffing to make you feel more comfortable. Hell, you might even fail while working with Donghyuck and your whole plan is going to be ruined, for all you know.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, grinning, “we got the theme, so half the work is already done. We’ll just have to take one day to shoot some scenes on a field or something, and then I can edit it and put some sad music over it, and we’re sold. Trust me, I am a straight A student, I know what I'm doing.”

“You are not a straight A student, Lee Donghyuck,” you glare at him, not believing a single word that's just came out of his mouth.

“Okay well,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his coca-cola that he got for free with the order, “maybe I’m not. But you can count on me with this, hon.”

Sighing to yourself, you shake your head at him. “Don’t ever call me that ever again.”

“Hyuck,” you call for the male, nestling a little in your seat and scratching the back of your neck in frustration.

“Hm?”

“You said we were going to work on the project today, am I correct?” you ask, watching as the male walks up to you from the kitchen area of the room, a bowl full of popcorn in his hand as he plops on the sofa next to you (on the only area that allows you to lay down comfortably and still face the TV, also known as the spot you’ve already laid on, making the two of you almost uncomfortably close in the small space), a bottle of coke situated under his right shoulder.

“Correct,” he nods, reaching for the TV remote he spent approximately 15 minutes searching for in between the cushions of the sofa when you arrived, screaming at his poor roommate for losing it again as the shorter boy just grimaced at you and escaped the flat to hang out with someone you heard him call RJ! y/n.

Humming to yourself, you nod. “Okay, then… why the living fuck are we watching Hunger games right now?” you ask, tone of voice laced in frustration.

Donghyuck doesn’t reply to you for a while as he fumbles with the TV remote (and frankly, you don’t really know why he’s so focused, it doesn’t take much to just press play), but when he looks back at you and sees your gaze impatiently glued to his forehead, he shrugs. “We gotta find some inspiration first, you know,” he innocently states, “Hunger games is a movie about youth if I’ve ever seen one.”

“We’ve both already seen Hunger games, Hyuck,” you whine, but take a hand-full of popcorn out of the bowl that’s currently sitting in his lap.

“How do you know that I have seen it already?”

“You just said so, you dumb fuck,” you mutter as you roll your eyes, watching the opening credits start. You can do nothing else than settle deeper into the sofa and watch the painfully long movie with your annoying neighbor now, and you despise the fact.

Well, you could do something else. There are many things, to be exact– you could either protest so much that Donghyuck finally gives in and turns the movie off, focusing his efforts into actually working on your project. If that doesn’t work, you can fight him for the remote, but you can’t really know if that wouldn’t make him pettily give you the silent treatment, which is exactly the opposite of what you’d like to be doing right now. Or you could just give up– seeing that you’re not gonna get much work done today– and stand up and go home. It’s not like you live that far away anyways…

But still, you stay and watch the movie with him. You’ve seen it at least three times already, having watched it recently with Aeri when the movie had its second wave of fame on Tiktok, so you’re pretty sure that if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to recite the script alongside the actors, word-for-word, 100% correct and exact, right on time. You stay and watch Hunger games with Lee Donghyuck– why exactly, you still don’t know– and you find yourself enjoying the experience. It’s not as boring when you hear your neighbor annoyingly comment on each and every little thing that happens in the movie, his nasal voice cracking jokes and jumping into the conversations as if he was a part of the cinematic universe. Somewhere along the way, you join in with him, laughing and giggling when your roleplay gets too silly, and before you know it, the movie is about to end and you’re finally going to be free to work on the project with him.

Donghyuck gets unusually quiet towards the last part of the movie. You turn your head to him, ready to crack jokes at the tears you’re expecting to see in his eyes because of the emotional outro– Katnis and Peeta’s berry scene got you the first and the second time you watched the movie, the third time not so much, since Aeri kept pausing the movie for pee breaks, ruining the full effect– only to witness the man’s head falling to your shoulder the exact second you try to lock your gaze with him; your neighbor having passed out somewhere in the middle of the movie. You foolishly jump just the slightest bit at the contact, opening your mouth to say something to him that could wake him up, your instincts telling you to move away from the already uncomfortable closeness of your bodies and give yourself more space.

But as your lips part and you’re about to protest, you notice his own lips apart in a small pout, his cheeks appearing softer now that one of them is smashed against your shoulder, his long eyelashes fanning over the bones of his cheeks. The blue hue of the TV paints his cheeks rosier in the dim light, making you notice the moles on his face for the first time– leading you to count them and mentally create constellations between them as your gaze focuses from all the different places of his face to another. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shut your mouth and awkwardly make yourself look away from your annoying neighbor, cracking the knuckles of your hands that have been resting in your lap; but when the credits of the movie roll and you have nowhere else to focus your gaze on, you find yourself scanning the man up and down again, orbs catching every detail of his suddenly so pure being.

He is wearing gray sweatpants, the fabric hanging low on his waist, a plain black tee adorning his upper figure. He doesn’t often look this casual when he comes to class, opting to wear jeans or pants more formal, so you foolishly admire the cozy fit he has going on, not quite used to seeing Donghyuck looking this homey. His clasped hands resting in his lap catch your attention next, the soft skin adorning his slender fingers looking way too inviting right now as you subconsciously want to glaze your fingertips against the surface of his palm, just to see if your suspicions are right and his skin is just as gentle as it seems to be to the eye, and you almost do it– for scientific reasons, of course– before you catch yourself and almost mentally slap yourself for being so foolish.

What the hell is going on with you right now? You should wake him up now– the movie is already over, there’s no use in you staying over any longer if he’s asleep and won’t work on the project with you anymore– but you find yourself freezing each time your eyes focus on the creature sleeping against your shoulder, so soft and comfortable it makes your insides squeeze in warmth. It’s a strange sensation, and even a stranger one to feel for a person that annoys you the most in this world, and you can't bring yourself to do anything else than to overthink the simple fact.

He can sleep for a few more minutes. You don’t mind. He must be tired, you think– he deserves 10 more minutes, maybe even 15– you won’t disturb him. The silence is strangely comforting, after all.

He can sleep for a few more minutes, you think– but the exact moment those thoughts roam around your head again, the front door to Donghyuck’s apartment opens and his roommate stands still in the doorframe of his living room, gazing at you with suspicion in his gaze. You quickly jump away from your project partner when eye contact with Huang Renjun is made, feeling the tips of your ears heating up in shame as you scatter to your feet and scramble for your things. You feel like you were just caught red-handed, doing something you shouldn’t have been doing, and you can’t bear the thought any longer. You need to get out.

A dissatisfied noise leaves Hyuck’s mouth as he wakes up to the impact of your movement, squinted eyes watching you as Renjun just laughs at your antics, shaking his head as if to tell you that he knows something you don’t. You don’t wanna hear it.

“Where are you going?” Donghyuck asks, voice laced with sleep.

“Home,” you snap, running your hand through your hair as you move through the door frame that separates the living room from their entrance hall. “We can’t work on the project if you’re asleep, so I might as well just go and not waste my time here any longer!” you offer him, making sure to save your face by putting just enough pretended frustration into the comment as you put on your shoes and don't look back at him– however inviting the mental image of him seems in your brain– before you shut the door after yourself and leave.

dongfuck – drive me to mcdonalds

you – well hello to you too you – no.

dongfuck – >:( dongfuck – please

you – its 2am dude

dongfuck – your point..?

Sighing, scrambling for your things as quietly as possible to not wake up your sleep deprived flatmate, you get dressed in comfortable sweatpants, throwing a hoodie on to shield yourself from the chilly air. The walk down the stairs doesn’t take you more than a few minutes before you’re standing in the parking lot of your apartment complex, already seeing Donghyuck’s figure leaning on the side of your car, almost looking like he owns it– he does act like it lately, to be fair.

“I knew you’d come,” he snickers as you roll your eyes at him, pressing the button on your car key to unlock the doors, watching as the man swiftly opens the driver’s side for you and then jogs towards the passenger’s side to get in, an excited stride in his step.

“I’m only here because I haven’t eaten dinner and chicken nuggets sound absolutely amazing right now,” you mutter, “don’t get too ahead of yourself. None of this is for you,” you grin, fastening your seatbelt and adjusting the rearview mirror just the slightest before turning on the engine and driving off the parking lot.

Donghyuck only shakes his head at you, a bright grin playing with his features. “Of course,” he hums, “wouldn’t want me to think that you actually want to hang out for once.”

“Of course,” you nod, “because that would be a lie. My goal is chicken nuggets, nothing else. And if I manage to get them out of you for free, that’s even better.”

“Who said I’m paying?”

“The gas station clerk did when I last went to get gas, actually! He told me I’m using twice as much gas lately because I’m driving a certain dumbass around, and I’m paying for all of the gas myself, can you believe it?” you shake your head, teasing him as you turn right on the main road, already seeing the McDonald’s in the distance.

“That’s a strange way to talk to a customer,” Donghyuck squints his eyes at you, watching as you slow down when getting into the food chain’s parking lot, ready to drive up to the drive-through window and order your late night snacks.

“At least he’s looking out for me,” you shrug, teasing the male. “I better order a hefty meal, since you’re paying and all…” you mumble, looking over the poster to your left, tapping your chin, trying to look lost in thought.

Hearing the man next to you scoff– already satisfied with how frustrated you’ve managed to make him– you pretend to look over the most expensive parts of the menu. “I’m starting to regret my decision,” Donghyuck adds, but the tone in his voice is light.

After a few more minutes of picking out your menu, you both order your meals and wait for them at the window. It doesn’t take long, since you’re the only ones in the whole place, and before you know it, Donghyuck is pressing his card into your palm, nudging you to pay for both of your meals. The gesture should be expected– you pretty much plastered him into doing this with how much you teased and complained– but it still shocks you when he does it with no other annoyed comments, watching as you offer it to the cashier and smile at him in thanks, taking the bags of food and driving off into the very back of the whole parking lot, turning the engine off and settling into the dark.

You tug your feet up to your seat, sitting crossed-legged in the small space as you face your companion, watching as he offers you the bag of food and digs into his own fries as well, scanning you from the corner of his eye. Now is the time you finally get to admire his attire for the first time the whole night– you never knew you had a thing for guys in sweatpants and oversized jackets, but the way your breathing almost catches in your throat at the sight of Donghyuck dressed so cozily again should be enough of a warning for you to the future. Forcefully taking your eyes off the male next to you, because you’d rather not think about the way you find yourself eyeing him lately, you eat your chicken nuggets– the ones you’ve dreamed of the whole night– and listen to the sound of your neighbor chewing on his burger.

Feeling his eyes on you, you glare at him. “What are you staring at?”

“No take a picture, it will last longer this time?”

“I learned my lesson from the last time,” you laugh, reminded of one of the first interactions you had with the male. “I hope you deleted the pictures, by the way.”

“No, I stare at them every night before I go to sleep,” he says, “so I’ll dream of you,” he sing-songs, laughing at the way your face distorts in discomfort at his words.

“Ah, so annoying,” you roll your eyes at him, but can’t battle the way your heart jumps a little at the sound of a laugh escaping his throat. Your eyes automatically trace his movements, noticing the way the far standing lamp post illuminates his face in just the right way, casting orange shadows over his features, making his eyes glimmer when they catch yours. Clearing your throat after being caught staring at him, you avert your gaze and finish the last of your fries, noticing the male done with his meal as well.

“Now what?” he asks.

“We go home, what else?” you laugh, shaking your head at his question.

“But I don’t wanna go home yet,” he whines, and you already know what’s coming– pursuing, weird ideas, absurd arguments just to make you stay longer. And you’re immune to them on most days, but it’s too late in the night, so you have to cut yourself some slack. So what if you don’t want to come back yet either? It’s not a crime to want to spend some time with Lee Donghyuck.

“What a shame,” still, you tease, waiting for him to come up with a bright idea that you could use as an excuse to stay out longer.

“Oh come on,” Donghyuck mutters, “you always ruin the fun. Teach me how to drive, what do you say?”

Shocked at his preposition, you turn to him again, wide eyes and mouth agape. “What? Absolutely not.”

“Why? The parking lot’s empty. I can’t possibly be that bad that I crash your car into nothing. Come on!” he pleads, going even as far as pouting at you– not really knowing that the expression has you shamefully stare at his lips for a split second, insides heating up– and realistically, you should have warning signs blinking at you from everywhere in your brain, an alarm going off to tell you that this is not a good idea at all, but you’re too stunned to come up with another plan for the rest of your evening, and, well, you may be getting a little weak for the annoying gemini. He's right, though– what could possibly go wrong?

So you only sigh in response, opening the door and getting out of your seat, watching as Donghyuck excitedly mirrors your motions and jogs to the driver’s seat, ready to possibly ruin your evening and your car at the same time. When you’re back safe inside of the car, you quickly fasten your seatbelt, a sign of your sense of self preservation still working well, watching Donghyuck move your seat further back so he can comfortably reach the pedals. His focused face is in your full view as he adjusts all the mirrors possible, and only then is when you notice him chewing on the inside of his cheek– in either nerves or concentration, you can’t really tell right now– and the sight makes you halt him in his motions before he manages to start the engine.

“Have you ever done this before?” you ask, watching as he turns to you with wide eyes, shaking his head in disagreement.

“No,” he peeps, laughing to himself, “Yangyang declined me the last time I asked.”

“Yeah, because he has a working brain,” you whisper under your breath, still in disbelief of what you allowed to happen, “so… can you reach the pedals?”

“I can.”

“And you see the whole back window in this mirror, right?” you ask, pointing to the rearview mirror, watching as Donghyuck nods.

“Positive.”

“Great. So… start the engine now, I guess?” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you see him nod and reach for the keys, turning them. The car instantly comes alive right in front of him all while Hyuck seems absolutely clueless, looking at you with big, adorable eyes, and you take it as your cue to instruct him on his next moves.

“Now press the clutch– the far left pedal– and move the gear stick into the first gear,” you say, watching as the boy slowly does as you say, reaching for the device and moving it to the desired place. “Good. Now, keep pressing the clutch and slowly start pressing the accelerator– the far right pedal– while also slowly letting go of the clutch until you get to the point where the car starts moving on itself. That’s when you don’t let go of the clutch, but keep it at that same exact spot, and put a bit more acceleration until the wheels spin like, once or twice. Only then can you keep your leg off the clutch.”

“You’re kinda hot when you tell me what to do,” Hyuck mumbles, but the flirting doesn’t quite come through when his face is focused at the road and his composure seems shaken, too stressed out to actually mean the words coming out of his mouth.

“Shut up and do what I said,” you snarl, seeing as the man nods and tries moving with the car. It takes him some time, but it seems that he is a natural– the car moves without the engine dying, and suddenly, you find yourself cheering him on. “Good! Good! You’re moving!”

“Oh. My. God.”

“Don’t panic!”

“I’m not panicking!” Hyuck hums, nodding to himself as he turns the wheel and makes a circle around the parking lot, grinning to himself with confidence. The car moves painfully slowly, and you, despite your best interest, find yourself enjoying the view– although you should probably be more worried about your own safety than you currently are. That's when you decide to challenge the male further.

“Okay, then we can shift into the second gear, it’s gonna go a little smoother,” you muse, seeing as the male nods.

His eyes stay focused on the road, though, so you take it as your cue to instruct him again. “Press on the clutch then, and move the gear stick straight down.”

“Mhm,” he hums, and presses on the clutch, but the struggle comes next as his hand flies all over the car, not quite used to the placement of the gear stick yet. Stressed, eyes glued to the road in front of him to not run into any possible obstacles in your way, he refuses to look away for even a second, and the whole sight makes your heart race in anxious agony as you reach for his hand and grip it, guiding him towards the stick and placing his palm on top of the device.

Your hold on his hand doesn’t loosen up as you guide his movements further and do it for him, just to make sure the stick really gets to its designated place and doesn't get stuck in neutral, which would make the engine die with the next press of the accelerator. His skin is soft under your touch, just like you imagined it to be, and you find yourself growing hotter the more your skin is in contact with his, the touch so innocent yet still sending you to overdrive.

“Now let go of the clutch,” you order, eyes glued to the side of Donghyuck’s head as he nods, listening to everything you say. The car now goes more smoothly and you watch him take another lap around the parking lot before you realize your hand is still gripping his on the gear stick, the information making you jump slightly in your place, clearing your throat in the awkward, tense atmosphere you managed to create for yourself.

“Okay,” you announce, “the trial is over, it’s time to press the brake– the middle pedal, if you haven't figured that out so far– and get out of my place,” you say, hoping the tone of your voice sounds as light as usual.

The car comes to a strong halt, since Hyuck doesn’t really know how fast the brakes react yet, and if you weren’t buckled in, it’s certain that you’d go flying in your seat and smash your head against the dashboard. Breathing out when the car stills, you finally feel yourself relax, having been alert this whole time, as you squeeze Donghyuck’s hand for the last time, amidst selfishly, before you let go of it and turn towards the door, opening it and thanking the chilly air of the night for slapping you to your face. You really needed that wake up call.

Do you really need to drive a fucking manual?

hyuck – can you drive me to yangyangs at 8

Staring at the text message on your phone, sighing to yourself at the weird discomfort in your stomach when it appears and registers in your brain, the sound catches attention of your roommate Aeri currently getting ready on the floor of your room, pressed almost uncomfortably close to the mirror. She should really wear the glasses she was prescribed.

“Donghyuck again?” she asks, staring at you through the mirror, a mischievous grin sitting on her face as she asks the crucial question.

“How’d you know?” you roll your eyes in irony, walking over to your closet and picking out your tonight’s outfit.

“Well,” she shrugs, “one, he’s like, the only person that ever texts you except for me, and two, you had that disgustingly doe eyed look on your face.”

“I so did not–”

“You so did,” she notes, putting another coat of mascara onto her long eyelashes.

“You know what? I regret telling you about this,” you mourn, scrambling for your things around your room and putting them into your bag, practically already ready to leave the apartment alongside your roommate slash best friend. When you came home last week after the McDonald’s run at 4 in the morning, you decided that sleep really wasn’t worth it anymore– as if you could fall asleep after the hotness in your whole body despite your window being wide open– and so you took a cold shower and decided to stay up in the living room, watching Netflix (more like having the show in the background as you tried hard to not have a mental breakdown at the newly found information about yourself). Aeri found you like that at 6 in the morning when she woke up to get a glass of water, and even though she was sleepy and groggy– which was probably why you decided to spill the beans so quickly– she interrogated you about the weird look on your face and it’s been a running joke between her and herself for the whole week.

“It’s really not my fault that you find our neighbor hot,” she notes, shrugging to herself.

“When did I say that? When did I say that!”

“Well, you said you came home all flushed and that you imagined making out with him when you dropped him off back home, so that’s basically the same thing.”

“I did not say I wanted to make out with him!” you defend yourself. You didn’t say it. You thought about it, that’s for sure, but your roommate really doesn’t have to know that. Unless she can read your thoughts, of course.

“Yeah, whatever. You and I both know it’s true.”

Sighing, deciding that you’re ending the conversation with your roommate as long as the topic is your annoying neighbor, you turn to your phone and finally reply to his text message.

you – can’t

He replies almost instantly, as if he was waiting at his phone for the last 15 minutes, and the predictableness of his message almost makes you chuckle.

hyuck – why

you – cuz im going you – and i wanna drink you – so i cant drive

hyuck – ok that changes things then hyuck – my original mission was to get you to go there with me but this has to do i suppose hyuck – see you there ;)

Yes, you admit that you reread the messages a little too many times for your own liking. Trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind his words, you swear your brain is running a thousand miles an hour, and realistically, this is the part where you reach for your girl best friend and ask her what exactly is happening in the chat with you and the guy you’re talking to, but after the endless teasing you’ve already heard from her side, you decide against it and just turn off your screen and put the phone into your bag with the rest of your necessities.

“If you mention something about this tonight in front of Donghyuck, I’m locking you out of the apartment.”

“Ay ay, captain!”

The journey to Liu Yangyang’s house isn’t long. He’s the only one that still lives with his parents, but you can’t really blame him– the house is huge, and they are hardly ever home, because they are always on business trips in Taiwan. Half the time, it’s like the guy owns the place, and he also acts like it too, since half of the parties you’re invited to in a year are taking place at his house.

When you get there, it seems that everyone was already there– at least the usual group, you suppose. You don’t know who else is invited, but when you arrive to Yangyang’s basement– the part of the house where he usually hosts the more chill, laid-back parties, with low music in the background, laughter resonating through the place and alcohol being passed around between people drinking straight out of the bottles– your eyes instantly zero on Donghyuck, dressed in a light bomber jacket and skin tight jeans, you decide that burning your throat with alcohol is the best thing you can do instead of audibly moaning at the sight.

Taking one of the opened bottles of Bacardi off the little camping table situated near the corner of the big room, you take a swig, not really caring about the people who have drank out of it before you– because the pandemic has taught you nothing, it seems– when you finally walk over to the group and say your greetings. Deciding that avoiding the object of your desire for the whole evening is the best plan how to survive without doing something you’re going to regret, you engage in conversation with pretty much everyone else, completely unaware of the way your neighbors eyes are burning a hole through the side of your skull, kind of offended that you haven’t come up to him first, since as far as he’s concerned, out of all the people present in the room, you spend the most time with him in the first place (with the exception of Aeri, of course, but you two live together, so it doesn't really count). In his opinion, you didn’t need to be talking to Na Jaemin right now– you’re not even friends with the man.

But still– drinking beer out of a bottle Lee Jeno passes you somewhere in the middle of the night before he disappears with his best friend to dance with them under the cigarette haze (pretty embarrassingly, you may add) – the only thing resonating through your brain is that you got this, you’re not gonna give him a single glance, you’re not gonna think about how attractive he looks in all black.

You guess that everything about the way this evening has been going is the prime example of every single college kid’s usual Friday. Sitting in a basement of Liu Yangyang’s house, your vision cloudy with a bit of alcohol and also the sweet, piney smoke of the joint that’s been passed around the room only a few minutes prior, music lowly plays in the background, adding a relaxed, yet exciting and bubbling atmosphere to it all– it’s the epitome of the experience you imagine before you go to college when you’re 15 and gazing longingly outside of your window, wondering if life when you’re older will be better and more fun.

And while you don’t necessarily think life is better now– you do have a shitton of assignments to do and stress eating up your insides– you do think it’s kind of fun. Everything is more bearable when you have a group of friends by your side, and while you wouldn’t call every single person in this room right now your closest friend– a friend for life, even– you’d say everything is better than being stuck in your house on a Friday evening, mourning the break up of One Direction one more time as you watch This is us again with spoonfuls of ice cream shoveled into your mouth, figure cuddled up under the blanket with your roommate by your side.

The fun only lasts until a round of Truth or dare takes place, though. You must admit that it’s the fundamental part of the whole hang out, and yes, it’s the thing you always see in the movies. It adds a bit of spice to it all and it’s twice as fun to play when you’re a little intoxicated, but still– you’d like to think you’re too old for the game now, even though your friends believe otherwise and never fail to bring it up again.

This time, it’s Jaemin who brings it up. You shoot daggers to his skull, annoyed eyes and all, but you don’t think he notices as he continues to excitingly sway his arms in the air when he repeats the submission over and over again, finally heard by his roommate Jeno that’s just come back from the weird dancing session with his best friend that he’s very obviously pining over, and grins at his roommate in agreement, starting the game.

“Not again,” you whine audibly, because frankly, if you wanted to survive the evening with no embarrassment and no weird thoughts about one of the party guests, you don’t think a game of Truth or dare is your best move. Your disgust makes your own roommate– that’s suddenly glued to your side, too tipsy to even walk (you heard her exclaim that her legs are too heavy to be used)– giggle, already familiar with your thoughts on the game. And frankly, that makes you even more terrified– because when Aeri is drunk, she talks even more than she does when she’s sober, and well, there’s no promising that all of the information you’ve ever shared with her will stay truly confidential when she’s under the influence.

“Don’t start again,” she says, shaking her head, “you always say you hate it, but you always end up playing it anyway.”

She’s right. It’s not like anyone is pressuring you, but you kind of feel like the situation calls for you to join in– because what else are you supposed to do, watch them? There’s no fun in watching if you’re not involved, and you’d feel like an intruder if you just watched them do all sorts of dares while not being in on the game.

“Yeah, because you’d all whine if I didn’t,” you say instead, taking a sip of your drink, letting the bitter taste of beer slide down your throat as she rolls her eyes at you, nudging you in your side with her elbow.

“Just say you end up having fun,” she snickers, “nobody would think that’s weird, you know.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” you shush her and pet her hair, taking advantage of the fact that you’re very obviously less tipsy than her, as you turn to the middle of the circle and wait for the game to start.

Usually, a couple of rounds pass before your name is called. You enjoy the tension– it feels like you have time to prepare to do whatever task their hazed minds come up with or answer whatever question that’s been burning on their tongue, yet, it also feels like a buildup before the big thing– a strange sense of climax, if you will.

This time, it’s no different. A couple of minutes pass as you watch Yangyang lick the bottom of Jaemin’s foot– because Jeno always likes to come up with the nastiest, most worrying dares of them all– followed by the sight of Shotaro kissing the forehead of the most attractive guy in the circle (Renjun wasn’t happy with the wet peck left on his skin). The guys almost always pick a dare, and you think that’s an advantage, since before it’s your turn to finally participate in the game, they run out of ideas for dares that are possible to do in the weed-smelling basement of Liu Yangyang’s house and you can safely choose truth instead. It’s not like you’re not brave enough to choose dare– you did so many times before and never once backed away from the task, not even when you were dared to kiss the person on your right (that was the night you learned Kim Sunwoo wasn’t all that, because the drunken peck he pressed to your lips wasn’t all that appealing) – you just simply tried to pick the safest strategy for the game.

Another kissing dare could suggest that you kiss the person you find the most attractive in the room right now. Or they could ask you for a lap dance on one of the guys. The possibilities are endless, and even though choosing the truth isn’t that much safer, since their questions could vary all the way from ‘What’s the color of your underwear right now?’ to ‘What is your favorite sex position?’, you’re trying to comfort yourself with the fact that you could just lie. You know it’s kind of prohibited, and that it also defeats the whole purpose of the game, but still– you’re not planning on embarrassing yourself tonight, and you were always a pretty good liar when it came to words. Actions? Not that much.

Sinked deep in the stained light orange fabric of the sofa, eyes half-lidded, you await Jaemin’s question as you tell him you did indeed pick the truth. And you were right, there are no protests coming out of the boys’ mouths this time around, seemingly tired of coming up with original ideas for their dares.

“Come on, man, we don’t have the whole day,” Renjun nudges the boy into his ribs, annoyed with the lack of words from his friend.

“Actually, we do. I don’t see the issue-”

“Just ask something already!” Shotaro whines from his position on the floor, his back pressed against the side of the sofa.

“Fine,” the man straightens up in his position, as if struck by a newly found sense of clarity, the look on Na Jaemin’s face reeking of insanity, “I've got something.”

The room cautiously looks at the platinum-haired boy sitting on the floor, his back resting against an armchair in the corner of the room as he blinks a few times, seconds passing, yet there’s still nothing coming out of his mouth.

“Are you gonna say something, or will you continue to act all dramatic…?” Jeno snickers, making his roommate roll his eyes at the jab, finally breaking the silence.

You’d argue that he just forgot what he wanted to say– with how Jaemin gets when he’s drunk, it wouldn’t be half surprising– but it seems like his roommate knows him better than you do, because the man speaks up fast, and suddenly, you take back all your impatient thoughts that urged him to ask you something already, because the question takes you by surprise and leaves you in shock, staring wide eyed and speechless.

“If you had to have sex with anyone in this room, who would you choose?”

You no longer wish he took longer to ask you the question. No, you wish he would’ve sent it to you telepathically, so you could prepare your answer beforehand. You’d save yourself a lot of trouble– being met with the gaze of everyone, looking at you as they await your answer is truly not helping you with the difficult task of responding to the truth, when in reality, you don’t think you can manage to even say anything.

Because truthfully, if you were asked this question at any time prior to the weird situation you found yourself in with Donghyuck– who’s, just by the way, still present in the room, but more quiet that usual, which you shamefully notice and worry about on your insides, but don’t mention out loud– you’d think that you wouldn’t have sex with anyone in this room. It may be hard to believe– even though the men in this room aren’t the sexsymbols they often think they are– but that's the sheer reality.

But now? You feel like the truth is written all over your face, you feel like everyone can see right inside of your head and read the words straight out of your brain. It’s embarrassing. You feel ashamed.

Looking around the space, shiteating grins meeting all of their expressions, you shrug and finally get some words out, hoping they satisfy their needs for an answer.

“No one,” you say, praying you sound confident.

“Yeah, no-”

“Oh, come on-”

“That’s a lie-”

Multiple voices cut into your confession, all in disbelief. If this isn’t the proof of their impressively big egos, you don’t know what is. All of them now staring at you with furrowed eyebrows, not believing a single word that’s just came out of your mouth, you start to wonder about how to convince them that you are, indeed, telling the truth, even though you’re obviously aren’t, so you don’t have to take a shot of whatever liquid the host of the party has hidden in the closet of his basement as a punishment.

“I’m serious! I’ve never looked at any of you and thought, ‘yea, I’d let him get it’,” you shrug, taking a nervous sip of the beer in your hold again.

“Okay, but if you had to? Like, imagine someone is holding your mother captive and telling you they’re gonna kill her if you don’t have sex with anyone in this room. Who are you choosing?” Jeno squints at you, and you’re starting to believe that the man just wants you to pick him.

“I’d have sex with Aeri,” you muse, pointing a finger to her as she’s leeching to your right shoulder, snickering.

“That’s a cop out!”

“Look, man, I don’t find anyone here hot, okay?” you shake your head at the commotion, grinning to yourself to seem more believable. And with how they roll their eyes and sigh to themselves, you think it’s working. There’s a premature feeling of relief in your insides, thinking that you’ve done it, you haven’t exposed yourself, before you hear your roommate mumble from her slumber, making your heart drop deep down into your own fucking asshole.

“Not even Hyuck?”

Slowly spinning your head towards her, the tight smile on your face suggesting that you’re going to kill her in under approximately five seconds if she doesn’t take back what she said, you’re painfully aware of the fact that everyone’s staring at you now, grinning to themselves with a look that says they believe that Aeri knows something they don’t– she’s your best friend, after all– and you realize that you’re going to have a hard time getting out of this one.

You should’ve expected this the moment you saw her drink that much. Maybe you should’ve stayed home today. The information about Lee Donghyuck was still too fresh in her brain to not mention when she has some to drink– you understand, in a way. At least, you’re trying to understand.

“Fuck no,” you grunt out, furrowing your eyebrows in the best acting performance you’ve managed to put on since your theatre kid days. You don’t think you’re convincing anyone, though. You’re not even convinced.

“Was that my name I heard?”

And again, your heart drops at the familiar tone coming from the place straight opposite of you, the place that’s very obviously in your point of view, yet you’ve been successfully avoiding the whole evening to not seem as obvious to everyone that the very man has been occupying your every thought for the last week or two. You realize this is the first time he’s spoken to you this evening, if you’re not counting the text messages you exchanged before you got here, and something about the fact makes you shiver.

Meeting his eyes, because it’s the natural thing to do when someone speaks to you, you mentally curse and feel your heartbeat quickening at the grin sitting on his face. Eyes roaming his body– all against your will– you notice the comfortable way he’s sitting on the armchair in front of you, legs parted wide and his thighs on full display, hair a little messy and eyes glossed over and blown out, since he smoked just a few minutes prior to the game, making you realize just how painfully he resembles someone who just had a long make-out session; the thought automatically leading you to think of the fact that you’d like to have a make-out session with him right now, and wow, his thighs do look inviting to sit down on.

“You wish,” you spit instead, still wanting to save the situation. Averting your gaze from him to keep yourself sane, you choose to focus on the floor instead, heat rising to the tips of your ears.

“I mean, it seems more like you do,” he grins, the whole group snickering at the sudden quarrel in between the two of you. Your conversation suddenly reminds you of the ones you had with him before the two of you started properly talking, and something about the confident smirk on his face makes you remember just how annoying you’ve always found him whenever you encountered him at this very place. You’re back to square one for a minute, with your defensive remarks, similar to the way you used to quarrel with him before, and the familiarity engulfs you like a warm blanket.

“Your confidence amuses me,” you bite back, choosing to look at him as you say it to add more impact to your words; your decision seems to only worsen the things for you, though. The conversation admittedly sounds a little too much like flirting, and the way you notice him clutching the can of beer in his hand only makes you more flushed under his gaze.

“You don’t seem amused.”

“That’s because the idea of having sex with you makes me want to leave this room,” you grunt, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

“I’ll take you home if you’d like,” he winks at you. Alarm sound goes off in your mind, your hands clammy as you run them through your hair, and suddenly, you’re on fight or flight. And if you can’t escape the situation, you decide to choose the latter– throwing him the most jabbing remark you can think of at this moment, fighting to keep your dignity.

“On a bike, or something?” you snicker. “As if I’d let a guy without a licence fuck me. You know that’s below my standards, Hyuck.”

An amused gasp is heard in the room when this remark leaves your mouth. The main source of the noise is Liu Yangyang, the host himself, since he likes to laugh at times when it’s the least socially acceptable.

Now, you know that there are only a few things in which men value their social status; one of them being the amount of girls in their bed, the next one their rank in League of Legends, and lastly, their cars. And while Lee Donghyuck is known to be quite the player when it comes to the first thing in the list of social ranking between guys (or at least you’ve heard so from the girls in the locker room in the past years. Not like you were listening to their conversations whenever his name was mentioned… you just have very good hearing) and he was known to be the one that carries the team whenever any game on Yangyang’s PS5 is played in the dimly-lit basement on nights much like this one, there was something always setting him back in the neat ranking, and that something was the state of his car.

Why? You guessed it– he doesn’t have a car. Or a licence.

To be quite frank, by the expression on Donghyuck’s face– all wide eyes and mouth agape in shock– you hit him right when it hurts, the grin falling off his face when he takes a sip of the beer in his hand, seemingly to chase down the taste of being put in his place and to have something to do to not seem as awkward and embarrassed as he must be feeling right now.

You feel victorious, in a way– you managed to mask your very obvious sexual frustration caused by the man, while also managing to rile him up with your comment, which is definitely a first in your dynamic– adrenaline rushing through your blood as you look at him with expecting eyes, awaiting his response. The rest of the crowd laughs at your remark, only fueling the joy you feel when he suddenly averts his gaze from you, licking his lips for only a millisecond (yet it doesn’t get unnoticed by your eyes) before he snickers again, shrugging.

“Okay then,” he grunts, pressing the tip of his tongue to the inside of his cheek in annoyance, “you won.”

You know what? Once he admits to it, the feeling of victory quickly fades. Watching his frustrated face, eyebrows furrowed as he looks everywhere but at your face, suddenly, you choose to drown yourself in the rest of the beer in your bottle, relieved when you notice the game progressing without you.

You won, he says, but you don't feel like you did. Quite the opposite, actually. You feel a tad bit defeated.

You managed to lie to the crowd, but the very obvious pit in your stomach reminds you that you can’t lie to yourself– and now, bear with me as I say something cheesy, yet true– because even though Lee Donghyuck can’t drive, he’s still very successful at driving you crazy.

You feel like the universe is punishing you for every little, smallest thing you’ve ever done wrong in your life. You feel like whatever force is there that’s making this world go around, absolutely, completely, wholeheartedly hates, despises you, and won’t have mercy on you as you’re left dealing with the text message shining on your phone screen four days after the party, at 8 in the evening.

hyuck – drive me to a date hyuck – please ig

Sighing, one, two, three times, you chew on the bottom of your lip as your eyes scan over the messages, and something about the very few words makes your stomach turn and twist in an emotion you’d describe as a weird mix of disgust and shock as you mentally try to come up with a reply. And it’s hard.

It’s difficult, because you hate it, you hate it, you hate it– the way Lee Donghyuck just managed to score himself a date only four days after your ever so growing sexual frustration has started to see the light of the day, you hate the way he’s asking you to drive him there– as if to show you that he still has it, that you’re wrong, and that even though he has no car and no license to boost in front of other girls, they still want him and you’re about to witness it as you drive him there.

And you hate it so much you start to think you’re going to chew on your own fist and throw a rock through your own window, but you strive hard not to show it. And is there a better way to seem unaffected in this situation than to comply with him? If you weren’t so jealous about the whole thing, you’d surely just make fun of him and do it, no questions asked– a friendly favor, or something. And so you do it. Like it’s nothing.

you – ok text me when you’re ready

After a few minutes, you end up sitting in your car, hands on the wheel ready to turn (and run into the nearest car out of pure rage, possibly), waiting for Lee Donghyuck to appear on the passenger’s seat, all dolled up and dumped in cologne, presumably– and that’s exactly what happens when the door swings open and your nose is filled with his usual smell but somehow amplified, and you catch a glimpse of his leather jacket and the shirt tucked into his black jeans. You don’t outright look at him– because you’re still trying really hard not to show all of your inner thoughts on your face– and so you only turn on the engine and hum at him, already making your way out of the parking lot.

“Where are you going, then?” you ask, tone of voice completely unbothered and not too stingy or tight. “And I’m just dropping you off this time, right? Because I won’t sit there and watch you have a date and wait to drop both of you back,” you say, playing with the car radio and trying to find a station that would both satisfy your need to tune out your thoughts with a good song and the need to do something with your fingers to seem occupied.

“Of course not,” he snickers, “wouldn’t do that to poor you. And just go the way I tell you. Now turn left at the end of the street.”

Sighing to yourself at his orders, you do your best at driving your neighbor to his date while trying to ignore just how ridiculous this whole situation is. You should’ve said no back when he first asked you to be his personal driver for the semester– failing Film theory class doesn’t seem like such a bad thing in your eyes now, when you look at the situation in retrospect.

“Can’t believe you have to be dropped off at your own date and you still pull bitches,” you shake your head in disbelief, hoping, praying you seem annoyed because of your duties and not because you’d much rather have him staying in so you could catch a glimpse of him in his window, crouched down in the blue light of his room (yes, he has neon lights in his room. Yes, you teased him about it countless of times before) as he plays League of Legends or stays up on a discord call with his friends, playing Minecraft.

“See? You’re missing out,” he chuckles, shrugging to himself.

“As if I’d ever go on a date with you,” you huff, moving to turn the volume of the radio higher so you don’t have to make small talk with him anymore, agitated, yet completely ignoring the fact that it was you who brought it up in the first place.

Hyuck moves his slender fingers along the knob of the radio and tunes the volume back down, and you’re eager to repeat your previous steps just to anger him and also so you don’t have to listen to his sneaky, egoistical remarks for any longer, when you hear him tell you the next directions and you realize that you still indeed need to hear Donghyuck’s voice, or else you’re not gonna be able to drop him off at his destination and drive away as fast as humanly possible.

The terrain around you starts to look more stranded. There are more trees than buildings in your sight, lampposts decreasing in amount as you drive further away from the city center, and only when you pass the sign that tells you that you just left the town you speak up again, now truly concerned.

“Where the fuck are you taking your date, man? To the middle of the woods?” you huff. “Is she meeting you there?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughs, shaking his head at your furrowed brows. Something about his casual composure makes your nerves tick off and goosebumps appear all over your body, as if you were sensing danger, when you sigh out heavily in frustration and turn to look at him for only a split second, eyes meeting with his.

“Or are you making me drive to another fucking state, you fucker? I don’t have that much gas right now, you dumb ass–”

“We’re almost there, don’t worry,” he rolls his eyes at you, pointing somewhere into the distance again. “Just turn right there and drive up the hill.”

“Up the fucking hill?” you repeat, concerned.

“I told you to not worry about it,” Hyuck hums, settling deeper into the car seat, letting you battle your own thoughts as you follow his orders and drive up the hill for him, praying no deer decides to jump onto the road and total your car right now.

“I worry about the girl that agreed to go on a date with you, Donghyuck,” you mutter, “I’ll tell you that, she clearly doesn’t have everything alright in the brain, because this is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he swats your worries away with a swing of his arm, pointing towards a place that extends out of the main road– if you can even call it that, since no cars are passing through the hill ever, much more in these hours of the day– and tells you that you can park the car there.

And you do as you’re told, despite your never-ending complaining– that’s the dynamic you have with Lee Donghyuck, it seems.

Stopping the car out of the main road, your car shielded from one side by a row of trees, you step on the break and look at the man to your right in question, the engine still running. “Is this it? Is this the place?”

“Yeah,” he nods, a grin slowly starting to play with his features. Something isn’t right– you feel it in your bones and see it in his eyes, but you can’t quite put your finger on it, still utterly confused and in the dark about everything. “Come on, get out of the car.”

He wastes no time in unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out of the vehicle, his figure circling the car as he leans on the hood, turned away from you and seemingly waiting for you to follow his actions. Confused, figuring that you can’t do much more about the situation right now– where the fuck is his date? Why are we on the top of a hill? Will his date show up? – all swimming around your brain, you hop out and find his warm being, standing one step ahead of him and staring at him with stern, frustrated eyes.

“Look, isn’t it pretty?” he asks, pointing somewhere behind you. It takes everything in you to turn and gaze at the sight in front of you, your heart still weak and angrily beating against your ribcage, but you do as you’re ordered, eyes bearing into the view.

The whole town is stretching out right below you. Now that you’ve turned the engine off and your headlights have gone out, you see the lights even better, shielded by a blanket of stars glimmering above the horizon, and you can’t help but gasp out in the beauty of it all. This place makes you want to take a picture, so you can remember how you felt while standing here and admiring the city forever– so you can remember how you felt while standing next to Donghyuck, heart foolishly drumming against your ribcage– and you suddenly realize just how badly you despise the fact that he showed this to you just to send you off while he waits for his date, as if to show you everything you could have if you went out with him, even though the question was never even on the table in the first place.

Clearing your throat, you turn to him, eyes glazing his side profile. “Where’s your date? Is she turning up? I don’t think it’s safe to make her–”

“My date’s already here,” he hums, nodding to himself.

This does nothing to clear out the fog of confusion from in front of your eyes. “Huh? Where?”

“Here,” he repeats. The word has you wearily looking around yourself, furrowed brows and all– and that only makes the man chuckle at your antics, low voice cutting out of his throat making its way straight to the bottom of your stomach. “There’s no one else here. Just us. And no one else is coming, so will you chill out and enjoy our date, finally?” he asks, locking his gaze with you in a lazy, yet attractive manner that has your hands shaking and your brain instantly panicking.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you process his words for a few seconds, doing mental acrobatics and racking your brain in thought. Nothing helps. “Our date?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah, no,” you giggle out in awkwardness, feeling unarmed and like somebody’s just dunk a bucket of hot water over you. Shaking your head, you try hard to mask the way you’re feeling on the inside right now, because what are you even feeling right now? As you do some unreadable gestures with your arms as a way of declining and canceling everything that’s happening right now. “Us? A date? Yeah, not happening–”

You mumble out, ready to escape the situation as fastly and as efficiently as you can while you try to make your way back inside of the car, not really thinking of the journey home you’re about to have to make with him on the passenger’s seat, when a hand grips your wrist, making you stop in your tracks. You take a few steps away from him nonetheless, and the man soon follows you before your body is swiftly turned against your car, the small of your back coming in contact with the driver’s door. Your breathing is quick when the man hovers above you, and you don’t feel danger– you just feel a bit panicked at the way tonight’s playing out. A date? You wouldn’t have thought of this in your most insane dreams.

“Why are you trying to run away?” he asks, his hand still holding your wrist, his fingers firm, yet gentle on your skin.

“Because– um– because-” you stutter, eyes instantly meeting his– regret pooling in the bottom of your stomach when you realize the proximity of his gaze, something tense bundling up in your insides, “this is ridiculous, Donghyuck, you can’t just–”

“I can’t just?” he tempts you, eyebrows rising to make you continue.

“You can’t just lure me into a date with you, that’s not how this works–”

“Would you go if I asked, then?”

“No, of course not!” you shake your head at him, tone of voice a few octaves higher than usual. Your eyes scan over your companion, his face reflecting the moonlight, and you find yourself counting the moles on his cheeks and noticing his sped-up breathing, automatically matching it despite not realizing it yourself.

“Why? ‘Cause I don’t have a driving license, or because you’re just scared to admit that you’re attracted to me?” he challenges you, quirking up his brows at you in tension.

Something about it makes you lose all the air in your lungs. He’s so close now you swear the scent of his cologne has made you drugged up, since you can’t seem to take your eyes off his lips for the next few seconds, completely in trance and electrified, and before you know it, you’re a blubbering mess, too lost in everything that is him to come up with something coherent. “That’s- that’s just not-”

He laughs at you, he snickers, as those words escape your mouth, not even a full sentence. You bet it’s enough of a confirmation for him that you’ve officially lost all control– you can’t seem to get out a teasing remark like you usually can, no smart words calculated and thrown his way to scatter down his ego, and you think he realizes that he won. You’re defenseless, you’re weak, and you really want to make out with him right now.

Which he might have sensed out of the way you’ve been yearningly staring at his lips the whole exchange. Still, he mumbles out a small “Stop me now if you don’t want this,” just to be completely sure.

And you don’t. You don't stop him when he leans in and captures your lips with his. You’d be a fool to.

His lips crash against yours with a fever-like pace, the tension that’s been building up between the two of you making itself known in the hurried motions of your lips. His kiss is deep, hands cradling your cheeks as he angles you to lock your lips with his better, not a hint of shyness or hesitance in his motions. Your fingers shakily grasp at the front of his shirt, trying to steady yourself when each motion of his mouth against yours leaves your knees weaker and weaker, your body pressed harder against the car door.

He tastes of mint, making you suspect he planned this and chewed on a gum before meeting you, and when his teeth gently pulls at your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you, his tongue is left exploring the inside of your mouth, making you grow hotter and hotter under his ministrations. Your hands occupy themselves as they finally let go off his shirt and sneak around his small waist, pulling him closer, and you swear that you’ve never experienced a kiss that would leave you so eager for more before, a kiss that would leave you so weak and open for anything that’s about to happen– as if you were already naked and bare, a puddle in his palms.

You’re soon left out of breath, gasping for air when he pulls away from you, and his kisses turn into pecks left on your lips, open mouthed kisses slowly trailing to the corner of your mouth and down your jaw, lips hungrily attaching to your neck, his nose glazing the soft skin as if to smell your scent and ingrave it into his memory. Something inside of you unties and makes you lose all of your control, finally falling fully into the sensation of the novelty of making out with Lee Donghyuck against your car, and you find your hands tying themselves into his hair, tugging at the roots when he finds the soft spot on the crevice of your shoulder that makes you squirm, and you suddenly know what all the girls in the locker rooms were talking about. Each action of his has you gasping for air, eyes pressing shut in the blissfulness of it all– the bites he leaves on your neck, smoothing them down with kitten licks each time surely leaving bruises, making your insides light up with the acts of possession.

“Hyuck–” you gasp, his mouth sucking into another spot on your neck, your head instantly moving away from his way to give him more space to work his magic.

“Hm?” he hums, a satisfied sound cutting out of his throat as his actions get more slow, more lazy, but still just as electrifying. You don’t really know what you wanted to say– perhaps you had no point of calling his name just to say it, and the hazy look in your face is enough of a proof to him when he unattaches himself off your neck and locks his eyes with you, a grin settling onto his face. “Feels good?”

Nodding eagerly, almost a bit fast and a bit too soon to your own liking (but you’ll worry about that later), you watch him lean towards you again, lips locking with yours in need. Your fingers trail up and down his clothed back, his fingers mirroring the same, but up your loose shirt (which reminds you that you didn’t even dress prettily for the occasion– since you didn’t know this was your date you're attending), cold hands against your heated skin. Shivering from the fresh breeze of the night, you feel him grin against your lips before detaching himself from them to speak against your mouth. “Let’s move this somewhere warmer,” he murmurs before he tugs you away from the car and opens up the back door, pushing you inside.

Swiftly getting inside and closing the door behind himself, Donghyuck appears hovering above you, caging you against the uncomfortable seat. Still, you don’t have time to feel any sense of discomfort as his fingers move your hair from the way and his lips are back on yours again, leaving you no time to think of the implications of the whole situation.

“See? Isn’t this much better than arguing with each other all the time?” Hyuck snickers again in a moment of weakness when he pulls back from your face to admire your swollen lips, and the teasing has you pushing him towards the seats, a dissatisfied look on your face.

“Shut up,” you whisper almost hurriedly, climbing onto his lap (not before you admire his sprawled-up legs and the sight of his thighs, though).

“Make me,” he challenges.

“Gladly,” you nod, attaching yourself to his plump lips again, since you can’t seem to get enough of the sensation of them against your weak self, every sweep of his tongue with yours making you feel more heated and impatient as you move against him in his lap, the motion earning you a dissatisfied grunt sent against your mouth as his palms grip your hips with unsaid urgency.

“Don’t start something you wouldn’t want to finish,” he breathes out.

Nodding, you hum. “Who said anything about stopping?” you muse out, grinding against him harder.

You’ll worry about the consequences later.

“Why am I the only one in the shot?” you squint your eyes at the male, watching him as he points his camera to you and tells you to smile and act natural. Donghyuck has on his varsity jacket and his hair is sitting messy, a bit curled on the top of his head, his legs are covered with loose gray sweatpants instead of his usual black jeans– he looks casual, and yet, he looks amazing, you foolishly think as you sigh to yourself and walk across the field, much like the male mentioned a few weeks ago when the two of you ate fried chicken with his free coupons, trying to capture the energy of what youth feels like to you.

“Because you are the main star, honey,” he grins at you, the nickname making you trip over a little on your own feet, before you turn back to him and send him a glare.

“I told you not to call me that,” you mutter, but feel the heat from your stomach slowly rising to the tips of your ears and the tops of your cheeks, your composure slowly crumbling under his gaze. Not only are you watched by his deep brown orbs, there’s also a camera pointed at you now, and if he doesn’t stop with the weird flirting he has going on– especially after what happened between the two of you last week– you don’t know how you’re supposed to contain yourself and act so you don’t look like an utter fool in front of everyone, when the clips will be played in class next week.

“Besides, the project is due next week and this is all we’re doing? Are you sure we’re going to be able to pull this off?” you ask, wary of his confidence. You’re not really sure if Donghyuck knows what he’s doing with this assignment. Why did you even trust him with it in the first place?

“I told you to leave it to me,” he says, “now be a good girl and run down the field, maybe twirl a little like a ballerina, I dunno… Hum a little tune to yourself, do anything remotely interesting and youthful, okay?” he instructs you, and you comply, ignoring the fact that he told you to be a good girl, because after what the two of you did last week, you’re not able to register those two words in a way that would not be mildly sexual in your brain.

You two haven’t spoken about the fact that you hooked up in the backseat of your car after your weird date last week. Truth be told, you two haven’t spoken about anything since it happened, because you felt too awkward and hesitant to bring any conversation topic up. The first time you two spoke was when Donghyuck texted you yesterday about the project, and you told yourself that you simply can't ignore him when it comes to these things, and so you agreed to meet up with him, hoping he won't bring up the events of last week. You were scared. What were you scared of, exactly? You have no idea.

Something in you was almost a bit shameful to admit to yourself that you managed to fall for Lee Donghyuck this quickly. Something in you was a bit embarrassed at the fact that you let yourself be so intimate and so close with the male, and although you don’t regret it, you don’t think you want to talk about it with him (or anyone, for that matter) just yet. Or ever, actually.

And although you could be rational and tell yourself that surely, Donghyuck wanted you in just the same way you wanted him, and there was nothing embarrassing about it, you didn’t feel comfortable with talking about the act with him, because deep down, you know it wasn’t just about the sex for you and you were afraid that it was for him, and you’d rather stay in the blissful unknowingness than to know he only wanted to have sex with you and not try to go somewhere further with your relationship. Did this inner monologue reek of disgusting insecurity?

Yes. Yes, it did. But somehow, you’re not able to do anything about it.

And so you run down the field like Donghyuck told you to, and you twirl and twist and shout and dance around, trying your hardest to act silly and youthful and exactly like he would like you to, because you’d hate to be unnatural around him, and you pray it’s enough for both the project and him included. Turning back to gaze at him from the distance, you notice that he’s not even recording anymore, only watching you with a lazy grin on his face, eyes glimmering under the direct sunlight, and you wonder how you haven’t realized just how beautiful he is when he’s simply just existing all those months ago, and how foolish you feel with the thought and both without it now. Walking up to him, you muse.

“Are we done here?”

“I think we got all the shots we need,” he hums, nodding to your question. There is something reassuring in his smile, and if you were confident enough to grasp at the straws, you would try to talk to him about the events of last week. You lack in many ways, though, and you were never so self-assured as you try to portray yourself to be, and so you don’t.

“Let’s go, then,” you say, shuddering from the cold November wind as you walk away from the man, expecting him to follow you. You drove here, since the place is a few miles away from the city, and the fact that this marks the end of your project didn’t really make you as relieved and happy as you thought you’d feel back when you agreed to be his driver for the semester.

A soft fabric envelopes your shoulders, his varsity jacket hugging you into warmth. You smell his cologne when you shyly push your limbs through the sleeves– a self-indulgent desire, too strong to be fought away– and when you look at him to thank him, he wears a soft look in his eyes that glazes you with such tenderness you feel like combusting from the inside with the strengths of your own emotions. Your heart beats fast in your chest when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as you walk towards the car, and when a stronger wind hits your heated face, you think that maybe Donghyuck was right, after all.

You do think this perfectly captures what youth feels like.

“So we won’t talk about it?” he asks, and you turn away from him in fear of your emotions being clearly written on your face. He doesn’t have to name it– you know what he means.

“No,” you shake your head, determined, yet a little scared of his response, “not now.” Not yet, you think. You want to enjoy today a little longer.

“Why?” he asks.

Taking a shaky breath in, sensing that you won’t get to avoid the confrontation like you wanted to, you shrug. “I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it yet,” you bitterly laugh, meeting his eyes with something close to fear in your eyes.

“Hear what?”

“That you… you didn’t really mean anything by it, y’know,” you mumble, “I mean, you probably just did it to stroke your ego, or something, after everything I said at the party, so… yeah, I just don’t know if I wanna hear it.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence after your explanation, and Donghyuck only stares you down with a blank expression. It's not often that you don’t get to clearly see and experience all his emotions flashing through his face, letting you know what he feels even before he gets to speak it out loud. Now is one of the situations, though, and it scares you– it makes you so deeply afraid you’d rather back away from this conversation– damn you for entertaining it in the first place, and so you pretend it never happened in the first place.

“You think I did it to stroke my ego?” he clarifies.

“I- I mean…” you stutter, shying away from his gaze.

“Okay, then,” he mumbles, jaw hardening, his eyes not meeting yours when he circles the car and gets to his designated place on the passenger's seat, “that’s fine, I guess. I’ll try to show you my intentions clearer next time.”

Sitting in class, head resting in your hands as you stare right in front of you, mentally counting down the seconds until the last class of the semester starts, you are only vaguely aware of the things happening around you. You register Aeri talking to you about the new episode of her favorite drama somewhere to your right and you are also aware of Haknyeon and Shotaro sitting in the row in front of you, laughing loudly to themselves about the way their weekend went– yours went terribly, just for everyone’s information, since you decided to drown your feelings in alcohol alone in your apartment, having to be led to bed by your roommate after she got home in the middle of the night from one of her dates with Eric. You don’t really realize it when the class starts, because the monotone voice of your professor doesn’t do much to wake you up, but you are painfully aware of Lee Donghyuck’s body slumping next to yours into one of the only vacant chairs approximately 10 minutes after the class starts, out of breath and slouched over.

Aware of his presence, yet still acting like a scared deer around him, you don’t make any effort into turning to him and greeting him upon his arrival. Still, you sense the smell of his cologne filling your nostrils and making you just a bit more tired and sleepy, your eyes closing on themselves before you’re woken up by the sound of your name coming out of the professor’s mouth.

Scared you’re getting scolded for sleeping in class, you straighten your back and put on your best polite expression, but then you realize your name wasn’t called, just mentioned, and the name of none other than your neighbor was following, when the projector on the wall in front of you lights up and a file named Final projects is opened on the professor’s laptop, each .mp4 file named with a pair of surnames, and two clicks after, your final project is the first one of many presented in front of the whole class. You tried to tell Donghyuck that you could help with the final editing, but the male said he had a vision he needed to achieve, and for that, he wanted to be in charge of it alone, and frankly, out of fear of interacting with him more than was absolutely necessary, you left him to do his thing, resulting in this being your first time watching the final video as well.

There’s a few seconds of silence, a point of complete blankness as the clip starts, and a song played on an acoustic guitar starts playing when the word YOUTH, all capitalized, flashes at the screen.

A clip of you running down the field in your flowy dress starts the video, the camera zooming in on your figure when you twirl and skip around in the tall grass, and then you laugh over the background music, the sound making you gape in surprise. You didn’t know your laugh sounded like that, and with the hazy coloring of the clips and the solemn, youthful atmosphere Donghyuck managed to capture in the video, you find yourself thinking the sound was kind of beautiful.

Then the clip cuts into another one– and you widen your eyes at the sight, because Donghyuck told you he’s only going to include the clips from the field, and you believed him, well, because you never saw him record anything else– as the screen shows you a bunch of moments, all wordless, of you just going on with your life. The very next one is of you arriving to class late, a grumpy expression playing with your features. You didn’t notice Donghyuck filming back then, when he offered you a cup of coffee as you laid back on the desk, and a fit of giggles erupts around the class at your behavior. The next clip shows you laughing at Aeri’s shoulder in Yangyang’s basement– a couple of clips of that night following, capturing you playing beer pong with your other friends, or taking sips of your beer when you sat down on one of the folding chairs in the corner of the basement– each one showcasing you completely natural, unstaged, and raw. You had no idea anyone was watching you, yet alone taking clips of you. Did Donghyuck have his camera with him all those times? Or was he just taking those with his phone, since you never even noticed?

There’s a clip of you showing him the middle finger through the window when he called you late at night one day. Another one of you driving, and frankly, you don’t even know where you were going, but the sound of you giggling breaks through the speakers and you slouch deeper into your seat, shy at hearing the sound. The very next one is of you sipping at your boba through your straw, and that’s when you realize those were taken by his phone– at least some of them– because you attempt to hide from the lens by showing your palm against it. Another clip shows you digging through bags of McDonald’s take out in the driver’s seat of your car, another one lets you remember the time you went to get fried chicken with him, thinking he’s sending the video he took of you to tease his roommate with the free food he got with someone else back then, unaware that he wanted to use it for the project later.

There are a few clips that only last a second. You walking a few steps ahead of him– you think it was the time you two went to the mall, you angry with his antics. Another one of you picking out cans of soda from the rack in the convenience store. A clip of you driving, once again, but now the sky is starry and dark, and you remember the night too well, since it wasn’t that long ago. A clip of you glaring at your bangs in the rear view mirror, another one of you staring into your textbooks at the library.

There’s only one clip that shows Donghyuck as well. It’s one taken without you knowing, much like the previous ones, and how you missed the phone plopped up against the corner of your dashboard, you really don’t know, but the video shows you two in the McDonald’s parking lot, your hand touching his on the gear stick as you show him how to drive. Only then do you notice the flustered look on his face and the nervous laugh he gets out in the clip, the sound making your heart jump in your ribcage.

The last part of the video is of you walking a few steps ahead of him, his varsity jacket hugging you around your shoulders. It’s the latest clip of them all, and it makes you painfully shy to look at it. The video comes to finish with a few last strums of an acoustic guitar in the background, and you come back to your senses when you feel a hand squeeze your thigh under the table, the whole class erupting into claps. The video was beautiful, and you feel moved.

Although you should be more mad about the fact that Donghyuck took videos of you without you knowing, there is something incredibly moving about the fact that somebody was looking at you and felt the need to capture the moment before it went away. The clips were candid, real, raw, showcasing exactly how the memory went, how your laugh sounded, and how you looked through Donghyuck’s eyes. The video was exactly what it needed to be and more.

There’s something about the fact that all of the clips were of you that made you feel weak in your knees. If the video was what youth feels like, does this mean you were his youth?

If you felt beautiful in the video, loved the way your eyes crinkled in joy, liked the way your expressions morphed into the purest form of whatever emotion you felt at the moment, did that mean this was the way Donghyuck saw you with his eyes?

“See?” you hear him whisper into your ear, his hand still resting at the top of your leg. “I told you I had a vision. I did a good job, didn’t I?”

You chuckle, then offer him a nod. “I didn’t know you were recording all of those,” you whisper, ignoring the words coming out of your professor’s mouth– surely evaluating your work right now. You don’t really want to hear it, though– you’re sure you’ll pass. After seeing what your neighbor’s capable of, you have no doubts.

“I wanted it to feel authentic,” he peeps, “to the way I see you, I mean.”

“Is this what you meant when you said you’d prove your point later?” you wonder.

“I mean, the fact that I’ve always had the biggest crush on you was supposed to come across when I liked your objectively terrible haircut you got at the beginning of the term, but yes,” he admits, sheepishly smiling.

“Okay, uncalled for,” you shrug off his hand from your thigh, to which he giggles and captures your limb with his again, interlacing your fingers. He sways your hands back and forth, offering you a soft look that drives you slightly insane. After all of this, you’re really not sure what you were so afraid of.

“How does that roadtrip sound right now?”

“Still absolutely terrifying,” you note.

“Even if I pay for gas?” he laughs.

Squinting at him, admiring the boyish grin playing with his lips, you sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

893 notes · View notes

bambheez · 1 year

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tonight is for the two of us (l.hs)

SUMMARY: two lonely people who find comfort in each other’s presence for one night. PAIRING: heeseung x reader GENRE: angst, smut WARNINGS: mentions of character death, grief, depression, insomnia, child and domestic abuse, alcoholism, profanity, light smut WORD COUNT: 5.8k A/N: the way this entire thing screams verbosity but that’s just my style so pls forgive me lol… obviously this is different from what I’ve posted so far in that there’s actual plot and it’s somewhat dark (so please read the long ass list of warnings before you proceed). you can also listen to the PLAYLIST for this story (I am in love with all of these songs)! as always, reblogs/comments/feedback are especially appreciated! :)

Your clammy hands were gripping the steering wheel to the point where your dashboard lights illuminated the whites of your knuckles. As you made your way up the windy roads to the lookout point, void of any streetlamps and relying on your high beams on blast, you were silently thankful for the lack of cars trailing behind you or driving toward you in the opposite direction.

Had you done your research beforehand instead of simply plugging the address into your phone, perhaps you wouldn’t have embarked on this hour-long journey to go stargazing with your colleagues. You suggested carpooling to no avail, having to face your absurd fear of driving not only at night but also on sketchy, unfamiliar roads.

A slight crane of your neck to the right brought you a view of the city’s skyline in the distance, a hazy glow amidst a sea of black, and you wished you could teleport back to the comfort of the bright, bustling city. The mere thought of having to drive back down this same path later had you letting out a deep groan.

A sudden interjection of your phone’s navigation app announcing that you were arriving at your destination in 100 feet caused you to whip your head back in focus, scanning the parking lot as you approached the top of the mountain.

Your car was the only one in the vicinity, save for a camper van with none of its lights on, looking particularly worn-down and deserted. You parked in a random empty spot, unplugging your phone from its charging port before stepping out into the brisk air. Spotting a bench near the lookout point, you took long strides up across the parking lot and up the hill, plopping down to sit and fishing your phone out of your pocket to check your notifications.

You were surprised to find an empty home screen, expecting a “sorry, we’ll be a few minutes late” in your group chat seeing as it was over ten minutes past the time you were meant to arrive. You dialed the number of the coworker who invited you and you heard her voice come onto the line after three long rings.

“Hey! What’s up?” she was nearly screaming over sounds of at least a dozen other people talking.

“What’s your ETA?” you were muttering, already having a bad feeling of what she was about to say.

“H-huh? Oh, it’s supposed to rain tonight, so we canceled! Sorry, I thought we told y–” you were tearing the phone away from the side of your face and hanging up before she could finish her sentence.

A miserable chuckle escaped your mouth as you took note of the thick clouds hanging over the sky and brought your feet up on the bench, hugging your knees and resting your back against the wood. You weren’t sure why you expected anything else.

You thought perhaps moving across the country to a big city would put an end to the dread of a thousand tomorrows, none of them promising any semblance of change, but the truth was you never felt more alone than when you were standing in the midst of a busy crowd surrounded by towering skyscrapers and blinding lights—a single drop in the ocean.

There was no way to describe it other than a vice on your heart, squeezing with just enough pressure to be a constant, dull ache. A black hole that threatened to swallow every part of you until all that was left was a human shaped shell, too numb to feel the pain anymore.

There were nights you unwillingly let it control you, and all you could do in those long hours was find an enclosed place to shake until the tears subsided. The vast, open darkness in front of you made you wonder just how many people were out there feeling the same way you did.

Some old acquaintances had promised to stay in touch, yet what you heard from them was comparable to radio silence, their smiles and efforts merely pixelated and small yellow faces that stopped coming whenever your world fell apart—which was often.

Trudging to get past each day made you realize just how much of your world had revolved around one person—one last connection with a life that used to be. You couldn’t tell her when your local tea shop came out with her favorite lychee drink, when you listened to a song that reminded you of her, how you saw someone on the subway reading a book she had recommended you, or how you overheard a couple arguing over the proper way to load a dishwasher, the very thing you had repeatedly bickered about as college roommates.

And now that she was no longer in this life, you were constantly questioning your purpose, even occasionally wondering if you were meant to be alone. Was this what the universe had planned for you? You weren’t sure you believed in multiple soulmates, so what happened when yours left you?

If you miss me, just look at the stars. She would always sign the text with a ‘;)’ at the end and you would mock her with a scoff, replying with or I could just call you, dumbass.

Without realizing, you were already bringing up your history of text messages with her, scrolling through the endless one-sided green texts, each decorated with a delivery error message. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard while the pulsing blue line stared back at you.

“Where are you?” you were wailing out, wincing subsequently at the unexpected echo and crack in your voice. The thundering in the distance seemed to answer you, but you wished the stars were out so that you’d at least know she was watching over you. You couldn’t help but feel that the cloudy skies meant she couldn’t see you, or worse, look out for you. A droplet landed on your cheek and your eyelids fluttered shut at the feeling. You weren’t sure if they were your tears or hers.

It was the end of the week and you somehow found yourself making your way up the mountainous roads again, remembering coming home last time with extraordinary peace of mind despite the frazzled state you arrived in. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was pushing you to get out of the city once again.

The air was noticeably cooler than it had been last week, and you were scanning your backseat for any signs of a sweater, sighing inwardly when you found none. It was warm when you left your office earlier in the evening and you mentally cursed at yourself for not checking the weather yet again.

You contemplated staying in the car with the heat on, but a glimpse of your glowing fuel light had you rolling your eyes in disappointment for being so forgetful and inattentive on top of the countless other flaws you felt you carried.

You were making your way toward the empty bench again, spotting the camper van in the same parking spot. You assumed it hadn’t moved since the last time you were here, most likely having been abandoned. There were considerably fewer clouds in the sky today and you beamed at the view of the small specks of white splattered against the darkness.

“Give me a sign that it’ll all be okay, please,” you spoke while eyeing the stars above you, some brighter than others. Your hair flew in the wind, draping across your face as goosebumps formed on your arms as you prepared to let the rest of your thoughts out. You didn’t remember closing your eyes, but the sound of footsteps approaching had you instinctively opening them and straightening your back and you suddenly felt a weight on your shoulders, gasping to find someone draping their flannel jacket over you.

“Sorry if I scared you,” he spoke against the wind. “You seemed cold.” A boy, now in a plain black shirt, was making his way around the other side of the bench to sit down next to you. He left considerable space between the two of you, which you were silently thankful for.

You spun around to see where he had parked, not having noticed another car arrive and when you saw nothing but your own car and the camper van, you felt a chill run down your spine. Alarm bells should’ve been going off in your head, but you were seemingly more concerned with the fact that he had most likely seen you in your most vulnerable state, crying out into the open void like a lunatic, not only once, but twice now.

When he felt you staring, he turned his head only to briefly make eye contact with you before glancing back down at his lap. His skin was a pretty shade of olive, the tip of his nose illuminated by the hazy moonlight. You took in the rest of his appearance—worn sneakers with one of the laces untied, ripped jeans, and shaggy hair that covered his eyes, and you found yourself resisting the urge to run your fingers through his locks.

“Why do you keep coming here?” he was asking, picking his head up once more to look at you.

You weren’t so sure yourself. Maybe it was the fact that this was the only place where you didn’t have to pretend. You didn’t know if you wanted to talk to her, to yourself, or to the universe in general; you didn’t know if you wanted to scream or cry or sit in complete silence. All you knew was that after a particularly bad day at work, you were taking the exit off the highway without thinking, almost as if you had taken this same exit a hundred times before.

“I could ask you the same,” you chuckled. There was an awkward pause, and you were realizing that he wasn’t going to answer you.

“I’m here to u-uh, stargaze.” You were telling the truth, at least partially.

“Stargazing’s not the best here, with the light pollution and all,” he replied. You hummed, unsure how to respond. He noticed your hesitation and was rubbing his palms against the black denim of his jeans before clearing his throat.

“‘m Heeseung, by the way.” At first, Heeseung found himself slightly annoyed at the fact that you had disrupted his peace and not-so-secret hideout spot, observing you from his van while you mumbled to yourself on the bench.

“I travel in my van, but ‘m running low on money.” He was rubbing the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed to admit the fact. “The parking here’s free, so…” he trailed off, regretting it immediately after stating the obvious.

As he got a better look at your face up close, he saw that a small frown seemed semi-permanently etched on your face, which he could tell you were hopelessly attempting to correct as he studied you. A wave of guilt washed over him upon registration of his untimely intrusion, realizing that you would probably prefer to be alone right now due to the blatant evidence that you were pretending to look less dejected in front of him.

You were briefly introducing yourself as someone new to the city, not knowing what else was interesting about you and accidentally slipping in the fact that you ‘didn’t really have any friends’, teeth chattering slightly even with his jacket resting over your frame.

“Did you want to sit in my van instead?” Your frown was faltering when your lips parted in surprise at his request. He contemplated adding a lighthearted comment about not being a serial killer to reassure you, but you were already trailing behind him as he stood up. You could tell he was tall when his legs were stretched out next to yours while sat next on the bench, but he was even taller than you’d imagined when he was standing up, even with a slight hunch in his posture.

Heeseung peered over his shoulder to catch you struggling to keep up with his longer strides, still clutching onto the collar of his jacket over your right shoulder and he let a soft smile adorn his face as he slowed his pace to match yours. He was rounding the front of his van to open the passenger side door for you but you were already cutting in front of him, hopping up on the door sill clumsily.

You let yourself into the passenger side, holding the jacket out to Heeseung who was still staring at you through the driver side window. He opened the door and pulled himself into the seat, reluctantly taking the jacket from you and tossing it on some unknown surface of the van behind him.

He turned on the ceiling light of his van and began blasting the heat after noticing that you were sitting on the backs of your hands. His fingers were fiddling with the knobs on the CD player to turn on soft, lullaby-like piano music and you made a poor attempt at stifling a laugh. For some reason, you expected him to be into rock music and found the unexpected contrast endearing.

Heeseung shot you a confused look at the sound and you simply shook your head and waved it off, a small smile still playing on your lips. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was, but you felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

For the first time that night, you were taking a closer look at his features. Underneath his bangs were eyes that carried both fervor and innocence and lips that were held in a constant, soft pout. He was chewing on his bottom lip, eyes darting around the space in front of him at the feeling of you staring at him so intently. He shook his head so that his bangs were falling over his eyes again in one swift movement before thinking of something to say to take your attention off his face.

“I dropped out of college when I was 18,” he was muttering, trying to gauge your reaction from his peripheral view before continuing. “And then I ran away from home to travel.” He was leaving out key details like the fact that he didn’t necessarily run away from home with the goal of traveling but instead began traveling because he simply had nowhere else to go.

When he came home after his first semester with an official diagnosis from his university’s health center, his family refused to let him seek therapy or any other form of help. With a father who was never home and a mother who went as far as threatening to disown him if he didn’t return to school the following semester, Heeseung wasn’t left with much of a choice.

You were surprised that he was even sharing this much with you. Your heart tightened at the thought of him being alone in the world at such a young age and his lack of a support system, seemingly more alone than you were. He was considerably better than you at concealing his loneliness and you hated that fact, not because you wanted to be better at it but because you knew just how much effort it took.

Heeseung could barely remember what it was like to have his father around, the only seemingly harmonious moments spent with him before he started grade school fleeting and long forgotten. The bulk of his adolescence was spent resenting his father for the way he treated his mother, where his father would appear through the front door every few months or so in one of his drunken episodes, an empty bottle of liquor already in hand.

He almost always knew when it was happening, the rummaging through the cabinets and refrigerator for alcohol reverberating through the house and to his room. He couldn’t understand why his mother wouldn’t stop restocking the house with it or why she wouldn’t change the locks or take his father’s keys or even file for a divorce, and he couldn’t help but despise her weakness and inability to stop pitying her husband.

“Look who decided to finally show up for his mother,” the older man seethed, breath reeking from the drunken stench.

A particularly loud argument had Heeseung flying down the stairs, the sound of a glass bottle breaking causing his mother to let a scream out of her mouth. He took in his father’s appearance, unshaven and eyes bloodshot with a lazy smirk playing on his lips. A look off to the side at his mother with tears streaming down her cheeks was suddenly leading to punches being thrown and knuckles growing bloodied. A harsh shove from his father caused him to lose his balance and tumble onto the wooden floor.

“Maybe ask yourself why you’re defending a fucking cheater instead,” his voice boomed through the living room. A puzzled expression took over Heeseung’s face as he turned toward his mother who winced both at the sound of her husband slamming the door as he left and the way her son ran his tongue over his busted lip, eyes beginning to gloss over.

After finally grasping the fact that his mother was not the person she made herself out to be and what pushed his father over the edge over ten years ago, Heeseung, who had always stuck close to her growing up, attempting to make up for the lack of his father’s presence, began growing increasingly distant from her as he finished his final years of high school. The very thing he swore he wouldn’t touch in his life was the only thing he took with him and stashed in his van the night he left.

He was wrapping his hand around the nearly empty beer can in his cup holder from the thought of his childhood memories and shooting a pained expression your way at the paled look on your face, eyes pooling with concern and he tried to perceive it as anything but pity.

“I honestly don’t mind it much,” he was saying, but an unfamiliar look was flashing across his eyes and even though you barely knew him, you felt like you could see right through him.

He was redirecting his gaze out the windshield. He had used the North Star almost as a source of direction in his travels for the past few years, as cliche as it sounded. Tonight was the first night it was visible in the two weeks he had been parked here, deciding to camp out in the deserted park until it reappeared and he had saved enough money from his part-time job in the city.

The North Star appeared noticeably brighter tonight, a beacon in the middle of the night shrouded in shadows and Heeseung was suddenly wondering whether it was a coincidence that you were here with him at this very moment, whether you were the very person who hung the North Star for him in the night sky, guiding him toward a purposeful destination, or whether you were the destination itself. He was shaking his head at the intrusive thought as you followed his line of sight.

The heat blowing throughout the van was fogging up the windows and blocking up your view of what he seemed to be focusing his gaze on. Heeseung watched as you turned in your seat, moving your body to face the passenger window with one leg folded up on the cushion. You were bringing your fingers up to touch the glass, slowly drawing a heart with your index finger and peering through the clear traces at the sky.

Heeseung, nowhere near intoxicated from his built up tolerance over the years, took one last sip of his drink, still not taking his eyes away from your side profile and subtle movements as you immersed yourself in your own world for the second time that night. He was turning to his own window to mirror your actions, outlining a much sloppier heart on the glass. By the time he finished and spun around to face you, you were already watching him with a beam, the apples of your cheeks rosy.

You were suddenly bursting into laughter, your brain on autopilot as you leaned over the center console to fix his drawing. You were practically pushed up against him with your hand resting on his thigh as you drew over his sketch on the window, adding a dozen more hearts around the first and filling up the rest of the fogged glass with your doodles. Heeseung was noticeably stiffening under you, attempting to distract himself from his quickening heart rate by picking at the fraying of his jeans on the leg you weren’t perched on.

You leaned back to admire your silly artwork for a few seconds before glancing over at him and noticing Heeseung’s eyelashes fluttering delicately, still reeling from the sudden physical contact. Upon noticing the close proximity, you were removing your hand from his lap and bringing it back into your own, leaning into the seat again and you could feel the heat evident on your face, knowing it must’ve been even more apparent to him. He was no better at concealing his own expressions as his sheepish smile faltered, feeling abnormally disappointed in the sudden loss of contact.

Still in a daze, Heeseung was reaching behind him to grab a can of beer, holding it out in front of you while his eyes were trained on the single heart drawn on the passenger side window. He held back a grimace as he realized that he’d done so without thinking, hoping you hadn’t caught on to his dependency. You accepted his offer without hesitation, wiping the rim of the opening with the bottom of your shirt and popping open the tab, taking gulps at a much faster speed than you were normally used to.

Your head was still spinning with the thought and feeling of the burn of your fingertips against his thigh. You both drifted into a comfortable silence, the music no longer playing since the CD player in his rundown van didn’t have the ability to auto loop tracks or albums and the hammering of his heart against his chest seemed almost too loud for you not to notice. Heeseung thought about taking out the disk and replacing it but decided against it, not wanting to disrupt the stillness of the air around you.

Your lips formed a small frown as you saw clouds beginning to shape. You thought it was the alcohol deceiving you, but you blinked a few times and the clouds were still there.

“I hate the rain because it means I can’t see her. It makes me think that she’s crying,” you suddenly whispered, breaking the silence. You could feel his gaze fall to you as he fell out of his trance, but he didn’t ask who, just simply nodded.

His reaction made you freeze in your spot, realizing you had most definitely overshared beyond an imaginary boundary. You almost wanted to apologize for it before you were saying the next thing that came to your mind.

“Have you ever fallen in love?” you were abruptly blurting out.

He was quirking his brow in amusement. “Come on, I can barely fall asleep,” he laughed softly but not without a somewhat pained expression behind his eyes. You had assumed it was a joke, but the sincerity in the way he observed you told you it wasn’t. Your eyes widened before you were nodding softly and returning a weak smile, taken aback by his confession.

“Don’t worry about it,” he was brushing it off. “You?”

You were staring out the windshield again for a few moments, lost in your thoughts before responding, “A lot of unrequited love, if that counts.”

You began to explain how you had never been in a relationship, not because you didn’t want to, but because it was seemingly out of your control. You presumed that the time you spent on this earth loving romantically without any reciprocation had somehow altered your brain chemistry to truly believe that you were meant to be alone from the very beginning, and you were often wondering which would hurt more, to have had true love and lost it or to never have had it at all. Dwelling over the fact that you had already experienced some form of both made your situation seem all the more ridiculous.

It didn’t go unnoticed by him the way you were flighty in your thoughts, jumping to one without finishing the other. As a result of the accumulation of thoughts you created when you were alone, all the things you would talk to yourself about came spilling out.

Your mind went on talking even when you were alone. And when you ran out of storage, the thoughts needed to come out somehow. Partly due to your insecurities you hoped that by talking more, you’d be accepted and loved by someone—it hadn’t proved itself to be a successful method in the past and you weren’t sure it ever would be.

“I give, and give, and give. That’s all I do,” you continued, your voice now uneven and trembling slightly. “I give until I have nothing left. I’m terrified of the love I have because I know it will ruin me—it already has, and I know I will continue to let it.”

You were heaving out a sigh of relief at the massive weight being lifted off your chest, still feeling a sort of emptiness but a strangely pleasant lightness associated with it. Even then, you were perplexed by your own eagerness to share your entire life story to someone you met just hours ago, partially blaming the alcohol for how unfiltered you became and you couldn’t tell what Heeseung was thinking from the stoic look on his face and his big doe eyes blinking back at you.

It most definitely wasn’t a feeling of pity, that he knew. It felt almost like a weakness in the heart—like his heart wasn’t working properly—a fleeting lightness that passed through him, being simultaneously lulled to sleep by a single gesture and set on fire by your every touch.

Your eyes were glossed over, from your lengthy outpour or intoxicated state Heeseung wasn’t certain, but he held not a single ounce of doubt of the amount of love you held. Unsure of what came over him, he was resisting the urge to lean over and cup the sides of your face and tell you that even in his broken, wretched state, he was willing to accept anything you had to give and return everything and more.

“It’s really late. I can drive you home,” he was offering. He convinced you he was sobering up with a lazy smile plastered on his face, yet you couldn’t help raising your brows at the slight flush of his cheeks and numerous empty beer cans in the cup holder.

“I think I’d rather stay here,” you were speaking nonchalantly before turning to look at him with what Heeseung thought he saw were literal stars in your otherwise cloudy eyes. At the implication of your words, he could feel and hear his heart beating at a pace so fast it rang through his ears. As much of an open book as you were, he didn’t expect that from you and you even stunned yourself as the words left you, mouth now agape as you stared back at him.

You wanted to blame your lack of sobriety yet again but you knew that the flood of emotions had put your mind in a remarkable state of clarity. His calmness—how he listened and watched attentively without any questions, just simply looking at you with a fondness in his eyes—fastened you with a sense of immense trust in him.

Thankfully, he was quickly nodding and turning around to turn on the lights that lit up the rest of his van. In contrast to his somewhat rugged appearance, his space was neat and cozy and it amazed you how few belongings he had; everything fit in his van and there was almost no clutter. The only hint of personality and life you could find was the guitar hanging over the bed, and you were smiling to yourself knowing he at least had music to accompany him.

Heeseung had suggested cooking some ramen for you, but you simply shook your head with a sleepy smile and told him you weren’t hungry. He didn’t say anything as he clambered on top of his sheets and patted the spot next to him. There wasn’t much space in the van for anything other than a bed and a small stovetop and you were skeptical there would be enough room for you to both lay comfortably.

You fit yourself on the mattress between him and the back door while he crawled under the covers, pushing his pillow toward you behind your back and grabbing an extra one from beneath the bed for himself. You were still sat leaning against the side of the van as you contemplated your next move, wondering whether you should prioritize comfort or decency and you squirmed at the thought of your dirty jeans on someone else’s sheets.

A brief glance at Heeseung, who was lying on his back with his eyes closed and hands resting over his stomach, had you quickly tucking yourself under the blankets and unzipping your jeans, pulling them down and kicking them over your ankles. You were shuffling downward and placing the now folded jeans beside your pillow, facing away from Heeseung as you pulled the covers up to your chest.

You couldn’t tell but Heeseung had visibly stiffened, eyebrows now slightly furrowed in concentration as he attempted to fall asleep, willing himself to think about anything other than you and your presence inches away from him. He was staring at the ceiling, breath uneven at how you were so similar in the way you craved connection yet different in the sources of your troubles and the way you coped—one capable of giving anything and one who didn’t know how to give at all.

You felt the bed dip and you could hear Heeseung shuffling around behind you, his heavy breathing against your neck telling you he was now facing you, and still lying on your side when you felt his fingers graze across your hip bone.

The heat radiating off his body behind you was seeping into your own skin, slowly building into a burn before you were flipping yourself over to face him and immediately thrown off by just how close he was. A slight lean forward from either of you would close the gap, and your eyes were unconsciously flickering down to his lips at the thought.

You were pulling yourself flush against him, savoring the feeling of your bodies pressed so closely together, resting your head in the crook of his neck and he let out a sharp gasp from above you. You could feel his heart beating underneath your palms as you moved your hands across the expanse of his chest. A slight crane of your neck and you were tentatively placing your lips against his jaw, a shaky breath of Heeseung’s fanning your face from the action.

As your kisses moved from his jaw down to his neck, his mouth was parting softly, lifting his head into the pillow to provide you with more access. One particularly harsh suck against his collarbone had him surging forward for more, latching onto the hem of your shirt and fingers hesitantly grazing the waistband of your underwear.

Heeseung was then leaning forward onto his elbows, the hand that was previously slotted between your bodies wrapping around your shoulder to pull you up and level to him, bringing you into a gentle kiss that caused the hairs on your arms to raise.

It overwhelmed you how thrilling yet calming it felt to be kissing him. You were completely drinking him in, the touch of his skin against yours heating up the pits of your stomach and causing shivers to wrack through you and simultaneously taking your mind off of everything else.

He was gentle with his touch, but his lips were rough and chapped and he was kissing you with so much longing and desperation that for a second, you contemplated whether this was his first time kissing someone, craving any and every bit of physical contact. You quickly dismissed the thought as he took advantage of your inattentiveness with a swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip, your lips parting slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth skillfully.

Your stomach churned and you were writhing under his touch from the way your tongues intertwined, a pit of heat rising in your lower stomach. Heeseung was letting out a choked whimper at the feeling of your hands reaching underneath his shirt, smoothing over the skin of his stomach.

“You okay?” you were whispering as you pulled back, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. He held your gaze for a few seconds, both delicacy and sharpness etched in his features, before his lashes fluttered and he was shaking his head, burying it in your neck. Your hands were sliding along his scalp to soothingly stroke his hair, heart aching at the vulnerability and rawness with which he looked at you.

It wasn’t clear whether the cause of his feverish state was from the simple presence of you in his arms, but something told you that you should’ve seen it coming when the way he looked at you gradually began changing as the hours progressed.

You were pulling back and placing one last, soft kiss against his lips, lingering for a few moments too long before wrapping your arms around his torso in a tight embrace and rubbing his back gingerly.

Heeseung was redirecting his attention out at the sky through the back window, foolishly looking for you and him in the stars. Some stars gradually dim and lose their luster, and on a rainy night, you might never see them again.

You weren’t thinking about what would happen when the stars faded and the sun rose, or when you would see him again—you didn’t need to see him or be physically near him to feel him. Your subconscious was finding comfort simply from the feeling of his chest pressed against yours, your thumb rubbing circles over his shirt while you listened to Heeseung's soft breathing and the sound of the rain beginning to fall against the windows.

A/N: the bolded quote is based on something I saw on twitter: “I’m scared of the love I have for you. Because I know it will ruin me. And I also know that I will let it. I love hard.” but I couldn’t find the source, so credits to the original owner.

#enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung angst #heeseung smut #enhypen angst #enhypen smut #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung angst #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagine #heeseung scenario #enhypen imagine #enhypen scenario #enhypen heeseung #heeseung hard hours #lee heeseung imagine

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stories-and-chaos · 3 months

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Shrike: The House Always… Loses?! Pt 2

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable. This was supposed to be a one shot about how Husk sold his soul, but I couldn’t help myself.]

[Part 2/2 Word count 1760 Cw: gambling, addiction]

——————

It did end up entertaining. There were lots of gambling dens in the city (it was hell after all) but Husk’s soon came to be known as a place of class. You could lose all your money or your soul, but it would be somewhere that didn’t stink of demon excrement. You might pass out wasted while watching the shows, but the staff wouldn’t toss you into the gutter. They’d provide a bucket and water and charge you extra for the courtesy.

His policy on fighting was ironclad. Anyone who tried to stir things up got a beat down from him. Some demons, seeing Husk at half their height- or less- forgot that he was an Overlord. And the title wasn’t just given away. It was earned. Some nights you’d arrive for your performance and see scorch and skid marks on the ground in front of the casino. Occasionally a bloody splatter.

So with a reputation for the finer stuff, Husk had no end of high rollers gambling away their nights. Your presence definitely helped in the early days; you didn’t do many shows outside of your home district or Cannibal Town in the ‘70s. Demons who had only heard rumors of the voice that charmed the Radio Demon had a chance to get an earful. They came to hear you and they stayed for the thrill of the games of chance.

Alastor accompanied you some nights, roughly once a week. After your performance you’d have a meal together and mingle by the tables. Neither of you were fond of games of chance. It was amusing to watch others wager money and more on dice and cards.

Husk usually came out on top, which made the high rollers burn for the chance to recoup their losses. On nights you went alone, you could occasionally snare a couple souls. The delicate little bird offering chips for something so little as a favor? Even if she was the wife of an Overlord it couldn’t be that bad. It didn’t matter if they won or lost with your collateral. Your talon was hooked in. They’d come for more on other nights, you would oblige until the favors stacked up and the only way to pay was with their soul.

Husk knew what you were doing and let you play your game. The amount of deals you made was inconsequential to what the house did. And when he knew a good number were brought through his doors because of you…well, call it a bonus for the great work.

Exterminations came and went. You didn’t really keep track beyond holing up with Alastor the day of. Suffice to say, years passed and power fluctuated. Alastor’s broadcast of screams had an ever growing playlist. You had your flock, both willing and contracted. Husk’s casino continued to thrive.

Until it didn’t.

The problem with games of chance is there’s a chance you lose.

Maybe it was because the latest extermination rattled the gambler. His casino staff had been hit hard this time, losing almost half their ranks. Or maybe his streak finally ran out. But Husk took a loss, a big one. Then another.

And another.

He didn’t lose every game. But the high stakes ones were the ones he couldn’t seem to claw back from. The Overlord was rattled and his power was waning.

You and Alastor discussed the situation. You had returned home after seeing another big loss for Husk. As the two of you relaxed on the couch, the state of souls around you was an excellent topic.

“So it really does seem as though the poor fellow’s luck has run dry,” you mused. “Or at least, he can’t seem to make his own luck any longer.”

“Hmmm. Hmm hmm hmm.” You could see the shadow of his antlers growing as he considered the situation. “You’ve been there so often darling, do you think he can?”

You interlocked your talons with his claws. “Unless he gets some confidence back? No. He’s too shaken now.”

“Well. That sounds perfect.” The static in his voice intensified. “I trust you have no objections, cher?”

“Mais non cher! I’ll miss performing at such a nice venue and the easy pickings, but that’s the way of things.” You paused. “I would prefer his screams not be added to your repertoire, but I’ll leave that to you.”

He brought your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “I’m also fond of the fellow cher. I believe it will be better to keep him around after the deal is struck.”

You grinned, feeling your wings becoming sharp edged, the room lights reflecting off your now metallic feathers. “Lovely. I’ll let you know when the time is right.”

It was three weeks later. Husk’s losing streak didn’t stop. And he didn’t stop trying to win everything back. Even from across the building, you could feel his desperation. It was when he started eyeing some loan sharks you knew it was time for Alastor to come in.

Your husband escorted you, like so many nights before. You gave a lovely performance, making sure to put a frenzied tone to a number of pieces. Just enough to set the mood and keep Husk off balance. Then your routine of sharing dinner and mingling at the gaming tables. Not that there was much conversation going on. There were very few patrons around. The ship was sinking and even the most loyal were scurrying away.

“Husk my good man!” Alastor said jovially. “You seem to be in quite a situation here. I’d say things look rather dire if I didn’t know better.”

“Ah, no! No…just a slow night.” He scrambled to make everything seem normal. But there was no hiding the tension in his voice, the bags under his eyes, or the strain in his smile. “Things have been… quieter since extermination day, I’m sure Y/N told you.”

“Ah yes, she did mention the angels seemed to have it out for you and yours this last time. Tragic really. Well, if that’s all,” he said with a perky air, “what say we play a few hands?” He produced stacks of chips that Husk eyed avidly.

It was a given they’d play. The first few hands, Alastor won a couple, Husk won more. There was a desperate gleam in his black and gold eyes as his winnings grew.

It was a given he’d start to lose. Husk’s need to win it back increased. He’d been winning! Those chips had been his, he just needed a good hand to get them back. Alastor’s smile never faded, his confidence unnerving Husk. Which made him all the easier to read and manipulate.

It was a given that Alastor would play the other Overlord like a piano. And eventually, the wall of chips around your husband proved how well he’d done. Husk had only one thing left to wager.

“Let’s try something a little different for our last game of the night chum.” Alastor spread six cards out on the felt. A royal flush and a joker. “You get one draw of a card. Get the ace, the whole pot is yours. King, queen, jack or ten and I take my winnings. Draw the joker, and I win your soul as well.”

Husk hesitated. Were those odds worth putting his soul on the line? “I draw a face card, we split the pot,” he countered.

“Hmmm.” You shivered pleasantly as Alastor’s static hum reverberated. “Done!” He handed the cards to you to shuffle. “If you would, cher?” You happily obliged. The symbols of his magick gathered around as his antlers stretched out. You could feel your feathers shift to metallic and decorative at the anticipation.

It was a given Husk would draw the joker. It didn’t matter how long he hesitated, eyes flicking between the cards and Alastor’s eternal smile. His wavering claw pulled the card, dooming him.

As soon as he revealed the joker in his hand, Alastor’s magick formed a thick green collar and chain. The collar snapped onto Husk’s neck and the chain rested in your husband’s grasp. He made a tsk-ing sound as he wrapped it around his microphone cane.

“Bad luck, my good man.” His laughter grew, filling the building as his shadows spread. One of them found Husk’s own cane. The former Overlord reached for it out of reflex but the shadowy tentacle dropped it into Alastor’s hand. He examined the delicate orb on top before presenting it to you with a bow. “If you would please ma cher?”

You took hold of the gold body, admiring it for a moment. You could feel your cheeks stretching as you grinned. Your art deco wings rustled with your glee, sounding like dozens of wind chimes. “Of course darling.” You infused the cane with your silver wind magick. A laugh bubbled up from your core as you slammed the butt of it to the ground. A wave of silver blinded every present.

When it passed, the casino was gone. Everyone was in an empty lot, including one unfortunate with his pants around his ankles that was suddenly sitting on bare stone. You examined the head of the cane. Inside the orb was the casino, suit symbols, dice, and chips swirling around as if it was a snow globe.

Alastor leaned over to look at your handiwork. “Exquisitely done cher! One of your best works if I do say so myself!” He gave you a kiss on the cheek. Husk could only slump to the ground, weighed down by the chain of his deal. There was a blank look over his tired face. His hands hung limply down, claws twitching in shock. Not surprising, his stronghold and power base had just vanished before his eyes.

“Merci darling, I’m rather proud of this one. His power is neatly contained within and you can allow him whatever access you see fit!” You looked down at the feline demon. “We wouldn’t want our latest acquisition to be completely helpless after all.”

“Yes indeedy my dear!” He glanced around at the stunned patrons and employees. “Alright folks, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here! Ha ha ha!” He held out his arm, you took it, and the two of you started strolling away. “Come along Husker, we have some terms of your deal to review before tomorrow!”

Still in a daze, Husk trailed behind you two. His leash wasn’t visible at the moment but he followed as if he felt every link between him and Alastor.

A/N: I honestly thought this would take longer, surprise! Shrike’s taking the casino is pure self indulgence on my part. HC for when Overlords lose to another, the winner can do as they please with their base of operations: taking over it, destroying it, or preserving it like here. If it was one of the Vees, it’d be their portion of the tower, Alastor his broadcast station, Rosie her emporium, Carmilla her factory. Shrike’s would be her favorite performing venue at first, then her recording studio when she takes over during Alastor’s sabbatical. But it’s something they all can do.

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

#hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin alastor #asexual alastor #asexual reader #alastor x reader #alastor #asexual #acespec #ace representation

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rosekeu · 9 months

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soft like a bunny : r. sukuna

this is part 4!

a/n: highschool au, fem!reader, reader has braces, shy+nerdy+sensitive reader! [if you don't like that then leave ig lol] soft spot for reader ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ this part too me all day to write wtf. this chapter drained the fuck out of me. its 2.1k words.

sypnosis: assigned to a project together you have no other choice but to get sukuna's number.

【 playlist 】

[ part 1 ] [part 2] [ part 3 ] [ part 5 coming soon! ]

sukuna walked to his house after leaving you at yours, though he wasn't too happy knowing he'd be scolded by his parents for his two-day suspension. as he approached his house, sukuna couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.

“itadori sukuna! you got suspended! again?!” kaori, his mother, scolded her as she walked over to the pink-haired teen and pinched his ear. yuji stood at the corner, trying not to laugh. sukuna winced in pain but couldn't help but smirk at yuji's amusement. despite the ear-pinching, he knew deep down that his parents only wanted what was best for him.

“at least it was for a good cause this time,” his twin brother commented, making their mother raise her brow in confusion. “he helped a girl.” yuuji said, trying to convince their mother.

"yeah, it was supposed to be a one-week suspension. but she saved my ass," sukuna said, as the grip on his ear tightened. kaori looked at him with an unconvinced face and asked, "who's this lucky girl then?"

l/n, y/n," he replied, annoyed by his mother's antics. "i heard she's a second-year!" yuuji exclaimed.

"mhm... alright. but you're still grounded, young man!" she said this while lightly slapping sukuna's upper arm. he hissed. "fine." sukuna reluctantly agreed, knowing that his punishment could have been much worse. he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that your name wasn't brought up anymore.

.✿✿✿.

the next day rolled around, and while in chemistry class, you couldn't help but miss sukuna's annoying pestering. you found yourself glancing over at his empty seat, realizing that his absence made the class feel strangely quiet. the teacher's voice seemed to echo in the room without sukuna's occasional snarky remarks.

as you left the classroom, you remembered you still had a project to complete, with your partner being sukuna. knowing he had a two day suspension made it difficult to get started. you met up with mai and maki and asked them what to do. "you could just ask for his number, idiot," maki said nonchalantly. and you squealed in surprise.

"no! i can't do that! he barely talks to me, plus he's not going to be here for two days." you sighed in frustration. mai groaned in response.

"y/n, just ask one of his friends? or doesn't he have a twin brother?" .

you knew they were right and decided to ask his brother for sukuna's phone number. you hurried to the first year hall, feeling a sense of déjà vu from the first time you met sukuna. but this time was different; everything seemed more peaceful. calm.

as you looked through the two classrooms, one said, "class 1-a," and the other said, "class 1-b."

your eyes quickly scanned over class 1-a and found someone that looked quite familiar—the same shade of pink hair; he wore the school uniform more complete; and when you saw his face, it was almost identical to a sukuna, though this one seemed softer and more approachable. his eyes weren't red like rubies; instead, they were hazel, with bits of green, yellow, and brown scattered throughout them.

the boy wasn't far away, but he sat with a few other friends, including a boy with dark spiky hair and a short girl with short brown hair. you approached them with nervousness.

"hello." you gulped, and the group had heard your voice, turning their attention towards you. the pink haired boy's eyes widened as he looked to recognize you. "you're l/n? right?"

you froze and nodded quickly, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. "yes, that's me," you replied, wondering what he knew about you. "i'm itadori yuuji!" he exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across his face.

"my brother mentioned you! you're super pretty!" he admitted it truthfully, making you blush and feel a rush of flattery. "these are my friends, fushiguro megumi, and..." the spiky haired boy waved silently.

'kugisaki nobara!" the girl smiled. "it's unbelievable that the name sukuna is associated with someone as adorable as you!" she continued.

you smiled nervously and nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your cheeks.

"did you need something?" yuuji asked, curiosity evident in his voice. "well, i have a project with sukuna, and i was wondering if you could pass me his phone number."

"sure, i can give you his phone number." yuuji said, reaching for his phone as you did. megumi and nobara exchanged puzzled looks; they both knew yuuji didn't give out his brother's phone number casually. sukuna was adamant about his personal information remaining private, even for school projects. however, as you exchanged phone numbers, you couldn't help but notice a small smile on your lips.

'i have his number!!'

"thank you, yuuji," you said, walking out of the classroom. "yeah, of course!"

"why did you give her suku's number?" megumi asked, raising an eyebrow.

"yeah, didn't you say he was grounded and without his phone?" nobara added, looking puzzled.

"oh, yeah! i completely forgot about that!" yuuji exclaimed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

.✿✿✿.

you had been looking forward to going home to text sukuna since you received his phone number. once you did, you were frozen on your bed, staring at the screen anxiously.

time passed quickly. you had dinner and finished your homework. and it was already 6 p.m. you grabbed your phone and clicked on sukuna's number to text him. as you typed out a message, you couldn't help but wonder if sukuna would even reply. the anticipation and anxiety grew as you hit the send button, hoping for a response.

???: "hey! this is y/n from chem class. i was wondering when we were going to start our project (✿◠‿◠) [sent-6:23pm]

you stared at the screen as minutes passed by without any response. the silence made you question if you had said something wrong or if sukuna was simply busy. doubts started to creep in, and you couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed.

you turned off your phone, and a frown formed on your face. maybe sukuna wasn't interested in working on the project with you after all. you showered and changed into your cute teddy bear pjs, hoping that a good night's sleep would help clear your mind, but your mind still lingered on your message.

'was it too long? or was the emoticon too much?'

you hid under your covers and tried to distract yourself, but your thoughts kept drifting back to sukuna and the unanswered message. as you lay there, you couldn't shake off the feeling of uncertainty and wondered if you had done something wrong.

i'm just overthinking this, you reassured yourself.

.✿✿✿.

"you gave her what?" sukuna whispered and yelled in disbelief at his twins words. yeah, i gave her your number because she said you guys had a project together."

"it's not that part! i don't have my phone, dumbass!" sukuna groaned from the bottom bunk of their beds. yes, the itadori twins were turning 16, and they still had bunk beds.

sukuna sighed, heavily annoyed at yuuji. " i mean, you can grab your phone from mom's special cabinet." "but you know how she gets if we touch her stuff," yuuji replied sheepishly. "besides, i thought it would be easier if she just called you directly." sukuna rolled his eyes, realizing that yuuji's intentions were good, but his execution was always questionable.

he lazily gets up from his bed and walks over to their mom's special cabinet, careful not to disturb anything. as he opens the cabinet, he notices the familiar blood red phone case. sukuna takes it rapidly, going back to bed quickly.

he turns on his phone and finds one text message from an unknown number. he read it and thought it was cute.

🐰: hey! this is y/n from chem class. i was wondering when we were going to start our project (✿◠‿◠) [sent-6:23pm][read-10:55pm]

he edits the contact so it's a bunny emoji. he smirks to himself.

🐯: come over tomorrw. we can work on it together. [sent-10:56pm]

he impatiently awaits a response: "yuuji, are you fucking pranking me with a fake number?"

"what? no way!"

as he was about to curse out his brother, his phone chimed.

🐰: okay :) i was worried you weren't going to respond lol [sent-11:00pm] [read-11:00pm]

🐯: i'm fucking grounded. i'm talking to you in secrecy 😈 [sent-11:01pm][read-11:01pm]

🐰: don't get in trouble because of me:(( [sent-11:00pm] [read-11:00pm]

🐯: you're totally worth it, sweetheart. [sent-11:01pm] [read-11:01pm]

as you read the message, warmth spreads through your cheeks, making you grip your phone even tighter. sukuna smirked; seeing as you hadn't responded right away, he imagined your flustered expression. he became impatient again.

🐯: respond, brat. [sent-11:06pm][read-11:06pm]

you gathered yourself as your shaking fingers mustered a reply.

🐰: sorry (〃▽〃) that just caught me off guard, is all [sent-11:07pm] [read-11:07pm]

🐯: i didn't know i made you so nervous. you're probably blushing, aren't you? [sent-11:07pm][read-11:07pm]

🐰: nope! not at all! [sent-11:07pm] [read-11:07pm]

🐯: prove it, then. [sent-11:07pm][read-11:08pm]

🐰: what? [sent-11:08pm] [read-11:08pm]

🐯: show me that you're not blushing. [sent-11:08pm] [read-11:08pm]

your eyes widened, and your stomach began to churn. was he asking for a picture of your face right now? you wouldn't, but if you did, he'd be right. you were blushing profusely, and your heart was racing. you became even more flustered at the thought of proving it to him.

as you were about to type your response, your phone rang with a sudden call. sukuna. he was calling you out of the blue. you quickly answered, not knowing it was a facetime call.

"eek!" you moved your phone rapidly as you saw your reflection at the corner of your screen, but bigger than that was the face of sukuna staring back at you; he was visible, but his surroundings were pitch black.

"let me see your face; i didn't call you for nothing." he said it with a sly smirk. you were excited and nervous at the same time as you paused for a moment before adjusting the camera to show your face and half of your shirt. the first thing he noticed were your red cheeks and slightly messy hair. "so you are blushing; how adorable."

"s-shut up-"

"were getting bolder, i see." sukuna chuckled, his smile growing wider.

"i'm learning how to stand up for myself, so...y'know"

he hummed in response, looking closer at you. sukuna furrowed his brow and squinted his eyes to better see your shirt. small teddy bears scurried throughout the fabric, making him smile.

cute, he thought. "nice shirt," he remarked. and you quickly adjusted the camera so it would only show your face. "ignore that!"

he laughed at your reaction. "ugh, y/n, you're so fun to toy with."

"that's so mean..." you pouted, a tiny frown on your face. his heart squeezed as if it was about to leap out of his chest.

'she is going to kill me...'

"it's late. why did you call?" you asked, fidgeting with a strand of hair. "i wanted to see if you were flustered, and you are."

you laughed, covering your smile, knowing if you showed it, he'd probably make fun of you or stop talking to you. "why are you covering your smile? let me see, brat." he remarked that he was a bit annoyed.

your eyes widened as you grabbed your phone, now only showing half of your face. "no, it's okay. you probably won't like it anyway."

"c'mon, stop being an idiot." he insisted, and you thought about it for a minute before deciding to trust him. "alright, just don't be mean. i'm insecure enough." you whispered the last part, but he still caught on to it.

"just get on with it, dumbass."

you smiled at the screen, revealing your pink-banded metal braces. and waited for his disgusted reaction, but it never came.

"that's hot."

"what?!"

"you heard me." he said this, maintaining an unexpected calmness.

"yeah, right," you murmured as you lay on your side in bed. "i'm serious; they're hot as hell."

you couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and relief. "next time you should get red, i think that would look good too."

you giggled, happy knowing that one of the most insecure parts of you was adored by such an attractive guy like suku.

"i have to go. it's late, sukuna." it was the first time he'd heard his name fall from your lips. he smiled softly, savoring the sound of his name on your lips. "alright, take care and sleep well," he replied, his voice filled with a hint of longing. as you ended the call, a warm feeling settled in your chest, leaving you eager for the next conversation with sukuna as you received one last text.

🐯: goodnight, qt [sent-11:32pm][read-11:32pm]

🐰: goodnight <33 [sent-11:33pm] [read-11:33pm]

if you want to be tagged let me know!

taglist:

@thepup356

@wonumyluv

@dabishotgf

@mahi-tamashi

#sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk au #twins au #maki zenin #mai zenin #itadori twins

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fandomsnstuff · 6 months

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@taznovembercelebration

Day 3: bakery au/playlist

Kravitz gives Taako a gift and gets invited to a party

Read it on AO3

Kravitz stands pressed against the brick wall outside the bakery, out of view of the large stretch of front windows. He drums his fingers on the plastic case in his hands.

This is. Insane. Taako's working. He's almost always been working when they see each other. What on Earth made him think that making him a mixtape in cd form, cassette form, and spotify form (just in case he doesn't have a way to play the other two) would be appropriate?

Sure, they see each other every day when Kravitz comes in for a sweet treat. And Taako flirts with him over the counter every time, and loiters around the little table he sits at by the window to talk to him more. Then of course there was that time they ran into each other at the grocery store and stood in the aisle talking for at least 30 minutes. And the time they ran into each other at the movies and went for dinner and a walk after. Then Taako gave him his number the next day when he came in for a danish, and they text almost every day. Taako even joked that they were meant to be when they found out that Kravitz's old college roommate is his brother in law.

But a mixtape? What is this, 1986?

But here he is, with an hour and a half of music he carefully curated for Taako in three different forms. At this point he can't not give it to him.

He takes a deep breath and walks into the bakery. The bell above the door jingles and Taako doesn't even look up from where he's loading some fresh cookies into the display. "I was wondering how long you were gonna stand out there."

Kravitz freezes. "You could see-"

"Sure could." Taako comes up and leans against the counter, smiling smugly. "Whatcha got there?"

Kravitz hides the tape and cd behind his back, his face burning. "Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing." Kravitz takes a very sudden interest in the wall behind Taako. "Tell you what," Taako says, drawing Kravitz's eyes back to him like a magnet, "I'll trade you. You show me what made you stand outside my place of business for 10 minutes, and I give you one of my new ginger molasses cookies, on the house."

Kravitz eyes the cookies in question. They do look good, perfect picturesque cracks on top, sugar on the outside glistening like crystal. And Taako's cookies are always perfectly crunchy on the edges and soft in the middle.

"They just came out of the oven," he says tauntingly, "still warm."

The unfortunate thing is that Kravitz can be bought. Especially with baked goods. "I, um," his heart is still racing, but he approaches the counter, "this is so dumb, but I," he laughs, embarrassed, and presents the gifts, "I made you a mixtape? You mentioned that you've been listening to the same music when you bake since you started working here, and maybe you want to, but I just thought you might like… another option." Taako's very good at keeping his composure, but his eyebrows have raised. Kravitz hopes that's good surprised and not incredulous, bad surprised. "I didn't know what you have to play music so, uh, yeah."

A beat of silence passes, then Taako barks a laugh. He picks up the cassette and flips it over, reading the tracks. "Hozier, ACDC, Taylor Swift," his voice rises in pitch as he reads out the artists, "My Chemical Romance, Ed Sheeran, The Backstreet Boys, Nickleback-" he cackles, "you're a freak, Krav, this fucks."

Kravitz laughs. "You said you like variety."

"Well I've certainly got it now." He puts the tape down and walks back to the display, grabbing a paper bag and a pair of tongs. "I think I owe you two cookies for this."

"You don't have to-"

"Too late!" He packages up two ginger cookies and hands the bag over to him. "No take-backsies."

"Thank you." He takes his treat and sits at his table by the window, watching Taako as he takes his new music into the back, and a moment later the song playing over the speakers stops and Take Me to Church starts.

Taako isn't able to stop and talk to him a lot, he putters around, filling the display case, cleaning, helping other people who come in. When Kravitz is on his way out, Taako calls out, "hey, Krav!" He turns, and Taako says, "do you want to go to a party?"

"Like, in general?"

"No, I'm- there's going to be a party this weekend. With my friends. Barold will be there. Do you want to come?"

"Oh," other than Barry, he hasn't met Taako's friends, "I wouldn't want to intrude on your friends."

"Well," Taako scoffs and crosses his arms, "it's my birthday party so I can do whatever I want and they can deal."

Kravitz's eyes widen. "It's your birthday? I had no idea-"

"You wouldn't. Anyway, you in?"

"Yeah, yes, for sure."

"Cool. I'll text you."

Taako texts him later that day with an address and a time for the coming Saturday. He asks if he should bring anything, and Taako's response of "just your handsome self" makes his heart do somersaults. He considers getting Taako a gift, but he made him a mixtape. Maybe he already considers that his gift. He thinks about bringing wine, but he knows Taako's pretty particular about his wine pairings. The idea of flowers goes straight out the window, that'd be too much.

He follows Taako's instructions and just brings himself. There's food and desserts set out, including a cake that's been pre-cut so people can just grab and go. He asks Taako, "no candles?"

He snorts. "Trust me, you don't want to hear these fuckers sing."

The party itself is… fine. Taako's friends are welcoming, and include him in conversation and games. But there's a history and camaraderie here that he's very clearly not a part of. Of course it's Taako's party, so he can do what he wants, but Kravitz feels like he shouldn't be here.

Taako sticks around in his general vicinity for the most part, which Kravitz is grateful for. It reminds him that he was actually invited. But at some point Taako gets dragged off to do god knows what, and Kravitz takes the opportunity to step outside.

The cool night air is refreshing. He takes a deep breath and sits in one of the patio chairs. A minute later, the sliding door opens and Barry steps out. He sits in the chair next to him, "you okay, bud?"

He shrugs. "Yeah." Barry gives him a sympathetic look that somehow makes him want to spill his guts. Kravitz sighs, "it's just- I'm glad that Taako invited me, but it just feels like- everybody's nice and all, but you've known each other for so long, maybe it'd have been better if his birthday party was just his closest friends, you know?"

Barry snorts. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, but," he chuckles and shakes his head, "do you know how Taako normally celebrates his birthday?"

His brow furrows. "He has a party? Has all his friends come and give him presents?"

"No. He lets Lup buy him dinner and that's it. He never wants a party or cake. I'm not even allowed to know where they're going for dinner." He leans in close and lowers his voice, "this party didn't exist until he invited you to it."

"Then…" he looks back through the glass of the sliding door, where Taako's scrambling to get out of Magnus's arms like an indignant cat while Merle loudly sings Happy Birthday, "why?"

Barry looks a little smug. "I have a few ideas."

"Like what?"

He shrugs and stands, clapping a hand on Kravitz's shoulder. "I'll see you in there."

"Wha- Barry!"

But he's already gone back inside.

The Monday after the party, Kravitz is sitting at his table in the bakery, daydreaming out the window when a slice of confetti cake is set down in front of him. Taako sits across from him with his own slice of confetti cake that has a purple candle sticking out of it. He takes a lighter out of his pocket and seem to light and blow out the candle in one go. He picks up the fork on his plate and digs into the cake. Kravitz picks up his own fork and tentatively takes a bite.

"I hear Barold spilled the party beans to you," Taako says after a long silence. He's deconstructing the layers of cake with his fork.

"Party beans?" Kravitz says eloquently.

Taako huffs. "Party beans! The beans about the party!" He slumps back in his chair, and scoops a lump of icing into his mouth.

Kravitz doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing. They both pick at their cake in silence as Green Day serenades them through the speakers.

"I just never really saw the point," Taako says eventually. "For our entire lives, our birthday was just another day, because we had no money to make a big deal about it. Then we got some money and a couple of friends, and we could make a whole shindig about it. Lup loved it, I didn't really care. I liked planning it for Lup, but I just didn't need it for me. I let her take me to dinner because she insists on doing something."

Kravitz takes a moment, then says, "you deserve to be celebrated, Taako."

"I know," he snaps. "A birthday party's just too much."

"But you love getting attention." He shrugs, still slumped in his seat. Kravitz says, "so why the party now?"

"I wanted to spend time with you, doofus. And a birthday party was the first thing that came to my idiot brain."

"Oh." Kravitz stabs at his cake. "You don't need to throw a party to get me to spend time with you." Taako stays low in his seat, looking at his decimated piece of cake. "Can I take you to dinner?"

Taako finally sits up. "As long as you don't tell the waiters it's my birthday. I've been subjected to too many sparklers and stupid hats."

Kravitz laughs. "I think I can manage that."

#taakitz #taakitz fic #taako taaco #taz kravitz #taz #then they kiss kiss fall in love

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1moreff-creator · 9 months

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Matching the DRDT Characters with their Roman Numeral Quote (LGI MV)

So, I immediately fell in love with newest Literature Girl Insane MV, and I have to drop everything I’m doing just so I can talk about it. Although there is so much to discuss I don’t even know where to begin, one thing which immediately caught my eye was the crosswords which flashes on the screen for a moment.

As many have figured out, it’s made up of the names of everyone in the cast, plus Mai Akasaki, minus David. As the footnote on “Now” says, it’s better to use full names instead of nicknames (such as Julia instead of J) and to exclude the protagonist of the MV.

Here’s the solution by raspbeyes, who I believe may have been the first person to upload it to Tumblr.

However, what’s really interesting is that, by the nature of a crosswords, it connects all characters with a Roman numeral. And these Roman numerals show up throughout the video, attached to different sentences. That way, you can connect the characters to these sentences. And so, you get some pretty interesting stuff. With that in mind, I went through and collected all the Roman numerals (it’s not very difficult, apart from one exception), and I wanted to share my thoughts on them.

Now, the numbers don’t actually show up chronologically for the most part, and the only real logic they seem to follow is “they show up after the crossword flashed on screen”. I’ve decided to list them in the order of the actual number instead of the chronological order, as I don’t find the latter to be very important (apart from one case).

That said, I will actually start by number two, since number one is a bit of a special case. You’ll see. For now:

II - Rose ~ Ego cogito ergo (turbatus) sum

We have some latin to kick things off! “Ego cogito ergo sum” is the ever famous “I think therefore I am” philosophy, but in latin! This phrase (from what I understand) claims that the only thing we can be truly and absolutely sure exists, is our own reasoning and consciousness. This fits Rose decently well, as she’s established her photographic memory causes her trouble separating what’s real, what’s a memory, what’s a dream, etc. Even more so, it sorta fits with the song “Cartoons” from the now vanished character playlist, which some theories placed as Rose’s.

However, there is also the addition of “turbatus” to the saying. Turbatus, from a quick Google search, means something like “disturbed”. Thus, the full meaning is something like “I think, therefore I am disturbed”. This fits Rose even better, considering her scene with Teruko and Nico in the dress-up room. Don’t think I have to go too far in explaining this one.

III - Charles ~ If you doubt brittle things are broken

So, is this about his dead brother he doesn’t remember? As in, “if you doubt your memories, as they’re brittle, they’ll break? Or is this talking about the relationships between the cast? “Distrust will lead to our collapse”, sorta fits the talk he had with Teruko early in chapter 2.

However, I actually lean more towards the brother thing, because of the blue, long quote which is flipped upside down on top of the image.

“And now here’s my secret, a very simple secret. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye”

So, here’s where the Roman numerals become sorta weird. Does this count as part of Charles’ quote or not? I assume it’s at least related, especially seeing some of the other stuff we’ll see in the background.

Now, to the actual quote. I recognize it as a quote from the fox in “The Little Prince”, a book which if you have not read, you should honestly read. It’s a surprisingly sweet book to attach to Charles, but I can honestly see him blushing while talking about it, so it fits.

The quote itself is simple to understand; the material things in the world are not as important as our feelings, relationships, hopes, dreams, all that which can only be seen with the heart. This could be talking about the group’s relationships like I mentioned, but I lean more on thinking it’s referring to the memories of our loved ones, aka, Charles’ memories of his brother. Yes, the fact the quote starts by talking about secrets influences this interpretation.

IV - Arei ~ Right now, why do you cry?

Not much to talk about here. Arei’s the victim of this chapter, that’s why she cries. You can read into it a bit more and claim it has to do with Arei’s bullying of other people (“why are you crying, you wimp?” is something which could conceivably come out of her mouth), or more optimistically, it’s talking about how Arei used to only cry crocodile tears, but as she’s grown more empathetic, she now cries for her friends. Or some sappy shit like that.

Yeah, it’s still probably just about being the CH 2 victim.

V - Ace ~ Right now, why do you go insane? [flipped]

I’m not gonna lie, I kinda laughed a bit when I checked which character this one belonged to. Yeah, it’s pretty fitting, Ace is always going off for the most inane stuff.

More interesting is perhaps the background quote, “a cat has 9 additional lives”. Considering we’re talking about one of two people who’ve survived murder attempts so far, it makes sense, though I wonder if it’s going to come into play again later.

… Also, this just confirms in my mind the song from the playlist which belonged to Ace was “Yesman”. Undead, undead! and all that. I swear I’ll make a post about it eventually, I’m just more focused on this at the moment.

VI - Arturo ~ mind exercise 1 2 3 4

… Uh, well, as a surgeon, he do be exercising that mind though? Or something like that. Yeah, frankly I got nothing. This is just another moment where we Arturo enjoyers gotta take the L.

(Yes, I did just come out as an Arturo enjoyer-)

VII - J ~ Do it like that, let’s live together!

Another one I have no answer for. Like, what do you want me to say, this implies J’s the mastermind? Because it sort of does, seeing as she’s telling everyone to live together. But I really don’t see anything too interesting in the main quote.

However, the background quote may be more noteworthy. Anything in brackets is covered by something else but can be guessed with context.

“The Moral La[w] causes the people to be in com[plete accord] with their ruler, so that they wi[ll f]ollo[w] [him] regard[less of] their lives, undis[mayed] by any danger”

Had to look this one up. J’s quote is from Sun Tzu’s “Art of War” of all goddamn things. The Moral Law the quote is talking about is, from basic research in Google, some sort of unity of purpose; the idea that if the followers and the rules have the same interests, their side will have an advantage in war.

… What?

Yeah, this one’s a bit odd too. For now, my best answer is that it may have to do more with Mariabella than J herself. If you see Mariabella as a sort of leader, and her fans as the followers, it could be talking about how the combined pressure of Mariabella and the media overwhelm J, the “other side” of the “war”.

But if you’re really into the mastermind J idea, you can read it as “she’s the leader of the killing game, with the followers being the people at home that have the same purpose of wanting to see despair and keep the show running by watching”. But I really doubt we’d be getting this sort of mastermind allusions in an MV from chapter 2 of all things.

If anyone has better ideas on this quote or any other, I’d love to hear them.

VIII - Nico ~ even if i try to think, idk!

Another one I can’t talk too much about. My best guess as to what this means is “Nico tries to think about social cues, but doesn’t get it”. Relatable, but also nothing new. Maybe I’m missing something big, but it’s what I got for now.

IX - Levi ~ look, aside from the usual, give me that medicine

Disclaimer, the words don’t actually appear in that order in the MV, but this phrase makes a lot more sense than “look aside from that the usual medicine give me”.

I really don’t know what this means. I mean, I can guess Levi might take some medicine? Whit did say some people took prescriptions apparently. But I really don’t quite understand why this is the first time we’ve had his character associated with medicine.

EDIT: The last few paragraphs about Levi are dead wrong, I’m just leaving by them up so you can laugh at how stupid I was. Here’s a correction with a better analysis.

The background quote doesn’t make it much better. It’s just talking about the orbit of a thing, something something representative trajectory… something something Jupiter… something something 1930…

Oh shit, it’s about the discovery of Pluto! That’s what Google seems to think when I put those keywords in, anyways. Well, as fun an astronomy tale as that one is, I actually have no idea what it means for Levi’s character. I guess it’s something we’ll see in the future.

… Or maybe, crazy idea. You know how Pluto was first thought to be a “planet” but then got reclassified as”dwarf planet”? Maybe this means my theory is right: Levi will get “discovered” as the blackened of the second trial, but then “reclassified” as an accomplice when they find out Eden is actually-

Alright, I’ll stop. I’m joking, obviously… (unless?)

X - Min ~ Democratic-ly

Wait, hold on a second, you may say. That is an X, but it doesn’t really look like the rest of roman numerals font-wise. There are plenty of times X’s appear in the video aside from here, such as… well, the blank death portrait that’s always in the background.

And yes. To my joy, Min got given a bit of special treatment, since the roman numeral for ten, being an X and all, can be seen all throughout the video. However, there is one reason I believe this is absolutely Min’s X.

You see that tiny little 10 next to the X? That’s a footnote. And footnote number 10 is “The Roman numeral for 10 is X”. Of course, the reason we’re reminded of it here is because that X isn’t just a bunch of blood, it’s a Roman numeral.

Of course, Min gets the biggest numeral because she is just that much of a girlboss.

Anyways, numeral oddity aside, it’s pretty obvious why this is Min’s. The background text is just the description of the rules of a class trial, a trial where the outcome is decided democratically, and the reason Min died. This scene is directly followed by more references to class trials, which although they have some interesting implications for the MV as a whole, only help to solidify Min’s connection to her line.

As for other footnotes, footnote seventeen on the word “democratic-ly” is just an objective fact (“Not a real word. Can’t be found on any dictionary”), though the fact “democratically” is spelt wrong could be a reference to Min’s execution, where she was forced to get a lot of things wrong before dying.

Final note is footnote 12, on the class trial definition, which talks about majority rule and how, because it’s the fairest way to make decisions in a group, “murderers never complained when we voted for them to die”. There are implications here about the fact Teruko also received votes in the first trial, but for Min, there isn’t anything new here.

And yes, Min got three footnotes. As she should.

XI - Mai ~ God is dead

Honestly, I guessed who got this line before even checking the crossword. It just fits what we know of Mai too much. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s enough to know she would get a line as dramatic as this. If you want a proper interpretation, Mai is sometimes treated like a god by the others considering the secret quotes, but now she’s dead or gone or something.

Of course, that’s the literal meaning of that phrase. When you look at it through the lens of Nietzsche (and Wikipedia to make sure I didn’t fuck up anything), the phrase “God is dead” refers to the idea that as christianity became increasingly non-universal, the ethical and sociocultural elements of society which had been built on it would be questioned and revised. So, “growing lack of faith causes shifts in the status quo”, or something like that. It’s something which, again, may fit Mai from what we know of her backstory. Someone everyone had unquestioned faith on, who did something which had consequences, so maybe that caused a breakdown of that original faith, or something? Anything involving this character is always extremely speculative, but I frankly think the more literal interpretation works better in this context.

In any case, this phrase is about as cryptic and dramatic as everything involving Mai, so it fits.

XII - Eden ~ ???: But you’re in my way, aren’t you?

… Alright, Eden, I know I believe you to be the CH 2 killer and all that, but you gotta at least try to defend yourself against the allegations! The hell is this?

In case anyone was wondering, I think she’s the killer who wants to get out to meet back up with the girl she kissed (who I’m starting to get convinced is Mai but I’m not ready for that conversation), so this line reads like something she’d say to Arei in that theory. However, it’d be kind of a weird thing to put in the MV before the chapter ends, and besides, there’s an interpretation I like more.

You see how there’s a triple question question mark there? There’s a chance someone is saying this to Eden. I’ll actually get back to this later, because I have to talk about XVI before I cover my theory on this. Apologies.

CW for XIII: Suicide

XIII - Teruko ~ or

… He. Alright, out of context, this is kinda funny. But if you let the MV play, it’s “… or not to be?”, from “To be or not to be?” Shakespeare and all that. That said, the video does, in fact, only keep the number on screen while it says “or”, so I choose to notate Teruko’s quote as just that. Also, as raspbeyes noted in their original post, the number thirteen is considered unlucky, so Teruko.

With that, I have to talk about how insanely dark it is to cut that phrase off at the “…or not to be” section. For anyone who hasn’t read this speech from Hamlet (which I hadn’t either, btw, had to look it up), the phrase “to be or not to be” is actually about suicidal ideation, with the word ‘be’ serving as a synonym for ‘live’. Therefore, cutting the phrase off at just this section leaves behind only suicide as the option.

It had already been implied Teruko has attempted suicide before (see: her telling Arei that failed hangings hurt a lot), and that her luck is the only thing keeping her alive. This just seems to imply it’s a much more present issue than we believed.

Then there’s the background text. From my research, the one on the left is a quote from “Murder on the Orient Express” and the one across the bottom is from “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”.

“Murder on the Orient Express” is easy to tie in, as it’s literally a murder mystery novel. Uh, spoilers for the novel, I guess, but it ends with the main detective, Poirot, concluding that the murderer was either no one in the train or everyone there. That sort of ties into Teruko’s hidden quote of “It is an equal failing to trust everybody, and to trust no one at all”, I guess? For the line itself, it seems to be about a character hatefully looking at the detective. You can take Poirot to be Teruko because she’s decent at class trials (as opposed to everyone else being horrible at them), and the person looking at her to be… any blackened, or anyone, or David, take a pick.

“The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” is a bit weirder. It’s a short story about Omelas, an utopia which is the perfect life for everyone there, except for a young child who is forced to live in mysery for the sake of the others. The quote in the video expresses this pretty succinctly. I guess it’s talking about class trials? How the happiness of everyone hinges on one person being very unhappy? Teruko’s the protag, so it makes sense she gets a line like this. There could be other interpretations, but I think that’s the most straightforward one.

XIV - Veronika ~ Things like substance of the arts

I mean, it fits. Veronika’s talent is artistic in nature. It seems a bit… non-dramatic for Veronika? But I guess there’s nothing wrong here.

… Well, there may be, but I’ll get there in a moment.

XV - Whit ~ Remaining ignorant, isn’t that “happiness”?

(Trust me, that’s the order the words show up on screen)

This one’s also easy. Whit’s secret is “Your mother is dead. You omit this truth”. This, combined with his behavior in the killing game, characterizes Whit as someone who prefers to ignore tragedy rather than process it, remaining “ignorant” in a way. The footnote attached, 15, just talks about the phrase “ignorance is bliss”, which is pretty much what the quote is.

…

The problem is the background text.

Thinking Time: “Subtract 4 due to tetraphobia”

That’s the phrase in the background, which appears as both Veronika’s and Whit’s lines are there. This is noteworthy because this is the only time in the MV that two different Roman numerals appear on screen at the same time. The phrase is also attached to footnote 4, which defines tetraphobia:

“The practice of avoiding the number four; it is most common in Eastern Asia. This superstition arises from the fact that the number 4 can be read similar to the word ‘death’ in several languages”

This connection is further implied because the character with the Roman numeral IV is Arei, who died this chapter. There is special attention brought over and over again to the number four, and this phrase asks us to “subtract” it.

And of course, this phrase chooses to appear when two “characters” are on screen, to make sure we can’t figure it out definitively.

Let’s start with Veronika: If you substract four from fourteen you get ten (astounding maths, I know). That connects her to Min and “democratic-ly”… which is the part of the MV most related to class trials and the killing game. Because if there’s a way to look like the mastermind, you bet Veronika’s hopping right on that train!

Other than being “Veronika playing mastermind footsies” for the fiftieth time, and the fact she sorta enjoys class trials, I don’t see any other connection between her and Min’s section, so.

I should address, too, you can remove 4 from 14 in a more literal way, and end up with 1 (doing it with Roman numerals just gets you ten again). This would connect her to Xander, whose line I’ve yet to cover, but trust me on this, I don’t think it connects to Veronika.

However, that’s for the line itself. Veronika might actually have a connection to Xander himself, because of their lines about Mai. Xander’s is “she couldn’t stand to do nothing” and Veronika’s is “a girl who didn’t foresee the consequences”. These are the only lines which allude to whatever big thing Mai may have done. If Xander and Veronika have a connection, it is likely through Mai.

And then there’s Whit, who is also on-screen at the time. Or, well, his Roman numeral is.

Alright, Whit. Veronika’s being super suspicious, so the tetraphobia line has a good chance of being about her. All you gotta do is be normal about this “subtract four” thing, alright? Good.

When you subtract 4 from Whit’s 15, you get 11, which is Mai’s “God is dead”-

For fuck’s sake.

He really just can’t dodge these mastermind allegations, can he? Anyways, if this is about him, he killed Mai, or something, and thus is likely the mastermind.

I’m joking- well, kinda. There are other interpretations, like maybe he… was the first to lose faith in her, in the Nietzsche interpretation of Mai’s line? I don’t know, but the murder is the more straightforward answer for this, if you ask me.

The problem, of course, is that there’s no way to tell which character the “subtract four” thing applies to. Well, the use of the word “tetraphobia” feels more Veronika leaning, what with phobias being related with horror and psychology, but to counterbalance, the line only appears when Whit’s numeral shows up, so it’s even again.

Anyways, back to the last numeral in sequence.

XVI: Hu ~ ???: Go and cry

Alright, you don’t have to be so mean-

In all seriousness, I believe this relates to Hu’s reaction to David’s reveal. And possibly her secret if it’s the one Veronika has.

However, what’s interesting about this line is that it seems to be a direct quote from a character, because of the triple question mark at the beginning. And this is where my theory comes in.

I believe triple question marks is David. This would fit perfectly with this line, as it’s totally something David would say post-magical girl transformation. And with him being the protagonist of the MV, it makes sense for him to be involved.

And that takes me back to XII. If you remember, I said I would talk about Eden’s line a bit more after talking about XVI.

Well, it’s pretty simple, really. Eden’s line comes right after Hu’s in the video, so it’s reasonable to assume ??? is the same person for both of them. In other words, I believe it’s David who tells Eden “but you’re in my way, aren’t you?” This still implies Eden’s the CH2 blackened, by the way. As in, “you’re getting in my way because now I need to figure out a murder”, or something like that. There really isn’t any other thing it could be referring to. Unless it’s like, “you’re getting in my way because you’re so nice you’re preventing murders from happening” or “you’re getting in my way of manipulating Arei by befriending her”, but the first one is too abstract and the second one doesn’t work since David didn’t know about their friendship until after Arei died. So don’t go thinking I’m giving up on that theory. It just changes the context a bit.

And with that, we’ve successfully gone through the sixteen numbers. Except, wait! Don’t think I forgot about the funny British boy!

Well, to be frank with you, there is a reason why I chose to save Xander for last. And that is… I didn’t want to start the list with disappointment.

I - Xander ~ Inconclusive

See, the problem is that Xander runs into much the same issue as Min, but without a footnote to help solve the problem. The Roman numeral for 1 is just “I”, so any time the word I appears, Xander’s Roman numeral appears.

Now, maybe you think this is stupid. Obviously any time “I” appears as an actual word, it’s not meant to be Xander’s numeral! We just need to look for the time it’s not a part of the lyrics or a phrase in the text!

This is obviously the most intuitive solution, and it does arrive at… an answer. So, I present, the First Possibility.

First Possibility

I - Xander ~ (the world of abnormal sentiment dances)

Now, at first glance, this works! You have the numeral next to a phrase, and there’s nothing else it could be!

Except, the problem is that that only extends to the screenshot. In this part of the video, the same phrase is on the screen for a good few seconds, but the “I” disappears and gets replaced by several numbers, then the “&” symbol, more numbers, and what seems to be a “=“ sign, maybe? But could be II sideways. Don’t know, looks like code, not my expertise.

The issue here is that this would be the only time a character’s phrase lingers longer than their numeral. This is pretty inconsistent with the other phrases we’ve seen, which is what gets me to hesitate and wonder if that “I” is actually made to be part of the code and not the crossword thing.

That, combined with the line itself. Because what does “the world of abnormal sentiment dances” have to do with Xander? I looked it up, but it’s not the name of a book or anything. Maybe I’m missing something, but I really don’t think this is related to Xander in any way.

So, I looked for other possibilities. The problem is that, like I said, all other possibilities are part of lyrics or phrases, not a standalone numeral.

And yet, there is one which stands out to me as a good candidate. This has a high chance of being wrong, but I’ll bring it up anyways because I think it’s cool.

Second Possibility

I - Xander ~ I hate the things that I love, and I love the things that I hate

… Well, I know it’s hard to read it in that clusterfuck, but that is what the red text says.

This line has a bit more to do with Xander, or at least, David’s feelings towards Xander. We know he probably did like him based on some scenes from the MV, but he’s sad about his death. He hates him for leaving, but his heart loves him anyways. That could be read as romantic or platonic… hesitant on the platonic-

That said, the problem is explaining why I believe this is the Xander line. And that comes down to the background text.

… Yes, that background text.

You see, in the MV, it slowly fills out in a way which lets you read it somewhat. I’ll tell you what each part of the text means, but if you want visuals, I’ll ask you go to the video.

What first appears is white text on top and the right. The white text on top is Big Clue #1, as it’s a definition of electrocution. You know, that thing Xander died from.

The text on the right, meanwhile, seems to be an excerpt from “Alice in Wonderland”. The specific passage seems to feature Alice lamenting how much “pleasenter” [sic] things were “back home”. And well, for everyone but Teruko, their homes were likelier “pleasenter” than the killing game. However, in this context, it could be an analogy to David missing the past, when Xander was still alive.

Then, more white text appears on the bottom as yellow text appears under the white text on top. The bottom text is, again, more talk of electrocution, but the yellow text is a bit more complex. This is the line (from Google, exact wording may vary):

“To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world...”

Another “The Little Prince” quote, another straight banger (I love that book). Imma need the hornier of you to not focus too much on the “taming” wording and focus on the important part. This one speaks of the beautiful simplicity of relationships; everyone is “just some dude” until you meet them and establish a relationship, and then, they become unique.

This is an especially wonderful quote for Xander and David’s relationship. David truly wanted nothing more than to be “a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes” instead of the idol Xander saw him as. He wanted a genuine relationship with him, where they were not just each other’s idols, but something bigger; each other’s boyfriends :D

Alright, sappy stuff aside, this quote is related to Xander, that’s what you need to know.

Then there’s the big pink text. It says “note: can’t read”. Yeah, fair.

But before that note appears, some cyan text begins sprawling out. It’s not a quote from anything as far as I can tell, so here’s a transcript:

“…man crushed by reality puts on a s[how]…

…[of end]urance. If that’s beyond your

[com]prehension, dear reader, then you a[nd]…

[I’ll n]ever understand each other. Life’s…

[short?] so we might as well make it…

[count?] real life is a realm th…”

So, yeah, I’m sort of guessing half the words here, and I can’t even tell what the last line is, but I think we can get the gist from this. Reading this with the context that Xander’s probably connected, it’s easy to figure out. David was crushed by reality when Xander died, and he put on a show of endurance after that. The insult to the reader is a bit uncalled for, but I don’t particularly care, it fits David.

So, with the idea that this little breakdown is related to Xander, it’s safe to say the line “I hate the things that I love, and I love the things that I hate” (not a quote from anywhere I could find btw) is linked with Xander as well.

And, well. There are other references to Xander, but they’re never paired with an “I”. And there are other instances of the word “I”, but never in relation to Xander, at least not as much as this little breakdown.

This clusterfuck of text also forms directly after the crosswords shows up. And while most of these aren’t in chronological order, number II through V do. Wouldn’t it make sense for I to appear right after the crosswords and make I through V in chronological order?

In any case, I believe this is a decent alternative to the “world of abnormal sentiment dances”, whatever that means.

Conclusion

This was really fun! I am satiated for now, the content drop was awesome, I loved it a lot. There’s so much more I want to talk about in this MV, but this was priority number one in my mind.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading! If you made it this far, you deserve your own Roman numeral, all for yourself! Take care!

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valleydean · 8 days

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Chapter 2 [Read Here]

CHAMPION Part III of Heavyweight a deancas boxing au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) read from the beginning | playlist | tip

SUMMARY: Brooklyn, 1933. Dean Winchester, the number one contender, trains to become the next Heavyweight Champion of the World, and this time he won't let anything get in his way. Title holder Castiel Novak has second thoughts about retiring, especially when someone from his past arrives in New York and asks for his help. Meanwhile, a new contender rises to fame and threatens to complicate both of Dean and Cas' ambitions - and their relationship.

CHAPTER PREVIEW:

“Come in here with me,” Castiel said, nodding down at the water.

Dean shot him an incredulous look. “Really? You’re the one who’s always saying it’s too small for both of us.”

“It is,” Castiel maintained. “But that’s not the point.”

Dean bit down on a smirk, like he thought he’d won the argument. He stood up and undressed. Castiel watched him idly, admiring the way Dean’s chest tightened when he shrugged off his shirt and the muscular tone of his thighs when he shucked off his pants. Dean lowered himself into the water, hissing slightly at the temperature before getting used to it. He splashed some onto his neck and shoulders. Beneath the water, Castiel’s ankles knocked up against Dean’s sides. Dean’s knees emerged out of the water where they were bent up.

Castiel waited for him to settle before saying, “She’s trying to sell our parents’ land, but it’s dead. She asked me to retire early and move back with her to fix it.”

Dean blanched, and Castiel didn’t miss the fear that flashed through his eyes along with the shock. “She what?” His expression rapidly changed about a thousand subtle times before his guard started to go up. “But you said no, right?”

Castiel looked at him dryly, because how could Dean possibly think otherwise? “Of course, I did.” Dean visibly relaxed, but only marginally. “But she’s not taking no for an answer. She asked me to think about it.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

Castiel thought, perhaps, if he allowed Anna to stay with them for a few nights, she’d understand why he couldn’t leave. Why he had a life in New York. And then she’d stop asking him to move back home. He had no idea whether or not it would work. Anna had never given up so easily when her mind was set on something.

Dean puckered his lips and shook his head. “Why the hell would she think you’d do that? I mean, when was the last time you even heard from her?”

Castiel couldn’t help but defend her. “She didn’t have anywhere else to turn. She has nothing.”

“So, she’s here for money?” Dean inferred.

“She says she isn’t.” Castiel sighed. “I wish she was. It’d be simpler. But, no. She’d never ask for that. Anna is… proud. And willful. Stubborn. The fact that she’s admitting the need for help alone is a miracle.”

“Reminds me of somebody,” Dean teased dryly.

Castiel shot him a level look before deciding to ignore the comment. “The point is… She won’t ask for money. I really do think she came here for me so the two of us could find a solution.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek in frustration. “I just don’t know what that solution is yet.”

“Well, I can tell you one thing. It’s not going back to Illinois,” Dean stressed.

Castiel sat up and collected Dean’s hands firmly in his own. He looked Dean in the eyes. “Dean, I am not going anywhere. Least of all without you.”

At last, that seemed to sink in. The lines around Dean’s face evened out. Then, he rearranged himself, coming forward to lay down on top of Castiel. Exhaling, Castiel leaned against the tub and let Dean rest his cheek on his shoulder. Dean’s arms wrapped around his back. His feet stuck out of the water.

“Good. ‘Cause I’d kick your ass.”

It made Castiel smile softly. He brought his hand up out of the water to place it on the back of Dean’s head. The droplets trickled audibly back into the pool. He rubbed his other hand up and down Dean’s ribs.

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #dean winchester #castiel #dean #cas #my writing #my post #heavyweight

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hauntedhokage · 6 months

Text

PART 07: Aftershock

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

SUMMARY: Following an eventful night; the day after spent in the hospital ends up equally as eventful, only for a different reason.

[series masterlist] | {ao3} | [tumblr masterlist] | {ko-fi} | [spotify playlist]

The hospital wing where heroes were allowed to rest and recover peacefully was too quiet for your tastes, but you knew you’d be overwhelmed if you were sitting in the waiting area with the general public. Any concern you had about not waiting for someone to get you was squashed when you’d heard that Red Riot, Dynamite, and Deku were all having various injuries treated - you’d have been waiting for them all day if you’d stayed out on the streets.

You’d already been home - actually to Eijirou and Bakugou’s - took a quick shower, and gathered fresh clothes for the two men. They each kept a go bag in the coat closet by the front door, which made it easy to get what you needed after getting yourself cleaned up before getting back to where they were. The nurse had told you that they both overexerted their bodies and their quirks, so they’d be sleeping for a while and not leaving until the afternoon at the earliest. Which was fine; you weren’t working today after almost falling from a helicopter that had clearly skipped a couple safety checks, so you’d be able to bounce between their two rooms and make sure they weren’t too bored.

Or at least try to bounce into Bakugou’s until it got weird.

You hear him fussing as a nurse leaves the room looking stressed, and you stop the door from closing so you could talk to him for a minute and let him have his stuff. Maybe knowing that he had pants and casual clothes ready would help him relax and not create a revolving door of nurses until they asked Midoriya to act as his nurse. You know it had happened before, since he was probably the most difficult patient this hospital had ever seen, and was likely to happen again.

“Uh, hey,” you greet, leaning in the doorframe and taking in the sight of the number one hero looking…very pathetic.

He looked less than thrilled to be there, the metal braces keeping him there enough to remind you that he was notorious for just unhooking himself from all of the IV’s and monitors and just jumping out the window to escape while still wearing the hospital’s clothing. He’d done that during your third date with Eijirou, surprising you both during a scary movie when he’d basically thrown the door open in time with the slasher on the screen.

“Get me the hell out of here!”

“Can’t do that,” you point out, letting the door close behind you as you walk further into the room. “I’m a reporter, not a doctor, and I don’t have the keys.”

“I’m gonna stop letting Kirishima bring you home.” The counter is half hearted, but you feel better when he relaxes into the bed as you stop at his bedside and put his go bag on the chair beside his bed. “How is he?”

“A bit better than you, I think, but still not great. The nurse said there were a few broken ribs, some burns and cuts, but he’ll be okay. He wasn’t awake when I was here earlier, so I’m not sure how he’s feeling exactly.” He relaxes more at the information, and you know it’ll kill them both to be stuck here but apart. You’d need to talk to a nurse about one of them getting moved to the other’s room, since they’d feel better if they could see the other in recovery. Bakugou being a bit more cooperative with Eijirou in the room would definitely be a selling point that you’ll emphasize to get them to see the situation your way.

“I’m about the same. Broken ankle, too.”

“From catching me, I’m sure.”

“And I’d do it again.”

“It’s your job to do it again, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, but that’s not why.”

“For him, then?”

“For you, brat.” He’s not looking at you, but being strapped down means that he can’t turn away from you and his redness of his face was not because he was upset. Bakugou was outwardly angry, he wouldn’t be speaking so softly if he was mad. “I’m not good at this shit, but I don’t hate you. Never have.”

“Then why-”

“Kacchan! You’re awake!”

“Pipe down, nerd!” The instant scolding doesn’t phase Izuku, the number two hero greeting you with a hug before carefully checking you for injuries while rambling about your fall and how incredible it was to see Bakugou catch you. There were questions, too, and you try your best to answer before he can ask another (but are only half successful) until eventually you have to cut him off and get out of there.

“I promise that I’m alright, but I should go check in on Eijirou. It’s really good to see that you’re okay, Izuku.” With that, you’re excusing yourself from the room - hoping to not have to answer any more questions until Izuku settles down a bit.

You catch a nurse in passing, taking the time to ask if they’d be able to move the guys into the same room while explaining that they’ll be able to keep each other entertained if they were close - something that has her assuring you that she’d do what she could to make that happen. It was in the hospital’s best interest that Bakugou was kept entertained during his mandatory stay, and clearly she understood that just as well as you did that keeping the number one hero pacified as long as they could was best for the entire building. Then you’re turning into your boyfriend’s room, carefully shutting the door to avoid making any noise that would disrupt him.

He’s still sleeping, which was a moderate relief for you as you sat down in the chair at his bedside. His face is relaxed, only a couple bandages on his face and neck from whatever combat he’d experienced during the night. His hands were in rough shape, and you knew his torso would be heavily bandaged to protect those broken ribs. That was how you knew without a doubt he’d overused his quirk, eventually he couldn’t keep his body hard enough to truly deflect whatever was being thrown at him in a fight.

“I was faking it,” he whispers, startling you easily and you have to remind yourself that you can’t hit him while he’s injured like this even if he’s got that stupid grin on his face. “The last nurse was really chatty, babe, knew she’d never leave if she knew I was awake.”

“She’s going to get you and Bakugou in the same room, so be nice,” you whisper back, but give his hand a squeeze when he continues to grin at you. “He’s gonna be okay, by the way.”

“You already saw him?”

“I went back to your place to get your bags, and he was awake when I went in to drop his bag off. Cuts and burns, a couple broken ribs, and a broken ankle. Izuku is with him now.”

“Good,” Eijirou breathes, leaning back into the bed while keeping his eyes on you. “I’m so thankful that he was able to catch you.”

“You saw that?”

“News camera was broadcasting to the electronics store I was near. Saw you fall and saw him catch you, scariest couple of seconds of my life - and I’ve almost died a couple times.”

“Yeah, it was pretty scary. But I’m okay, a couple bruises from hitting Bakugou so hard in the catch but I’ll take that over being scraped off the pavement.”

“Never getting in a helicopter again, I’m sure.”

“Absolutely not. Ayame wants a memorial shrine so bad, she can do the aerials from now on.” The joke lands, and you follow when a gentle tug of your arm requests that you move closer. You feel better being closer to him, seated on the edge of his bed and able to feel his body heat beside yours. A reminder that he was alive, he was still here and so were you.

“I heard that the world’s more beautiful, gorgeous, news lady was on the ground helping with search and rescue.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t keep working, after all.” Your reason has him humming, his hand settling on your shoulder to gently pull you back to lie beside him in the bed. The smile on his face is very proud, and that has your chest warm with your own pride at your actions. It wasn’t that you needed to prove anything to anybody, you were just doing what needed to be done. “People needed help, and I was around.”

“And you say you aren’t that cool,” he teases, and you roll your eyes but let him lean in to get a kiss from you. “How long do we have to stay here, do you know?”

“Depends. You both seriously extended your bodies and your quirks beyond simple exhaustion. If you’re cooperative and promise to rest, hopefully this afternoon. If you’re not, I’m not sure.”

“I’ll be the most cooperative man so I can go home and snuggle with my babygirls.”

“Your bed isn’t big enough for all three of us.”

“Bakugou’s is, and I’m sure he’d be okay with us all snuggling after you fell from a helicopter, I got stabbed, and whatever else happened to him.”

“You got stabbed?” That was news to you, and the look on his face says enough about the fact that he wasn’t intending on telling you that he’d been stabbed. To be expected, but that doesn’t quell the disappointment you feel that he was going to keep that from you. Typical hero.

“Oops?”

“Kirishima Eijirou you can’t just leave that out!”

#alp #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo imagine #kiribaku #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic

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tarabyte3 · 2 months

Text

The Fear Has Gripped Me, but Here I Go

(13.4k)

Fandom: The Accused (BBC)

Pairing: Liam Black/F!Reader

Summary: It was so easy to develop a crush on Liam Black. He's sweet, handsome, funny, and all of your conversations feel effortless. How could you not? Maybe it was too easy because you're starting to fall a little deeper and you can't stop calling him whenever you need a taxi.

Warnings: Explicit rating, sex, car sex, semi public sex, unprotected sex, adultery, cheating, lying, mutual pinning, romance, angst

A/N: This is a fic about the character Liam Black played by Andy Serkis in the BBC anthology show The Accused. In the show, he breaks into a woman's house, steals from her, stalks her, uses that information to get her to like him, interferes with her life, etc. None of that is shown or stated in this fic, but if you’ve watched the show, you can infer a LOT about their interactions. In the show, he also cheats on his wife and lies to both her and the other woman. That IS in this fic. Unfortunately, Liam Black is one of my poor little meow meows, so this story is also intended to be romantic. I do not condone cheating (obviously). This is fiction. It's just that Liam is a sympathetic creep, but also I want to kiss him. (Andy Serkis has rotted my brain.) | Work title is from “Breezeblocks” by alt-J.

Playlist | AO3

It's distressingly easy to get sucked into the gravity of Liam Black. The way he looks at you—stolen glances in the rearview mirror when he thinks you won't notice—makes you feel special. Beautiful.

Something worth marveling at.

That should be a red flag, but you can't remember the last time someone looked at you like that. It's more than being appreciated for your appearance or checked out by a stranger. It's as if your presence is a bright spot in his day. In the same way he might stop to appreciate the view of a valley brimming with flowers or a sunrise after a particularly long night. His expression, one of awe.

Every bit of conversation between the two of you feels so natural, too. Effortless. Like meeting up with an old friend only to pick up right where you left off years ago. And he makes you laugh in a way you haven't in so long, as if he knows the exact thing to say to get you to smile. Even when you've had a rotten day.

Especially when you've had a rotten day.

So you keep calling him when you need a ride.

After all, Liam gave you his number for that very reason, you tell yourself. It's much easier than arranging a taxi because you deal with him directly. You know it will be him showing up at your door, and he already knows where you live and is familiar with the drive. Why wouldn't you call him?

At least that's how it started. Weeks ago.

Eventually any small excuse became a reason to phone him instead of driving yourself. “Parking will be a nightmare.” “I'd rather not fight with traffic.” “What if I want to have a drink during dinner with my friends?” “I swear my car made a strange noise this morning. I shouldn't drive it until I can get it looked at, and the shop is booked out a week.”

Deep down you know it's because you want that connection. You want his attention on you. You want to catch those blue eyes in the mirror. To see the profile of his nose and warm smile from the backseat. The greying scruff of his beard. The casual flex of his arms on the steering wheel—far more muscular than you would have expected from a driver and deceptively so under his polos because the way the fabric stretches around his biceps is…enticing.

It's just a crush, you tell yourself. Nothing more than a passing fancy. It's nice to have something to indulge in. It's perfectly harmless.

But then one night, you're in Liam’s taxi because you're headed to meet some friends to see a play—your favorite play—only to discover it's his favorite play, too.

So the two of you talk enthusiastically about it the entire drive there, quoting lines and debating character motivations and themes. Once you arrive at the theater, you find that you're very disappointed to be getting out of the car. You were enjoying yourself so much that it went by too fast.

“If you need a ride home afterwards, just let me know, love.” He turns in his seat to smile at you, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that's endearing. Earnest.

“It'll be awfully late.” You can't help but smile back, even as you wave off his suggestion. “I can just flag a taxi.”

“I'll already be out. It's no trouble, really,” he insists while holding up a placating hand. Then his expression softens. “A lovely woman like you shouldn't be waiting that late by yourself anyway. It's dangerous.”

You want to protest further. To say your friends will be there, too, and you'll hardly be alone. That you don't want to be a bother. But, god, he called you lovely and he looks so hopeful. Those blue eyes bore into yours and pierce your defenses. The words die on your lips.

You relent.

You'll text him from the lobby after the show, you agree. He'll come get you then.

You've never texted him before. Somehow that feels more intimate than calling him and hearing the rough timbre of his voice.

The play is wonderful.

Your favorite character was perfectly cast, and his delivery of a line makes you think of Liam—the way he quoted it from the driver's seat a mere hour before, the parody of a serious expression on his face that made you laugh. He smiled at you then, all unmasked adoration, and your heart flutters at the memory.

When it's over, you text him before you've even left your seat.

As you resist the urge to impatiently push your way through the throng of people heading for the lobby, you tell your friends you couldn't possibly go out for drinks afterwards. You're tired and you have an early morning, but you'll take that rain check! Next time, you promise. You'll even buy a round! And that seems to placate them enough that they're on their way without you.

Before they can see you getting into his cab. Before they can look too closely and see what you're trying so desperately to deny to yourself: That you're more excited to see him than you are at the thought of spending time with them.

That you want this thing you shouldn't want.

He must have been close because he's already idling in wait as you exit the building. Your expression brightens at the sight of him waving at you from the driver's window, his face bathed in the marquee lights. The bulbs reflect in his eyes, tiny pin pricks like stars, and it sets your heart racing.

Christ, he's handsome.

You briefly wonder if he stayed in the area just for you. You can't deny you like the thought, even as you try to bury it down. That's something you can dig back up and indulge in later. When you're alone.

“How was the play, love?” He asks back at you once you've settled in and closed the door. The sounds outside become muted, trapping an artificial intimacy in with you.

“Fantastic! Oh, you would have loved it,” you sigh as you buckle yourself in. “You really should get tickets while it's still going.”

“Maybe I should.” He glances one last time out the window at the people still spilling from the front doors before slowly pulling away from the curb. “I might fit in better with the matinee crowd, though.”

Your head snaps up towards him. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I'm just a lowly taxi driver. Not really night at the theater material.”

“Nonsense.” You furrow your brows at him, as though you're offended on his behalf. “You aren't just anything, and there's nothing lowly about being a taxi driver. Plus, there are no requirements for going to see a play. Art is for everyone.”

He smiles to himself, almost amused by your reaction. “It'd still be sad, yeah? A man going to the theater all by himself.”

“Not at all!” You try to ignore the thrill in your chest at the implication that he doesn't have a partner. It's something you've suspected based on past conversations, but refused to ask outright. That would have been too much like showing real interest. “I've gone by myself loads of times.”

“Really?” There's a note of disbelief in his voice, and he glances up at you in the mirror. “A beautiful woman like you, without a date?”

A heat creeps over your cheeks. You bite at your bottom lip and glance out the window to hide it. You're suddenly glad for the late hour so he can't see the bashfulness in your reflection.

“Now you sound like my mother,” you tease, trying to deflect the comment.

His laughter rings out through the car. “Oh god, I take it back!”

“Besides, it's not always easy to get a date last minute, romantic or platonic. Is it?” You raise your eyebrows at him in challenge. “Why don't you take one?”

This is the closest you've come to prying because, now that he's alluded to the fact that he's available, you can't help yourself. You have to know. Whether that's to satisfy some curiosity or because a part of you has a vested interest in his answer, you're not sure.

“If you can't get one last minute, then what hope does a washed up old driver like myself have?”

And now you know. Which actually makes all of this feel so much worse because, under the serene veil of passing street lights and quiet roads, the lines are beginning to blur.

You also want to open your mouth and say something stupid like, “Then they're idiots,” or “You’re far from washed up,” and maybe even “I’d go with you.” But you know the second that you do, it pushes this beyond the bounds of rides and cautious flirting.

You don't even know if Liam would want that. What if he's only being nice? You don't know how he talks to his other passengers. Maybe he finds the flirting fun and harmless, too, and he's not actually interested in anything more. Maybe he enjoys being your friend.

Or maybe you’re only projecting what you want to see because you're lonely and he’s easy to talk to—the first man to really pay attention to you in longer than you’d care to admit. You might just end up embarrassing yourself.

Instead, you scoff and say, “Well, it doesn't matter anyway because it's perfectly acceptable to go alone and have a lovely time.”

Regret pools in your stomach. You can't help but feel you missed an opportunity. It's too late now, though. As he chuckles warmly from the front seat and shifts his attention to the road, you know the moment has passed. Bringing it up again, saying those words out loud, will give you away.

There's a silence after that, which stretches on for several minutes. A few weeks ago it might have been comfortable, but now you can't stand it. You only get a few of these moments with him and you're nearly halfway home already. It might be a while before you see him again after this. You're wasting it!

“God, I wish I had walked the block to get a takeout after the show. I'm suddenly starving,” you blurt out, lacking anything else to say, but desperate for any chance at small talk to close the gap between you.

“Want me to stop off somewhere?” He glances up at you in the mirror.

“No!” You immediately protest, a little embarrassed. You had expected this to turn into a conversation about your favorite kinds of takeout or foods so you could learn more about him. You hadn't expected him to offer anything. “No, it's fine. It was just a terrible attempt at making conversation. I swear I'll live.”

“I can if you’d like.”

“It's already so late. Don't trouble yourself. Really!” You aren't even hungry.

When did this become so difficult? When did you go from enjoying his attention to craving it this much?

“I don't have another ride after this.” His voice lowers, barely audible now over the hum of the engine. “And I've already told you, love. For you it's never any trouble.”

Oh. The uncertainty gives way to a warmth in your chest. It settles deep into your ribs and wraps itself around your heart. How could you possibly say no now?

You also know the answer to your questions then: It became difficult when, somewhere along the way, this stopped being just a simple, harmless crush.

“Okay.” Then you hurry to add, “But only if you're sure!”

“Positive.” His profile shifts as he smiles at the road, pleased you’ve accepted his offer.

“There's Chinese on the way. Over by the old Tesco? The one that closed a few months ago?”

“I know it.”

“It's not the best, but it's open until eleven. I can order it now so you don't have to wait too long.” Then you get an idea. “Do you like noodles? Or maybe fried rice? My treat.” You hold up a finger at him when he opens his mouth to protest. “You’re nice enough to stop when you don't have to, it's the least I can do to say thank you.”

“Alright,” he sighs, his shoulders going slack with acceptance. There's something tender in his expression as his smile widens, which only makes your heart constrict further. “Yeah, I'd love some noodles.”

“Then noodles it is.” You place the order on your phone as a silence settles back over the car.

All that fuss and your attempt at conversation didn't even work.

At least you get to buy him dinner, technically speaking. But you're going to do everything you can not to dwell on that right now. Especially now that you’ve realized how far this has evolved.

A few minutes and a short detour later, and he's pulling alongside the curb once again.

“I'll be right back,” you promise before hurrying out into the night.

You feel oddly self conscious of every step as you cross the street because you can feel his eyes on you the entire way. Watching you.

He probably wants to make sure you don't get mugged or something, you tell yourself. He’s keeping an eye on you. That's all. There's no reason for your pulse to be this high.

And yet, if there's a bit more sway to your hips as you walk in the hopes it draws his gaze lower…that's just more fun, harmless flirting. Isn't it?

You're not sure anymore.

At this hour, so near to closing, the restaurant is empty. There's even someone taking down tables in the dining area. The sight of it makes you feel guilty as you give them a nod of greeting. Your disastrous attempt at small talk probably prevented the kitchen from being in the same half cleaned state as well. Just add it to the list of inconveniences, you think.

It only takes a few more minutes for your order to be finished, much to your relief. You’d hate to keep Liam waiting because it's already fourteen to eleven, and you don't want him to start regretting being nice. It also means you don't have time to stand there and start second guessing yourself either, which is the last thing you need right now.

When you exit the restaurant, you notice the air has shifted. It smells damp now, like it might rain. Even the night sky is quickly growing darker as the stars are swallowed by clouds, all the telltale signs of an encroaching late summer storm. So you jog back towards the cab, clutching the takeout bag and praying it holds off.

But as your fingers brush the door handle, you hesitate.

It's late and there's not another car or soul on the street. It's just the two of you, and you've gotten both of you food. It seems almost silly to sit in the backseat now, or to pretend there's much of a separation anymore. Even as friends.

That's what you tell yourself as you head to the passenger door instead.

Liam doesn't say anything. He just watches you climb into the front seat of his taxi. When you finally meet his eyes, you can see uncertainty on his face, but of what you're not sure.

“Is this okay?” You keep the door held open in doubt, giving yourself the option of escape. “I thought it would be easier...you know, with the food.”

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet, and the wary, low gravel of it matches his expression. He glances down at the steering wheel. “Yeah, it's fine.”

Far too late you wonder if you've made a mistake.

“I'm sorry,” you gasp as you move for the door. “I should have asked first. I can get in back.”

“Wait!” His hand shoots out as if he wants to grab your arm—to keep you there—but he stops just short of touching you, still keeping that distance. He lets it hover for a second, hesitant, before lowering it back to his seat, and you swear you see his fingers twitch. Your skin tingles at the near contact. “Stay. Please.”

You take a moment to study his face, to make sure it's actually what he wants. That he isn't just being polite now that you're already in, despite his own comfort.

The genuine plea you see there makes your heart ache.

“Okay,” you say softly.

You shut the door.

Then it's quiet once again except for the rustling of the bag as you settle it on your lap. Except now there's a tension in the air that's never been there before. It's as if you brought the storm into the cab with you and have just sealed it inside. Maybe you have made a mistake.

This had always been so easy.

When there was the clear separation of a car seat between you, you both knew where you stood. Liam up front, you in back. Driver and passenger. The physical distance kept things safe. Without that, you feel unsteady, too—unsure of how to act and unsure where this is going.

You think about that heavy scent of ozone and warm concrete on the breeze outside—about the possibility of rain—and suddenly you know what you want. You know why you got in front and what your heart has been telling you all night: You want to see your possibility. What this thing between you could be.

Despite your nerves, you want him. All you have to do is continue closing the distance.

You're pretty sure that you can't make things any more awkward than they already are, at the very least. Even if you somehow manage it, you doubt he’ll throw you out of his taxi. Why would he? He’s only ever been sweet to you. So the worst he can say is no, you think, as if that wouldn't break your heart.

“I don't know how you feel about food in your cab, but we could sit here and eat before it gets cold. Together. If you want.” You try to sound casual, but hope bleeds into your voice and betrays the truth of what you're really offering him: you. Something more.

You spent weeks being careful to never cross that line while telling yourself that's what you actually wanted. That you were fine simply having something to indulge in. But now that you've finally done it, you don't know why it took you so long or how you’ve been so blind. Because as you look at him, with his snug polo, trimmed hair and beard, his full lips, and his hooded blue eyes, you wouldn't take it back for anything.

Only…that uncertainty reappears on his face. An internal struggle which deepens the lines on his forehead, pinches his brow, and causes his mouth to thin into a frown. He knows agreeing to this would mean crossing that line with you and moving forward. Except where you have hope, he seems conflicted by the possibility.

You wonder if all the flirting and stolen glances felt harmless to him, too, because he never dreamed you’d want him back. And now that you do…

“You don't need to be getting home? It's late," he says helplessly. Half-heartedly. That's when you realize: he thinks he should tell you no, but he just can't bring himself to say it. So he's offering you an excuse instead, hoping that you’ll do it for him.

Of all the ways you saw this going, you never imagined this—that he would want you and still reject you.

You want so badly to ask why, to understand, but this hurts more than a simple no would, and the fear of what he might say stills your tongue. It could just be self-deprecation on his part, the ingrained belief that he's a washed up old driver…but what if the reason is you? Imagining the pity on his face as he tries to let you down gently turns your stomach.

Despite that, you find you can't say no either. Now that you've finally realized that you want this, how do you let it go? To be the one to end it before it's even begun. You don't have the strength.

You suppose that makes the both of you cowards.

“I've got nowhere to be tomorrow, but if you do, that's alright, Liam,” you offer instead. A lie the two of you can cling to. “I don't want to keep you any longer than I already have.”

He shakes his head. “That's not it.”

Oh.

“Either way, don't worry about it,” you quickly blurt out to stop him from saying anything more. “Forget I said—”

“No!” His voice breaks as he interrupts you, stunning you to silence. “No.”

He struggles for a moment to find the words while searching your face, as if he might find the answer there. As if you might make it easier for him somehow. He must find something because then he's staring at you with the determination of a man who's made a decision, consequences be damned, and you let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you’d been holding.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Oh.

Your heart falters for a moment, lurching with violence against your ribcage, before it stutters with renewed hope.

There's a rumble of thunder outside—the sound of possibility shifting into inevitability.

“Me either,” you whisper.

“Then, yeah.” His face softens. And he’s back to looking at you in a way you’re used to, the way he secretly would in his rearview mirror, but something between you has shifted. There's a new intensity to his gaze that takes your breath away. “I’d love to.”

“I’m glad.” Feeling bold at that look in his eyes and desperate to ease some of the lingering tension, you add, “Besides, this is much better than eating reheated takeout alone in my apartment. The company is far better.”

You can tell it works when he relaxes further in his seat.

“Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah.”

“And I suppose it does smell really good, yeah? Be a shame to waste it.”

“It really does.” You huff out a laugh as you dig into the bag, relieved to have something to do with your hands that isn't clenching them uselessly in your lap. “Plus, now you don't have to listen to my stomach growl for the rest of the drive.”

He laughs along with you, but it quickly turns into a teasing grin. “Well, I’m glad I could save you the embarrassment.”

“My hero,” you say playfully, which finally earns you a full, real smile. The kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes your heart skip a beat. Before you can get distracted staring at him, you pull out the disposable utensils and hold them up between you. “Now, fork or chopsticks?"

He sheepishly takes the fork, and it's your turn to give him a teasing grin.

You fall back into easy conversation as you both tuck into your takeout containers. The tension between you is gone now, having dissipated under the familiar—though it'll be impossible to forget just how close he is or the way he lingers in your field of vision no matter where you look.

You’ve positioned yourself in your seat so you're half facing him, and you notice he's removed his seatbelt and done the same. There's an intimacy to the way both of your knees are turned in towards each other, unable to touch but still seeking one another out.

There it is again, you think. The gravity of him, pulling you in. You bend to him like light.

While you eat, it begins to rain. Or rather, it begins to downpour, the drops thumping and echoing off the metal body of the taxi. They coat the windows in streaks, leaving the world outside blurred—a hazy refraction of streetlights and muted color.

The combination of darkness and being shut inside the car already made it feel like there was a barrier separating the two of you from the outside, but now you feel even more cocooned from the rest of the world. In fact, you’re finding it hard to remember anything else exists beyond the interior of this cab. This moment.

Him.

Another silence settles over you as you eat and listen to the rain, but this one is comforting. As though just existing next to each other is enough. It's easy in a way that makes your heart sing.

He breaks it by clearing his throat.

“Seriously, how do you use those? I’ve never gotten the hang of it.” He gestures to your hand holding the chopsticks.

You pause mid bite, your food frozen in the air as you look up at him. “Do you want me to show you?”

“You can try, but I should warn you, I'm all thumbs when it comes to that,” he laughs and looks away, self-conscious.

You’ve seen that expression on his face a few times now. Glimpses past the easy smiles and the effortless conversations into how he sees himself. You wonder again if that was the reason he hesitated earlier. Suddenly you want to show him the man you see. The one that’s attentive when you speak and makes you feel seen. Who always cheers you up with his presence and went out of his way when you said you were hungry. The man who's never said no to you, even when you’ve called him at the last minute and were certain he was busy.

You wish you could find the way to say all of that out loud.

Instead, you raise an eyebrow and stick the uneaten bite back into the container. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“It's really not,” he says with a helpless laugh, but you're determined now.

You get a fresh set for him. Then you go about demonstrating the placement in your hand and the way you use your fingers to manipulate the utensils to pick up your food. He copies you, though his own movements are stiff and awkward. There's also a vulnerability to the way he keeps glancing up at you to see if he's doing it correctly and looking for approval.

“You’ve almost got it! It just takes practice,” you reassure him. He gives you a small smile in return, his blue eyes full of gratitude. When he tries again, he’s more relaxed and confident, and the chopsticks move with far more ease.

It's a much better look on him, you think.

You also spend the entire time resisting the urge to reach out and shape his fingers around the thin pieces of wood. Because if you touched his hands, god help you, you might not be able to stop. The idea is so tempting, though, and it only gets worse the longer you focus on the curve and press of his thick fingers.

You imagine what it would be like to have them grazing over your cheek and down your neck, or dipping along your inner thigh and dragging against your slit. There's a sudden throb of need between your legs at the thought. Now the air of the cab feels stifling, electric with a different energy, but he's so focused on what he's doing, he doesn't seem to notice the way you squirm in your seat.

Instead, you offer tips to help him get it right—from a distance, where it's safe for the time being and you're less likely to do something brash, like grab him and kiss him.

After some more practice, he makes a few unsuccessful attempts to eat and has to stop to pick dropped noodles off of his shirt and lap with a sigh while you giggle next to him. Until, finally, an entire bite makes it from the takeout container to his mouth without spilling.

“I did it!” He beams proudly at you as he chews, those blue eyes now wide and lit up with excitement. And god, it's adorable…except there's a bit of noodle stuck in his beard. You press your lips together to keep from bursting into laughter at him in his moment of triumph. He catches on anyway, and his face falls slightly in confusion. "What?"

"You've got some noodle. Right here." You point at your own face.

He quickly runs a hand over his mouth to wipe it away, but all that does is push the noodle farther down his chin. "Did I get it?"

"No!" You snort out a sharp laugh at his look of panic. So he sets his takeout carton on the center console near the gearshift for a more serious attempt, but his palm scrapes uselessly at his face again. “It's lower now.”

“Glad you're enjoying this.” He tries to sound offended, but there's a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he feels around for the elusive bit of food, betraying how much he’s enjoying this, too.

"Here." You set your takeout next to his. And then you don't think before you lean across the center console, your hand stretched out and reaching towards him. "It's right…"

You genuinely meant to help and put him out of his misery, but by the time you realize what you're doing, your fingertips are already brushing through the coarse hair of his beard, the why of it completely forgotten. Now you can no longer help yourself. You’ve finally touched him, and he feels so warm and alive beneath your hand.

Your fingers curl against his chin. Then, almost with a mind of their own, they inch towards his jaw, seeking more. You want to run them over his cheeks. His temple. His smile lines. Along the bridge of his nose. His lips. You want to feel out every bit of his face and commit it to memory.

You don't want to let go.

And you nearly don’t stop until a heavy exhale from him sends you crashing back to reality. The one where you're basically groping him instead of helping. You also notice the noodle bit has long since fallen away and landed somewhere unseen onto his lap.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" You gasp in horror. You start to pull away to search for it because, after that, you're too embarrassed to even look at him. But you’ve barely removed your hand when he grabs your wrist, firmly keeping you in place just inches from his face. Your eyes snap up to meet his.

Neither of you moves. Or speaks.

For several tense seconds, the only sound in the car is the rhythmic patter of rain and your heavy breathing as you stare at each other.

The moment stretches between you like a wire, thick and coiled taut, and you're terrified to pull away. Or push closer. As if doing so might snap the tension and ruin whatever this is. Instead, you sit there, frozen at the way his eyes become half-lidded, barely lessening the now undisguised longing in his gaze.

Just when you think it's become too much and you're going to break under the intensity of it all, his thumb brushes against the delicate skin of your wrist, directly over your pulse, sending a shiver through you. And that small touch alone is enough to make all of this profoundly, achingly, real. Distantly you wonder if he can feel the frantic drumming of your heart. Because by now it's pounding so hard with anticipation, your ribs flex with every beat.

He brings your hand back towards his face and rests it against his cheek. As he does, you're mortified to realize you're trembling in his grasp. He must notice as well because, without a word, he flattens his own hand over yours, anchoring and calming between beard and flesh. His eyes dip nearly closed at the sensation, and he nuzzles into your touch, letting the corner of his mouth graze your palm.

You watch as there's the slightest purse of his lips, a shade of a kiss onto your skin, and you suck in a gasp.

He reaches out for you, then. You think he's going to mimic the gesture and cup your face, but instead his knuckles graze along your cheek. He takes a moment to trace and explore the contour of your cheekbone in awe before continuing on, gliding past the shell of your ear, until he's cupping the back of your neck instead with his thumb resting on your jaw. His hand feels massive as it envelops you, the span of it completely covering your nape, making you feel bird-boned in his grasp. But everything about his touch is so tender, so affectionate, that it never occurs to you to feel vulnerable.

Quite the opposite. Combined with his captivated expression, which is so intense that it borders on grief, he's found a new way to make you feel special.

Wanted.

Gently, he begins to guide you towards him as he leans in and stares at your lips. There's no doubting his intentions.

You go willingly. Lead to him. Pulled to him. Sucked so far into that gravity, you’d still be moving even if he let go.

"Liam," you exhale into the shrinking space between you, finally giving voice to your desire.

His fingers flex against your neck at the sound of his name, but he still doesn't stop or speak. His hand continues to guide you closer. Slow and steady. As if he's giving you plenty of time to put an end to this. To pull away and tell him you don't want it. But you do. You want it so much that you almost forget to breathe.

As his lips ghost against yours, your eyes flutter shut. You instinctively push forward, trying to close the distance between you, but he moves away before you can fully capture his mouth. Then he goes back to brushing his lips over yours, cutting off your protest and taking in your sighs and quivers.

It's almost teasing, the way he's taking his time and savoring every step of this—of you—and there's a confidence to his movements you weren't expecting. As if, now that he's gotten you, he knows exactly what he wants to do with you while you're swept along in his wake.

Except you’ve thought about this moment so many times. Indulged in the fantasy of what it might feel like to have his lips against you as his tongue eagerly explores the heat of your mouth. Now you're so close to getting what you want, too, and the anticipation is building into an agonized yearning every second he’s just out of reach.

You're on the verge of whimpering or pleading when he finally, truly, kisses you.

Any thought you might have had is gone. The pressure of his lips, his mouth slotting against yours, his relieved exhale across your skin—the combination makes you dizzy with need. A moan is torn from your throat.

The sound breaks whatever gentle spell had a hold of him because, just like that, his arms are around you, and he's kissing you hungrily.

At first it's desperate. Nothing more than a messy searching of lips before you find your rhythm. Then every bit of it is better than you imagined—the scrape of his beard, his nose nudging into yours, a brief graze of his tongue along your bottom lip before it retreats, leaving you wanting more. And god, do you want more.

As if he knows what you're thinking—or maybe you've said it out loud—he tightens his hold around you and pulls you towards his seat, his mouth never leaving yours. But you don't have time to admire how strong he is as you scramble blindly to get your legs under you. In your haste, your knee hits one of the takeout containers, which sends it toppling over.

You break the kiss to gasp out, "I think it spilled."

"I don't care," he murmurs and captures your mouth again. This time his tongue lingers at the seam of your lips. As you open up to him and taste him for the first time, you decide you don't care either.

You finish climbing into his lap. Every movement is clumsy in the limited space, all groping hands and fumbling limbs. You have to squeeze past the steering wheel and keep your head low so you don't bump it into the roof of the cab. The position is also a bit awkward as you try to find enough purchase to settle your knees on either side of his hips. You even have to adjust your dress to keep it from getting in the way, which forces the hem mid thigh.

None of that matters once you're finally settled. Because, when you lower your weight into his lap, you find him rock hard beneath you. And the only thing separating your bare sex from that impressive bulge in his pants is a pair of lacy panties. You can almost feel the warmth of his cock radiating through the denim.

"Fuck, Liam," you hiss.

You can't start grinding onto him just yet, though, because he quickly reaches between you to adjust himself over his jeans. It's something so intimate and casual—something he has to do because of you—that it's devastatingly sexy. That alone is enough to make your cheeks and neck burn. But when his hand grips over the tented fabric and slides along his length, for a brief moment it sharpens the outline of his erection in his fist, and it sends heat racing between your thighs, leaving you aching. Your hips shift involuntarily at the sudden pressure.

“Better,” he sighs in relief. Then his hands squeeze around your waist to drag you down as his hips roll up to meet you, and you see stars.

Before you’ve even recovered, he draws you back in for another heated kiss. You're so fixated on his mouth, so ravenous for him, you don't notice when he blindly gropes between the seat and the door. So when the seat tilts back all the way without warning, you barely catch yourself with your hands at the last minute to stop from falling forward and smashing your face into his. The motion is such a jolt that you cry out in surprise against his lips. You feel his curl into a smile.

It doesn't last long. The new angle gives your hips the freedom of movement to slide over the full length of him, and the friction makes your arousal thrum with anticipation. His eyes roll shut with a groan.

While he’s distracted, you take a moment to appreciate him like this—the flutter of his eyelashes, his kiss swollen lips, and the way the rain dappled streetlight bathes over his flushed skin. When he opens his eyes again and catches you staring, his expression softens.

Your breath hitches at the sight. Christ, he’s so fucking handsome.

You suddenly realize you don't have to just look anymore. Despite the heat of this moment, you can finally satisfy the urge to run your fingers over his face. So, without hesitation, you reach out and touch his jaw again. Only this time, you don't stop. You gently map out all of his lines and wrinkles, relish the contrast in softness between his skin and beard, and trace along his lips—all while he stares up at you in half-lidded awe.

“God, you're amazing, love.” His voice is low and gravelly as he nuzzles up against your jaw. “The most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my life.”

Your eyes fall closed with a shiver, letting the vibrations of it wash over you, but you don't respond. How can you? What could you possibly say to that?

His thumb caresses over your cheek.

“Look at me,” he coaxes in a soft tone. You slowly open your eyes again to meet his. When you do, he gives you a gentle smile. “I mean it. I've wanted you from the moment you got into my cab.”

Oh.

“I want you, too, Liam,” you finally admit quietly, your own voice thick with emotion.

“I'm still trying to let that sink in.” He shakes his head. “That someone as incredible as you could want someone like me.”

“Of course I do. How could I not?” You sound defensive, but you can't help it. You feel that familiar need to make him see himself the way you do. “I think you're amazing, too.”

“Jesus.” He lets out a heavy sigh. Then he glances down between you, seemingly overwhelmed by your statement.

“Why do you think I kept calling you?” You chuckle breathlessly. “I’ve been making plans and finding any excuse I could just so I had a reason to see you and be in your cab. You had to have suspected I didn't actually need that many rides.”

“I hoped.” His eyes meet yours again and that intensity is back. The muscle in his jaw clenches, making your heart skip a beat. “God, did I hope.”

“It took me far too long to realize just how much.” You lean in to place a slightly heated kiss onto his lips. Then, in a husky voice, you add, “I should have done this ages ago.”

"I don't deserve this," he groans as his hand tightens with rekindling lust around your waist, “but I could never say no to you.”

"Don't I deserve it?" He sucks in a breath beneath you. You let the tip of your nose brush against his as you lower to a whisper. "No one's ever made me feel the way you do, Liam. So please…make me feel even better."

His arms engulf you to capture your lips, just as you start to move over him again.

You continue to kiss as you ride that bulge in his jeans, the stiffness and friction sending delicious sparks up through your core while desire pools between your legs. Every roll of your hips draws needy sounds from your throat and little grunts from his as he rocks up to meet you.

His hands never stop roaming. Up your thighs, a quick squeeze of your ass, and tracing the curve of your waist. Then flattening to drag across your back, stroking along your ribs, and teasing with uncertainty over the swell of your breasts before cupping your cheeks. He leaves flames in his wake.

Yours never stop either. You want to finally run your fingers through his hair. To feel the thickness of his neck and the way the tendons in his jaw flex as he kisses you before wandering lower. And god, those fucking polos do him no favors because underneath you can feel the hard muscle of his chest and shoulders. They've softened somewhat with age, especially at his belly, but it just makes him feel solid beneath you. Steady. Like something you could hold onto.

Every new part of him you touch only makes you want him more.

All of your heavy breathing is trapped inside the taxi, making the air feel thick with humidity. With nowhere to go, condensation is starting to gather on the windows and settle across any exposed skin. It's stifling. You have to keep reminding yourself that you're in a car to stop from ripping your dress off. A part of you still thinks it's a wonderful idea.

Another part reminds you that you don't need to take it off.

You break the kiss.

"I want you, Liam,” you lean in to whisper in his ear. “Right here. Right now."

He shudders with a groan. Then he gently guides you back by the shoulder so he can look into your face. “Right here? You're sure?”

You nod. “It's dark and I've waited long enough. I want you inside of me.”

“Fuck,” he whimpers, and his cock throbs beneath you. “I told you I could never say no to you.”

You gather the hem of your dress, pulling it back and out of the way so both of you can see the way you're pressed against his straining erection. Your need for him is liquid. It's been pouring from you. By now it's completely drenched your underwear, soaking them through. Only it didn't stop there because there's also a rather large damp spot on his jeans from all of your grinding. He groans helplessly again at the sight of it.

“See?” You purr down to him.

“Christ, love,” he chokes out. “Look at you.”

He grasps your bare thighs, kneading at your flesh before sliding them higher and making you shiver—until those large hands are framing your barely covered sex. He takes a second to admire you further through half-lidded eyes. Then he hooks a thumb into your panties and pulls them aside. When your arousal is exposed, a moan gets strangled in his throat, and his clothed hips buck towards you, desperate to bury himself in you already.

Your hands shoot to the fly of his jeans to fight with the button, eager to uncover him as well…just as a thumb brushes over your slit. Instead, your whole body jerks at the contact and you nearly collapse against him. Your grip goes slack.

His expression turns smug at your reaction. So he does it again—harder this time—and the tip of his thumb slips easily past your folds, making you cry out. Then he teases circles at your entrance, smearing through your slick, and you nearly sob into his shirt.

“You feel so good already.” He sounds distracted now, as though he's more focused on what he's doing than how you’re responding. He presses again, sinking until he's knuckle deep, and his lips part with a gasp, enthralled by the way his thumb vanishes inside of you. And, god, even the thickness of that leaves you breathless and writhing. Then he teases you some more at this depth, testing how your walls flutter greedily around him, before slowly drawing back out and dragging some of your fluids over your clit. Your hips pitch forward into his hand with a moan. “Can't wait to get my cock in you.”

“Please,” you beg. All of his teasing and petting has left you helpless, and your trembling fingers move uselessly over his fly, “I can't…”

That seems to get his attention.

He removes his hand and you whimper at the loss…until he takes over for you, making fast, if a bit fumbled, work of his button and zip. Then you're eager to have something even better buried inside of you. So you quickly make room for him as he lifts up and pushes his pants and underwear down to his knees.

When he settles, you finally get to have a look at what you’ve only felt up to this point, and the sight of him makes you feel weak. Because he’s sitting beneath you in his polo, and his hard cock is resting over the fabric still covering his belly.

He’s thick and uncut and twitching under your gaze, and you just know wrapping your hand around him would make you feel small by comparison. Your fingers itch to find out. You can also see a trail of hair disappearing under the hem of his shirt.

You're fighting with the urge to rip the offending piece of clothing up over his head to see just how far up it goes and whether or not it connects with that greying tuft of curls peeking out of the top when he wraps a hand around himself.

Your mind blanks.

You watch, dumbfound, as he begins stroking—working his length until the foreskin slides back to reveal the head, flushed and swollen and leaking in want of you.

The sudden stab of arousal in your core is dagger sharp, leaving you breathless.

“Fuck,” you rasp out, and it sounds as shaky as you feel, “I need you.”

His hand grasps at the base of his erection, keeping the foreskin drawn back and holding himself steady in invitation. When he meets your eyes, you see months of longing and need on his face. How he’s ached for this—would beg to have it if you asked.

You don't hesitate. You make sure your panties stay pulled to the side as you raise yourself to your knees. You wish you had taken them off, but you're far too impatient to stop now. How could you when he's right there, throbbing in his own fist and practically begging you to take him?

With one hand bunched in the fabric of your dress and one braced on his shoulder, you shift into position over him. His tip nudges against you, effortlessly gliding through your folds until he catches at your entrance. Exactly where you need him.

You lower onto him. There's a brief moment of resistance and adjustment at the unfamiliar angle. Then the head of his cock breeches your opening as you both let out twin gasps.

Slowly, you sink onto his length, your walls stretching around him as he fills you, inch by agonizing inch.

He makes it past the halfway point before his patience runs out. He grabs your hips, fingers and thumbs spearing into flesh, and pulls you the rest of the way down onto his cock.

The sound that leaves your mouth is almost as filthy as the one that leaves his.

He keeps you there, unmoving and fully sheathed while he twitches inside of you, and a sob of relief escapes his throat. His eyes are heavy lidded, those full lips are pouting and parted, and his brows are scrunched together in an expression akin to agony.

You're certain you’ll never forget the sight of him in that moment, undone by your cunt.

You drop the skirt of your dress so you can brace against his chest. The fabric falls back into place, hiding the evidence of where you're joined. It’s not unlike when you were just sitting in his lap, grinding over your clothes. Only this time you’re straddling his bare hips and stretched full of him.

You start to move.

The rain has stopped, but outside the drops still linger, glistening and clinging to every surface. Inside, the condensation is now fully coating the glass from your hot breath coming out in sharp pants as you ride his cock. It leaves the world beyond the cab opaque, only leaking through in the trails left by heavy beads of moisture.

He braces himself by planting his feet on the floor of the cab and leaning back against the headrest, using the pressure as extra leverage. Then he's lifting to meet your hips.

"I’ve dreamed of this," he moans as he ruts into you. He doesn't stop staring up into your face—taking in every expression and quiver and noise you make with those intense, blue eyes. His mouth falls open for a moment before he gasps out, “God, your cunt is so sweet.”

You’ve never felt so seen. Wanted. In that moment, you're so utterly sucked in by the gravity of him that you crash your lips against his, desperate to be closer.

His hands bite into your hips as he forces you to keep rocking onto him. You distantly realize the car is rocking with you—that anyone could see and know what's happening—but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when you have him whimpering and groaning into your mouth with his cock inside of you.

Everything about this is fast and messy, but the buildup alone has left both of you nearly frantic with need. You're not even sure how long you’ve been doing this. It's been hours since he kissed you. It's been minutes since he kissed you.

Your overworked thighs are burning, but you refuse to stop. Pressure is building and intensifying quickly inside your core, driving you on and beckoning you to keep moving until you find your release.

His grasp has gotten so tight that his fingers are nearly digging into bone, and he's no longer holding back every whimper or stutter that works its way to his throat. You know he's close, too.

A hand finds your thigh and disappears under the fabric of your dress. He clasps the bend of your hip, and then that thumb that drove you nearly mad earlier is rubbing circles over your clit. You're gutted by the sudden pleasure.

“Want you to come for me, love,” he murmurs up to you as he moves faster between your legs, his hips and thumb working together to destroy you. “Never wanted anything more.”

“Don't stop!” You gasp. You're trembling now. Your thighs are quivering against his hips and the movement has become hard to control, leaving your pace jerky and uneven as you rock over him. “Please!”

“Could never say no to you.” His voice is hoarse and strained as he struggles to hold himself back until you come undone first.

“Liam!” Your hands clutch at his shirt.

“That’s it. Let me see you.”

That last bit of friction is all you need to send warmth exploding through you, and then you’re coming on his cock. You throw your head back with a wail. It scrapes against the roof of the taxi, but you barely notice. Every part of you is consumed with that numbing relief. The way your stretched walls convulse around him. The sound that spills out of him.

If he wasn't holding you up and forcing you to keep moving out of desperation, you’d dissolve in his hands.

Every muscle in his body is taut, strained as he keeps driving into your still pulsing heat. There's ruin on his face when his hips begin to stutter beneath you. Then he slams you onto his cock with a moan and finally comes inside of you.

The throbbing warmth of it fills you with more than a physical gratification. Your heart skips a beat at the way he lethargically works through his orgasm, rocking deep within you. At how his face is now slackened with pleasure, that contentment only broken by the occasional hiss and a shudder from aftershocks—when the sensation of you becomes too much.

You could get addicted to this feeling.

Once both of you are spent and still, you sit there in his lap, gasping for air. His stomach rises and falls against yours while his thumb draws a mindless pattern near the bend in your hip. His touch is warm, even against the ambient heat of the taxi.

Sweat pools along your hairline and back and runs between your breasts. Your body is covered in it, and his skin is similarly glistening. As you’re watching, a drop rolls past the hollow of his throat before disappearing into that tantalizing mess of chest hair left uncovered by his undone top buttons. You wonder what it would be like to nuzzle into it and inhale the masculine scent of sweat and sex before dragging your tongue along his sternum to taste it.

“You okay?” He pants up at you, pulling you out of your daze.

You huff out a laugh as you nod. “Pretty fantastic, actually.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, still breathless.

“Yeah.”

You want to lay against him, snuggle your head under his chin, and stay like that for hours, relishing in this newfound connection. But now that the high is wearing off, you’re very aware you’ve just had sex in the driver's seat of a car. You didn't even move to the backseat or drive to a secluded parking lot! It's a position that’s not only quite public despite the opaque windows, but would require you to contort your body into an uncomfortable shape to do so. Which, regrettably, isn't very ideal for cuddling.

You hadn't been thinking that far ahead at the time.

You give him one last lingering kiss, reluctant to part from him, even as you know you have to at some point anyway. Then you lift yourself off of his lap while swallowing a whimper at both the loss and the surge of wetness between your legs now getting half caught in your askew underwear.

Climbing back into the passenger seat is a slow process because your legs are weak and wobbly, but he gives you a steady hand to lean into. One that engulfs your smaller hand as it wraps around you. You try not to imagine him holding you like this, fingers laced and palms kissing, or else you might not let go.

You both stop to laugh when you bump your head on the roof of the cab.

As you get settled and somewhat put back together, an awkward silence encompasses the taxi. It's not tense like when you got into the front seat. Rather, it's unsure in a different way. It's as if both of you want to say something, but you can't find the right words. Or maybe, without the haze of arousal, they don't come as easily despite the way they build and sit in the back of your throat.

Instead, you take a moment to survey the damage from your earlier fumbling. Thankfully, the takeout spill was minor with only a few of the noodles escaping the carton. He quickly picks them up, and you toss the containers back into the bag.

He rolls down the windows, letting the rain cooled air in to clear the fogged glass and the heavy musk of sex. It feels heavenly on your skin. You lean back in your seat, basking in the light breeze, the weightlessness in your chest, the burning in your thighs, and, most of all, the ache and damp between your legs.

You both still maintain that quiet the rest of the drive with only the low din of the radio in the background. None of the songs register, though, because your mind is too busy racing with thoughts of what happens next.

There's an unbidden hope blooming inside of you that this was more than just sex. You try to rein it in before it takes over and suffocates you with expectation because some part of you is still terrified you’ll end up heartbroken. But every time you glance over at him—take in the profile of his nose and lips, the strong curve of his jaw, the wisp of his eyelashes—you know it's far too late for that.

Instead, you sit there with your heart pounding, wishing you could read his mind and admiring the way the light dances across his face whenever you pass under a streetlight. You can tell when he catches you because he turns to give you a lopsided smile. One he used to shoot back at you in the reflection of his rearview mirror, and the full force of it makes your cheeks burn and your heart flutter before it's too much and you have to look away.

Each time that hope digs in a little more.

Eventually, he pulls the cab along the curb in front of your building. It's the same spot he’s parked in dozens of times, but it looks almost foreign now from the front seat. Or maybe it just feels that way because everything about this situation is so new.

He shuts off the engine, leaving the space in silence as he glances over at you.

This is where you usually part ways. Where you thank him for the ride and pay. Then you climb out, tell him you hope he has a lovely evening, and you leave.

None of that feels right, though. Not after what’s happened between you. More than that, you don't want to walk away as though nothing's changed. Because for you everything has.

So what do you do now? Do you thank him for the wonderful sex? Ask him to dinner? Do you kiss him goodnight and tell him you'll call him later? It's what you would do with anyone else, but with him it's not enough.

Now that you have him, you don't want to let go.

"Would you…" You trail off, suddenly timid. Even though your underwear and thighs are still smeared with this man's come, you know there's so much left unspoken between you. Things you want to give voice to so that the two of you can continue to move forward towards something more intimate and meaningful than car sex. However, doing so is another opportunity to get hurt if he doesn't feel the same way.

Except now you’ve opened your mouth and he's staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. But more importantly: on his face you see that same look of hope reflected back at you.

He wants this, too.

Your anxiety evaporates.

"Would you like to come in?”

His smile is both relieved and tender. He nods.

That's how you end up in your bed with Liam on top of you, entrenched between your legs, cock buried inside of you, and taking you again.

It's different this time. Slower. While the fever and desperation are gone, there's a heavier need churning in their wake. Something between you that was left unsatisfied before.

Now you're wrapped up in each other—a calf tucked behind his knee, and your thigh gripping his hip where he's bent over you. One of his hands is stroking along your hair, and the other is squeezing your waist, holding you in place as his fingers dig divots into your flesh. Your own palms cradle his jaw, cupping him like water to your parched lips.

Through it all, his forehead is pressed to yours, and he gazes down into your eyes from beneath hungry lids. Even if you wanted to, you can't look away from that blue. You're held there, pinned to the bed from the weight of it because even the physical weight of him is nothing compared to the longing you see in those depths.

In the taxi, your closeness was a given. It was overwhelming in the small space, thick like the humidity of your breath, hanging in the air and pressing back in on you. Now it's suffocating in a different way. In the openness of your bedroom, it clings to you. Needy. Touch starved. Terrified that one of you will vanish at the slightest give.

The two of you are so close, you can feel his heavy breath on your face. You can hear the voiceless sounds he makes whenever he buries himself inside of you at just the right angle, each one right there and so loud in the silence.

It's different in that way, too: Neither of you has said a word since you took his hand and stumbled to your bedroom. No pleas or praise. Not when you tore each other's clothes off and finally saw what was waiting for you underneath—the hard panes and curves of him, tan lines and hair, a freckle on his chest, the way his cock hangs thick between his thighs and twitches in your hand. Not even when his fingers dragged over your still wet folds with a groan. Instead, your voices are replaced with sighs and moans and each slick press into your heat.

You don't think you could speak anyway.

He’s fucking you completely breathless. Not from the effort. Not from the way his core flexes and his back rounds every time he thrusts into you. Each steady plunge, a slide and drag of bodies—his chest hair across your nipples, his stomach against yours, his groin grinding into your clit in a maddening friction. No, it's the unmasked passion of it that leaves your heart pounding and your breath caught in your throat.

He fucks you like he watches you: with a sense of reverence. Like he can't believe he has the privilege.

Maybe fuck isn't the right word, then. Because the way his hand moves to cradle the back of your head, thumb grazing behind your ear, feels more like an act of worship than your desperate coupling in the driver's seat of his cab, takeout spilled across the center console.

You've never had sex like this before. Not even with the few people you've whispered I love yous to. The word for it hovers, nameless and heady in the inch of space between you. He breathes it out over your skin, and then you catch it and inhale it into your lungs. As it passes your lips, you can taste it on the tip of your tongue.

You're so close to figuring it out when he angles your head to the side, baring your neck to him and nuzzling his face into the exposed flesh, and your thoughts evaporate. He takes a moment to nose over your pulse, inhaling your scent and warmth with a moan. Then, finally, he’s placing hungry, open mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. It feels so much like he's trying to devour you, that you brace for a sinking of teeth which never comes.

Instead, the scratch of his beard sends a shiver through you, leaving you quivering and covered in goosebumps beneath him. It's too much—sensation, tension, emotion.

It's not enough.

You roll your hips to meet his rhythm, and he lets out a ragged groan—pain and pleasure spilling from his chest. His next plunge is deeper. Harder. Something sparks inside of you.

“Liam,” you gasp, breaking the silence.

Then he’s kissing you, his tongue chasing the sound of his own name into the wet heat of your mouth. So you offer it to him again, a plea for more.

He relents.

He grabs one of your legs and bends it towards your chest, folding you and opening you further to him. This new angle completely traps your clit in the friction of his thrusts.

You grasp at anything you can reach to ground yourself against the onslaught. One of your hands fists your sheet, bunching the fabric in a tight knuckled grip. The other curls through the trimmed hair at the base of his skull. But there isn't enough there to hold onto, and your fingers claw uselessly at his scalp.

The effect it has on him is immediate.

Your nails drag a moan and a full bodied shudder from him. Suddenly his pace becomes urgent, each thrust now punctuated by the joining of skin on skin and a slight shifting along the mattress.

You can feel how close he is from the way he’s tensing against the pleasure building inside of him. From the way he whimpers and clutches back at you, trying to hold on as well. To keep this going just a little longer.

Knowing that his loss of control, that sense of desperation, is because of you, sends you reeling. It isn't long before your legs are quaking against him and your chest is stuttering from your shallow gasps. Every rock of his hips coaxes you further from your control. You can feel your grasp of it slipping, pulling you off balance as you sink deeper into him.

You arch off the mattress—bending as if drawn to him—while every muscle in your body is locked in that moment between tension and release. Then one more moan from him as he rubs against your clit, and you finally break.

Your orgasm shatters white hot at your core, splintering up to churn in your gut and burn through your chest, before resonating outward along every one of your nerve endings, only to recede and start all over again.

As you come, the only thought in your lust fogged brain is him on top of you. Inside of you. The grip he has on your waist. So when your mouth falls open to suck air into your strangled lungs, on the exhale his name spills from your lips.

He looks wrecked by the sound. He buries himself into your fluttering cunt, needing to feel how your walls tighten and clench around him. You protest the sudden loss of friction before your body instinctively seeks it out. You mindlessly grind your hips up against him, riding out the last of your orgasm on his cock until he can't take it anymore.

He grabs you and fucks you, just as mindlessly grunting and rutting into you as he chases his own release. He stares down between you to where his body is joined with yours, watching the way his cock disappears into your folds, his expression stern with concentration. Under the light of the street lamp leaking through your window, sweat glistens on his forehead.

A deep rumble starts in his chest, something half caught between a growl and a whine. His pace quickly becomes erratic, and every time his hips meet yours, you can feel the way he's trembling. You know he's moments from letting go.

You bring your fingers to his chin and force his attention up until his eyes find yours. And god they're so blue, even unfocused in the dim streetlight. Though you're still dazed, you’ve never seen something so beautiful.

“Look at me, Liam,” you breathe out. “I want to see you.”

That's all it takes. His face crumples in agony, and he comes with a sob of relief. He manages a few final thrusts, shuddering and panting his way through each one, until he's finally spent. All the while, his cock twitches and throbs as he fills you for a second time.

You’ve done this once already tonight, but it was different then. The distance was still there while you untangled yourself from his lap, climbed back into the passenger seat, and adjusted your dress. In the way he quietly righted the container of noodles as you struggled to find the words to fill the silence.

This time you don't part.

Instead, he settles in close, pulls you to him, and lays his head on your shoulder with a sigh. In return, you kiss his hair, taking a moment to savor the scent of him—sweat and shampoo and lingering cigarette smoke—and the softness of the thick waves over your lips, before resting your cheek on the crown of his head.

There's nothing between you now. No car seat, no clothes, no more distance.

This is what was missing before in the taxi. This is what you both wanted—what you should have had instead—because this is so easy. As easy as laughter or smiles shared in his rearview mirror.

And it all feels so right. Even though you’ve made yourself vulnerable in his arms, the way he holds you and caresses your palm with his fingertips keeps any further uncertainty or doubt about what this is between you at bay. You know what this is.

You’ve spent months falling for this man, bit by bit. Every time you called him for a ride. Every glance, every simple gesture, every time he made you laugh or lean forward in your seat to find some way to be closer to him. It all sucked you in a little more each time, pulled you into depths you couldn't fathom—more than a crush or attraction or something as simple as affection—and it took you far too long to notice. Now your eyes and your chest burn with the realization.

As if he can sense what you're thinking, he pulls back to place a trail of feather light kisses along the side of your face. You close your eyes, letting the tenderness of it wash over you.

“Stay.” The wave of emotion chokes your voice to a whisper. It's a plea. A hope.

“There's nowhere I'd rather be, love,” he whispers back against your temple. Then he hugs you tight, and there's nowhere you’d rather be either than there in his arms, lulled to sleep by his steady heartbeat and his even breaths across your skin.

It's when he thinks you're asleep that Liam untangles himself, and then sneaks out of your bed and steps into the hallway, carefully shutting the door behind him.

At first you think he's gone to use the bathroom and doesn't want to wake you. Which is sweet! In fact, you're smiling over just how sweet and considerate he is—how content and blissful he’s made you feel—when you hear his voice from down the hall.

It sounds as if he's having a hushed conversation with someone, but that's impossible. There's no one else here. Is he talking to himself then?

You’ve never heard his voice sound like this before, either. He’s frustrated. Annoyed, almost. Nothing like the man that smiles at you from the front seat and asks about your day.

You nearly sit up and call out to him in confusion when—Oh. Wait. No. He’s on the phone, you realize.

At nearly half one in the morning.

He's being quiet enough that, if you were asleep, you probably would have slept through it. On top of that, his words are muffled by the door. So, even though you strain to listen, you don't catch everything he says.

You still hear plenty.

He makes up a story about driving someone…somewhere outside of the city. A request he couldn't say no to, apparently, but you miss his explanation as to why. It's not a big deal, he insists. It's not.

At the end of the call, he says he'll be home in the morning. That you catch.

Then silence falls over you once again.

None of that is true. Obviously. He’s standing naked in your hall, and he’s going to spend the night in your bed, decidedly not driving anywhere.

Which means he was lying on the phone.

You quickly piece together that means he lied to you, too. And the only reason he would have to lie at all, to keep you a secret, is if he isn't actually single. Which also means—

He made you the other woman.

Suddenly, the way he struggled with all of this makes perfect, horrible sense. It was never about you. He always wanted you. It was about his decision to say yes, to give in to what he wanted, despite the consequences and what it would mean.

You're still letting that sink in when he slips back into the room, and you have no idea what to do about it. You need a minute to fucking think. So you try to appear exactly as he left you: undisturbed, curled on your side, and facing the wall. Asleep.

On the inside, however, your heart is breaking.

It happens slowly. At first you're so numb from the shock, and the ache in your chest is so sharp, that the pain takes a moment to register. Like slicing your palm open with a knife and waiting for the wound to bleed. When it finally does, the agony leaves you breathless. You can feel it twisting in your gut, searing through your fingers, and clawing its way up your throat until you're choking on it. Your eyes sting from the pain.

Through it all, you focus on keeping your breathing deep and even to calm your frantic nerves and the trembling of your bottom lip.

He crawls quietly back into bed behind you, clearly believing you're still asleep and trying not to wake you. You try not to stiffen in response.

You're not even sure why you're faking anymore. Perhaps you're still working to get over the shock from the hurt and betrayal. Maybe you want to believe you misunderstood the conversation, even though you know you didn't. Or maybe you’re still trying to figure out what to even say to him.

He lied to you.

Worse, you thought you found something real and lasting with a man that made you smile and feel special—one you felt a connection to. In retrospect, you should have known it was too good to be true, but you wanted it to be. You wanted that so badly. Wanted him.

You feel like such an idiot.

What was this, then? Did he just use you for sex? Were all of those glances and smiles over the course of months faked just for this? How could he have faked even a moment of what you just experienced? The way he looked into your eyes as he… God, even remembering it causes your heart to flutter and heat to pool in your stomach, despite your emotional anguish. You swallow down a sob.

Instead of tucking back into bed, though, he sits there and watches you sleep. You can feel his heavy gaze on the side of your face and the way it lingers before trailing down the outline of your body under the blanket, oblivious to your inner grief or how you lay there bleeding. It lasts several long minutes—longer than you would have thought was possible to watch someone sleep. But it's as if he’s content at the sight of you.

Just when you're finally ready to open your eyes and confront him, to demand the truth, his hand reaches out to stroke over your temple and your cheek. His touch is delicate. He’s still being careful not to wake you as his fingertips ghost across your skin. Then he sighs and it sounds like your name. You didn't think a single breath could carry so much awe and longing.

You didn't think your name could ever sound like that.

He continues to explore and caress you further, gently mapping out the curve of your jaw and the shell of your ear…all while he thinks you're still sleeping. When you couldn't possibly know what he's doing and there's no need for a performance.

Which means he's doing it because he wants to touch you like this.

And every second of it is far more gentle than his voice was the entire time he was on the phone. The voice he didn't say “I love you” in before he hung up, you realize. You're not sure what it means, but it feels important to note.

Because maybe…maybe he wasn't faking anything. Not about how he feels, at least. Not about you.

As your thoughts race, you realize he never actually said he was single either, just that he couldn't get a date to the play or would have to go alone. Sure, the implication was there, and it was a fair assumption to make, but he never said the words out loud. You also wonder what else that means for the state of his relationship, and whether or not it makes any difference. Assuming he was telling the truth at all. Though something about the way he said it makes you believe that part, at least, wasn't a lie.

What are you doing? You know your mental gymnastics and excuses are pathetic. You should have some self respect! Hell, you should kick him out of your apartment and your life for what he's done! But…you just can't bring yourself to do it.

Despite everything, you're still caught in the gravity of him.

Finally, he lays down in the bed and wraps an arm around you, curling himself against your back. His hand splays across your belly, keeping you held to him as he scoots in closer. He's warm and solid, and you can't help but melt into him, skin on skin, as he snuggles into your neck. You love the way his nose instinctively finds all of the sensitive spots that make you gasp, as if he's done this before. As if he knows you.

You fit together perfectly.

You want to stay there, surrounded by him—to let him alleviate the pain he’s caused you and fall asleep for real. Instead, you roll over in his arms.

Your eyes are open now so you can look at him. After all of this, you need to see him in this new light and face the truth of him. You have to know if you can.

When your eyes meet his, there's an expression of yearning and hope on his face that's so profound, your heart aches again, but for a much different reason.

He’s looking at you as though he's a damned man and you're his salvation.

“Sorry if I woke you, love,” he whispers. He cups your jaw in his hand, and his thumb soothes over your cheek in apology.

It's not the apology you need. Not yet. You’ll get that in the morning. Then, afterwards, you’ll have the talk about where you go from here and how he's going to fix this.

Because, as he leans forward to kiss your forehead, his contented sigh warm on your skin, you realize you’ve already made a decision.

“It's okay, Liam,” you reply in a whisper. “I don't care, just as long as you come back to me.”

A/N: I left the play vague for Reader Insert/Choose Your Own Adventure purposes, but the one I had in mind for ME, because it's my absolute favorite, is The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde (it was actually, in a strange way, also one of my inspirations while writing this). Which is about a man that leads a double life and pretends to be someone he isn't, only to discover at the end of the play that he essentially IS the man he's been pretending to be and has been all along without knowing. There are parts of Liam that are real and earnest, he just doesn't believe they're enough. He despises his life and the man he's become so much, is so desperate to escape them, that he can't imagine anyone else not feeling the same way about the real him. Except, in this story with this slightly different version of Liam (who's been removed from the events of the episode), that connection IS real. He never needed to lie to get Reader to laugh and fall for him or see a glimmer of the real him. But Liam is a sad, wet, desperate little shit of a man and does anyway. (He’s lucky he's hot.) Fingers crossed that he, too, learns the vital importance of being earnest. Also Earnest's eyes are blue. 😌

#liam black #liam black x reader #liam black x f!reader #x reader #the fear has gripped me but here i go fic #the accused #the accused (bbc)#andy serkis #fanfiction

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