#like these are genuine like high school aged boys
Text
{ 153 }
love me for me.
jinwoo sung x fem.reader x liu zhigang
warnings: mentions of s*icidal thoughts
“i’ll forgive you only when you’re crawling over broken glass to get to me.”
anonymous said: Okay so, what if Cha Hae-in had a sister who was an A-Rank healer and Jinwoo Likes Cha but can't get close to her. Sooo in a desperate attempt to catch her attention he courts her SISTER bUt reader is skeptical cuz this isn't the first time someone courted her to get close to her sister and the first time it happened she was heartbroken. The way Jinwoo courted her felt so genuine that she fell for it, thinking he actually liked her. So when she said she accepted his courting the look on his face realizing he fucked up cuz he lead her on and when Cha told him she was happy he wasn't using her sister to get close to her cuz she wanted her sister to feel loved made him feel even more guilty. When Reader saw his expression her face fell realizing she fell for one of her sister's suitors again. When the time was turned back she remembered everything and did her best to avoid Jinwoo when they met in school(college or high school either way everything works still) because she didn't want to be used and have her heart broken again[I can't think of a happy ending but i rlly want a happy endingTT]
jinwoo was desperate to get close to hae-in, for the blond woman with stormy grey eyes was all that he could think about. everything about her seemed so... perfect to him.
but he was hesitant to try and get closer to her, since she seemed to be so out of his league. despite how jinwoo had grown stronger thanks to the system's interference with his life-
deep down, jinwoo was still the weak and unconfident man he had always been-
he still retained the personality he had as an e-rank hunter.
lost in his thought, he walks out of the meeting held at the hunter association building, his hands hidden within the pockets of his coat when he catches sight of cha hae-in. he freezes immediately, seeing hae-in coming up to hug another young woman.
he hears hae-in call out her name with an eagerness, earning a smile from her as she hugged her sister back. jinwoo was mesmerized at the sight of hae-in's smile, yet at the same time, he couldn't help but look over at the woman she was holding-
her sister...
you.
he remembers your name and takes a chance to admire the sight of hae-in holding on to you. on paper, you were known as cha hae-in's sister, but in all actuality, you were adopted into her family, being the same age as hae-in as you both grew up together.
and despite how his heart sang for hae-in-
he couldn't deny the beauty you held.
as he was stuck admiring the two sisters caught in a loving embrace, jinwoo could feel his eyes go wider at the sight.
he was too much of a coward to approach hae-in directly-
but perhaps he could use you to get to her...
{ ... }
you always had a bit of an inferiority complex when it came to hae-in.
it was true that you were as close as sisters could be, even believing that she was your best friend and vice versa.
you truly loved hae-in-
but what you didn't love was how so many boys fell for your sister while leaving you in the dust. more often than not, when guys were too shy or intimidated to approach hae-in directly, they would use you to get closer to her-
and that fact always hurt you.
perhaps the moment that hurt you the most was when you were a freshman in college and met a great guy named shik. he was so attentive and kind towards you, yet the worst night of your life happened when you invited him over for dinner and shik immediately confessed to hae-in, telling her how he only wanted to use you in order to get closer to her.
but lucky for you, hae-in loved and cherished you more than that as she slapped the bastard across his face all while rejecting him.
ever since then, you had been close to hae-in, basking in your mutual love and respect for each other as sisters.
now that you were older, being 24 years old, you quit your university life and became a healer, managing to become an a-rank while hae-in became an s-rank hunter. and despite how envious you felt over her natural abilities as a hunter, you did your best to remind yourself that you were just as good-
that you were a highly skilled and proficient healer who had saved many lives in various gates.
that you were highly respected by other s-rank hunters during co-op raids with global hunters, all aiming to raid any massive gates that posed as a threat to humanity.
and such reassurances were enough to calm your heart and ease your sorrows.
currently, you had finished a meeting with the chairman and was about to head out of the building when you ran into someone. your nose ached in response to the impact, nearly falling over had it not been for the strong hand that kept a grip on your wrist.
you open your eyes and gasp, meeting with sung jinwoo's kind eyes.
"hey, sorry about that. i didn't see you." jinwoo chuckles while helping you stand back to your full height. you could feel the heat dye against your cheeks as you struggled to find the right words to say to him.
"i-it's okay, hunter sung."
another light chuckle was heard escaping from his parted lips, causing your to jolt pleasantly in surprise as a tremble courses through you from hearing such a beautiful sound.
"please, call me jinwoo."
your mouth turns dry, and you felt as though your head were spinning upon hearing his words.
"o-okay... thanks, j-jinwoo."
his smile seems to brighten in response to your words, and you watch as he runs his fingers through his hair, giving you a sheepish expression.
"uhm, i was wondering, if you're free... would you like to grab some coffee with me?"
your heart quickly began to pound in response. ever since you had first laid eyes on jinwoo, you held a deep crush on him. you had always admired him, even when he was still a level e hunter.
was he really asking you out?
wait. don't fall for it.
suddenly, your mind began to take over, quickly banishing the strange racing felt within your heart as the joy shrivels slowly in response.
remember shik and how he asked you out to get to hae-in? think about it, jinwoo never spoke to you before... and you know that he is aware that hae-in is your sister.
you harden your heart and look away from him, actually listening to the voice in your head. "no thank you... i... i have other plans."
your rejection seems to shock jinwoo, his eyes going wide when he reaches out to you.
"wait, why-"
but you didn't allow him to continue, immediately walking away from him as you left the hunter's association building-
never once looking back at him.
{ ... }
several weeks had passed since your interaction with jinwoo-
and you honestly weren't expecting him to be so... incessant in his attempts to date you.
each morning, you would find cute little bouquets delivered to your and hae-in's guild. she would give you a knowing smile while jong-in would constantly smirk at you.
but perhaps what made your heart really skip beats was when he had sent a rather... extravagant bouquet to yours and hae-in's shared apartment. the bouquet consisted of every known flower in existence, their colorful blooms seeming to blind your eyes as the rainbow petals overwhelmed you in the best of ways.
you sigh and try to calm your racing heart. as you were looking at the bouquet, you saw a slender white envelope caught in the midst of the array of petals. gingerly, you take the card and place it in your hand, taking the card out of the confines of the envelope as you saw a series of numbers and a note from jinwoo:
xxx-xxx-xxxx
i can't stop thinking about you... please, give me a chance?
i eagerly await your call.
yours,
s.j.
unable to ignore the strange pounding in your heart, you clench your eyes shut and thought about what to do next.
don't fall for it. what if he ends up breaking your heart?
but he's so kind... and persistent. never once did he mention hae-in's name.
neither did shik, yet the moment he saw your sister, it all went to hell, remember?
you ignore the looming voice in your head, filling you with doubt as you went back to your room with the card and bouquet in hand. grabbing your phone from your nightstand, you dial jinwoo's number and give him a call...
{ ... }
jinwoo was simply dosing off within his room when his cellphone begins to vibrate. looking down at his phone's screen, he sees an unknown series of numbers and smiles.
he answers the call within the second ring, smiling into the phone as he says your name.
"you're really persistent, aren't you?"
jinwoo felt his heart skip a few beats upon hearing your voice so close to his ear, making him feel the tiniest bit flustered as he tried to calm down.
"i'm guessing you got my latest present for you?"
silence permeates at the air, and jinwoo nearly let out a chuckle when he hears your sigh.
"i did get your bouquet... it's lovely."
smiling widely, jinwoo sits back on his bed while gently asking you, "so... would you like to join me on a date this coming saturday? how does a dinner and a movie sound to you?"
"...it sounds perfect... come pick me up at my apartment around 7pm."
you hang up the call first, leaving jinwoo speechless as he was left grinning like an absolute fool at the thought of you agreeing to go out on a date with him. after remaining in that same, shocked position for several minutes, jinwoo finally hangs up the phone with a pleased expression on his face.
how did it turn out like this?
at first, he wanted to use you to try and get closer to hae-in, to see if being close to you would make hae-in turn softer toward him-
yet why was he now looking forward to his date with you?
why did he not mind pursuing you so relentlessly?
why did he wish to be your sole source of happiness; wishing to bask in your sweet smiles and melodious laughter?
feeling like he was on cloud 9, he settles his phone on his nightstand and lays back in bed, his shadow soldiers seeming to surround him, sensing his happiness as they all congratulated him.
"the lady has always been a perfect match for our king."
"it is clear that his attempts at courting her has been successful."
"we are with you every step of the way!"
jinwoo was practically soaring with happiness now-
perhaps he was a king, after all...
you made him feel like he was king of the entire universe.
{ ... }
one date turned into two dates-
two dates turned into three dates-
and this kept going on until you shared at least a hundred dates with sung jinwoo.
somewhere in between your thirty-ninth and fortieth date with him, he asked you to be his girlfriend-
and you accepted his proposal without hesitation.
jinwoo was nothing but the perfect boyfriend to you. he doted on you constantly, and you found yourself loving his attention and affections so much that you ended up finding an apartment to move into together with him.
it was such a huge change for you, yet hae-in supported you every step of the way. she basked and cherished your happiness with a bright smile on her face, and you were so blessed- so happy to have a platonic soulmate like her in your life.
living with jinwoo for 3 months now, you decided it was time to pay your sister a visit. she had invited both you and jinwoo over for dinner and wanted to catch up with you. cooking your own plethora of side dishes to bring to dinner, you finished making them and packed them all into neat containers.
"jin, do you mind helping me carry this bag out into the car?" you call out to jinwoo, seeing him appear in the kitchen with a smile on his face.
"of course, sarang." you nearly melt at the mere sight of him, seeing his dressed in a black turtleneck with dark jeans. he meets you and wraps his arms around the front of your abdomen. pressing kisses against your hair, he takes the bag filled with containers and gets ready to place them in his car.
you follow from close behind him, eyes looking out the window to see the grey clouds beginning to come in. "huh, the weather looks kind of bad."
jinwoo takes note of the cloudy skies, "do you want to call your sister and reschedule this dinner?"
you immediately shake your head upon hearing his suggestion. "no, i'm actually looking forward to seeing her again. let's just tread carefully when the storm does arrive and do our best to stay dry."
jinwoo nods his head, "okay, if you say so..."
little did you know, it would have been better for you to not see hae-in at all.
{ ... }
you were just being paranoid, that's all.
jinwoo was not constantly staring at your sister throughout dinner-
even though she looked lovely with her golden hair falling gracefully across her features-
even though she was dressed to perfection in a cream colored sweater and a matching skirt-
even though she wore no makeup and was still by far the loveliest woman in this room-
you still couldn't compare to her.
even with the delicious side dishes you made coupled along with hae-in's cooking, you couldn't bring yourself to eat. jinwoo still sat next to you, his hand barely remaining held within the palm of your hand as he spoke animatedly with hae-in.
why was it that you were left feeling like the third wheel?
hae-in notices your lack of appetite and calls out your name. "ah, what's wrong? you barely touched your food!"
"i-i'm okay... it's just, i had a big lunch earlier."
hae-in hums, not quite believing you, but still didn't question you.
"i know what will cheer you up! i bought you your favorite dessert, strawberry shortcake! give me a moment and i'll prepare it for you!"
you were ready to thank your sister, but your words die within the confines of your throat when jinwoo stands from his seat, taking with him his empty plates and utensils.
"here, let me help you."
without even sparing you a second glance, he goes to quickly help hae-in-
and you felt as though your entire form was bathed in an icy coldness. you shiver and felt your throat close up in response, pushing back your plate of food.
it's all in your head, jinwoo loves you. he loves you enough to live with you-
but a sudden soft moan heard coming from the kitchen breaks you out of your reveries, making you stiffly stand from your seat. your breath becomes more labored and uneven, reaching the kitchen to see something that absolutely broke your heart.
jinwoo was kissing your sister...
and your sister was kissing him back.
a choked sob escapes from you, the sound making jinwoo and hae-in pull away from each other. hae-in held a mortified expression, feeling ashamed for betraying your trust as jinwoo shakily calls out your name.
"wait, sarang, it's not-"
you ignore his words, casting a hateful glare at both hae-in and jinwoo.
"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE CALL ME YOUR LOVE, SUNG JINWOO! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU USED ME TO GET TO MY SISTER! YOU'RE JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER MAN IN THE FUCKING UNIVERSE! I HATE YOU BOTH SO MUCH! NEVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN!"
your voice was dripping with venom, your throat aching from the intensity of your screams. yet still, the tears couldn't be stopped, with you running back to the living room as you grabbed your purse and sling the straps over your shoulder.
you ignore both hae-in and jinwoo's cries of your name, escaping the apartment while slamming the door shut.
running out into the downpour, your tears were blocking your vision, unable to see a damn thing. but truthfully, you didn't care where you went, or even what would happen to you.
your mind kept playing the image of jinwoo kissing hae-in over and over again-
and you kept berating yourself for falling for yet another man who wanted hae-in over you-
but this time, it hurt so much more than it ever did with shik-
because this time, you genuinely loved him.
you find yourself wandering aimlessly into the street, dimly aware of the incoming traffic as several horns blare at you all at once-
yet before any of the vehicles could crush your frame, you found yourself in the arms of a man, a man who knows you as he calls out your name.
"what's a lovely flower like you doing out here in the middle of the streets?"
you gasp, detecting a faint accent in his voice as your eyes met with the glowing, golden gaze of liu zhigang.
you gasp and ask him, "w-what are you doing here?"
he simply looks down at you, "i had a meeting with the chairman..."
the chinese hunter explains while keeping you in his arms, somehow managing to take you away from the incoming traffic. rain was felt pelting against his pristine suit, making your tears worsen since you were now filled with a guilt for troubling him.
"i-i'm sorry for ruining your suit in the r-rain."
liu simply scoffs in response.
"you nearly got run over by traffic, yet you're apologizing to me about my suit getting wet?"
his expression was a gentle one, filled with an uncharacteristically soft fondness as he makes his way over to his limousine. his driver sees him and opens the door for him, allowing liu to settle within the leather seats with you still kept tightly within his embrace.
with the door closed, liu focuses on warming you up, keeping you close to his body. while he was holding on to you, he kept hearing your ringtone going off several times in a row from your purse. lifting his eyebrow at you, liu asks, "what's with the thousand of calls coming from your phone?"
you shiver and give the chinese hunter a huff. "it's just my boyfriend- ex boyfriend, trying to reach me."
"and... is there a reason why he is your ex, my lovely flower?"
his question makes the tears return almost immediately. "i...i caught him kissing my sister."
"ah... he was kissing hae-in." liu's eyes seemed to glow with contempt, now unzipping your purse to take out your phone and answer the call for you. once he takes out the device, he could feel his eyes go wide upon seeing the name of your ex.
"sung jinwoo."
you were still silently sobbing, hiding your face within liu's chest, allowing him to answer the call.
"sarang-"
"sorry, she's quite busy right now." liu's tone was ice cold when he speaks to jinwoo all while drawing comforting circles against your back. "and i'm afraid you have lost your chance with this lovely flower, hunter sung."
you swore you heard a series of curses and threats coming from your phone, but liu simply hangs up the call, proceeding to block jinwoo's number before putting the phone back into your purse. after running a hand across his hair, he looks down at you with a kind expression.
framing your face with his two hands, he leans in to press a kiss against your forehead. "fear not, my lovely flower... i'll keep you with me and will help you heal your heart. you have experienced so much pain already, and i wish to help you."
you let out a few more tears while clinging to liu zhigang, feeling guilty for using him as a means to ease your heartache when it came to jinwoo-
but... just this once, you can be selfish, right?
here is this man who knows who you are- who knows hae-in and is still willing to choose you. fueled by desperation, you hang on to the collar of liu's suit and press your lips into his in a searing kiss, one that begged for his affections.
and as he kisses you back, you felt your heart turn lighter-
at least, for a mere few moments.
{ ... }
sung jinwoo became heartbroken when he realized you had left south korea to head to china with that snake, liu zhigang.
it was a series of unfortunate events that lead him to losing you-
him speaking to hae-in passionately about her raids-
him admiring hae-in's beauty one last time when he helped her grab your favorite dessert-
and hae-in looking at him with suspicion, testing his emotions when she kissed him in hopes of protecting her sister-
in hopes of protecting you.
when hae-in kissed him, he was so desperate to get away from her. to avoid raising your suspicions as he never wanted to come clean to you.
he never wanted to tell you that the reason why he wanted to get closer to you was because he wanted cha hae-in-
not when he found himself genuinely falling in love with you.
not when he found himself imagining a life together with you, sharing everything with you while growing a family with you.
but all of that was ruined the moment hae-in kissed him-
and now, he had lost you forever.
after the incident at dinner, jinwoo left hae-in's apartment and drove around for hours in his car. his blood was boiling with possessiveness and anger, hearing the smirk within liu zhigang's voice along with your choked sobs-
he did this to you.
he made you run into the arms of another man-
and he hated himself for it.
with a bottle of shoju in his hand, he continues to drink the clear liquid while scrolling through his phone, not leaving the apartment he shared with you- keeping tabs on you and liu. it has been two months since he had last heard from you, and the media coverage had spoke about your move to china as you found a new lover within the chinese hunter.
rumors circulated about yours and jinwoo's breakup, yet the shadow monarch didn't have the strength to correct anyone-
all he wanted was to get you back-
and the rest, he would figure out later.
as he wallows in his misery (taking another swig of shoju in the process) he hears a series of knocks coming from his door. a strange part of him hoped that it was you, which was what prompted him to drop his bottle of shoju and answer the door-
only to be met with disappointment upon seeing hae-in.
he nearly slams the door in her face, but... his mother had taught him better than that. and judging from the look of devastation on hae-in's features, he knew that she wasn't faring any better than he was at the loss of you.
"hello... c-can i come in?"
jinwoo remains silent, only giving her a nod when he steps aside to let her in. hae-in quietly thanks him before standing off awkwardly to the side.
an tense silence fills at the air, with hae-in speaking first. her eyes were clenched shut as she bows down to him. "i'm so sorry, for what i did. i only wanted to make sure that you felt nothing for me... that you genuinely loved my sister... and only her alone."
"i-i'm such an idiot... all this time, she's been so miserable standing next to me. every man that she falls for... they end up using her to get to me... and... and i couldn't stand the thought if you were the same way."
jinwoo couldn't say anything to comfort her, remaining silent as he stood there with his fists clenched to his sides, simply waiting for her to continue.
"but when i kissed you, and you simply froze in response... i knew that your feelings were genuine for her-"
"at first, i did use your sister to get to you." jinwoo interrupts hae-in with a strained voice
hae-in then stands back to her full height, her eyes still welling up with tears as they fell down her face in heavy droplets.
guilt was felt coursing through jinwoo's veins when he continues.
"but the more i tried to get her to agree to date me... the more i found myself liking her little quirks and mannerisms. from the way she scrunches her nose in annoyance... and that cute pout on her lips when she gets sad or upset..."
jinwoo closes his eyes and shakes his head, "she's amazing... and...and... i loved her more than i could ever love you."
hae-in continues to cry, but nods her head in response. "she is... she is so amazing, and i'm so happy you got to see the real her."
the young woman takes in a deep breath before facing him, giving him a look of determination when she says.
"please, for my sister's sake, allow me to protect your heart and stay by your side. i won't allow another woman to take you away from my sister. as a way of m-making things up to you, let me protect your feelings for my sister... and let her come back to you when she's ready."
jinwoo was taken aback by the sheer devotion seen within hae-in's eyes, and he becomes filled a plethora of emotions as well when he nods before giving her a hug.
his arms wrap tightly around her, and if he closed his eyes-
then he could imagine that he was holding you instead...
{ ... }
jinwoo's world was breaking before his very eyes.
he had successfully defeated the monarch's invasion on the world, yet... when he caught a glimpse of you-
he followed you, not even paying attention to the rulers when they had descended upon the earth.
of course, you would be back to the place where the battle was occurring-
after all, he was the sole reason the monarchs wished to invade the world to begin with.
when he sees a glimpse of your features before disappearing off into the crowd of hunters, he follows you.
your name was on the tip of his tongue, and when he could see your wisps of hair blowing in the wind, jinwoo swore that he could die happy right then and there.
his mouth was open, ready to call out to you when suddenly, the scene that plays before his eyes breaks his heart.
for he saw you in the arms of liu zhigang, his lips slotted perfectly against yours as his fingers were delved into your hair.
red-hot anger courses through jinwoo's veins, with him clenching his fists in response. he was ready to call out that bastard's name and pull him away from you-
but when liu stops kissing you, and jinwoo could see the genuine joy within your eyes-
it makes him hesitate.
his breathing was abnormal, and his heart had become broken into millions of pieces...
and in the midst of his agony was the moment the ruler appeared behind him.
"you have done well to win this war... however, your heart- it is in a turmoil."
jinwoo doesn't face the ruler, simply casting his gaze to where you were before saying,
"i wish to use the cup of reincarnation... i want to erase everything in this timeline and try again."
jinwoo's voice was empty, still staring at you with a longing as you were held within liu zhigang's embrace.
"that is an incredibly selfish reason. tell me, what would ashborn think?"
"i will face the monarchs on my own in the pocket dimension... just please, let me do this..."
jinwoo still doesn't acknowledge the ruler, yet he could sense the hesitance coming from the god-like being.
"are you certain... that this is what you want? no one shall remember your victory... and the cup of reincarnation has been nearly exhausted-"
"i don't care, just give me this one last chance... i'll do what i need to do, just please-"
jinwoo finally faces the ruler, desperation painting his features as they became twisted in a frown. he bows down to the ruler upon seeing the cup of reincarnation appear within their grasps.
"i wish you the best of luck, young monarch."
and with those final words, the world became bathed within a blinding, white light...
{ ... }
one moment you were in the arms of liu zhigang-
and the next, you find yourself falling out of bed, with your alarm clock ringing.
a melodious yet soft voice calls out your name, and you see a younger version of hae-in greeting you. "morning, sleepyhead!"
she was dressed in her school uniform, and your eyes go wide in realization.
hae-in was 14 again-
you were 14 again.
you remain settled on the ground, eyes going wide upon seeing her as you struggled to find the right words to say.
memories invade your mind, of her being a hunter and you being a healer-
of raids-
and armor-
and jinwoo-
"you-" your voice was about to take on a hateful tone, but you stopped yourself. somehow, you realized that hae-in didn't recall any of those moments, her grey eyes glazed over with complete innocence as she smiles down at you.
"i'm sorry, i know how cranky you get when you first wake up, but mom told me to make sure that you're up. so, come on? i want you to join track with me as well!"
biting back your words, you instead opt to let out a groan instead, standing back to your full height as your brushed your hand through your hair. stepping closer to hae-in, you giggle before tackling her in a bear hug, making her gasp before giggling along with you.
you didn't know why time got reversed... sending you back 10 years, but... you weren't going to complain-
since these few years of your life had to be the happiest moments for you.
{ ... }
two years had passed.
you are now 16 years old, beginning your second year of high school when a new student transfers to your homeroom.
and the mere sight of him was enough to make your stomach churn in response.
he wears the male version of your uniform, and while your teacher was introducing him to the class, he kept his glowing, purple eyes on you along with a lazy smile.
"class, i'd like you to welcome sung jinwoo, as he'll be spending the rest of the year with you all. please, treat him with kindness."
your throat turns dry, and jinwoo still doesn't look away from you. when jinwoo is asked to sit down, he casually saunters over to the desk right next to you.
your breathing becomes uneven, and you try to distract yourself by reviewing your lecture notes. yet still, he doesn't look away from you.
biting down on your bottom lip, you wonder if he'll back off when he realizes something...
something that you always kept a secret.
trailing your eyes upwards towards the teacher, you wait until his back was turned before whispering harshly to jinwoo.
"i remember everything, hunter sung."
his eyes go wide as a flurry of emotions were seen going through him-
but the one you recognized the most was guilt.
finally, he looks away from you, staring down at his unopened notebook.
"i'm sorry."
you ignored his apologies and chose to focus on the lecture instead, feeling your stomach twist further with the anxiety that was felt coursing through you.
{ ... }
you managed to avoid jinwoo throughout the day despite how he shared a class with you.
yet you were determined to keep some distance between the both of you.
when the last period ends for the day, you were ready to head to track with hae-in when a large hand felt on your wrist stops you. letting out a gasp, you were suddenly brought to a secluded area in the hallway-
with jinwoo looking down at you.
he shakily frames at your face with his two hands, gently caressing at your skin.
"i have missed you so much... please, you have to believe me! w-when you saw me and hae-in-"
you didn't allow him to finish, lifting up your hand to slap him across his face. a side of his cheek became red in response, and you felt the tiniest bit of guilt course through you at hurting him.
"i-i don't want to hear it, sung. i know what i saw and... and there's no way i can forgive you or forget."
you hear the way jinwoo's breath hitches in response, with him trapping you against the wall with his two hands.
"w-what can i do to obtain your forgiveness?" the desperation in his voice makes you tremble in response.
you refuse to meet his gaze, looking away from him when you bitterly tell him. “i’ll forgive you only when you’re crawling over broken glass to get to me.”
jinwoo's clenches his hands into fists in response, punching at the wall momentarily before pushing himself away from you. he walks off with his hands shoved within the pocket of his pants, making you slide down against the wall in response.
feeling emotionally exhausted, you decide to close your eyes and fall asleep... feeling too tired to care that you were going to miss track...
{ ... }
the fire started in the chemistry room, with the members of the chemistry club quickly evacuating as the flames began to spread across the school.
the alarms had gone off as all of the students came out of the building and out into the field.
yet jinwoo's heart couldn't help but twist with panic when he saw no signs of you.
"no, please NO!" jinwoo was already on the move when he sees hae-in's crying face.
"hae-in, where is she? please tell me your sister is safe!"
he clutches on to her shoulders, yet felt despair fill him as she shakes her head in response.
"no, she n-never made it to practice."
she was still inside the building-
jinwoo immediately turns away from hae-in all while calling out your name. he berates himself for not assigning a soldier to you, surrounding himself within the black and purple aura before re-entering the burning school.
even with the smoke filling his lungs, he calls out your name, ignoring the flames and how it licked at his uniform. he covers his mouth to hold his breath, quickly reaching the third floor where he had last left you-
only to see you slumped against the wall, the flames growing stronger as the windows shatter in response to the heat. he lets out a grunt, but doesn't let that stop him from reaching you.
so, he begins his slow and steady descent to you, not even feeling the broken glass piercing at his skin. he keeps going, not stopping until he sees your unconscious form directly in front of him.
fear clutches his heart when he brings you closer to his chest, shielding you from the smoke and flames before making a shadow exchange towards the school's gates, away from the crowd as he focused solely on healing you.
the moment jinwoo could taste the fresh air was when he looks down at you. you were still unconscious, which was what prompts jinwoo to surround himself in his dark aura before pressing his lips against yours, filling your lungs with oxygen while simultaneously healing you.
within just a few minutes, you let out a sharp gasp before shoving yourself away from him, letting out a series of coughs and wheezes. jinwoo keeps a tight embrace around you, never once leaving your side as he continues to gently heal you.
"it's okay... you're okay..." he repeats those two phrases like a neverending mantra, still holding on to you tightly when your coughs slowly begin to subside.
"j-jinwoo?"
he basks in the way you say his name, with you slowly looking back at him. tears well up within your eyes when you throw your arms around his neck.
"i... i remember it feeling so hot... yet, i couldn't move or breathe." your voice was shaky when you met his gaze, "you... you saved me...?"
jinwoo nods, lifting up a hand to brush back your hair, making you see the fresh cuts and blood against the palm of his hand. with a gasp, you gingerly take a hold of his hand within yours. "you're hurt...!"
but the young shadow monarch simply shakes his head in response, leaning closer to press a kiss against the back of your hand. "as long as i was able to save and protect you... that's all that matters."
filled with millions of emotions for him, you gently place the palm of your hand against his cheek, swallowing thickly before admitting to him, "i still love you."
jinwoo's eyes go wide momentarily before narrowing, his glowing gaze now filled with adoration for you when he leans in closer to you, "and i have always loved you..."
feeling happy to have you back in his arms, jinwoo leans forward to kiss you fully, tightening his arms around you as he swore to never let you go ever again...
{ ... }
the fire was suddenly put out, and hae-in swore she saw a bunch of shadowy figures surrounding the interior of the building, right where the fire had spread...
however, she quickly ignores the feeling of seeing such strange figures when she recognizes your lone figure being held by jinwoo.
she was ready to cry, sobbing with relief at the sight of your safety-
but the moment she sees jinwoo holding you so tightly while inching his lips closer to yours-
hae-in turns away from the scene, walking back to the crowd in hopes of comforting her other friends, knowing that you were in good hands. as she meets her friends and wraps them up in a tight embrace, she couldn't help but think back to her sister-
the young woman smiles, feeling elated that you had finally found someone who would always choose you first...
a.n. - oh my god.... after studying for my exam, i wrote this in 3+ hours as it totaled to... a whopping 6k words! 😭 i couldn't get his prompt out of my head! as always, this is unedited, but any changes and edits will be made later... after this is posted, so you'll have to deal with any errors at the moment.
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
#sung jinwoo x reader#jinwoo sung x reader#liu zhigang x reader#solo leveling x reader#sung jinwoo x you#jinwoo sung x you#.stories
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are you gonna MARRY, KISS, or KILL me? it’s just a game but really… i’m betting on ALL THREE… for us two
#i’ve been trying to sleep but this song is stuck in my head#it’s so l*nd*scar i feel like im genuinely going mad#it’s like… if the way osc looks at l*ndo were a song it would totally be so high school#‘it’s true swear scouts honor you know what you wanted and boy you got her’ osc interacting with l*ndo posts for ages…#the leap from alp*ne to mcl*ren#no one’s ever had me… not like you.#to ME these two are sooooooo… like i understand why taylor keeps using high school imagery in her music 😭#i can’t even say they’re written in the stars bc that’s a step too dramatic. they’re just so unbearably sweet#but also FREAKS just like taylor lol#this post is the consequence of me trying to stay away from twitter btw my thought r so much worse there 😖#lumine.txt
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I swear to god white cishet boys are like the most baffling species ever because sometimes you will meet these guys who are truly so funny and nice and lovely to hang out with with really genuine kind sides to them once you get past the jokey-ness but THEN suddenly they just come out with the most off-color nasty joke out of NOWHERE and it’s like WOAH WOAH WOAH buddy I thought you were better than this??? hello???????
#someone needs to teach privileged white boys to stop making nasty weird jokes bc it’s so disappointing#when u meet a nice dude that’s actually pleasant and fun to interact with and then BOOM. totally random racist/antisemetic/queerphobic joke#just out of left field#please stop#like I genuinely think most of them are decent human beings they just have the most FUCKED sense of humor and it’s so jarring sometimes#and before one of y’all comes at me like ‘clearly they’re not good guys then!!’ of course it’s not ok to be making nasty jokes obviously#but they’re also high school aged white boys. they’re stupid. they’re very young. they’re privileged.
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me continuously being worried that my being trans is "just a phase" when i have literally used diff pronouns for 3 years, have been trying to figure out the whole gender thing for 10 years, refused to call myself a girl since age 8 etc etc
#i also used to outrightly refuse to wear skirts and dresses up until age 11 where i HAD to for my high school uniform#and i remember learning there were no exceptions to the rule you had to wear a skirt and my heart DROPPED#i was like genuinely sooo scared#anyway idk why i gaslight myself fuck it im doing whatever i want now actually#mine#posting this just to remind myself when i feel this way in future#i also remember being 15 and i asked how people would describe me to others#and this guy said 'boy' and i still think about that today#10 years later#so it's yeah#my trans stuff
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Bark bark bark awoooo
You’re gonna fucking combust.
Somehow, someway, this is Johnny’s fault. You’re not sure how yet, so he it isn’t fair for him to be in trouble, but you know it.
“This is your fault,” you tell him, pouting in bed — bare ass naked, but that means nothing to him, he’s a dog. He cocks his head, and you wave your (broken) vibrator at him. “I don’t know how, but it is. Is this because I wanna chop your balls off?”
His mouth closes, eyes big - like he actually understands you. In your horny delirium, you almost believe he really does.
You flop onto your back with a sigh, eyes a little wet with frustration.
It’s been two months since you last successfully got off. Your vibrator (and its replacement… and its replacement’s replacement) keep breaking, or running out of battery. The plug is defective or falls out of the socket.
Once you successfully got right to the edge - just for it to die. You almost did cry that time.
Sure, there’s your hand. But every time you try ol’ reliable a certain four-legged roommate interrupts one way or another. And when you tried to kick him out of the room, and then ignored the howling, scratching, and general drama - there was loud and rapid knocking at your door.
Like fucking clockwork. If you get anywhere at all, you never get to finish.
It wouldn’t be so bad, either. Your libido isn’t anything crazy, you don’t think. At least it wasn’t before. But now there’s Soap.
Soap who you should not be so attracted to. Who has no sense of propriety or boundaries, who murmurs the dirtiest things to you in the most public and otherwise mundane places. And he just keeps. Showing. Up.
Like he’s got a tracker on you or something. (You’ve checked, he doesn’t.)
He’s like every guilty fantasy you had as a good, studious girl back in high school. The kind of guy to grab your thigh under your parents’ dinner table and take your virginity in the back of his car. Maybe corner you by the lockers between classes to kiss you silly and drive up your absence record.
You never actually went for those boys — and perhaps gratefully, they never went for you. In romance novels, it would be a quaint little coming of age story. The stuff to swoon over. But reality was a lot scarier for you, especially with your older sister always keeping an ear out to report back to your parents and… well, yeah.
You’ve always been a firm introvert, anyway. That’s why you live out in the woods with only a dog for regular company.
But Soap. Soap is some unholy amalgamation of those innocent, shy girl fantasies turned R-rated. Like the grown-up version of those cute YA novels.
And you have no defense for it — except distrust, that is.
Soft-hearted as you are, you know you don’t do casual well. And you know that guys like Soap just like to spin you up and up until you finally give in, think the dreaded words “maybe it’ll work out” despite that rational voice in your head saying, “don’t bet on it.”
Doesn’t stop you from secretly wanting him though.
Fear is the only thing keeping you in check now. Some of it for you own feelings; of getting invested in a guy that has done nothing but treat you like a prime cut of meat. The rest of it is a genuine concern that he might be a bit dangerous. He’s so much bigger than you, visibly stronger. Has gone out of his way to make you uncomfortable (doesn’t matter that a very dark and slutty part of you liked it) and ignored your attempts at brushing him off.
Fear, unfortunately, is beginning to add to the temptation.
“I’m not going to do it,” you tell yourself, or maybe Johnny. Soap’s contact is on the screen. You don’t remember putting it into your phone, but you must have at some point. “Nope. No way.”
You slide a sideways look at Johnny, tail wagging at a steady clip.
“He’s probably a former frat boy or something, right?” you muse.
Snort.
“No, you don’t think so?” you question, sitting up. He happily crawls into your lap when you pat your thighs, chin resting on your tummy. “Nah, you’re right. Could almost imagine him beating the hell out of one for pissing him off.”
A little grumbly noise. You smile and start petting absently over his head and ears, phone forgotten now.
“This is dumb anyway,” you sigh, head tilted back to the ceiling. “You don’t like men. I couldn’t bring him back here.”
Johnny’s ears flick. You giggle and start flopping them around, making airplane noises. Eventually he huffs and starts licking at your face until you stop, complaining that you’ll need to wash off now.
—
“Fuck it.”
Johnny picks his head up, staring at you as you run a hand down your face.
“Fuck it all. I’m going to a bar. I’m getting… I dunno. Laid or something.” Thank god it’s only Johnny here. You don’t think you could live with the embarrassment of someone else hearing the way you talk.
You set your hands on your hips, nod to yourself.
“And if it happens to be Soap, then… sign from the universe, right?” You grimace a bit, striding for your bedroom. “Please don’t let him be a murderer or something…”
For once, Johnny is perfectly behaved as you get ready. He doesn’t try to lick at you when you come out of shower (freshly shaved and lotioned and everything). Sits patiently on the bed as you pick through your closet, even noses at a pretty pink dress you rarely wear but were considering for this.
He doesn’t try to bump your arms or hands while you do your makeup, just watches attentively. You choose a pretty, matching bra-panty set, apply a light spritz of perfume. Hesitate over jewelry.
“Is it normal to wear jewelry when you plan on fucking?” you wander allowed.
A little “boof” from the bed. You’ll take that as a yes.
You decide on a set of faux pearls with a gold heart pendant in the center. Not quite a choker, but high enough on your throat to suggest one. A delicate bracelet, a pair of stud earrings, and you’re just about set.
“Christ, I hate doing this alone,” you mutter, fumbling with the zip on the back of the dress.
Lastly, the shoes.
“Fuck it,” you say again. Your mantra for the evening, apparently. Wobble into a pair of heels, a bow on the outside of each ankle where you buckle them.
You pause when you’re done, giving yourself a once over in the full length mirror. Pleased with what you see. Coquettish and pretty, not necessarily bombshell sexy maybe, at least not on first glance. But the necklace, the heels, the cutouts at the waist of your dress… it’s all exactly what you wanted.
“Alright,” you breathe, tummy swooping with excitement. “I can do this… right?”
Johnny’s gotten down off the bed, is keeping a respectful distance. You appreciate it, don’t want to have to lint roll hair off yourself.
“Oh, god. What if he’s bad?” You ask, giving him a horrified look. “What if he’s been, like, compensating?”
To your shock, he stomps his paw and starts damn near howling. Carrying on and on like he’s bitching you out. You blink in shock, almost laugh — then check the time.
“Oh! Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you starve!”
You toddle off to the kitchen and prep his dinner, scrunching your nose at the raw chicken and beef liver. He grumbles and fusses the whole way, making you laugh as you pretend to have a whole conversation about the economy with him.
“Okay, bonnie Johnny,” you coo, setting his bowl down. “Be good, okay? If I bring someone back here please don’t eat them, okay?”
More grumbles and whines and growls. You roll your eyes, blow him a kiss, and slip out the door.
You tell yourself you just need action with someone. Don’t admit to yourself that there’s really a specific someone you’re hoping to see.
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golden boy
❝ c’mon, this is exactly like the bahamas if you close your eyes. ❞
PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem!reader
GENRES ▸ fluff, crack, best friends to lovers, summer romance au, rich kid au
WARNINGS ▸ profanity, underage drinking, heeseung is the biggest simp ever, and he calls you princess, mc has a stepdad, she is also a little spoiled in the beginning, tooth rotting fluff (like might be the fluffiest thing i’ve written), mutual pining ofc because this is a jayflrt fic, friends being insufferable (mainly 02z)
SUMMARY ▸ in the summer between high school and college, lee heeseung is determined to make you fall in love with the city of los angeles after your vacation plans in the bahamas fall through. somewhere between the lines, though, you end up falling for your childhood best friend.
WORD COUNT ▸ 16,375 words
PLAYLIST ▸ youth by troye sivan • tongue tied by grouplove • ribs by lorde • sanctuary by joji • cruel summer by taylor swift • stars by duncan laurence
AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i have been waiting AGES to share this one so i hope u guys like it !! ♡ also pls play stars by duncan laurence during the observatory scene if you’d like :’)
IT WAS THE FIRST DAY OF SUMMER VACATION WHEN YOU RECEIVED THE GOD-AWFUL NEWS.
“Your father and I are finally gonna have our honeymoon this summer!” your mother exclaimed, grinning excitedly as if she was expecting you to reciprocate the same energy.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t god-awful, but this was the one summer where you didn’t have to shoulder the responsibilities of being a student. Having recently graduated from high school, you were basking in the glow of finally becoming an adult and an incoming college freshman. You were finally free from AP exams, college applications, and the pressure of balancing academics and a social life. So, given all that, you were rather upset that your parents were leaving you behind before you had to fall into the routine of being a student all over again.
You didn’t mind having this talk. In fact, you were glad your mother was telling you in advance instead of just jetting away to another country and leaving a note behind. However, you didn’t understand why she had to have this conversation in front of your best friend, Lee Heeseung.
It probably didn’t help that you two had been joined at the hip since you were wearing diapers, but your families had gotten far too comfortable with each other. Just last week, Heeseung’s mom was asking you if you both had finally “tied the knot,” to which you replied by explaining that you had just graduated high school.
You were happy for your mother and stepfather, really. Your mother had experienced her fair share of bad relationships after your father left, so you were glad that she finally met someone so kind and genuine. You weren’t ever one to judge the men your mother brought home, but your stepfather always got brownie points for playing Mario Kart with you whenever he came over. Not to mention, he bought you the Nintendo Switch to play it on. He seemed to be the only man who didn’t feel insecure about your mother’s success and lavish lifestyle, so you only had good things to say about him.
While you were genuinely glad with the outcome of your parents’ relationship, that unbecoming, spoiled side of you was slipping through the cracks. Even your brain was shouting at you for complaining about having to stay in Bel Air for the summer. Yet, you were just far too frustrated with the bleak vision of your own summer to care about your parent’s honeymoon. In two weeks, you should have been vacationing in the Bahamas with a piña colada in your hand, not waiting for your parents to come back from Rome.
“That sounds so fun,” you chirped with fake enthusiasm, although you supposed it was easily detected due to your gritted teeth, “and that’s not gonna interfere with our trip to the Bahamas, right?” When she didn’t respond, you asked again, “Right, Mom?”
Your mother wore an uneasy look on her face at the sight of your displeasure, so Heeseung cut in quickly, “I think you should probably forget about the Bahamas this year, Y/N.”
“Heeseung!” you whined, sending him a sharp glare. He did not just tell you to forget about the Bahamas. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”
“Not around your mom, dude,” he muttered.
“He’s right, Y/N.” Your mother smiled as she placed her hands on your shoulders. “I mean, it would be good for you to stay here with all of your friends for once; I don’t think you’ve ever not left the country for the summer.” When you sulked, your mother tried to encourage you by gently squeezing your shoulders. “Heeseung and your other friends are here, and you have a car now! Yeji’s family moved to Irvine now, didn’t they? You can drive down to see her.”
You nodded, a little more encouraged. You and Hwang Yeji had been close ever since you met at Choi Jisu’s birthday party in middle school. When Yeji’s parents decided to move to Irvine, finding that housing was much more expensive in Los Angeles County, you were absolutely crushed. Plus, it wasn’t like Orange County was any less expensive, so you felt even more bitter about their sudden move. It wasn’t like you could drive and see Yeji whenever you wanted, either; the one hour drive felt like three with all the Los Angeles traffic.
You hung your head, dejected. “I guess so.” You turned your head to the side, noticing the snicker that Heeseung was holding back. After shooting him a dirty look, you looked back at your mother. “When are you leaving?”
“This weekend,” she responded, eyes fixed on her phone screen now. “I have to sort out my PTO with my boss today, though.” She kissed the top of your head and started heading for the door, heels clicking against the linoleum flooring with each step. “I’ll see you later tonight, Y/N! And make sure Heeseung actually goes home tonight!”
You shot a glance at your friend, who didn’t seem to have a care in the world in reaction to your mother’s words.
Heeseung tended to be scared of everything—everything except actually scary things, like biblically accurate angels or the wrath of his mother.
You gave your best friend a condescending half-grin, which he returned sheepishly. As of late, Heeseung had become notorious for staying out late with Jay Park, Jake Sim, and Park Sunghoon. (Yang Jungwon often joined them, but he was adamant about going home before midnight. Something about not wanting to miss out on his beauty sleep.) Everyone thought this was the beginning of Heeseung’s teenage rebellion (which was rather delayed), but then you discovered that all they did was play games in an internet café and occasionally use their fake IDs to get into VIP lounges at clubs.
When you heard the door shut, you circled around the couch to sit next to Heeseung.
“This sucks,” you said flatly. “Summer means an ungodly rise in temperature—hot enough to melt the skin off my bones, and I’d rather have that happen while I’m sunbathing in the Bahamas!”
“Do you realize how spoiled you sound right now?” Heeseung snorted, looking up from his phone where he was playing Cookie Run from the umpteenth time. You swore he was addicted to the game despite the numerous times he told you he was just playing it as a joke. Your best friend continued, “You should be happy for your mom instead of complaining about your summer being ruined.”
You sank back in your seat. You hated to admit it, but Heeseung was right; you were being uptight about this whole situation. You just couldn’t help but feel disappointed about the one thing you were looking forward to all year long.
Heeseung leaned closer so that you both were shoulder-to-shoulder, and he nudged you. You looked over and were met with his dazzling grin. Frankly, you were honored that you were graced with his attention in the middle of his Cookie Run gaming session.
“You can spend the summer with me instead,” he offered.
You snorted. “That was gonna happen, anyway. You spend all your free time at my place.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Heeseung asked, brows knitting into a frown.
He looked at you so intensely that your breath caught in your throat for a moment. The proximity coupled with the shift in tone made you feel self-conscious, and you were scared that Heeseung was going to let some unspoken feeling slip.
However, his face broke into a mischievous grin. “You guys have a jacuzzi.”
You pressed your lips into a thin line and shoved him harder. This time, Heeseung was laughing as he fell against one of the cushions on his side. You grabbed one of the throw pillows and started pummeling him with it.
“You have your own jacuzzi, too, dumbass,” you retorted. “You’d know if you actually stayed at your own house for once! Also, you’ve lost your pool privileges here after you poured bubble bath in ours.”
“Come on. It wasn’t that bad.”
“You clogged our jets and we had to pay someone to get rid of the bubbles, Heeseung.”
“Jake was the one who poured the bubble bath in!”
“And who was the one who gave him the idea?”
Heeseung grimaced, and you were seconds away from reminding him how you took the fall for him when your parents asked what happened to the hot tub. Before you could, though, he spoke up.
“I was being serious, though,” he started, “do you wanna have a fun summer with me, or do you wanna stay bitter and do nothing?”
Something about Heeseung’s condescending tone was pissing you off. You stared at him before delivering one last blow with the throw pillow.
“Ow! What was that for?!” he exclaimed, rubbing his arm. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics; you didn’t even hit him that hard.
“I’ll see you later,” you told him, turning on your heel to head upstairs without seeing your friend out. “I have plans with Yizhuo now.”
You weren’t exactly sure how you became friends with Ning Yizhuo, but throughout high school, everyone knew the two of you came in a package deal. When you were in third period AP World History, everyone knew that Yizhuo would switch out of her second period section to be in your class; when you didn’t show up to calculus, it was no surprise that it was because you were ditching with Yizhuo; when Zhong Chenle asked Yizhuo out, he realized that commitment came with becoming your friend as well.
At first, you assumed that it was because your mothers were close, but that didn’t explain why you spent countless nights at her place and picked her up for school every single morning. Heeseung even once admitted that he was jealous of your friendship with her. He was drunk when he mentioned that, of course. He would never admit to that while he was sober.
When she got into a school on the west coast and you got into a school on the east coast, though, you thought your life was over. (When you figured out your meet-up plans were somewhat manageable, you felt a little better.)
On the bright side, you were stoked to attend Yale with your partner-in-crime, Heeseung.
“Wait! Let me drive you,” said partner-in-crime offered.
You turned to face him, wide-eyed. “It’s like a thirty minute drive, Heeseung. I’m going to her country club.”
Despite your protests, you knew that Heeseung would be more than willing to drive all the way over there. Hell, you could tell him you wanted to go to Las Vegas right now, and he’d somehow manage to arrange a trip for you two. You had never met anyone as spontaneous as him.
Now, though, you were trying to get away from him because you were a little bitter about his comment. On the other hand, you really didn’t want to drive alone, so you kept his proposition on the table.
“Oh, her country club? The one up north, right?” he inquired. “Can I bring Jake, too? We’ll just hang out at the mall while you do your thing.”
You mulled it over—not for long, though, because you found yourself caving easily. “Fine.”
You forgot that Heeseung bringing Jake meant that Jay and Sunghoon were coming along for the ride, too.
The three of them were squeezed in the back of Heeseung’s Tesla, with Jay incessantly complaining about how he had to take the middle seat. He even went as far as to compare heights, and Sunghoon used his one centimeter on Jay to his advantage. Jake remained silent for once.
You ran your finger along the smooth leather of your seat and snorted.
“Are you making fun of my car?” Heeseung asked with a chuckle.
“No, I’m making fun of how you dropped extra money for white seats.”
“And for the seven-seater.”
“What?!” Jay exclaimed, swiveling in his seat to look behind him. “And you still squeezed me in the middle seat?”
“Not my fault you didn’t look behind you, dude.”
Sunghoon and Jake proceeded to laugh at their friend, and you were about to do the same until you realized you had looked to see if Heeseung was laughing along with you. To your delight, he was. That, and the wind was blowing in his hair so perfectly. The golden sun shone across his face in a way that made his eyes crinkle up and his smile grow. You would always scold him for not having sunglasses on him, but, this time, you were a little distracted by how he glowed.
Heeseung then turned to you, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh. “What’s up?”
“N-nothing at all.” You coughed, tearing your gaze away to look ahead at the freeway. “Are we almost there?”
You just then registered how the backseat had gotten awfully silent, and when you turned to check on The Three Idiots (you deemed this title upon them back in high school, and it stuck), they all had Cheshire grins spread across their faces. It was a little scary, honestly. Their antics were nightmarish on their own, but what their eyes suggested was something that would haunt you. You fought down the heat creeping up your cheeks in an effort to appear indifferent, and you turned back to look at the GPS.
Ten minutes. You had to deal with them for ten more minutes. That was 600 seconds. Maybe you could tune out the testosterone if you counted down your arrival time.
To your relief, though, ten minutes passed by much faster because the four boys got into a heated argument over the superior boba shop in the Bay Area. You had to interject by reminding them that none of them were even from the Bay Area. Heeseung wound up going on a tangent about how he and Choi Yeonjun went on a day trip last weekend, which you would have remembered “if you were a better friend.”
You did remember, actually. Heeseung was texting you the entire time about Yeonjun forcing him to choose between him or a PS5. You presumed that Heeseung chose the PS5 because Yeonjun posted a black screen on his Snapchat story with the caption “dhmu” followed by a wilting rose and broken heart emoji.
(They wound up gaming all night afterward, anyway.)
The Three Idiots sensed tension from the back seat, so they started a new debate: the superior boba shop in Los Angeles.
You couldn’t believe that this was the depth of their conversations.
When you finally arrived at Yizhuo’s country club, you were being nagged by Sunghoon to get out of the car. He was eager to go to the mall and try out a new sushi place that everyone had been raving about. For someone who seemed to lack any seriousness, Sunghoon was extremely diligent about his frequent Yelp reviews; he even got promoted to the Yelp Elite Squad.
“Alright, alright, I’m going!” you complained, shooting Heeseung a withering look—a please save me from your friends, which he grinned at. “Bye, then.”
“Have fun, princess,” Heeseung called as you were closing the door, and you were grateful your back was turned so that he couldn’t see the look on your face.
(“Princess?” Jay questioned. “Did you just call her princess?”
“It’s an inside joke!” Heeseung rebuked.
“And were you just checking her out?” came Jake’s muffled voice from inside the car, and a bark of laughter followed immediately after from Sunghoon and Jay.)
You shook your head when Heeseung sped off as quickly as possible. You could picture it so vividly; he would be defending himself to his dying breath, cheeks bright red as his mouth ran. Although you found it funny, you knew that Heeseung was probably just glancing out the window to make sure you weren’t too close to the car before he drove away.
“Y/N!” Yizhuo called from the entrance. You turned to see her clad in a cotton shirt and tennis skirt, standing next to Zhong Chenle. “Did you think we were swimming or something?”
Yes, you most definitely did think you were going to be sunbathing by the poolside. With a sheer cover-up over your black one-piece, you were definitely not ready to play tennis with Yizhuo and her boyfriend. You even had your red heart-shaped sunglasses on your head.
You let out a petulant whine, taking your walk of shame over to the two. “I’m already in the racquet club, so why would I come here to play more tennis?”
Yizhuo shrugged, but the one thing you loved about her was that she was flexible with plans. “I’ll just change into my swimsuit, then. I’ve been wanting to sunbathe,” she said before handing Chenle her racquet. “Looks like doubles didn’t work out. Are you and Jisung good with playing singles?”
“I don’t mind as long as I win,” Chenle answered with a grin. “See you two later.”
He was clearly delighted because you were probably the only competition he had to worry about. You were sure Park Jisung would complain when he found out that you weren’t going to be his partner. Jisung was utterly hopeless when it came to tennis—or, rather, he was scared of anything flying in his direction.
Yizhuo grabbed her Prada leather tote bag, pulling out a white two-piece with a gold clip in the front after some digging. She excused herself to change quickly, and came back within five minutes. You were grateful she came prepared. For her, though, it was inevitable considering she drove thirty minutes most days to lounge around her country club with Chenle.
“They’re renovating the banquet room right now,” Yizhuo informed as she settled into the lounge chair next to yours. “I was going to invite you for the opening next week, but you’re gonna be in the Bahamas, as usual.”
“Yeah, about that,” you drawled, “vacation plans fell through, so I’m not going anymore.”
“What?” Yizhuo sat up, startling the server who brought over cocktails on a silver plate. “But you always go to the Bahamas!”
You gingerly took one of the cocktail glasses, mouthing your gratitude before turning your attention back to Yizhuo. “My parents wanna spend their honeymoon alone, and Heeseung thinks I’m acting spoiled.”
Yizhuo smirked against the rim of her glass. “How is it that Heeseung always manages to come up in our conversations?”
“He doesn’t!” you exclaimed. “He’s just always around, you know? Like a fruit fly.”
“Just like how Chenle’s always around?”
“Chenle’s your boyfriend; Heeseung’s just a gnat.”
“I’m telling you, Y/N, you and Heeseung are the dictionary definition of couple behavior. I swear, you two are meant for each other.”
You sighed. “Heeseung and I have been best friends since, like, forever. Our relationship is just… different from my other friendships.”
Yizhuo raised a brow, a coy smile still creeping across her face. “So how come you refer to everyone else as friendships, but with him it’s a relationship?”
“Psychoanalyze much?” You sent a mocking smile right back at her. “Can I not have a friend of the opposite gender anymore?”
“You can have one that doesn’t make heart eyes at you,” Yizhuo replied with a scoff. “I’m telling you, the guy’s head over heels.”
“Whatever.” You slipped your sunglasses down to rest on the bridge of your nose. You didn’t want to think about potential romantic feelings for your best friend that could threaten the stability of your life-long friendship. “Let’s circle back to what’s actually important: my summer.”
“Poor Heeseung.” Yizhuo tutted. “Bahamas over love.”
“Love can happen any time,” you said, “but the window of opportunity only opens once, and that golden period is the summer between high school and college. Think about it, Yizhuo! Every summer after this one is gonna be loaded with classes, internships, and work.”
“So, what’s your game plan?”
You pondered on her question. There were only so many options you had, and, clearly, going to the Bahamas was not one of them. Honestly, you hardly felt like a real Californian with the little knowledge you had about what you could even do around your area; all you could think about was the beach or Disneyland. Plus, with Yeji doing a summer program in Irvine and Yizhuo spending her days at her country club, you didn’t have much room for spontaneous activities with them.
Unless you wanted to spend every single day like you would on a regular weekend, you had to find someone who knew how to make things fun.
And, unfortunately, that narrowed it back down to Lee Heeseung.
You turned back to Yizhuo with a sheepish look on your face. “I think I have an idea.”
“Be my summer escort service.”
“Excuse me?” Heeseung nearly choked on the tea your mother made for him. You watched as he set the cup down as delicately as possible while his eyes welled up with tears. He hit his fist against his chest a few times before calming down. “I don’t think you know what an escort service entails, but I think I know what you’re getting at.” He grinned slowly. “You’re taking me up on my offer.”
You did a lot of thinking on the car ride back to Bel Air.
A lot of thinking during the time when Sunghoon wasn’t complaining about the quality of the sushi place they went to. You were almost inspired to write a negative review yourself because of how passionate he was.
“Well, it’s inevitable that I’m gonna be seeing you almost every day, anyway,” you said, “so we might as well make the most of it, right?”
“I knew you’d turn around.” Heeseung reached over and ruffled your hair. “I’ll make sure you have the best summer of your life, Y/N.”
Lee Heeseung excelled at virtually anything. You were sure he would surpass your expectations with these impromptu summer plans, too.
You deemed the nickname “Golden Boy” upon him for this very reason, and it had everything to do with the fact that Heeseung was absolutely perfect at everything he did.
For a while, you even coined a theory that he had been created in a laboratory, specially designed to be absolutely flawless in every way imaginable. Of course Heeseung was born rich, smart, and handsome. Some people were just born lucky into the world, and, when you were younger, it was harder to accept that. Heeseung grew up with the world at his disposal; he got everything and anything he wanted, but that didn’t necessarily mean he took his privilege for granted.
You had to admit that Heeseung was a hard worker when it came down to it. Although he was definitely affluent as a fourth generation trust fund baby, Heeseung made sure his parents were never disappointed with his results.
Throughout high school, he consistently ranked first every single year, always coming right above you after the semester ended. Not to mention, he had even been scouted by several Division 1 schools to join their soccer team. He was even published at the mere age of sixteen for the research he did with a college professor. And, with a face and personality like his, any reasonable mother would’ve loved for their daughter to bring Heeseung home for dinner.
Another thing he never failed to accomplish was making you absolutely flustered.
“Well…” You turned your cheek. “I always have fun when I hang out with you, so don’t let it get to your head.”
“Too late. It’s getting to my head.”
You groaned.
“Hey, we might as well have fun,” Heeseung tried. “It’s not like any of us are vicariously living through each other’s summer romances.”
“Whoa. You said ‘each other.’”
“Yeah?”
You shot him a questioning look. “You’re implying that you have a summer romance that I’m not allowed to live vicariously through.”
“What? No!” Heeseung frowned as he tried to do the mental gymnastics to piece together your reasoning. “I said—actually, you know what, it doesn’t matter what I said. Who cares about being cuffed? Let’s just enjoy the last moments of our youth.”
“You know what, you’re right,” you agreed, getting fired up just by his words. Maybe it was the realization that time was fleeting, but you were determined to have the best summer ever now. “This summer, I’m Percy and you’re Grover. No one’s getting in the way of our side quests.”
“Why do I have to be the half-barnyard animal sidekick?” Heeseung deadpanned. “Can’t I be Annabeth?”
“No, put some respect on a satyr’s title.”
Your best friend picked his cup of tea back up when it had cooled. He blew gently on the surface before taking a careful sip, and then confidently drank more afterward. He set his cup down again and held a finger up, signaling that he wanted a chance to speak again. You were half-expecting it to be about the damn Percy Jackson lore.
“Your parents leave soon, right?” he asked instead. You nodded in response, somewhat surprised about his inquiry, so Heeseung continued, “Do they need a ride to the airport? We could have a sleepover after.”
“I think—”
“We would love a ride to the airport, Heeseung,” your mother gushed from the staircase as she was lugging suitcases down, “but you’re going straight back to your house after taking my daughter home.”
Heeseung swallowed thickly. “O-of course, ma’am. Straight home.”
You pouted a little. “You’re not staying?”
He smirked a little at your reaction, and you were a little flustered and disappointed that you managed to inflate his ego even further.
“Nah, I’ll just—” Heeseung cut himself off quickly when he noticed your mother was suddenly towering behind where he was seated on your couch. “I’ll—I’ll go straight to my house, like I said.”
“Come on, let the kids spend some time together before college,” your stepfather chimed in, following suit with a suitcase of his own. “Y/N hardly ever gets to stay in LA for the summer.”
“We’re going to the same college, Dad,” you pointed out.
“Of course,” He walked over to ruffle your hair, and Heeseung stared up at him as if your stepfather was some respected higher power, “but you never know what could happen in college. People grow apart whether you like it or not, and the life of a college student gets busy, so you two might as well enjoy this summer.”
When all you could do was stare at your stepfather in horror, he added, “I’m not saying you’re gonna stop being friends! It’s just easier to spend time together now than it is in college.”
“That’s why I’m your daughter’s escort this summer,” Heeseung spoke up.
“Escort?” your stepfather pressed. “That’s… a little concerning. Keep it PG, you two.”
“It’s not like that!” you whined. “Anyway, Dad, don’t you have to get to the airport soon?”
He checked his watch quickly and nodded at your mother. “Y/N’s right. We should get going soon, honey. I’m gonna go make sure I didn’t forget to pack anything.”
With that, your stepfather jogged upstairs with Heeseung’s curious eyes following him suspiciously. When you nudged him, trying to figure out why he was mugging your dad for no reason, he grinned a little. He gestured for you to lean closer so that he could speak quietly.
You leaned in close so that your ear was by his lips, and Heeseung whispered, “He’s totally packing your mom’s honeymoon present.”
“How do you know?”
“Classic move. My brother did the same thing for his wife.”
You pulled away, covering your mouth with a shocked look on your face. You had to keep yourself from audibly gasping since your mother was only a room away. Your face broke into a little smile. Seeing someone care for your mother so deeply made you so happy, especially with how she was the one who usually put in the most effort in her past relationships.
All your life, you wanted a relationship that was the complete opposite of your mother’s; now, though, you aspired to find someone who loved you that much.
Speak of the devil. She was walking over as you and Heeseung exchanged mischievous grins.
“What’re you two smiling about?” she asked.
“Nothing!” You smiled and fixed her hair. “Have fun on your honeymoon, Mom. I’ll make sure Heeseung doesn’t get into trouble.”
“Hey!” Heeseung interjected. “I’m not even that bad! Honest-to-god, Jake’s worse than me—just ask Jay or Sunghoon. Actually, don’t ask Sunghoon because I think he has it out for me right now.” He paused before adding, “Now that I think about it, don’t ask Jay, either. Just trust me on this one.”
You scoffed. “Nice going, Hee.”
Your mother smiled, and you could tell that it was a little sad. “We’ll take you to the Bahamas next time, okay, Y/N?” She did a quick sweep of the room before leaning in a little and whispering, “By the way, your stepfather was really happy that you started calling him ‘dad’ the other day. I think he almost cried!”
You hated to admit it out loud, but you felt inexplicably happy at those words.
“I’m ready!” your stepfather called as he came down the stairs. “Do you have everything you need? Are we ready to go?”
“Ready as ever,” your mother answered and turned to your best friend. “Are you ready, Heeseung?”
“Yep.” He got up from the couch, spinning his car keys around his fingers. “Come on, Y/N. Time to say bye-bye to mommy and—ow! Don’t hit me!”
The car ride to the airport wasn’t too long, but you and Heeseung fell into an uncomfortable silence while your parents were gushing about their vacation plans to each other. They weren’t even sitting next to each other. Your mother sat next to you in the back seat and your stepfather sat in the passenger’s seat to accompany Heeseung, but they were still going back and forth. You nearly considered asking your stepfather to switch seats with you so that you wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire of their incessant flirting.
When Heeseung pulled up to the drop-off zone, however, your parents pulled themselves together in record time. You received two kisses on your head from each parent after they got out of the car.
“Heeseung, let’s walk together for a bit,” your stepfather called. When you exchanged a shocked look with your best friend, your dad clicked his tongue with a laugh. “Just until the gates over there. I need some help carrying my bags.”
Heeseung, floundering for words, wound up not saying anything and scrambled to get out of the car to help him out. The conversation seemed to be light and easygoing, but you were craning your neck out of the car window to get a glimpse of what the hell was going on.
“Mom,” you whispered harshly, “tell me Dad isn’t telling Heeseung something weird right now. He’s still traumatized from the time he was interrogated about being my Homecoming date last year.”
Since neither you nor Heeseung had actual dates for the Homecoming dance last year, he made you a poster and asked you to be his date at your doorstep. At the time, you two were binge watching Parks and Recreation together, so he used that as inspiration for your poster: Please don’t REC my plans and say KNOPE to Homecoming. You vividly recalled being impressed by how neat the handwriting was only to be told later that Yeji helped Heeseung make it.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Your mother waved it off. “You should be more worried about how Mrs. Lee calls us in the middle of the night and asks where her son is. That’s gonna traumatize your friend.”
Wow. Lee Heeseung was already a pain in the ass to begin with, and only now you realized how his mother had it a thousand times harder.
“Have a safe trip, okay?” you told your mother after you helped her bring the rest of her bags to the gate. “And—don’t worry—I know when the gardener's coming by, so I’ll be home to let him in.”
She smiled fondly and kissed your forehead. “I’ll text you when I land,” she said. “Have fun, sweetheart, but not too much fun.”
“Mom!” you complained, cringing at whatever she was implying.
Heeseung and your stepfather were already at the front doors, and your best friend’s eyes lit up at the sight of you. You wondered if he needed saving from your father, and you confirmed this when you noticed him cower a little after shaking your stepfather’s hand.
“Heeseung,” your mother started, “thanks for bringing us here. I made brownies in the afternoon, so make sure Y/N gives you some before you go home.”
“Brownies?” Heeseung turned to you with a grin and thanked your mother profusely. “I hope you guys have a fun trip.”
After you all exchanged goodbyes, you and Heeseung headed back to his car. You were able to watch your mother and stepfather disappear into the crowd, a strange feeling lingering in your chest. You weren’t sure what it was, but you supposed you felt a little lonely. This was the first summer you were spending without your parents, and you weren’t sure what to expect.
As if Heeseung could read your mind, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have a fun summer.”
“It better be the best summer of my life.”
Heeseung laughed and opened the passenger’s side door for you. “Then let’s start now.”
“Huh? Right now?”
“Let’s get bingsu,” he said. Come to think of it, you were craving shaved ice; you had mentioned it to Heeseung last week. “You said you were hungry, right? And then we can go home and dig into those brownies your mom made.”
“I never said anything about being hungry.”
“But you’re hungry, right?”
The corner of your mouth twitched before breaking into a little smile.
“Alright, let’s go.”
In all honesty, you didn’t expect anything special from Heeseung. That was why you had your own plans laid out for the coming week, and first on your agenda was going shopping with Yizhuo in Beverly Hills. Since your best friend was so adamant on spending the summer with you, though, you let him tag along.
“I hate you,” he muttered through gritted teeth as you handed him yet another shopping bag—Armani, this time. Heeseung was carrying at least six of them, letting them dangle off of his arms. “I said I’d show you how to have fun, not be your butler.”
“You said you would be my summer escort service.”
“Not like this!”
“Y/N, I swear,” Yizhuo started in a low voice, only loud enough to hear (although you wished you didn’t), “he’s like your boyfriend.”
You sped up to walk ahead of Heeseung, and Yizhuo matched your pace. Your poor best friend was lagging in the back, trying to keep up with the weight of your spending spree in his hands. Even though you told him virtually everything, this was a conversation that you couldn’t let him hear.
“He’s just my escort this summer!” you defended.
“His dad’s the senior vice president at Apple. You really think Lee Heeseung would just agree to be anyone’s manservant?”
“Well, I’m not anyone; I’m Y/N, and Heeseung and I have been best friends since forever, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he wants to spend time with me.”
“I’m just saying, it’s a little strange.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You waved off her concerns and pulled out your phone. “By the way, is the group hanging out tomorrow or something?”
“I kept seeing it in the groupchat, but I wasn’t sure whose house it was at,” Yizhuo replied. She turned and called, “Heeseung! Do you know whose house we’re all going to?”
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Mine.”
“Yours?” you chimed in. “I thought Jake said it would be at his place.”
“He backed out ‘cause his cousins are visiting this week,” he clarified, “so I offered mine. My parents are going out of town, anyway, so why not?”
You were surprised that Heeseung was willing to host. Most of the time his house was the absolute last resort because he hated cleaning up after everyone. For this reason, it was normally at Jake’s house because he was the only one who would tidy up himself without nagging everyone else (read: Jay Park).
You always went to Heeseung’s place on your own. There were never times where the entire group hung out there together, so it felt like everyone was encroaching on your space with Heeseung.
Even though it was his house, technically.
“You’re coming,” Heeseung added, pointing straight at you with narrowed eyes.
You frowned. “You can’t decide that for me!”
“You agreed to let me be your summer escort service, so it’s within my power,” he argued.
You made a frustrated sound. “Fine. It better be fun, though. I’m sacrificing my Pretty Little Liars marathon for you.”
Heeseung rolled his eyes. “We can just watch it together.”
“Lovebirds!” Yizhuo interjected. “I would’ve called Chenle if I knew I was gonna be a third wheel.” Both of you turned to her with wide eyes, watching the blonde’s lips curl up in a small smirk. “What?”
“That’s not what any of this is,” your best friend grumbled.
“Oh yeah? Then why are you blushing?”
Heeseung shook his head, completely turning his face away from you. You managed to catch the tips of his ears flaming bright red. It was rather easy to make Heeseung flustered, so this wasn’t something out of the ordinary, but, for some reason, you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach.
He walked ahead, saying something along the lines of, “Let’s just keep shopping!”
You and Yizhuo exchanged a look before hooking arms and bursting into a fit of giggles.
Yizhuo called after him, “We’re going to Miu Miu next!”
Slumber parties with your friend group sounded cute and tame, in theory. Add six men into the mix, and they became slightly terrifying.
“This is why we need to make plans in our group chat without the men,” Shen Xiaoting muttered to you with her eyes fixed on Heeseung’s flat screen TV. “This is not the girls night I was envisioning.”
Your friend group of eleven (excluding Yeji, who was away for the summer) was currently playing their ninth round of Mario Kart 8. You were all taking turns, though, since the game only catered to co-oping with four people. Frankly, you were starting to get tired of the game after about five rounds. You were hellbent on beating Jay, who was talking smack about how terrible you were at gaming, but it turned out that he was no better. You ended up beating him in the first race itself, and now you were just waiting for them to wrap it up.
“Fuck,” Jake hissed once Choi Beomgyu used his blue shell on him. Jake had been consistently winning every game he played despite everyone trying to get him in last place; in the last round, Kim Minjeong made a valiant effort to use most of her Crazy 8 items on him.
You were surprised that Jake showed up in the first place. Everyone suspected that he would be stuck at home because of his cousins visiting, but he somehow managed to get his way out of it. Although he was late, he showed up at Heeseung’s door with a pillow and a handle of cheap vodka. It probably tasted rancid, but there was no room for anyone to complain.
“Get the item box, get the item box!” Chenle yelled. “But you’re kind of screwed if you don’t get a super horn or a super star.”
“So, when are we wrapping up Mario Kart?” Nakamura Kazuha asked, sighing in frustration after being hit with a shell for the umpteeth time.
“Uh, after this game,” Heeseung replied.
“And how many more rounds is that?”
“Three.”
“Jesus Christ.”
The only girl in your group who enjoyed gaming was Yizhuo, but even she was tired of the seemingly endless rounds. Since the boys were going along with the girls’ plans later on, though, you had to be patient. Appease them with Mario Kart, and then the rest of the night was yours.
Somehow, you managed to grit your teeth and sit through the next three rounds (won by Jake, Yizhuo, and Beomgyu, respectively). Afterward, Jake got up to grab the case of Mike’s Harder on the kitchen island. He proceeded to open it up and hand each person a can.
Xiaoting cracked open her can and asked, “How’d you even buy these? Didn’t your dad confiscate your fake or something?”
Around a few months ago, Jake’s dad had caught him wasted at one of their charity galas. Apparently, the Sims didn’t care too much about their son drinking, but they were furious about Jake acting disorderly in front of their guests. Naturally, Jake was grounded for a month and got all four of his fake IDs confiscated. He deeply missed the one from Connecticut where his name was printed as Nathan Fielder, even though Jake looked nothing like Nathan Fielder.
“I got Vernon to buy them for me,” Jake said, “and please don’t remind me about the fakes. It still wounds me to this day.”
You remembered you used to have a little crush on Vernon Chwe, who was a senior when you were a freshman. When he graduated, you almost cried actual tears, but you stayed strong when you went to congratulate him after the ceremony. You figured he would have been a little freaked out if you started breaking down out of nowhere.
Jay, who was inspecting the handle of SKYY Vodka, let out a scoff. “Vernon? Then you could’ve at least asked for good vodka.”
“We can just make mixed drinks,” you spoke up, scrunching up your nose at the memory of blacking out because of alcohol during your prom afterparties. “Plus, it’s not like we’re actually trying to get drunk tonight.”
“Yeah.” Heeseung stood up and rested his arm on your shoulder. “Y/N and I can make the drinks. The rest of you can help put snacks out. Someone can put a movie on, too.”
Since everyone was impressed with Heeseung taking the lead for once, the plan was set into motion. While Kazuha and Sunghoon bickered over which movie to play, the rest of your friends brought out different snacks for the movie. Arguably, you and Heeseung had the hardest job, but you didn’t need any extra hands for drinks. By the time it took you two to finish eleven mixed drinks, they probably would have settled on a movie.
You looked back to see Heeseung eyeballing a shot into a glass cup, and then he proceeded to down its contents. You cringed when you saw him drinking. The last time he got drunk resulted in you trying to calm him down after he went on a long rant about how he just ate sushi, and the alcohol in his system would cause the raw fish to start swimming. You had to convince him that no, vodka would not bring an already dead and sliced-up fish to life.
Heeseung’s face soured and he pushed the handle aside. “Y’know what, let’s just take something from my parents’ liquor cabinet. This shit is vile.”
“You got triple sec and decent vodka?” you asked. “We could make Lemon Drops.”
“You read my mind.”
“You weren’t even thinking about that, were you?”
“Not at all.”
While you and Heeseung were making the drinks, though, you noticed some giggles coming from the living room. You raised your head to see about five of your friends look away as fast as they could. It hit you before you had time to process what was going on; they were making fun of you and Heeseung together.
You had no clue why. Sure, Heeseung and you had some strange moments here and there. But you two were just making drinks, for crying out loud. Nothing about the situation warranted this reaction from them.
You side-eyed Heeseung to see if he noticed. Thankfully, he was just focused on pouring the right amount of vodka so he didn’t accidentally kill anyone. You, on the other hand, were fighting down the heat rising in your chest.
After a brief war between you and Yizhuo, consisting of you glaring at her and her smirking at you, you ended up setting down a glass and sighing.
“Heeseung,” you said, “go crazy with the vodka in the rest of their drinks.”
“Huh?” he asked, genuinely contemplating whether or not to do it.
“Pour as much as your heart desires,” you muttered and set down six of the Lemon Drops on a tray with a little too much force. Without sparing him a glance, you picked up the tray and went to the living room to hand everyone their glasses. While you handed Yizhuo hers, though, you whispered, “I despise you.”
She grinned. “What? Still denying you like him?”
“I don’t like—”
“You like someone?” Heeseung called from the island, completely frozen in place.
You turned and stared at him, mouth agape.
Chenle spoke up, “No, she likes y—”
You kicked Chenle’s shin with enough force to shut him up, and he grunted before he could continue his sentence. Satisfied, you turned back to Heeseung and shook your head quickly.
“They’re just being idiots,” you explained. “Hurry up with the drinks. We’re watching My Best Friend’s Wedding.” You did a double take and turned back to Yizhuo, harshly whispering, “Why the fuck are we watching My Best Friend’s Wedding?!”
Yizhuo removed Chenle’s hand from her knee and stood up to loop your arm with hers. “Come.”
“Where are we going?” you asked, but she was already dragging you away from the living room. “Is that movie supposed to be some sort of sick message?”
“Oh, good. So you’re aware.”
After making some excuse about needing your assistance to get something from her bag, Yizhuo walked with you to the foyer until she turned on you. You nearly tripped backward over one of the boys’ shoes, so you used the wall to regain your balance.
“Tell me what’s going on between you two,” she ordered.
You let out a sound of exasperation. “Yizhuo, for the last time, Heeseung and I are just friends. That’s all there is to it.”
“I’m just saying, the two of you are going to college together and all, but you have to sort out your feelings before you end up figuring them out after Heeseung finds someone else,” she said. “I mean, what’re you gonna do when Heeseung starts dating someone else? He looks decent enough to pull, so there’s no telling what’s gonna happen when he’s cut loose in Yale.”
You snorted. “He’s already cut loose. I highly doubt Yale’s gonna change anything.”
“You never know. I just don’t want you to realize your feelings too late—you know, when things get messy.”
You both were silent for a few seconds before Beomgyu called, “Y/N, Yizhuo, we’re gonna start the movie!”
“Coming!” you responded.
You chose not to respond to your best friend because you truly had no idea what to think, but it did leave seeds of doubt in your head. It almost distracted you from the fact that Heeseung grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit down next to him. This was bad; you were quickly becoming overly self-conscious of every little thing he did, and that would not bode well for your friendship.
Whatever, you told yourself. Push it down.
“Are there any more pillows?” you asked, scanning the room to see that everyone seemed to have one except you. You looked back at Heeseung and narrowed your eyes at his throw pillow. “Give me yours.”
“What? No way.”
“I wanna lay down,” you whined. He was really the only person you could act a little spoiled around. “Give me your pillow before I—”
Before you could finish, Heeseung threw his arm around you and pushed your head down so that you were laying on his lap. You were startled with the sudden gesture, but you didn’t complain. He was comfortable, after all, and you two usually watched movies like this in your house. So, you adjusted your position a little and continued watching the movie, making a mental note to scold Heeseung later for being all touchy in front of the friend group.
What you weren’t used to, though, was the way he started threaded his fingers through your hair.
You did the only thing you knew how to do in order to deflect; you showed Heeseung a TikTok of a baby otter. Your volume was all the way down, but you still bookmarked the video.
“Look,” you whispered, holding up your phone. His gentle fingers did not stop running through your hair, but at least you could hold onto his friendly hum of acknowledgement. It was the only thing that made any of this feel remotely platonic. “It’s a little guy.”
“Oh, it’s so cute,” Heeseung mused. “Kind of reminds me of you.”
Screw platonic.
He just grabbed platonic and drop kicked it to the next dimension.
That was it. You were going to put your phone away and ignore Heeseung for the rest of the movie. The rest of the movie would be watched in complete silence. In fact, you weren’t going to spare Heeseung any attention for the rest of the sleepover.
That didn’t end up happening, though. Ten minutes later, you cracked and started commenting about the movie to Heeseung. Unbeknownst to the others, you two ended up texting each other messages that threatened to make you burst into laughter. Even though you were sitting right next to each other, you felt like this made your conversation feel like a little secret, like even Heeseung wanted to keep what you two had to himself.
When the movie ended, you two were surprisingly still awake, although there were several moments where you were tempted to doze off on Heeseung’s shoulder. Minjeong, Beomgyu, and Jay were still up, and they were taking pictures of Chenle and Yizhuo to send to the group chat. You immediately separated from Heeseung, feeling a little terrified that you two would be the victims next. However, the others were so preoccupied with Chenle’s arms wrapped around his sleeping girlfriend and their foreheads pressed together.
“Should we wake them up?” Kazuha asked.
“Nah, let them sleep,” Heeseung answered and stood up. “I’m gonna brush my teeth. You guys can use the other bathrooms—just not the one in my parents’ room.”
Minjeong stretched as she let out a yawn. “Alright, I’m gonna wash up, then. I’m exhausted.”
After Minjeong, Beomgyu, and Kazuha left the room to get their bags and wash up, you stared at Heeseung. Your best friend looked confused until you pointed toward his glass.
“Chug it,” you said with mischief dancing in your eyes.
“You’re kidding. It’s bedtime.”
You mocked a pout. “You’re gonna waste the drink I made just for you?”
“Oh, come on—we made it for everyone!”
“But I definitely made this one.” You took the glass and held it out to him, which he ended up taking reluctantly. “I wanna see you finish it.”
After a wince, Heeseung tilted the cup back and downed the contents. Although his face scrunched up, he relaxed once he had finished swallowing it down.
“That was actually pretty good,” he said.
“See? When have I ever let you down?”
“Honestly? Many times.”
You elbowed him in the side. “Hey!”
“Kidding!” Heeseung held his arms up in surrender before wrapping them around your waist. Another gesture you weren’t quite used to, but you went along with it. There was something funny about Heeseung; nothing he did ever made you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, but sometimes you weren’t sure if it was meant to be friendly. “Let’s go brush our teeth.”
“I can just use the bathroom on the second floor.”
“Huh? Just use the one in my room,” he said. “Come on.”
You hesitated before following your best friend upstairs. First of all, you were feeling overly-conscious about going into Heeseung’s room with him. Secondly, you weren’t too enthusiastic about the fact that you had to use a man’s bathroom.
To Heeseung’s credit, he kept his room and bathroom mostly spotless. Sure, there were a few sweaters piled over the head of his chair and some books left scattered across his desk, but it was definitely cleaner than Jake’s mess of a room. You remembered Yeji stepping across his piles of dirty clothes left on the floor, as if they were hazardous to her health.
As soon as you stepped into the grand bathroom, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It wasn’t the first time this happened, so you knew to just take one of the unopened toothbrushes from the drawer. However, Heeseung told you they moved some things around, so you wound up searching for the spare toothbrushes for around five minutes.
It was almost ridiculous how Heeseung needed a bathroom bigger than a living room.
You two brushed your teeth side-by-side. Heeseung occasionally cracked jokes that made you giggle and tilt your head back so that your toothpaste wouldn’t dribble down your chin. When that happened, he reached over and wiped your lower lip with his thumb, despite your complaints about how gross that was.
But, to you, it wasn’t really all that gross.
If only Heeseung knew how his actions made your cheeks burn hot under your skin.
The next week was interesting, to say the least.
Heeseung wouldn’t let you rest for a second. You were going out with him every single day, having to see his face from sunrise to sunset. Even when it was nightfall, he would just invite himself over to your place and crash on your couch.
You pointed out that you had a perfectly tidy guest room for him to use, but he insisted that he preferred your couch. You didn’t mind him sprawled out across the cushions because you could take as many pictures of him sleeping as you pleased. You would show him your collection later when he woke up, and Heeseung would get embarrassed to the point of tickling you until you were in hysterics and gasping out that you would delete the pictures from your camera roll.
At this point, it was almost like you two were living together. Even though his parents were out of town, you felt slightly anxious about one of the adults in your parents’ circle discovering what you and Heeseung were up to. Not that it was anything scandalous.
But, you had to admit, you were having fun.
On Monday, Heeseung took you to the beach. You complained incessantly about waking up at six in the morning for cold water and sand all over your clothes, but you managed to drag yourself out of bed. Still, Heeseung had to put up with your grumbles and groans until you were energized enough to stop complaining. All it took was Heeseung feeding you a granola bar and making you coffee while you did your hair.
“C’mon,” he told you, the wind sweeping his hair to the side as the first rays of sunlight shone bright against his glowing skin, “this is exactly like the Bahamas if you close your eyes.”
“Uh-huh.”
You rolled your eyes at him, but you spent the entire day at the beach with Heeseung, anyway. You finally warmed up to going into the water with him, letting him take your hands and guide you deeper until the water was up to your waist. At one point, a particularly heavy wave pushed him closer to you until you both were chest-to-chest. You had to hold onto his bicep to keep yourself from floating away. And you swore you caught Heeseung checking you out in your bikini later on, but he turned away with pink-tinged ears immediately after.
Later, when the sun was starting to set and you retreated from the water to curl up in your towel, you sat on your large beach towel and waited for Heeseung to bring over food from the food trucks. The tide was getting higher, so you had to move yours and Heeseung’s belongings further up the sand.
Heeseung returned with two takeout boxes of tacos, taking a seat next to you with a relieved sigh. Since you two hadn’t eaten a proper lunch, you had been waiting for this meal all day. You were properly tuckered out from all the swimming and beach volleyball, so you dug in immediately.
“Good?” Heeseung asked, watching you eat with a small smile on his face. He must have been impressed that you practically inhaled your first taco in under five seconds.
“Good,” you confirmed, voice muffled.
With the back of your hand shielding your eyes, you looked off into the horizon to watch the sunlight ripple across the water’s surface.
And, yeah, maybe it was a little like the Bahamas.
Just a little.
You didn’t expect Heeseung to wake you up on Tuesday morning and drag you to an empty field. Although he told you that he had a surprise for you, you didn’t think it warranted being woken up at 5:30 a.m. without a clue of where you were going.
“Alright, close your eyes, okay? It’s a surprise,” Heeseung said, gesturing for you to cover your gaze. You found it adorable that he was fumbling so much, so you closed your eyes with a grin. “Keep them closed—hold on.”
“Heeseung, how much longer?” you whined.
“And,” he drawled, stretching out the syllable, “open!”
When you opened your eyes, towering over you was a 60-foot tall hot air balloon, its brightly-patterned nylon reflecting the bright sunlight. You boggled at its impressive size—absolutely massive. The pilot got down from the basket, walking over so that he could greet you two and provide a rundown of safety measures and procedures.
An hour later, you were in the sky, eyes sweeping over the expanse of Los Angeles. You were never that great with heights, but, somehow, you weren’t too afraid as you peered down. Heeseung stood beside you, keeping one hand on the small of your back as he pointed out different landmarks he recognized.
“I’ve never seen LA like this!” you yelled over the wind, cupping your hand around your mouth so that Heeseung could hear you.
He grinned. “Isn’t it beautiful? Makes the city actually feel peaceful for once.”
You wouldn’t dare admit it but, all the way up in the sky, thousands of feet above ground level, what made you feel like you were soaring was Heeseung’s arm slipping around your waist.
On Wednesday, Heeseung took you fishing. You absolutely hated the idea, but once you had the fishing rod in your hands, you were determined to catch the biggest fish. Heeseung ended up catching more than you, but the two fish you caught were stars in your eyes. By the end of the day, you were laughing hysterically as Heeseung’s hat got stuck in your hook and was flung into the water.
On Thursday, Heeseung took you to play mini-golf. You had gone golfing before with company executives and their kids, but this was different. You didn’t have to show off or try to be the best one there; you just had fun and laughed whenever your best friend missed the ball. You two ended the day by going to an arcade and playing almost every game inside.
By Friday morning, you were exhausted. Your limbs were aching when you woke up the next morning, but Heeseung promised to actually let you rest over the weekend. Tonight was Yizhuo’s country club’s party to celebrate the opening of their new banquet hall, so Heeseung only planned one thing for the morning so that you would have time to get ready for the party later.
Pushing your red Jacquemus sunglasses onto your head, you fixed your best friend with a puzzled stare. He was acting weird all morning, from nearly snapping at you for trying to open the trunk of his car, to staying silent when you asked where he was taking you.
For a moment, you wondered if this was the climax of a horror movie where the killer drove you to a quiet place to get rid of you. Your suspicion raised more when Heeseung parked by a marina with a hiking trail nearby.
This is where your body’s being dumped, you concluded grimly.
But, then again, this was Lee Heeseung. He cried when he was eleven because there was a spider on his backpack; he didn’t have the heart to hurt anyone, especially not you. In fact, you recalled when he nearly passed out in middle school because he thought he caused you extreme pain once. (It turned out to be your period cramps.)
“Are you gonna tell me where you’re taking me?” you asked, exasperated. “If we’re swimming, I’m gonna tell you right now that there’s no way I’m getting my hair wet before the party.”
Heeseung chuckled. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, princess. We’re just going for a spin on the lake.” He nodded his head in the direction of the yachts lined up by the shoreline. “Jog your memory?”
When your gaze landed on the gorgeous white yacht gleaming under the sun, you couldn’t help but gasp at its glorious sight. Heeseung had gotten the yacht for his birthday last year, but he never had the time to actually use it. One reason was because he didn’t trust his friends to not trash it, and the other being that he wanted his first ride on it to be special.
Your face burned. His first ride was going to be with you.
“Shut up.” You were gaping at the sight before turning to your best friend, who looked smug while he parked his car. “Shut up. You’re actually letting me go on your yacht?”
“Yeah, why not?” He tried to brush it off as something casual, but your heart was still doing cartwheels and flips. “It’s about time I went out on it.”
You two walked down to the harbor together, your hands sometimes shyly brushing and pulling away swiftly. There had been moments of thick, unspoken tension throughout the week, but you didn’t have the courage to bring it up.
Once you two reached Heeseung’s yacht, he firmly slapped his hand against the smooth, brilliant white surface. “Carver c52 Command Bridge,” he gloated. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
You snorted. “You talk about boats the same way old white men do.”
You allowed him to help you into the yacht, gripping his hand tight as you stepped onto the deck. You hadn’t questioned it before, but as soon as Heeseung let go of you, he set down the picnic basket so that he could spread out the blanket.
You helped him with the corners of the blanket. “What’s this?”
“Well, I thought we could sail out a little and then have breakfast on the deck,” he replied coolly, as if the sincerity of his words wouldn’t make your heart twist painfully in your chest. You really didn’t deserve such effort from him, and it almost made you feel guilty that you had acted so spoiled before. “I’ll go start the engine. You can just enjoy the view.”
However, you followed him to the cockpit. Heeseung raised a brow at you, but you giggled as you took a seat behind him, watching as he stood at the helm, fiddling with some controls you knew nothing about.
“You actually know how to operate this thing?” you asked.
“My dad taught me,” he explained. “I’m not licensed, though, so I don’t think this is exactly legal.”
“Not like that’s stopped you before.”
Heeseung grinned to himself. He started up the yacht’s engine by pressing a button on the dashboard. You watched his hands fly across the levers and controls before he started turning the wheel to steer out of the marina.
“You wanna head out to the deck?” he called out over his shoulder, but you just took the empty seat next to him. “Don’t you wanna sunbathe? Or you could check out the stateroom.”
“Nope,” you said, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you watched him. “I’d rather wait for you.”
Sometimes, you’d almost catch Heeseung getting flustered. He’d always laugh and rub his nose, looking away shyly before anyone caught onto his awkwardness. The same reaction was unfolding before you right now, and you couldn’t help but smile like an idiot yourself.
You wondered if he ever felt butterflies in his stomach, too.
Once Heeseung had driven the yacht out far enough—far out enough in the water where the water was still and no one was there to disturb you two. You both headed out to the deck again. He took a seat to lay out what he packed in his picnic basket, and you removed your sundress so that you could tan a little in your bikini.
“Champagne?” he offered, holding up a bottle of Dom Pérignon that he most definitely stole from his family’s wine cellar.
You pulled out the two wine glasses in the basket and held them out for Heeseung to pour your drinks, smiling wide as he tipped the bottle. “Yes, please.”
“See, you wouldn’t be able to experience this if you were in the Bahamas right now.” He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. “We didn’t get to hang out like this any of the past summers.”
“As if we don’t hang out almost every day.”
“But this is different!” he argued. “It’s summer. It’s not like we’re making impromptu plans to New York and flying back home a day later to study for an exam. We have all the time in the world right now.”
He was right, in a sense. You and Heeseung were always together, but you two never really got to spend long days together like this. You two got to make plans without involving anyone else in the friend group for once, and it was a lot more fun than you had expected.
“Do you think we’d be this close if we weren’t rich?” you asked after a while. Heeseung raised a brow at your question, so you clarified, “I’m serious! We wouldn’t be able to do stuff like this—flying in hot air balloons, driving yachts, going to country club parties—if we didn’t have rich parents.”
Heeseung crossed his arms behind his head and pondered, looking up at the sky with a wistful expression. He hummed before answering, “I’d like to think that we’d make it work the same way everyone else does.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“What if… you were rich and I wasn’t? Or vice-versa?”
“Yeah, I mean…” he trailed off for a moment, eyes cast down as if he was trying to find the words on his tongue. Then, he continued, “I think I’d be happy doing anything with you, even if all we could do together was sit at home and watch TV.”
Whatever response you had prepared at the back of your throat had died on your tongue. All you could do was look at him helplessly, wondering why his words were making your heart beat faster than when you were thousands of feet up in the sky days ago. You wondered why such gentle words from your best friend had roused a violent storm in your heart.
The wind picked up, sending your hair flying every which way. Heeseung reached out to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face, fingers lingering on your cheek as he pulled back. You went completely still, chest frozen mid-breath as he pulled away.
“You had something in your hair,” he mumbled, quickly scrambling to offer you a caprese skewer. If you looked closely enough, you would’ve noticed that his ears were bright red. “Eat quickly before the food gets stale.”
“I don’t think food normally goes stale that fast.”
“Shut up.”
There was one thing about formal gatherings that all trust fund babies could agree on: only get drunk behind your parents’ backs.
They definitely knew what was going on, but they paid no attention as long as their children were staying safe and not embarrassing themselves. When you were much younger, you would always catch sight of the older kids sneaking away to get drunk in the bathroom, but you never understood the excitement they felt until you became a freshman in high schooler, being dragged away by Yeji to drink with the older kids.
Back then, you were doe-eyed and curious as Vernon would pour shots for you in moderation. Now, you were nearly gagging when Yizhuo handed you a shooter of Pink Whitney.
You two had locked yourselves in the bathroom with Xiaoting, Kazuha, and Minjeong as Yizhuo pulled out various shooters from her purse. It was fine for you to drink wine with the other adults, but you were all certain that the adults would frown upon you drinking hard liquor in front of the other guests. So, the five of you snuck away to get drunk secretly.
For the past fifteen minutes, as you all were downing shooter after shooter, the girls had been pressing you about something going on between you and Heeseung. After he posted you on his Instagram story, showing off his boat in the process, you were bombarded with texts that you were only able to ignore until you got to the party.
A loud knock at the door nearly scared you out of your wits, causing Minjeong to bark out a laugh at the sight of you flinching.
“Occupied!” you yelled, although the syllables slurred together strangely.
“It’s us!” came Jake’s voice. “We’re going drunk golfing.”
You frowned and stepped aside to let Yizhuo open the door for Jake. He scanned his surroundings nervously before shoving his fists into his pockets and stepping into the girls’ bathroom.
“Jake,” Xiaoting started. Although her face and neck were completely red, she focused her eyes on him to keep a serious tone. “We need you to tell us if Heeseung’s into Y/N or not.”
“Xiaoting!” you complained.
“You know what, I’d like to know, too,” Jake replied with shocking enthusiasm. He leaned against the crystal sink, folding his arms across his chest. “Screw drunk golf; this is way more fun. Y/N, do you have feelings for Heeseung? ‘Cause everyone wants to know if—”
“Jake, we didn’t bring you in here for girl talk,” Minjeong cut him off with a wave of her hand. “We brought you in here for answers.”
He let out a childish whine. “But I wanna be here for girl talk.”
“Wait, but answer his question.” Yizhuo turned to you with a wide grin on her face, handing you yet another shooter—probably to make you more honest. You seriously wished you could call Chenle over to put a leash on your friend. “Do you have feelings for Heeseung?”
Did you? You had never been so confused about where you and Heeseung stood until this week. You two had always been close—always did everything together—so why were you feeling conscious about everything now?
But, despite all of your confusion, the one thing that was clear to you was that you felt something for Lee Heeseung with every beat of your heart.
Everything he did, everything he said—you weren’t sure what it was that had you so intoxicated on his attention, but you knew you would’ve felt sick to your stomach if he did the things he did with you with any other girl.
You felt it whenever you saw him lounging around your house, digging into the brownies your mother made as if he lived there. You felt it whenever someone told a joke and the two of you made eye contact with each other first, hoping to see if the other person found it funny, too. You felt it whenever he touched your hand and called you princess, unaware that your heart was fluttering pathetically in your chest.
His smile, his laugh, his happiness—you wanted to be the cause of it all.
You caved with a defeated sigh. “Yeah, I think I might actually have feelings for him.”
A collective cheer erupted in the bathroom, the sound echoing for a few seconds after. Jake stood up just to high-five Yizhuo so hard that the impact left their palms stinging, and then Yizhuo proceeded to scold Jake for putting his full force into the high-five. You pinched the bridge of your nose with embarrassment flooding your chest.
Jake decided to abandon the boys’ plans to go drunk golfing and spent the next ten minutes discussing strategies to get you and Heeseung alone. He had integrated himself into your circle so well that he almost seemed like one of the girls. You slowly backed up into one of the stalls during their conversation, starting to feel horribly nauseous and lightheaded. You were pretty sure that Yizhuo handing you shooter after shooter was starting to have adverse effects on your body.
“How about we tell him that Y/N’s puking in the bathroom and he needs to—” Minjeong cut herself off as soon as she heard you retching by the toilet. “Oh, wow, she’s actually puking in the bathroom.” She turned to Jake after opening the door for him. “Go get Heeseung.”
“If you let me join girl talk next time,” Jake bargained.
“Are you seriously negotiating with me in this situation?”
“Yes.”
Minjeong groaned. “Okay, fine, Jake, we’ll invite you the next time we have girl talk. Now go fetch Heeseung.”
“On it!” he agreed quickly. “Don’t die, Y/N.”
“I’ll try not to” you croaked out weakly, your head hanging between your knees as you willed yourself to not barf out your guts.
“Are you okay?” Kazuha pouted as she rubbed your back in soothing circles. “This is all because you kept making her drink, Yizhuo.”
“I didn’t make her,” she retorted. “Y/N, do you need water or anything? I can ask someone in the kitchen for liquid IV, too.”
You shook your head. “No, just bring Heeseung here.”
They shared a secretive giggle, but you didn’t care. You felt way too sick to mind the girls teasing you. You even tried to distract yourself on your phone, but the bright screen just made you feel worse. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the wall, groaning miserably.
It had really gotten to the point where you didn’t care that you were sitting on the country club’s public bathroom floor. It was all fancy and sanitary, of course, but you would normally feel icky about this sort of scenario playing out.
You weren’t sure how long it had been, but eventually, you heard the door opening and the rest of the girls rushed to make sure it wasn’t someone outside the group. You heard them ushering Heeseung inside, explaining what had happened to you before they left the bathroom.
Heeseung knocked on your stall as a formality but let himself inside, anyway. The crooked grin on his face upon seeing you only made you turn your head away and sigh in exasperation.
You turned your head back to face him when you heard his shutter go off.
A scowl was plastered across your face. “Did you just take a picture of me?”
Heeseung snickered. “Yeah, I’m posting it on my story. Right after the one of you looking all pretty on my boat.”
“You’re supposed to be here to help me.”
“That’s why I brought soda,” he replied, holding up an entire bottle of Sprite. You were confident he snagged it from the kitchen, which you were pretty sure would result in Yizhuo scolding him for treating the country club like his house. “Anyway, why’d you drink so much? Just because I’m driving you home doesn’t mean you’re allowed to give yourself alcohol poisoning.”
You settled back into your previous position with your head between your knees. This way, Heeseung wouldn’t be able to see how stupid in love you were. There was absolutely no way you could tell him that you were mindlessly drinking while you were spilling your feelings for him.
“Where’d the girls go?” you asked instead.
“I told them to go drunk golfing while I took care of you.”
“Don’t you wanna go play, too?”
Heeseung shrugged. He took a seat on the floor next to you, not minding the indecency even though he was sober. You felt like your heart was going to explode if he kept doting on you like this.
“I can always go play another time,” he said. “Plus, I’d have more fun if you were there.”
You both went quiet for a moment. The weight of Heeseung’s words only made your heart feel heavier, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could go pretending that you only cared for him as a friend.
Then, your stomach started churning and twisting with the need to puke out your guts again, and the silence was filled with your retching. Heeseung rubbed your back sympathetically and held your hair back while you hunched over the toilet seat again.
This was definitely going down as one of your most unflattering moments.
“Want some soda?” Heeseung tried.
You shook your head.
“Drink some water, then—here,” he said, handing you a red solo cup that was filled to the brim. “I stole it from Hoon.”
Reluctantly, you lifted your head to accept the cup from him. When you took a sip, though, you just ended up hawking and spitting out the contents into the toilet.
Trying your best not to gag, you got out, “Not water—vodka.”
“Oh, my bad.” Heeseung frowned, inspecting the cup. “Why’d Hoon pour this much? No wonder he drove the golf cart into the lake.”
After throwing up basically everything in your stomach, you started to feel dizzy all over again, stumbling and wobbling all over the bathroom until Heeseung had to hold you upright. He had already gotten Yizhuo’s approval to drive you home for the night, but there was no way you were making it to his Tesla in your heels. Heeseung had you hang tight while he ran to his car to get your Dolce & Gabbana rubber slides, knowing there was no possible way for him to carry you out to the car without the adults getting suspicious.
You felt much more comfortable in your slides, so you walked out hand-in-hand with Heeseung while he held onto your heels. Although you felt bad about leaving Yizhuo’s grand opening party early, you figured that it would be more shameful for her parents to see you in this state.
You had greatly underestimated the power of alcohol.
After you had walked up to about three different cars that weren’t Heeseung’s (including Jay’s Mercedes Benz, which started going off once you pulled on the handle), he had finally grabbed you by the shoulders and manually directed you to his Tesla. You giggled as you got into the passenger’s seat, allowing him to buckle you in and watch over you as he called Jay to turn his car alarm off.
Heeseung shot you a glance as he drove out of the country club’s gated entrance. “You’re going straight to bed when we get home.”
“Don’t wanna.”
He surprisingly gave up fast on trying to convince you. “What do you wanna do, then?”
“I dunno.” You shrugged. “Anything. Wanna bake cookies? Or watch a show?”
“Down for a show. Don’t know if I trust you around kitchen appliances right now,” he answered. After letting out a giggle, you caught Heeseung’s smile illuminated by the moonlight. “See? Aren’t you having more fun than you would’ve had in the Bahamas?”
“I wouldn’t ask this question after I nearly got alcohol poisoning.”
“The important thing is that you didn’t.”
You snorted, but something fond unraveled in your chest. You rolled the window down and looked outside, watching the bright lights of the city twinkle and shine under the inky black sky. You remembered all the skies you watched with Heeseung this week—the hazy gray in the morning, the bright blues of the afternoon, and the faint peony glow at sunset. And, yeah, you would’ve given up the Bahamas any day for this.
“Yeah,” you answered him, though you weren’t quite sure if he could hear you over the wind, “I’m having a lot of fun, Hee.”
Two weeks flew by far too quickly.
You were dumbfounded when you realized your parents were coming back the next day. You had spent two entire weeks solely with Heeseung, and you were having so much fun that you totally lost track of time. You were so caught up in your adventures that it had completely slipped your mind that summer would eventually come to an end.
Heeseung suggested that you two spent your last night doing something special. You had no idea what that meant, but you went along with whatever he had planned.
Apparently, he had been wanting to take you to see the stars, but you didn’t realize that he meant the observatory until you were in his car, parking on the steep slope of a hillside.
“It’s so far,” you complained.
He tutted. “It’s a five minute walk, princess, and it’s worth it. Trust me.”
You hesitated before grouching again, “It’s cold.”
Without another word, Heeseung took off his sweater. You tried to peel your eyes away from his white shirt that kept hiking up as he did. He passed it to you, and you couldn’t do anything but accept it because he was already getting out of the car. You wanted to hand it back to him because you knew he would be cold (made evident by the goosebumps that pricked his arms), but he profusely refused. He seemed perfectly content at the mere sight of you joining him.
He waited as you slipped on his sweater, the biggest grin stretching across his face. You were a little blindsided by how blinding Heeseung’s smile was, especially under the glow of the moon. Your cheeks heated up a little when you smelled faint traces of his Blackberry & Bay cologne in the fabric.
“You’re microscopic in my clothes,” he teased. You started walking a little faster to catch up with your friend, but his comment made you punch his shoulder.
“Oh, shut up.” You waved off the comment, but part of you liked how the sleeves of his sweater fell past your wrists. “We used to be the same height in, like, middle school.”
Heeseung barked out a laugh. “That was so long ago! Look at our height difference now.” Before you could anticipate his actions, he stepped in front of you and compared both of your heights.
You looked up at your best friend, raising a brow at his comment. Of course you were aware. Maybe at one point you denied it, but that was when you both were in elementary school and Heeseung would tug on your hair because he sat behind you.
Being this close to him made you a little nervous. After realizing that you had feelings for him, it was becoming difficult to keep them at bay. It was very clear that Heeseung had become much more masculine over the years with his buffer chest, muscular arms, and deeper voice.
And he looked extremely attractive.
“Yeah, I know you’re tall,” you replied flatly. It was normal for Heeseung to tease you, but whenever he did so in public, you always felt your heart squeeze in your chest. Then, he’d brush it off, and the feeling would fade out like bubbles floating to the ground. “You know, giving me your sweater and messing around like this probably gives people the wrong idea, right?”
“Oh… does it?” Heeseung mumbled, voice an octave higher than usual, and he turned his face away before you could detect the dust of pink across his cheeks. “By the way, have you been to a planetarium before?”
“Nope.”
You had always heard of the large domes that showcased the night sky. People sat underneath as a narrator droned on about stories from the past and the history of the universe. However, you hadn’t ever actually been to one, although you almost would’ve if you hadn’t gotten grounded before a class trip, resulting in all of your friends going to a planetarium show without you. You remembered Yizhuo was texting you throughout the entire trip, complaining about virtually everything that was going on and telling you how much she missed you.
“You’re kidding,” Heeseung’s eyes went round. “No way! You’ve never been to a planetarium?”
“Well—”
“Oh my god,” he continued, absolutely astounded. “Have you even lived?”
“I’ve just never had the chance!” you argued. “It’s not like anyone’s ever asked me to go to one. Plus, if there’s anyone I’d go with, I’d rather just go with you.”
Silence.
You and Heeseung had been settling into a lot of awkward pauses lately. It always followed some odd comment or action between you two, like when he got extremely close to you on the yacht. You still had no idea what exactly his intentions were during that whole ordeal, but your heart had never raced so fast.
Eventually, your silence was broken by an employee ushering you and Heeseung to walk past the velvet ropes and into the observatory building. You both were still silent upon walking in, but when you saw the signs pointing to the planetarium, you nudged your best friend’s side.
“It says the next showing starts in five minutes,” you pointed out.
“Fuck.” He slapped the pockets of his jeans, feeling for something solid in them. “I have my tickets—somewhere. Give me a second.”
Thankfully, he managed to figure out that he saved his tickets to his Apple Wallet. The sign stating that the shows were sold out nearly made your heart drop, but, of course, Heeseung had planned this out well in advance.
As always.
“Where should we sit?” you asked when you walked into the room, looking up at the dome-shaped ceiling in awe.
“Anywhere.” Heeseung grinned at you. “All we have to do is lay back and stare at the sky, so wherever you wanna sit.”
You both settled with two seats in the middle. It was smack dab in the center of the dome, right where the screen curved. Heeseung made a comment about how this was the ideal spot because it felt like you were getting sucked in by the stars.
When the show started, you gazed up at the screen in complete awe. Swirling nebulas and galaxies were painted across the night sky, blinking down at you. The narrator’s soothing voice made you feel absolutely immersed, and you had to grab the arm rest whenever the animation started speeding through the universe.
Heeseung booed when they showed Earth, throwing up a thumbs-down and then quickly shoving his hand back into his pocket, as if the planet would take offense.
And you realized you were in love with him.
You didn’t know why it hit you right then and there—a person droning on about space overhead, glancing over at your best friend to see him gawking at the solar system—but you were certain you would never feel this way with anyone else again. The feeling stampeded through your body, making your blood rush and your bones feel light. You were engulfed in a fire that burned only for Heeseung.
It felt so simple, yet all the more complicated. You were in love with your childhood best friend—the person who had been with you through everything.
It wasn’t like fireworks. Not a splash of ice cold water or like you had been kicked in the chest. It was more like slowly sinking in quicksand, not even realizing how deep you were until you were completely submerged.
You had been in love with Golden Boy for a long time now.
Later, after the show was over, he took you outside to overlook the city. Apparently, it was quite the sight to behold from this high up. You were still gushing on and on about the planetarium show, but as soon as you took a glance over the railing, you forgot all about the wonders of space.
Now, looking over all the bright lights really made it feel like the City of Angels. You were completely captivated by the sight. It was different from how it looked from the hot air balloon; everything was so miniscule from that height, but you could see how far the city stretched from here. The lights blinked past the horizon, and you were certain this was your first time seeing stars down below instead up in the sky.
Heeseung folded his arms onto the railing and tucked his head in them. “You can’t get this view anywhere else.”
“It’s beautiful,” you said, hardly audible.
“Yeah,” he replied. You wondered if he was talking about the stars above or the city below, so you turned your head to catch where he was looking. There was an alarming spike in your heartbeat when you realized he was looking at you, but Heeseung didn’t look away this time. “It really is.”
You never fully appreciated how gorgeous Los Angeles—never really looked past all the traffic and smog and crowd. The bustling city was tiring to keep up with at times. You saw it more as the city of burnouts than the city of stars.
But here, where the stars weren’t in the sky but down below, you realized that the brightest star of them all was the one right next to you.
It was Heeseung.
“You don’t still wish you were in the Bahamas, do you?” he asked suddenly, which spurred you to start laughing.
You stared up at him with incredulity in your eyes. “Hee, I never once wished I was in the Bahamas when I was with you.” You nodded to yourself. “I’d say you made this a successful summer.”
Your heart flipped in your chest when you saw those gleaming eyes and bright smile of his. It almost lit up the sky brighter than the city of Los Angeles itself. The way he was looking at you made you forget everything you were saying.
“Actually,” he started shyly, “there's something else that could make this summer perfect.”
“What’s that?”
“Will you go out with me?”
The question knocked you off orbit, electrifying every nerve in your body like it was cut wire. You weren’t sure what expression you wore on your face, but the shy look on Heeseung’s face was plunging you deeper in that inescapable quicksand. Of course, your friends had suspected this all along, but hearing it yourself was entirely different. You felt like you were glowing brighter than Polaris.
“I’ve liked you since we were kids,” he started to explain after gauging that you still needed time to process his words. “It’s not like I just felt this way overnight. I was just trying to make the right choices so that I could stay by your side for as long as I could. I mean, I’ll always be your best friend, Y/N, but I also wanna be something more than that to you.”
“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he continued. “I knew that this could possibly ruin our friendship, but I also knew that if I didn’t tell you how I felt, then I would’ve been lying to you through college, too.” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “It’s only ever been you.”
Change was hard. You’d been at war with your mind for a while now over starting something new with Heeseung. Although it was unfamiliar and new, and although you were scared of things potentially not working out, you still wanted to try for him.
“You don’t have to worry about ruining our friendship.” The words were on your tongue like a pearl. Your soul leaked out of your body, straight into the Earth, then seeped back into you with newfound bravery. You blinked back tears that dared to spill and sounded so stupidly breathless when you confessed, “I’m in love with you, too, Hee.”
His eyes were as wide as saucers, unblinking. “You are?”
His voice was soft, imploring, almost desperate, so you stepped closer and cupped his cold cheeks with your warm hands. Heeseung’s gaze seemed faraway, but he placed his hands over yours, as if he was trying to make sure you were real.
“I don’t think there’s anyone else out there who would rent an entire hot air balloon just to make sure I wouldn’t miss the Bahamas.” You laughed, a moonstruck grin on your face. “And, for the record, I’d choose you over a stupid vacation any day.”
You had been waiting to see his face break into that dazzling smile of his where his eyes crinkled at the corners. Instead, Heeseung just gazed at you longingly before he placed a hand on your cheek and bent down to kiss you.
His mouth moved with yours carefully, almost like he was too scared to go any further. You moved your hands to loop around his neck, drawing him closer so that you could slowly deepen the kiss. You were grateful that Heeseung waited to match your pace, and soon he was dropping his hands to grab at your waist and pull you closer to him, too. It sent butterflies straight to the pit of your stomach whenever he smiled between kisses, mumbling something about how pretty you were or how he had been waiting to do this forever.
Sometimes, you realized, feelings didn’t need to be expressed through words. You didn’t need the confirmation because with Heeseung’s lips pressed to yours, you felt like you were glowing brighter than the stars above.
You supposed you could say your parents were a little shocked to come back home and discover a major change in your relationship status.
You had to give them the rundown of what happened, of course. It wasn’t very hard to do, considering you had reiterated the same story to Yizhuo about a hundred times until she was satisfied. Thankfully, your other friends just needed to hear it once to fully grasp that Heeseung was now your boyfriend. For Yeji, you had to bring out a whiteboard just to draw everything out to her over FaceTime.
As you broke down what happened while your parents were in Rome, you noticed the silver necklace on your mother’s neck that glimmered whenever the light caught it. You smiled to yourself when you realized it was probably your stepfather’s honeymoon present, and you were grateful that your mother was able to experience such a wonderful love herself.
“See?” There was an excited gleam in your mother’s eyes as she bit into one of the chocolate chip cookies you and Heeseung made for them last night. She pointed the cookie in your stepfather’s direction. “I told you they’d get together!”
“I thought so, too!” he agreed. “That’s why I had that little talk with Heeseung when you two dropped us off at the airport.”
“That’s what you guys were talking about?!” you exclaimed, jumping up to your feet and then sinking back down in your seat with your hands covering your face. “I knew it was gonna be something embarrassing.”
“Oh, honey, don’t say that. Have a cookie.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Heeseung, who had been silent the whole conversation, spoke up. He reached over and took the cookie from your mother, but you smacked his hand lightly while he was bringing it to his mouth. “Hey! You almost made me drop my cookie!”
You huffed. “She was talking to me, idiot.”
You were honestly over-the-moon that dating Heeseung was this easy. You worried about having a boyfriend and having to go through the hassle of introducing him to your parents and waiting for them to warm up to him. With Heeseung, though, he was already like family in your household, so nothing felt too different.
Except that your parents could outwardly tease you both now.
Since you were in his parents’ good graces, too, everything seemed to click for you two. Both of your parents were planning to go out for dinner sometime this week to celebrate your new relationship, which you felt was a little over-the-top. You suspected that Mrs. Lee was hoping you would be her future daughter-in-law.
They were even planning on renting a Airbnb together for yours and Heeseung’s move-in at Yale. It was almost terrifying how everyone in your life seemed to be fully on-board for this relationship.
Not that you were complaining, though.
“Are you guys going somewhere now?” your mother asked, eyeing Heeseung’s white button-up that you were wearing over your swimsuit. “Make sure you wear sunscreen. It’s supposed to be the hottest day of the year.”
You checked your bag to make sure your sunscreen was, in fact, there. Heeseung took his baseball cap off to put it on your head, which made you crack a smile.
“Yeah, we’re going to the beach,” you said. “Yizhuo and Chenle wanted to spend the day at Santa Monica, and then we were gonna head over to Jungwon’s house.”
“Well, have fun.” Your mother moved to the kitchen to grab Tupperware to package the cookies. Your stepfather followed her in to help her out. “I’m sorry we couldn’t go to the Bahamas this year, but the beach has to be the next best thing, right?”
You shared a grin with Heeseung, and his eyes crinkled beautifully at the corners. “Yeah, it’s exactly like the Bahamas if I close my eyes.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you for reading all the way to the end if you made it this far !! :’) i have always wanted to write pure fluff without any room for misunderstandings or angst LOL and heeseung is just the perfect embodiment of bff2l ♡ i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this !!
TAG LIST ▸ @mmsriza @changmin-wrlds @13isacoolnumber @from-xero @acciomylove @nyujjan @goldenhypen @bbanggami @lvsunq @cb97curls @ily-cuz-i @jakeyuni @soobisms @rikibae @soobin-chois @sjyuniverse @outrologist @kyukittie @nabinthegardnn @viagumi @kpoplover718 @duolingofanaccount @jjongsha @teawithbucky @baekhyunstruly @mykalon @heelariously @hobistigma @ja4hyvn @candidupped @shmooooo @pr0dbeomgyu @heeyunkist @sunshine-skz @hiqhkey @baekhyuns-lipchain @fakeuwus @wvnkoi
#enhypen imagines#heeseung imagines#heeseung fluff#enhypen fluff#heeseung x reader#enhypen oneshots#heeseung oneshots#lee heeseung#enhypen
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#1 girl
pairing: dbf joel miller x afab/sorority sister reader
kenny here... tumblr Blipped me u guys. but i loved this too much to let it waste into nothingness. so here we go again take two using an ancient blog i never even used (from 2016 mind u...) enjoy!
You're too wrapped up in sorority duties to remember somebody's supposed to pick you up and drive you home tonight. One pissed-off Joel, curious conversation, and cowboy hat later, your evening takes an unexpected turn.
warnings: no outbreak au, dbf!joel, self gratuitous age gap (21/51), shy reader w/ some bursts of confidence, blowjob (m receiving), handjob (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degradation too..., overuse of pet names... must b all
Of all the ways you imagined spending your fifth day of spring break, the last was in your dad’s best friend’s pickup truck with lame rock playing dryly through the console radio. In fact, last is generous—the idea itself had never even been conjured in your head.
The reason why is because you and your dad’s best friend—Mr. Miller—don’t typically interact beyond the confines of dinners, mandatory laughter, and the occasional one-on-one about something like boys in college, or classes in college, or the drive to college. Nothing much had changed when you moved the brief drive away to UT Austin, and between you everything’s remained the same, even now in your senior year.
For instance, a break—summer, spring, winter—would begin with your parents picking you up and shuttling off to the house, and end with an affair of the similar sort. Quickly into your first year, though, you learned to always insist you either leave school late or leave home early for spring break to take advantage of campus parties, especially because your senior year had cemented your shiny new position as President of Alpha Phi.
Any officer position in a sorority already came with a good deal of responsibility, let alone the presidency; and in addition to having recently turned twenty-one, the role required you to exhaust every drop of social battery, every ounce of skill you had at party hosting and alcohol obtaining without the use of a flimsy fake.
The eliminated nerves of using fakes made you much less nervous during parties, which often led to you letting more loose than usual. This party you’re in was thrown by some frat on campus, but this house is your last place of four; first two pregames, then a bar, then here. At some point at the bar your sisters had surprised you with a fun gift for the night, so you’re also wearing a pink sash, onto which rhinestones spelling out #1 Girl have been glued with precision.
Already you’re dizzy, wiping clammy fingers on the stiff cotton of your tight tank top, the curve of your tits spilling over the Alpha Phi logo. It’s small on you, the hem high above your navel and higher above the loose, low hem of your denim shorts. If they fell low enough on your hips, the high arch of your pink thong would’ve shown itself—maybe it did at some point, you’re too loopy to care.
“Oh, no,” you’re saying, but you can barely hear yourself over the rap song playing and everyone singing along, “no, I hate Jäger.” You’re shaking your head at your best friend and Vice President, Lia, who raises two handfuls of the opaque liquid. She shakes her head, sets them down on the table you’re leaning against.
“Lighten up, duuude. We’re taking them to celebrate your first and last spring break as President.”
“Aw, fine,” you muse loudly, giving in. “Only this once.” Out of obligation and genuine gratitude, you allow yourself to stomach your least favorite drink—then another, and another, a bit of each shot dribbling down the column of your throat and stickily onto your chest.
Lia snaps at the red bra strap that peeks out of your tank strap, laughing. “Settle down, Prez.” A partygoer, rowdy as they come, roughly deposits a sweaty cowboy hat onto your head and you yelp in surprise, steadying it. Whoever gave this, I’m keeping it! you holler, laughing as you feed yourself a shot of something your tongue enjoys more.
Absolut crowds the inside of your mouth when you take it back, interrupted only when a hand comes to shake at your shoulder. In your rush to turn, you nearly hit them with your hat.
It’s Cole, a good friend and member of the frat whose house you’re currently getting tipsy in. His eyes are rimmed and the whole air of him smells like weed. He offers one greeting: “Yo.” His eyes slide down to your chest, where your tugged-down tank has exposed a few inches of your red bra’s lacy cups.
“Hey,” you say, the syllable sounding sticky. “Up here, you ass. Jägerbomb?” You offer a smile.
“‘M a’ight. Listen, some…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to place what he’s here to tell you. Then he nods, having remembered—“Right. Some old guy’s out front asking for you.”
“Asking for me? Old… guy?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, mind foggy. “My dad?” Shit. You’d completely forgotten they’d be picking you up today or tomorrow. Maybe they’d been waiting for hours—it’s one-thirty, the clock on the living room mantel reads.
“Nah, man, not your dad, this guy’s… he’s got a red pickup truck, um, he’s, like, he’s old looking.” He raises a hand above his own head. “Tall.” His voice is drawly with the weed high, but as soon as he said red pickup, you knew exactly who he was talking about. One look at your phone confirms it—five missed calls and a message, 11PM, sent by your dad: Joel’s in the area for work. He’s going out with buddies but can swing by the house to pick you up. I’m giving him your #.
“Fuck.” You blink. “Fuck! I gotta go.”
You never usually have to pack shit to go home, considering the drive isn’t too far. Briefly you consider making a detour to collect things from your sorority house, but you decide to sacrifice the laptop and the few important chargers. So, armed with only your phone, you wrench your way out of the crowd, a few goodbyes thrown in your direction and back.
The front door is open so the partygoers spill onto the front yard, intermittent conversation littering the area. Along the pavement, frat guys’ Civics and and Priuses are parked beside an old looking red pickup truck; leaned against it is—
“Mr. Miller,” you blurt out when you’re closer to him, voice steady (your mind is just as well, shocked back to lucidity from his presence). “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be picking me up today—tonight—” You heave a sigh, apologetic, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”
His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even from a few feet away you can make out the shape, the lines of muscle on his forearms. He looks tired, moody—more than usual—and your heart pangs with guilt at the idea that you could be the reason behind it. But despite your best—really, your best—efforts, your stomach still swoops the same way it did when you were seventeen and naive, enough to find next-door-neighbor Mr. Miller extremely handsome. Hell, extremely hot.
It didn’t make sense. You’d suspected your little crush would be that—an adolescent, childish thing, evaporating more and more into thin air with every drive made to campus. But he never stopped being handsome, never stopped his corny jokes and the pet names that got you warm every time you visited over break. You had plenty of eye candy on campus, athletes and gamers alike, and yes you’d been picky, but had managed to sleep with a select few—despite all of it, only the remnants of your fantasies of Mr. Miller satiated you when your hand creeps into the apex of your thighs late at night, lust wrangling shame into silence for a few minutes.
You blink and the train of thought is over—the real thing is here, eyebrows set low, mouth frowning.
“Kiddo,” he starts, his voice thin with exhaustion, “look, I’ve done my share of… drinkin’, and that. I get it. But you gotta…” He clicks his tongue, eyes looking your outfit up and down. “You gotta let me know, let your parents know, where you are, and if you’re okay. ‘Cause I really did not want to spend tonight drivin’ from house to bar, to bar to house, feelin’ like I was lookin’ all over Austin for you.”
“I know,” you supply quickly, nodding. Your hands, fidgety, find purchase on the fibres of the silk sash strung along your figure. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t check my phone the entire evening, and—”
“It’s okay.” He says, nonchalant, lifting himself off the side of the car to walk to the drivers’ side. Gruffly, he adds, “Car.”
You’re quick to tug the door open, settling yourself on the passenger seat and breathing nervously. Your legs are littered with body glitter, your chest with the tack of Jäger. You spot him outside, his walk slow. He’s annoyed—rightfully so—stopping just shy of the door to pinch at the bridge of his nose, his lips miming a slow exhale. When he finally wrangles himself to sit, it’s quiet for a minute, then another.
“Y’have fun?” He starts the car, thrumming it to life. You nod, then offer a verbal answer—yeah. He nods, wiping a palm over his face. “What were you up to?”
“I, um… I organized a pregame for my sorority.” You toy with the rogue strands of denim of your shorts. “We went to a bar, after… then another… then, well.” You gulp. “Here.” The last question escapes you in a shaky, breathy squeak. “And you?”
“Hah, sure, kid. Had some contractor thing, half an hour from here. Then drinks with a coupl’a buddies from work. Could’ve been home by eleven-thirty,” he says roughly, driving through the still-vibrant streets of campus, “but it’s nearin’ two and I’m on a college campus.” The urge to apologize bubbles at your lips, high in your stomach, but you remain quiet. After a few stretches of dry silence, he asks again. “That party must’ve been real fun for you to leave your old man—and me—on radio silence, wun’nit?”
“Sure,” you manage, stammering. “We were celebrating my sorority presidency.” The dark scenery of Austin blurs past.
“Oh, sorority presidency,” he repeats, both teasing and genuinely curious. “I did hear your dad mention you were in Alpha Phi, s’that right?” You nod. “What’s that, then? Do presidents get cowboy hats?”
Your face grows hot, hands reaching up to clutch at the rim of the hat atop your head. “No, this—somebody put it—it was a joke, Mr. Miller.” A huffy laugh escapes you. “Sorry.”
“Sweetheart,” he says, and you wrench the reminder he’s 51 he’s 51 he’s 51 through your head while he pauses, “‘m drivin’ you around Austin late at night, and I’ve known you for your whole life. How ‘bout we drop the Mr. Miller act, alright?”
“Oh. Okay,” you say. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly, and your eyes wander to his arms, to how he’s basically stuffed into the shirt he’s wearing, big and broad and bulky. His eyes remain focused ahead, so you let yourself indulge a tad bit more—lower, to the material of his jeans. It’s dark in the truck, so you can’t see much, just the flex of his thighs. “Joel.”
“Attagirl.” You chew at the inside of your cheek, already feeling arousal simmering in you, low and dirty. You’re going to soak through this godforsaken thong. “Mind if I make a pit stop?” You shake your head profusely, watch as he pulls into a gas station parking lot. “Want anythin’, girl?”
“N—” your lips form, but you scrap your original answer. “Gum, if they have it.”
“Be damned if they don’t.” He slams the door shut and you watch him enter the store, watch him through the glass panels. He’s so broad. You’d nearly completely forgotten how stupidly you liked him, and now it’s coming, throttling back full-force, especially with the thrilling aspect of it possibly coming to fruition. You are, after all, an adult. And so is he, paying for his shit with a tight-lipped expression, arms crossed again, arms big and—Jesus.
You squeeze your thighs together, willing yourself to get your shit in place when he pulls the door open again, his eyes scanning your seated figure. He tosses you the packet of gum, and you respond with a sweet thank you, Mr. M—Joel, and you fiddle with the packaging as he starts the car again, driving until scenery grows more and more familiar, closer to home.
“By the way,” he says, voice husky with the unuse of not talking for a while. “Think it’s best you spend the night at my house tonight, kid. It’s late. Later than late.” 2:44, the console digital clock reads in blinky red text. “Your parents don't want the door rattlin’ open at this hour, so I’ll let you in the guest room.”
“Oh,” you say. “Sure.”
“D’you have a change of clothes?” He asks, even if he knows you climbed into the seat with nothing but your phone and a cowboy hat. You shake your head and he tsks. “You’re barely covered, sweetheart. Best be careful walkin’ around when the night’s this chilly.”
Barely covered. You think of every possible response, but what leaves your glossed lips is the riskiest: “What do you mean, barely covered?”
You figure if he starts saying shit like what are you insinuatin’, kiddo? You better sleep at yours tonight instead, it’s an easy out—you’re turning the corner onto your street now, and your stomach is boiling with nerves, sticky and anticipatory. “I jus’ mean… it shows a lotta skin.”
“It’s sorority merch, Joel,” you reply, half-amused and half-defensive.
“No, I”—he sighs, like he wants to backtrack what he’s just said—“I know, but… always worth somethin’ to be careful. Might catch a cold with all that leg… all that—you—showin’.” He parks in front of his house, this sizey, homey thing, and your heart flips knowing how familiar this place has been to you your entire life.
“I’m not going to wear winter gear to a spring break frat party.” You’re bolder, suddenly, but even if the statement is, your voice is level, meek, even. Joel nods, as if admitting defeat, and gets out of the car first; you follow, sneakers crunching against the asphalt as you follow him into the house.
“I hope,” he starts when you’re stationed beside him at the door, “I didn’t… offend you. I was jus’ concerned, is all.” Then he’s stoic again, slipping inside, straight to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water. He flicks a yellow light on and you squint when you get there, rubbing at your eyes to prevent them from aching.
You’re still rubbing at them when his gaze drops from your fussed-up hair and askew hat down to the shiny surface of your chest. Your goddamn top leaves him nothing to the imagination, your tits spilling out of it scandalously. The low cut even lets your bra peek through, red and bright and hey, you show up from college wearing these large university shirts and sweatpants—not this, never this. And your shorts, the way they’re really just a fucking belt, starting low on your hips and cut off high above your thighs.
Alpha Phi, the pink text on your white top reads on the left chest area. Right where your tits curve into the top, the slogan is printed: Union hand in hand. God, sororities and their fucking… quotable bullshit. And don’t get him started on the sash, this cutesy, frilly thing he wants to loop around your wrists so he can fuck you over the counter. He knows he can’t—it’s so wrong, so wrong. He’s known your dad for ages.
But you… you're so tempting, a little minx, chirping Mr. Miller all sweet and apologetic, chest out on full display. He blinks when he hears your voice filter through the fog in his head. “—off?”
“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes meet yours again and he feels a twinge of embarrassment at the way your bashfulness has somewhat melted to give way to the clear amusement on your face. You must’ve spotted the way he ogled you; he wasn’t exactly trying his hardest to be subtle, unfortunately.
“D’you have something I can use to wipe myself off?” You gesture to your sticky collarbone area. “I got Jäger all over myself. Can’t handle the stuff.” You grimace at the memory, and he goes to grab a wet wipe; while waiting, you hoist yourself up onto the counter, bare legs swinging.
Joel turns to toss you the packet of wipes, but his throat dries before he can even call your name out. Your back is to him, and clearly you’re waiting for his return—you’ve busied yourself by sitting on his counter and letting the hot pink lace of your thong rise above the waistline of your shorts. Lord have mercy, he thinks to himself, adjusting his jeans as he walks back over to you.
“Wipes,” he says roughly, not anything else.
You accept the packet and smile shyly. “Can you…” you pause, the implication hovering over both of you, heavy. “Wait for me?” He nods, inviting. Warm. And he watches, inviting but not very warm anymore, the way you wipe over the expanse of your chest, over the curve of your tits, every other part of you dusted in glitter.
“So,” you say again. “Since we’re on first name basis now, Joel, I, um—I hope it’s okay to ask questions.”
“Sounds reasonable. Go for it,” he accepts.
“When’s the last time you went to a party?” Your smile is mischievous.
He chuckles, a huff of air. “...Long, long ago, kid. Back in my day, partyin’ meant beer, maybe a little weed… not that I'm complaining there, you understand.” He nods resolutely. “These days, a quiet home-cooked meal with just the people I really care about… is a party.”
“Wow, what an old guy answer,” you giggle. “Back in youuuur day.” Your raspy, honeyed voice wraps around the your with a teasing lilt.
“Oh, I’m old now, am I?” His stoic demeanor chips away when he laughs. “That makes you what, sweetheart? You’re barely a pup.”
At his words—at the utterance of pup—you roll your eyes and try to shift your seating so your thong doesn’t stick to your folds. “Okay, fine, next.” You’re not even wiping anymore, the material wrung into your fingers, which lay in a fist by your side. “When’s the last time you got shitfaced?”
He gives a grimace of a smile. “Aw… boy, it's been a while.” He comes closer, going from leaning on the opposite drawers to right beside you on the counter. You’re sitting and he’s leaning but still he’s taller, just a bit level. “But there was that one time back in my more adventurous days, when I was younger. A bachelor party wh… well, the details don't really bear talkin’ ‘bout in polite conversation.” He raises his eyebrows. “Why ya askin’ all this? What’s will all the last times?”
“I’m curious, is all.” You smile, leaning back; if his eyes drop just a bit, he’ll see right through your top, maybe even underneath the cup of your bra. “Okay, fine one last… last time.” You giggle, breathy. “When’s the last time you… had sex?”
The air shifts, and Joel clears his throat before chuckling. “S’none of your business, young lady. A gentleman is not raised to kiss and tell.”
“Oh, but he gets shitfaced n’ tells?” You test, pouting and leaning closer toward him so you can quiet your voice. “Come on. I won’t tell anyone I even asked.”
He sighs, contemplating. “Well… it’s been a while.” He gets his fair share of lays, when he goes out to bars with friends or the rare date, but nothing too drastic. It has been a few months. “But you didn’t hear that from me, understood? Now, let’s drop it.”
But you don’t drop it, you brat. “You’re like the born again 40-year-old virgin,” you tease smoothly.
“Try 51, honey,” he grunts out, depositing your dry wipes at the disposal across you. He turns back around, restrained.
“And what, you don’t wanna change that?” No, he thinks—what he wants is to take you over the counter ’til you’re sobbing and sore.
“Hey now, don’t think I don’t think about it sometimes. But I jus’—I don't wanna get involved with no one, even though... Hell, if I met the right person, I might just change my mind. Ain’t that the way it goes?”
“That’s such an antiquated view of sex,” you quip boldly, pressing your arms to your sides. “What happened to just having one good fuck?”
His eyes flicker down then up. “Well, hey. Slow down with the cursin’, sweetheart. And what in the hell makes you think I don’t do that?” He crosses his arms, offering a raised eyebrow and an insufferably smug smile.
“You didn’t necessarily object when I called you a twice-over virgin.”
He chuckles. “There’s more than one way to let it all out, my girl. You don’t have to just go all in to hit the spot.” The thought of him using his own—or some girl’s, actually, hand, throat… to get off, gets you all hot. You want to be that girl. His girl.
“Like how?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.
“Old man like myself probably can’t offer tricks you’ll find… useful.” He grunts, prepares to go upstairs. He reaches over you for the packet of wipes and your proximity urges him to stop, savor the closeness before the rational part of him reminds him you’re his best mate’s daughter.
“Okay, fine,” you say sweetly, voice much quieter—reserved just for the space between you two. “One last, then.”
Mmm, he huffs affirmatively, greenlighting your request. Impatient.
“Since when did old men do that?” You ask, inquisitive, placing emphasis on his self-proclaimed old man title.
“What? Entertain l’il minxes like yourself?” He responds, intending to break your newly-built façade of smugness.
“No,” you respond coolly. “Pack nine inches.” Then you’re clambering off the counter and walking to the stairs. He inhales sharply at the sudden vulgarity of your words, watches every move, every little bounce of your pert ass under the tiny shorts, the wave of your hair, every flex of the ridden-up lace thong against your back.
You turn briefly. “Coming or what?” And then you slip upstairs.
He hears the pad of your footsteps grow quiet and shuts his eyes, letting his composure waver in your absence.
Had he known Harold’s little girl would turn out to be the world’s biggest fucking tease—Jesus Christ. “Lord,” he rasps under his breath, repeating a mantra, holding back the urge to palm himself through his jeans. “Lord, have mercy.” Then he follows you, already spotting something different—the open door at the end of the hall.
His open door. It’s the one that directly mirrors your parents’, a revelation they all had a good laugh at. Sometimes if a matter was so pressing, a well-aimed pebble to the glass window would get Joel’s attention well enough. The lights are flicked on, cool-warm, in his bedroom. You’re in his bedroom.
Or you’re not. He walks in to find no trace of you, save for the scuffed white sneakers by the doorframe. He toes off his own boots and spots the walk-in closet light’s also been flicked on.
“Christ, you’re quick. You’re s’posed to be in the guest room.” He gestures vaguely to the one on the left side of the hall, even if you can’t see him.
“I had to pee. And I needed something to sleep in,” you say politely from inside. He grunts softly to himself at the thought of you undressing in there, the thought of you pulling on something of his.
“Get out of there,” he orders. “I’ll get you somethin’.” Under his breath he mutters, “S’my goddamn closet.”
You chirp okay but he adds anyway: “Hurry, out.”
So you do follow him, even follow the order to hurry, because you’re hasty in your exit, clutching the cowboy hat to your chest. “Sit.” He points to the bed, watches you set the hat next to yourself gingerly. And one last time he asks the Lord for mercy, quietly and in his head, before shutting off every other rational thought that had stopped him tonight.
You follow suit, hat still clutched to your torso, and he slowly comes to stand just in front of you, your face level with the buckle of his leather belt. When you shift he catches sight of the side of your bra, the lace of it. Eyes cast to your bare thighs, you pipe up.
“By the way, Mr. Miller—Joel, I didn’t mean to say any of—I mean, I thought we could talk comfortably about it… that… stuff, but I took it too f—”
“You’re damn fuckin’ right you took it too far.”
He spits it out roughly, harshly. Like he’s scolding you. A zip of shock goes through you—you hadn’t heard him swear so loud before. Maybe he is. “I give you a free ride home at half past one, give you water, give you a place to sleep for the night knowin’ damn well your momma n’ dad would both have killed ya if you stepped foot in that house wearin’ next to nothing. What do I get in return?” He looks down at you, two rough fingers jerking your chin to look up at him.
“I—” you squeak, your voice and confidence betraying you. You’ve soaked through your panties at his sudden switch in behavior. Like you’d broken a dam.
“I get a brat… whorin’ herself out to me like I’m not over twice her age.” He tuts, like he really is disappointed, and your heart almost drops. “I get all these damn questions about sex, like you think I’ll break and fuck you on my kitchen counter.” He was considering it. “All the teasin’, all the skirtin’ around in a thong and a fuckin’…” He shakes your chin. “S’there even anythin’ in that head of yours, honey?”
Your mouth’d been open. You shut it and lick over your lips. “Yeah,” you defend weakly. His hand lowers to stroke at the column of your throat, then to hook under the tight strap of your bra, peeking out under the white of your top. He sidles it back and forth.
“S’this why you asked me all those dumb questions downstairs, huh, sweetheart? ‘Cause you wanted me to pull your top open and fawn over this”—he yanks the hat away, revealing your torso underneath—“little show o’yours?” Your cleavage is sinful, downright—perfect, perky, inviting him to mouth at your tits. Your sash sits prettily above them and he can’t help but pull at it, too, jolting you toward him.
“N—” you inhale sharply, letting him pull and push you around as he pleases. He observes the blinding glittery writing on the pink material and lets out a humorless, self-satisfied huff of laughter.
“Number… one… girl.” His rough thumb grazes over the divots of the rhinestones. “That’s jus’ about right, ain’t it?”
“Yes,” you reply, voice small.
“I’m not sure I agree, baby girl,” he drawls. His touch is precise—he knows exactly where to go, what he’s doing—but rough, dirty, almost, and the huge size of his hands don’t help to support otherwise. He tugs down your tank top so it’s tucked underneath your bra, and you yelp, making a move to cover yourself. He laughs again—“Sure, go all shy on me like you haven’t been showin’ yourself off to me all night. Knees.”
You get off quick, so quick you’re dizzy when you steady yourself on two knees. Two lithe hands make their way to his belt but he steps backward, revels in your evident confusion, clumsiness, the flush high on your cheekbones. “Buckle down, sweetheart.”
“But—”
“No goddamn buts. Listen to me.” He ends up being the one to make work of his belt, and while he talks you have to bite your lip to keep from going slack-jawed at the sight of him. You’d been kidding about the nine inches thing, but Christ he’s huge, strained against the tight denim. He’s thick even under the layers of clothing, and all you want to do is choke on him. “You’re gonna let me use that mouth t’get off, first thing,” he grunts, like this is all some chore to him, “because I am not goin’ to put my cock in my best mate’s daughter.”
“How about,” you croak lightly, “your fingers, then?”
“Jesu—we’ll see.” He tugs his cock out then, and he’s fucking huge, he really is, his tip angry and flushed and being rubbed along your lips, sticking them up with his precum. He sighs contentedly, humming low, the vibration sent straight to your half-open mouth. You suck on the tip of him, watch a slow smile form on his face. “That sash oughta say somethin’ else.”
Your silence grants elaboration. “Number one slut, maybe.” You shift on your thighs, trying to hide how aroused you are at his mean behavior. But he can tell, he can watch the way your blinking slows, the way your eyes glazed over, glassy and teary from trying to take more of him. He doesn’t tell you to slow down, or go faster; he just watches, eyebrows knitted, focused. “Budge up.”
A hand, big and calloused, threads through your hair and gives a tug, goading your mouth open so more of his cock slips past. Your jaw aches from the attempt alone, so you pull off before you start choking too much, tonguing at the parts of him you can’t reach—lower, until you’re laving at his balls. He grunts, pleasured, simmered down. Attagirl. Then you’re back, bobbing up and down, trying despite yourself to take all of him, until your eyes are watery and you’re spluttering, choked.
“Now this is…” He says, and it comes out in a contented little sigh, “a number one throat. Keep those pretty lips open, honey, ‘m gonna fuck them.”
You do, your achy jaw slacked as he begins bucking into your mouth, the sounds of your choking only spurring him on. He’s dominant, taking and taking, and you’re humiliated to find how wet you are, soaked through the lace of your thong and darkening the denim of your shorts. The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat only gets him to thrust even faster, watching tears fall from your eyes, streaky with mascara. His best friend’s daughter, taking dick like a fucking champ.
He thrusts harder, each sound emitting a nasty, incoherent noise out of you, choked little gasps that have him harder each time. Gonna fuck this throat raw, he mutters. Since that’s what you wan’ed, ain’t it? You reach up, light fingers massaging his balls, and then his hips stutter, and with barely any warning, you feel his hot seed shoot into your throat, little satisfied groans leaving the man above you.
You swallow what you can, limited by his dick still in your mouth. When he pulls out you lap at the cum left behind, circle your tongue around your lips, make a whole show of it. You speak again, your voice raspy and spent: “Please, my turn?”
He lifts you up and smirks at the way you yelp in surprise, tossing you onto the bed and pulling you back onto your knees, your back to his chest. He wrangles your shorts off, gives your ass a smack as he pulls them down, enough to expose what’s underneath. The stiff material gathers just above your bent knees, restraining you from moving much.
“D’you know what,” he says, still sounding angry—like he’s lecturing you, stern, “I could’ve been in bed, wakin’ up at six to work… instead I gotta teach this little brat a fuckin’ lesson. Your old man not teach y’enough manners?” He tugs your bra down, thumbs roughly at your pebbled nipples, wrenching a moan out of you. He’s hard again, dick poking into your ass, and fuck you want him in you.
“He didn’t,” you sniffle, pitiful. “Y’gotta teach me, Daddy.”
“Oh, she likes that, don’t she?” He grumbles, like the title is annoying, juvenile. The way his cock twitches tells you otherwise. “Shut up, baby honey. I got this.” He reaches up your thighs and the ticklish, pleasurable sensation gets you hot.
Joel, you whimper, seizing in on yourself. He grabs your other arm, pulls it back toward him so you remain open and pliant. Please, wait.
“No time for waitin’, not when you spend hours prancin’ around like a little whore, sweetheart.” Without preamble, he’s running his fingers up your thighs again, not stopping this time until his fingers are pressing into your clit, rubbing over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. “And you’re so fucking wet for me. My number one girl, ain’t you?”
“Yea,” you babble dumbly. “Your number one girl.”
“Thaaat’s right. My girl needs her needy cunt filled up, don’t she? By Daddy’s fat fingers.” You nod along, drawn in by the vulgarity of his words, the way he spits them out. You’ve spent several nights fantasizing how his big, rough hands would feel on you—and you’ve been outproven. He’s so fast, so skilled with his fingers; they feel delicious in you. And you can’t stop thinking about all of those girls he implied he’s slept with, the way they probably got to this first. Lucky bitches.
He’s gotten you so wet the entire night, even moreso now, that your pussy is making obscene squelching noises with each pump of his fingers, these nastily loud noises that humiliate you, that turn you on even more, that make you drip all onto Joel’s linen sheets. Fuck, you whimper. He swats at your ass. No swearing, he’s saying.
“Look up for me, honey. Up at the window.” Outside, the sun’s beginning to crawl over Austin, just the faint blues and yellows of early morning. You realize you know this because his curtain’s been pulled open—by him, earlier, before any of this even started, you assume. And the only other thing you can see other than the sky and the sliver of the neighborhood is your parents’ window.
“No,” you plead, looking down. He doesn’t let you, tugs you back up to look by your hair. He knows your parents won’t be up ’til seven-thirty latest. But you don’t know that, and for now, you don’t have to.
“What then, huh, sweetheart? When they go to check on the weather n’ they see their best friend poundin’ their young daughter? What’d they think?” You jerk away, overcome with pleasure and embarrassment at the imaginary situation. You feel his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you up. They’re probably thick and hot, glistening each time they come out. You’re tightening up; you’ll cum soon, make a mess on his hand, which already drips with slick. “So you better hurry. Better make a mess on me soon.”
“I am, I’m—I’m gonna,” you moan. You’re wrapped up in the way his fingers play you just the right way. You’re so close to the surface, and you’ve been wanting this for way too long, so you nod, let yourself get carried away by his words, let yourself give in, spreading your legs as wide as they can go as he fingerfucks you, working out the tension that’s been building up for forever.
“That’s my number one girl,” he grins into your neck, and you’re convulsing release onto his hand, wetting it even further. He wraps a hand around your waist, keeps you close to his figure, his erection at the small of your back. “That’s it, honey. Did so well for me.”
“I want it,” you say meekly. “Even if they see.”
He groans. “Sweetheart, you must think real low of me to believe I’d put my cock anywhere near Harold’s daughter’s pussy.”
You tug your panties fully down, just enough so they fall off on their own the rest of the way, and guide his slick hand behind yourself, pressing his finger first into your folds again, sensitive, and then up toward your tighter hole.
You feel his breath tighten behind you when you say: “How ‘bout there?”
#dbf!joel#joel miller#joel miller imagine#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal smut#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller tlou#the last of us#tlou x reader#joel tlou#joel the last of us#joel x reader#pedro pascal x reader#tlou smut
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Another twst oc introduction 🏃♀️
Jaseem
School : Royal Sword Academy
Favourite food: Rice dishes, Shawarma
Pastime: Playing with his pet tiger Rana, Visiting Kalim, Discovering wildlife
Family: Father, Mother, Kalim(Cousin)
Role: Dormhead
Jaseem is a third year at RSA. To most people he may seem like a lone wolf who despises making friendships, but underneath the surface is a gentle boy who longs for freedom.
Being born from a wealthy family with relations to the Asims, Jaseem’s status is nothing new to even the freshmen. Every year groups of students and parents from high status families would flock around him offering their sister/daughters hand in marriage.
Before he was allowed to bring Rana to school (don’t ask me how he did it-) Jaseem had no choice but to either 1. Run as fast as possible or 2. Teleport himself to a safe spot. Now with Rana, a fearsome tiger donning an expensive turquoise silk ribbon, nobody dares to approach Jaseem anymore.
Personality wise, Jaseem is extremely sharp-tongued and will not tolerate a single second on people he deems as childish. He is capable of cooperating with others but would prefer to work alone. Despite the cold exterior, if one can prove that they love tigers as much as he does.. maybe they’d stand a chance to win his attention. And if you can win his trust, Jaseem is probably the most loyal ally/friend you will ever get.
Having attended many arranged marriage meetings, Jaseem is already accustomed to how he must act around the ladies even if he dislikes interacting with them and entertaining their thoughtless comments about his wealth.
He is actually really bad at conveying his feelings, particularly romantic ones. He can no longer grasp the real meaning of love and has trust issues about whether someone is genuinely interested in him. This only numbed Jaseem more over the years hence brushing these feelings aside.
Jaseem has a general disliking towards women due to his past, but he will respect those who deserve it and mean their words. He won’t voice his opinions unless the situation gets on his nerves.
Jaseem’s mother was hospitalised when he was a young child and has been living there for many years, only visiting for a few days when the doctors deem her suitable. Due to schoolwork and other business matters, Jaseem is unable to visit her as much as his father. But he tries to make time for her as he feels most comfortable and at ease when talking to her about his troubles.
His father already told him that he will never marry another woman as he loves his wife very much, this made Jaseem envious as he hopes to be able to find someone he can stand by faithfully someday. While he feels that his father can be rather strict, both father and son have mutual respect for one another as they only want the best for the family.
Backstory
Back when the life wasn’t as complicated, Jaseem was extremely cheerful and lived every day to the fullest with the vast amount of wealth his family possessed.
However when he had reached the age of 10, his life began to fall apart. As the only son, Jaseem was forced to find a future wife sooner or later. From then on he had to attend countless numbers of arranged marriage meetings, parties while attending his father’s business conferences. Jaseem thought he could shoulder this responsibility , but that pressure would just build up later as he grew older.
Arranged marriage meetings were the worst. Jaseem learnt how shallow and sly people could be, faking their entire personality to coddle up to him for the sole purpose of attaining his family’s wealth. “But that’s just the reality of being the only heir isn’t it”, he thought. Jaseem became increasingly saddened over the fact that no one genuinely TRIED to understand his hobbies or know more about him, only throwing empty praises about his home/accessories/looks.
Since young Jaseem has been fascinated with tigers and his mother was the one who encouraged him to take care of one ( much to his father’s reluctance), thus Rana became his new family member. Many of his suitresses cringed at the sight of Rana whom they saw as a dirty, wild animal. Sometimes Jaseem’s father had no choice but to order the guards to take Rana away in order to force Jaseem to follow his schedule , which made him even more depressed.
Eventually, Jaseem had reached his breaking point during one of the parties and wanted to escape his “cage” even bringing Rana with him. It was then he met a young, white haired boy in the greenhouse. Jaseem couldn’t hold back his tears when the boy comforted him, claiming that he can share the same sentiments. It was after they were called to the main event where Jaseem learnt that the boy was no other than Kalim Al Asim, the oldest son and soon-to-be heir of one of the richest families in the world and his cousin.
From that moment onwards, the two spent their childhood days together basking in the sunlight and running around the mansion. They confided in each other, became each other’s source of strength to keep doing their best( this was especially stronger for Jaseem towards Kalim). They drifted a little after entering higher education, but still keep in contact.
For Jaseem, Kalim is the definition of the sun. Had he not met this smiley boy showing off his unique magic and telling him how he must continue to do his best as not only the heir but as an older brother too, Jaseem would have had a different fate and never face his reality. This explains why he hates Jamil to the core after knowing what he had done when he overblotted.
Current lifestyle for Jaseem was no different from his younger days, he still attends arranged marriage meetings (fewer due to school) and gets numerous phonecalls from his father about countries they have to fly to for business conferences. Jaseem became more adept at his dealings with women and can twist meetings to end faster to save his time to do something useful.. like picking a new silk ribbon for Rana. 🐯
Relationships
Kalim
Cousins by blood and childhood best friends. While many students in NRC thinks Kalim is way too carefree, Jaseem would cut in and tell them off as Kalim is not the oblivious rich boy many thinks he is.
He respects Kalim’s motto to be kind to others, lend a helping hand when needed and staying positive despite the challenges life throws at him. Jaseem wishes to protect this precious spirit, praying that Kalim will have nothing but happiness in his life. Jaseem truly looks up to Kalim for being able to smile through everything he’s been through, believing that he wouldn’t even survive a day in that household knowing he might not live to see the next day.
Jaseem can be extremely over protective of Kalim especially when Jamil is around. “I can’t let that damn snake cause any harm to my cousin..”he would think angrily while glaring at Jamil💀
Jamil
If not for the sake of his family image and Kalim Jaseem would have pummeled Jamil to the ground for the things he said and had done to Kalim. While he tries his best to understand Kalim, Jaseem still cannot fathom why he’d want to keep this traitor who doesn’t even consider him a friend by his side.
Unlike his caring and soft self when he is with Kalim, Jaseem treats Jamil like a mere servant and only replies with direct commands. Sometimes he would mock Jamil for the sake of belittling him, but would not stoop as low as to bring his family into it. The atmosphere around these two can be very intense indeed.
If Jaseem learns to see the overblot incident from Jamil’s point of view, perhaps he will come to understand that the two of them aren’t so different after all.
Najma
One of the few girls he respects, Jaseem is like a second older brother to Najma. Of course Najma catches on quick and can tell that Jaseem isn’t exactly fond of her brother, so she has to constantly remind Jaseem to stop frowning whenever he spots Kalim and Jamil together. He tries his best to be nicer to Jamil, but only because Najma wouldn’t stop nagging at him 🤣
Bonus: Rielle
If you’ve seen my old comics about my RSA ocs i often draw Jaseem and Rielle bickering 🤣 Jaseem thinks Rielle is incompetent and has dad issues while Rielle views Jaseem as a weirdo who is way too protective of his cousin, also why would any sane person bring a TIGER to school??
Fun facts about Jaseem’s design
He carries a waist pouch filled with Rana’s treats, various silk ribbons, water dispenser, comb and toys ( just to name a few). The pouch is magically altered to carry many items.
The tiger plush keychain was a gift from his mother when his parents brought him to an amusement park on his birthday. Jaseem did not have the best experience as he was constantly surrounded by guards and journalists, no other children wanted to play with the renowned heir too.
His seemingly blue day turned upside down when he spotted a cute tiger plush in the souvenir shop, thinking about how it looks exactly like Rana. Jaseem’s mother noticed his adoration for the fluffy toy on the top shelf and asked the staff to order one for Jaseem. Even though this silly fabric toy could not compare to the vast amount of gold and expensive gifts Jaseem received, he saw his mother’s gift as something invaluable that money can’t buy.
Till this day he still brings his tiger plush around with him chained to his waist pouch. Though it looks rather dull after being used for years, you can still tell how well washed and cared for it is by its owner.
I struggled trying to incorporate Jasmine’s hairband into the design but for now its a turquoise strand of hair that starts from the top of his head so it looks like a hairband! Its also Jaseem’s way of exploring with his own style knowing that he is far away from his home and strict upbringing. The first time Jaseem dyed his hair he thought “So this is what its like to be rebellious..interesting” 🤣
His earrings are different, the one on the right is a slightly thick gold piece ( OG Jasmine) while the left is a decorative earring with small, dangling chains and a huge jewel ( Live action Jasmine). I thought it would be cool to incorporate both earrings as I couldn’t settle on one.
END
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed Jaseem too, I’m really happy with the response for Alison haha 😭 Till next time!
*Also I know someone addressed it before but I mean to express Jaseem’s love towards Kalim as familial, nothing more. How you choose to see my OCs is up to your interpretation so long as you don’t twist my words and stories i wrote for them :)
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lust for life
professor john price x student reader
tags: teacher x student, very obvious age gap, i’m in love with older men like genuinely i have an issue, yearning a little bit, smut ofc
you knew it was wrong. your friends scolded you for feeling that way towards your, much older professor. but the heart wants what it wants, right? he’d praise your work, calling you “such a smart girl”, it drove you crazy. but of course he wouldn’t feel the same way back. it’s unprofessional and downright wrong. but the way he was grabbing your hips and forcing you back down onto his cock, praises falling from his lips as he reaches his high. it was too much, the way he called your name out like a chant.
“any questions before i let you all go?”
you snapped out of your very lucid daydream. looking around to see your classmates slowly exiting the lecture. you looked down at your notes to see that the only thing you’ve written down is a few lousy notes. sighing, you scold yourself for not paying attention. you’re gonna have to stay after class again, but you weren’t complaining. you made your way over to your professors desk as the last student shut the door.
“i’m really sorry mr. price. h-honestly i wasn’t really paying attention today. you might have to go over a few topics with me again. i apologize.” this wasn’t usually like you. you had the highest grade in your class and was always doing superb in all of your assignments.
“hey, it’s alright. you’re a very good girl. i know you didn’t have any bad intentions today”. he stood up from his chair, allowing him to slightly tower over you. he walks to where your back is nearly touching his chest, “here. give me this, let’s see what you have down”. you became self aware of every breath you took, praying to anyone out there that he couldn’t see you almost trembling.
to break the tension, you step forward and turn towards him. the way you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes. god, it made him melt. the way you yearn for his praise. he knows how you feel about him. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice the way your gaze lingered just a little longer than everyone else’s, biting the tip of your pen to try and get rid of all those disgusting thoughts.
price walks back over to his desk and takes a seat back on his chair, letting a gruff groan as he sits back fully.
“so, what’s been on your brain that’s got you all distracted?”. he tilted his head, waiting to see what lie you’ll conjure up.
“i mean- it’s really nothing. just school being busy. got plenty of work to get done, the usual.”. you failed to make eye contact. noted.
“you only have two classes. i know you don’t have that much work.” his voice is stern now. and your stomach is turning at the fact he’s caught you in your lie. “so look at me, and tell me what’s on your mind”.
you swallow hard. cringing at the fact that he may know exactly where your mind wonders each class. you decide to give in, kind of.
“it’s silly. i have a boy on my mind.” hoping that he’ll believe your lie. he scoffs and beckons you to come closer, patting his lap once you’re close enough. you look at him, confused. spending too much time thinking about the secret meaning of his actions, you’re caught off guard by the fact he snatched your hips and sits you onto his lap. you weakly try to wiggle your way out of his strong grasp, but it’s no use.
“maybe you aren’t such a smart girl. lying to your professor like that as if i don’t know.” his grip on your hips is suffocating. your body starts to subconsciously grind on his body due to the overwhelming heat forming between your legs. you know it’s wrong but god it feels so right.
price grabs your chin and begins kissing you. what was soft, gentle kisses grew to become an intense make out session. the sounds of your sloppy kisses to the feeling of your clit rubbing against his bulge every time you rock forward again, it was all becoming too much. you were babbling nonsense and pleading for more.
“becoming all fucked out just by grinding on me a little? that’s pathetic, honey.”. although his words are harsh, he picks you up and flips you onto his desk. your face is pushed into a bunch of useless paperwork as he slides down your pants, using a thumb to tease your puffy clit as he takes off your panties next. he uses the pad of the same thumb to collect the slick from your pussy, using it to wet his throbbing cock.
you cry out as he pushes his full length in without a warning. your hand flies to your mouth to prevent any more sounds from spilling out.
“thaaattts it baby, shut your pretty mouth up. y’know how much trouble we’d get in. if they saw me fuckin a pretty little girl like you.”. you clenched around him at the thought of it. getting caught face down ass up with your professor who’s slightly older than your father.
his hips smacked against yours faster now, bruising your walls so bad you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk out of the room. you feel yourself slipping away into ecstasy, barely able to keep your head up. you know price is getting close by the way he’s growling so deeply into your ear. his thrusts become animalistic as he urges you to reach your high with him. both of your cum getting mixed together as he sloppily grinds against you a few more times to ride out his orgasm.
you pant heavily as he pulls out. leaving a soft kiss on your shoulder before redressing himself. you do the same, pulling up your underwear and pants. your mind is racing, wondering what the hell just happened. his scent floods your senses as he helps you steady yourself back onto your feet.
but for some odd reason, you’re still incredibly worried about missing out on notes. hesitantly, you ask “do you think i could stay afterwards tomorrow too, sir? i really need those notes”. he smiles softly at the fact that you’re still academically driven even after your daydreams just came true.
“of course. you know where to find me, sweetheart.”
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Holy shit, the New York Times is FINALLY interviewing and listening to detransistioners.
The tide is turning.
Opinion by Pamela Paul
As Kids, They Thought They Were Trans. They No Longer Do.
Feb. 2, 2024
Grace Powell was 12 or 13 when she discovered she could be a boy.
Growing up in a relatively conservative community in Grand Rapids, Mich., Powell, like many teenagers, didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin. She was unpopular and frequently bullied. Puberty made everything worse. She suffered from depression and was in and out of therapy.
“I felt so detached from my body, and the way it was developing felt hostile to me,” Powell told me. It was classic gender dysphoria, a feeling of discomfort with your sex.
Reading about transgender people online, Powell believed that the reason she didn’t feel comfortable in her body was that she was in the wrong body. Transitioning seemed like the obvious solution. The narrative she had heard and absorbed was that if you don’t transition, you’ll kill yourself.
At 17, desperate to begin hormone therapy, Powell broke the news to her parents. They sent her to a gender specialist to make sure she was serious. In the fall of her senior year of high school, she started cross-sex hormones. She had a double mastectomy the summer before college, then went off as a transgender man named Grayson to Sarah Lawrence College, where she was paired with a male roommate on a men’s floor. At 5-foot-3, she felt she came across as a very effeminate gay man.
At no point during her medical or surgical transition, Powell says, did anyone ask her about the reasons behind her gender dysphoria or her depression. At no point was she asked about her sexual orientation. And at no point was she asked about any previous trauma, and so neither the therapists nor the doctors ever learned that she’d been sexually abused as a child.
“I wish there had been more open conversations,” Powell, now 23 and detransitioned, told me. “But I was told there is one cure and one thing to do if this is your problem, and this will help you.”
Progressives often portray the heated debate over childhood transgender care as a clash between those who are trying to help growing numbers of children express what they believe their genders to be and conservative politicians who won’t let kids be themselves.
But right-wing demagogues are not the only ones who have inflamed this debate. Transgender activists have pushed their own ideological extremism, especially by pressing for a treatment orthodoxy that has faced increased scrutiny in recent years. Under that model of care, clinicians are expected to affirm a young person’s assertion of gender identity and even provide medical treatment before, or even without, exploring other possible sources of distress.
Many who think there needs to be a more cautious approach — including well-meaning liberal parents, doctors and people who have undergone gender transition and subsequently regretted their procedures — have been attacked as anti-trans and intimidated into silencing their concerns.
And while Donald Trump denounces “left-wing gender insanity” and many trans activists describe any opposition as transphobic, parents in America’s vast ideological middle can find little dispassionate discussion of the genuine risks or trade-offs involved in what proponents call gender-affirming care.
Powell’s story shows how easy it is for young people to get caught up by the pull of ideology in this atmosphere.
“What should be a medical and psychological issue has been morphed into a political one,” Powell lamented during our conversation. “It’s a mess.”
A New and Growing Group of Patients
Many transgender adults are happy with their transitions and, whether they began to transition as adults or adolescents, feel it was life changing, even lifesaving. The small but rapidly growing number of children who express gender dysphoria and who transition at an early age, according to clinicians, is a recent and more controversial phenomenon.
Laura Edwards-Leeper, the founding psychologist of the first pediatric gender clinic in the United States, said that when she started her practice in 2007, most of her patients had longstanding and deep-seated gender dysphoria. Transitioning clearly made sense for almost all of them, and any mental health issues they had were generally resolved through gender transition.
“But that is just not the case anymore,” she told me recently. While she doesn’t regret transitioning the earlier cohort of patients and opposes government bans on transgender medical care, she said, “As far as I can tell, there are no professional organizations who are stepping in to regulate what’s going on.”
Most of her patients now, she said, have no history of childhood gender dysphoria. Others refer to this phenomenon, with some controversy, as rapid onset gender dysphoria, in which adolescents, particularly tween and teenage girls, express gender dysphoria despite never having done so when they were younger. Frequently, they have mental health issues unrelated to gender. While professional associations say there is a lack of quality research on rapid onset gender dysphoria, several researchers have documented the phenomenon, and many health care providers have seen evidence of it in their practices.
“The population has changed drastically,” said Edwards-Leeper, a former head of the Child and Adolescent Committee for the World Professional Association for Transgender Health, the organization responsible for setting gender transition guidelines for medical professionals.
For these young people, she told me, “you have to take time to really assess what’s going on and hear the timeline and get the parents’ perspective in order to create an individualized treatment plan. Many providers are completely missing that step.”
Yet those health care professionals and scientists who do not think clinicians should automatically agree to a young person’s self-diagnosis are often afraid to speak out. A report commissioned by the National Health Service about Britain’s Tavistock gender clinic, which, until it was ordered to be shut down, was the country’s only health center dedicated to gender identity, noted that “primary and secondary care staff have told us that they feel under pressure to adopt an unquestioning affirmative approach and that this is at odds with the standard process of clinical assessment and diagnosis that they have been trained to undertake in all other clinical encounters.”
Of the dozens of students she’s trained as psychologists, Edwards-Leeper said, few still seem to be providing gender-related care. While her students have left the field for various reasons, “some have told me that they didn’t feel they could continue because of the pushback, the accusations of being transphobic, from being pro-assessment and wanting a more thorough process,” she said.
They have good reasons to be wary. Stephanie Winn, a licensed marriage and family therapist in Oregon, was trained in gender-affirming care and treated multiple transgender patients. But in 2020, after coming across detransition videos online, she began to doubt the gender-affirming model. In 2021 she spoke out in favor of approaching gender dysphoria in a more considered way, urging others in the field to pay attention to detransitioners, people who no longer consider themselves transgender after undergoing medical or surgical interventions. She has since been attacked by transgender activists. Some threatened to send complaints to her licensing board saying that she was trying to make trans kids change their minds through conversion therapy.
In April 2022, the Oregon Board of Licensed Professional Counselors and Therapists told Winn that she was under investigation. Her case was ultimately dismissed, but Winn no longer treats minors and practices only online, where many of her patients are worried parents of trans-identifying children.
“I don’t feel safe having a location where people can find me,” she said.
Detransitioners say that only conservative media outlets seem interested in telling their stories, which has left them open to attacks as hapless tools of the right, something that frustrated and dismayed every detransitioner I interviewed. These are people who were once the trans-identified kids that so many organizations say they’re trying to protect — but when they change their minds, they say, they feel abandoned.
Most parents and clinicians are simply trying to do what they think is best for the children involved. But parents with qualms about the current model of care are frustrated by what they see as a lack of options.
Parents told me it was a struggle to balance the desire to compassionately support a child with gender dysphoria while seeking the best psychological and medical care. Many believed their kids were gay or dealing with an array of complicated issues. But all said they felt compelled by gender clinicians, doctors, schools and social pressure to accede to their child’s declared gender identity even if they had serious doubts. They feared it would tear apart their family if they didn’t unquestioningly support social transition and medical treatment. All asked to speak anonymously, so desperate were they to maintain or repair any relationship with their children, some of whom were currently estranged.
Several of those who questioned their child’s self-diagnosis told me it had ruined their relationship. A few parents said simply, “I feel like I’ve lost my daughter.”
One mother described a meeting with 12 other parents in a support group for relatives of trans-identified youth where all of the participants described their children as autistic or otherwise neurodivergent. To all questions, the woman running the meeting replied, “Just let them transition.” The mother left in shock. How would hormones help a child with obsessive-compulsive disorder or depression? she wondered.
Some parents have found refuge in anonymous online support groups. There, people share tips on finding caregivers who will explore the causes of their children’s distress or tend to their overall emotional and developmental health and well-being without automatically acceding to their children’s self-diagnosis.
Many parents of kids who consider themselves trans say their children were introduced to transgender influencers on YouTube or TikTok, a phenomenon intensified for some by the isolation and online cocoon of Covid. Others say their kids learned these ideas in the classroom, as early as elementary school, often in child-friendly ways through curriculums supplied by trans rights organizations, with concepts like the gender unicorn or the Genderbread person.
‘Do You Want a Dead Son or a Live Daughter?’
After Kathleen’s 15-year-old son, whom she described as an obsessive child, abruptly told his parents he was trans, the doctor who was going to assess whether he had A.D.H.D. referred him instead to someone who specialized in both A.D.H.D. and gender. Kathleen, who asked to be identified only by her first name to protect her son’s privacy, assumed that the specialist would do some kind of evaluation or assessment. That was not the case.
The meeting was brief and began on a shocking note. “In front of my son, the therapist said, ‘Do you want a dead son or a live daughter?’” Kathleen recounted.
Parents are routinely warned that to pursue any path outside of agreeing with a child’s self-declared gender identity is to put a gender dysphoric youth at risk for suicide, which feels to many people like emotional blackmail. Proponents of the gender-affirming model have cited studies showing an association between that standard of care and a lower risk of suicide. But those studies were found to have methodological flaws or have been deemed not entirely conclusive. A survey of studies on the psychological effects of cross-sex hormones, published three years ago in The Journal of the Endocrine Society, the professional organization for hormone specialists, found it “could not draw any conclusions about death by suicide.” In a letter to The Wall Street Journal last year, 21 experts from nine countries said that survey was one reason they believed there was “no reliable evidence to suggest that hormonal transition is an effective suicide prevention measure.”
Moreover, the incidence of suicidal thoughts and attempts among gender dysphoric youth is complicated by the high incidence of accompanying conditions, such as autism spectrum disorder. As one systematic overview put it, “Children with gender dysphoria often experience a range of psychiatric comorbidities, with a high prevalence of mood and anxiety disorders, trauma, eating disorders and autism spectrum conditions, suicidality and self-harm.”
But rather than being treated as patients who deserve unbiased professional help, children with gender dysphoria often become political pawns.
Conservative lawmakers are working to ban access to gender care for minors and occasionally for adults as well. On the other side, however, many medical and mental health practitioners feel their hands have been tied by activist pressure and organizational capture. They say that it has become difficult to practice responsible mental health care or medicine for these young people.
Pediatricians, psychologists and other clinicians who dissent from this orthodoxy, believing that it is not based on reliable evidence, feel frustrated by their professional organizations. The American Psychological Association, American Psychiatric Association and the American Academy of Pediatrics have wholeheartedly backed the gender-affirming model.
In 2021, Aaron Kimberly, a 50-year-old trans man and registered nurse, left the clinic in British Columbia where his job focused on the intake and assessment of gender-dysphoric youth. Kimberly received a comprehensive screening when he embarked on his own successful transition at age 33, which resolved the gender dysphoria he experienced from an early age.
But when the gender-affirming model was introduced at his clinic, he was instructed to support the initiation of hormone treatment for incoming patients regardless of whether they had complex mental problems, experiences with trauma or were otherwise “severely unwell,” Kimberly said. When he referred patients for further mental health care rather than immediate hormone treatment, he said he was accused of what they called gatekeeping and had to change jobs.
“I realized something had gone totally off the rails,” Kimberly, who subsequently founded the Gender Dysphoria Alliance and the L.G.B.T. Courage Coalition to advocate better gender care, told me.
Gay men and women often told me they fear that same-sex-attracted kids, especially effeminate boys and tomboy girls who are gender nonconforming, will be transitioned during a normal phase of childhood and before sexual maturation — and that gender ideology can mask and even abet homophobia.
As one detransitioned man, now in a gay relationship, put it, “I was a gay man pumped up to look like a woman and dated a lesbian who was pumped up to look like a man. If that’s not conversion therapy, I don’t know what is.”
“I transitioned because I didn’t want to be gay,” Kasey Emerick, a 23-year-old woman and detransitioner from Pennsylvania, told me. Raised in a conservative Christian church, she said, “I believed homosexuality was a sin.”
When she was 15, Emerick confessed her homosexuality to her mother. Her mother attributed her sexual orientation to trauma — Emerick’s father was convicted of raping and assaulting her repeatedly when she was between the ages of 4 and 7 — but after catching Emerick texting with another girl at age 16, she took away her phone. When Emerick melted down, her mother admitted her to a psychiatric hospital. While there, Emerick told herself, “If I was a boy, none of this would have happened.”
In May 2017, Emerick began searching “gender” online and encountered trans advocacy websites. After realizing she could “pick the other side,” she told her mother, “I’m sick of being called a dyke and not a real girl.” If she were a man, she’d be free to pursue relationships with women.
That September, she and her mother met with a licensed professional counselor for the first of two 90-minute consultations. She told the counselor that she had wished to be a Boy Scout rather than a Girl Scout. She said she didn’t like being gay or a butch lesbian. She also told the counselor that she had suffered from anxiety, depression and suicidal ideation. The clinic recommended testosterone, which was prescribed by a nearby L.G.B.T.Q. health clinic. Shortly thereafter, she was also diagnosed with A.D.H.D. She developed panic attacks. At age 17, she was cleared for a double mastectomy.
“I’m thinking, ‘Oh my God, I’m having my breasts removed. I’m 17. I’m too young for this,’” she recalled. But she went ahead with the operation.
“Transition felt like a way to control something when I couldn’t control anything in my life,” Emerick explained. But after living as a trans man for five years, Emerick realized her mental health symptoms were only getting worse. In the fall of 2022, she came out as a detransitioner on Twitter and was immediately attacked. Transgender influencers told her she was bald and ugly. She received multiple threats.
“I thought my life was over,” she said. “I realized that I had lived a lie for over five years.”
Today Emerick’s voice, permanently altered by testosterone, is that of a man. When she tells people she’s a detransitioner, they ask when she plans to stop taking T and live as a woman. “I’ve been off it for a year,” she replies.
Once, after she recounted her story to a therapist, the therapist tried to reassure her. If it’s any consolation, the therapist remarked, “I would never have guessed that you were once a trans woman.” Emerick replied, “Wait, what sex do you think I am?”
To the trans activist dictum that children know their gender best, it is important to add something all parents know from experience: Children change their minds all the time. One mother told me that after her teenage son desisted — pulled back from a trans identity before any irreversible medical procedures — he explained, “I was just rebelling. I look at it like a subculture, like being goth.”
“The job of children and adolescents is to experiment and explore where they fit into the world, and a big part of that exploration, especially during adolescence, is around their sense of identity,” Sasha Ayad, a licensed professional counselor based in Phoenix, told me. “Children at that age often present with a great deal of certainty and urgency about who they believe they are at the time and things they would like to do in order to enact that sense of identity.”
Ayad, a co-author of “When Kids Say They’re Trans: A Guide for Thoughtful Parents,” advises parents to be wary of the gender affirmation model. “We’ve always known that adolescents are particularly malleable in relationship to their peers and their social context and that exploration is often an attempt to navigate difficulties of that stage, such as puberty, coming to terms with the responsibilities and complications of young adulthood, romance and solidifying their sexual orientation,” she told me. For providing this kind of exploratory approach in her own practice with gender dysphoric youth, Ayad has had her license challenged twice, both times by adults who were not her patients. Both times, the charges were dismissed.
Studies show that around eight in 10 cases of childhood gender dysphoria resolve themselves by puberty and 30 percent of people on hormone therapy discontinue its use within four years, though the effects, including infertility, are often irreversible.
Proponents of early social transition and medical interventions for gender dysphoric youth cite a 2022 study showing that 98 percent of children who took both puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones continued treatment for short periods, and another study that tracked 317 children who socially transitioned between the ages of 3 and 12, which found that 94 percent of them still identified as transgender five years later. But such early interventions may cement children’s self-conceptions without giving them time to think or sexually mature.
‘The Process of Transition Didn’t Make Me Feel Better’
At the end of her freshman year of college, Grace Powell, horrifically depressed, began dissociating, feeling detached from her body and from reality, which had never happened to her before. Ultimately, she said, “the process of transition didn’t make me feel better. It magnified what I found was wrong with myself.”
“I expected it to change everything, but I was just me, with a slightly deeper voice,” she added. “It took me two years to start detransitioning and living as Grace again.”
She tried in vain to find a therapist who would treat her underlying issues, but they kept asking her: How do you want to be seen? Do you want to be nonbinary? Powell wanted to talk about her trauma, not her identity or her gender presentation. She ended up getting online therapy from a former employee of the Tavistock clinic in Britain. This therapist, a woman who has broken from the gender-affirming model, talked Grace through what she sees as her failure to launch and her efforts to reset. The therapist asked questions like: Who is Grace? What do you want from your life? For the first time, Powell felt someone was seeing and helping her as a person, not simply looking to slot her into an identity category.
Many detransitioners say they face ostracism and silencing because of the toxic politics around transgender issues.
“It is extraordinarily frustrating to feel that something I am is inherently political,” Powell told me. “I’ve been accused multiple times that I’m some right-winger who’s making a fake narrative to discredit transgender people, which is just crazy.”
While she believes there are people who benefit from transitioning, “I wish more people would understand that there’s not a one-size-fits-all solution,” she said. “I wish we could have that conversation.”
In a recent study in The Archives of Sexual Behavior, about 40 young detransitioners out of 78 surveyed said they had suffered from rapid onset gender dysphoria. Trans activists have fought hard to suppress any discussion of rapid onset gender dysphoria, despite evidence that the condition is real. In its guide for journalists, the activist organization GLAAD warns the media against using the term, as it is not “a formal condition or diagnosis.” Human Rights Campaign, another activist group, calls it “a right-wing theory.” A group of professional organizations put out a statement urging clinicians to eliminate the term from use.
Nobody knows how many young people desist after social, medical or surgical transitions. Trans activists often cite low regret rates for gender transition, along with low figures for detransition. But those studies, which often rely on self-reported cases to gender clinics, likely understate the actual numbers. None of the seven detransitioners I interviewed, for instance, even considered reporting back to the gender clinics that prescribed them medication they now consider to have been a mistake. Nor did they know any other detransitioners who had done so.
As Americans furiously debate the basis of transgender care, a number of advances in understanding have taken place in Europe, where the early Dutch studies that became the underpinning of gender-affirming care have been broadly questioned and criticized. Unlike some of the current population of gender dysphoric youth, the Dutch study participants had no serious psychological conditions. Those studies were riddled with methodological flaws and weaknesses. There was no evidence that any intervention was lifesaving. There was no long-term follow-up with any of the study’s 55 participants or the 15 who dropped out. A British effort to replicate the study said that it “identified no changes in psychological function” and that more studies were needed.
In countries like Sweden, Norway, France, the Netherlands and Britain — long considered exemplars of gender progress — medical professionals have recognized that early research on medical interventions for childhood gender dysphoria was either faulty or incomplete. Last month, the World Health Organization, in explaining why it is developing “a guideline on the health of trans and gender diverse people,” said it will cover only adults because “the evidence base for children and adolescents is limited and variable regarding the longer-term outcomes of gender-affirming care for children and adolescents.”
But in America, and Canada, the results of those widely criticized Dutch studies are falsely presented to the public as settled science.
Other countries have recently halted or limited the medical and surgical treatment of gender dysphoric youth, pending further study. Britain’s Tavistock clinic was ordered to be shut down next month, after a National Health Service-commissioned investigation found deficiencies in service and “a lack of consensus and open discussion about the nature of gender dysphoria and therefore about the appropriate clinical response.”
Meanwhile, the American medical establishment has hunkered down, stuck in an outdated model of gender affirmation. The American Academy of Pediatrics only recently agreed to conduct more research in response to yearslong efforts by dissenting experts, including Dr. Julia Mason, a self-described “bleeding-heart liberal.”
The larger threat to transgender people comes from Republicans who wish to deny them rights and protections. But the doctrinal rigidity of the progressive wing of the Democratic Party is disappointing, frustrating and counterproductive.
“I was always a liberal Democrat,” one woman whose son desisted after social transition and hormone therapy told me. “Now I feel politically homeless.”
She noted that the Biden administration has “unequivocally” supported gender-affirming care for minors, in cases in which it deems it “medically appropriate and necessary.” Rachel Levine, the assistant secretary for health at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, told NPR in 2022 that “there is no argument among medical professionals — pediatricians, pediatric endocrinologists, adolescent medicine physicians, adolescent psychiatrists, psychologists, et cetera — about the value and the importance of gender-affirming care.”
Of course, politics should not influence medical practice, whether the issue is birth control, abortion or gender medicine. But unfortunately, politics has gotten in the way of progress. Last year The Economist published a thorough investigation into America’s approach to gender medicine. Zanny Minton Beddoes, the editor, put the issue into political context. “If you look internationally at countries in Europe, the U.K. included, their medical establishments are much more concerned,” Beddoes told Vanity Fair. “But here — in part because this has become wrapped up in the culture wars where you have, you know, crazy extremes from the Republican right — if you want to be an upstanding liberal, you feel like you can’t say anything.”
Some people are trying to open up that dialogue, or at least provide outlets for kids and families to seek a more therapeutic approach to gender dysphoria.
Paul Garcia-Ryan is a psychotherapist in New York who cares for kids and families seeking holistic, exploratory care for gender dysphoria. He is also a detransitioner who from ages 15 to 30 fully believed he was a woman.
Garcia-Ryan is gay, but as a boy, he said, “it was much less threatening to my psyche to think that I was a straight girl born into the wrong body — that I had a medical condition that could be tended to.” When he visited a clinic at 15, the clinician immediately affirmed he was female, and rather than explore the reasons for his mental distress, simply confirmed Garcia-Ryan’s belief that he was not meant to be a man.
Once in college, he began medically transitioning and eventually had surgery on his genitals. Severe medical complications from both the surgery and hormone medication led him to reconsider what he had done, and to detransition. He also reconsidered the basis of gender affirmation, which, as a licensed clinical social worker at a gender clinic, he had been trained in and provided to clients.
“You’re made to believe these slogans,” he said. “Evidence-based, lifesaving care, safe and effective, medically necessary, the science is settled — and none of that is evidence based.”
Garcia-Ryan, 32, is now the board president of Therapy First, an organization that supports therapists who do not agree with the gender affirmation model. He thinks transition can help some people manage the symptoms of gender dysphoria but no longer believes anyone under 25 should socially, medically or surgically transition without exploratory psychotherapy first.
“When a professional affirms a gender identity for a younger person, what they are doing is implementing a psychological intervention that narrows a person’s sense of self and closes off their options for considering what’s possible for them,” Garcia-Ryan told me.
Instead of promoting unproven treatments for children, which surveys show many Americans are uncomfortable with, transgender activists would be more effective if they focused on a shared agenda. Most Americans across the political spectrum can agree on the need for legal protections for transgender adults. They would also probably support additional research on the needs of young people reporting gender dysphoria so that kids could get the best treatment possible.
A shift in this direction would model tolerance and acceptance. It would prioritize compassion over demonization. It would require rising above culture-war politics and returning to reason. It would be the most humane path forward. And it would be the right thing to do.
*~*~*~*~*~*
For those who want tor ead more by those fighting the cancellation forquestioning, read:
Graham Lineham, who's been fighting since the beginning and paid the price, but is not seeing things turn around.
The Glinner Update, Grahan Linehan's Substack.
Kellie-Jay Keen @ThePosieParker, who's been physically attacked for organizing events for women demanding women-only spaces.
REDUXX, Feminst news & opinion.
Gays Against Groomers @againstgrmrs, A nonprofit of gay people and others within the community against the sexualization, indoctrination and medicalization of children under the guise of "LGBTQIA+"
#detransitioners#detransition#gender critical#New York Times#gays#lesbians#trans#trans insanity#long post#article#detrans#transgender#post trans#desisted
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growing up with gojo satoru.
NOTE: it's a trash draft abt growing up with gojo and he had a crush on u since ever or smth idk i think it's a potential backstory for a fic?? 👍🗑️
you and satoru have known each other since you were toddlers because the gojo family and your family are very close. he was born just two years after you.
growing up, he was the richest and snobbiest and snottiest. but he could be charming if he needed to be. formal when he needed to be. just not to you, his closest friend. his only friend growing up.
satoru greatly enjoyed picking on you. he annoyed you to death. chasing you down the halls while your parents had tea together. tripping you. ruffling your hair. stealing your sweets and putting them above his head once he had hit that big growth spurt and you could no longer reach them. "accidentally" spilling tea all over your new kimonos. bringing bugs to you just to freak you out.
but that was just all the annoying childhood memories that you dwelled on. if you asked your parents, you'd hear stories of how you and satoru were inseparable; jointed at the hip, the one never strayed too far from where the other was. where you went, he followed without missing a step and vice versa. often you'd be holding hands without realizing. you remember your grandparents laughing and teasing the two of you about that many times, and then you and satoru would throw each other disgusted looks and let go of each other's hands — only to resume that fingerlocking a few minutes later. it was subconscious for him to stick so close to you.
dwelling on the bad memories detracted you from remembering all the good memories.
the times satoru comfortingly slept at your side when you stayed the night during a thunderstorm at his house. all the times he stood up for you and faced off with that brat sukuna. how suguru would console and hug you while satoru threw fists with the other boy; always, always emerging victorious and bearing a triumphant, almost cocky smirk at you. albeit with blood dribbling out of his nose. you remember sukuna always picking on you, but not in the way satoru did; he had a malicious way about it, but satoru's teasing was playful and even cute. he was tasteful with his jokes, never falling victim to crudeness or vulgarity, never genuinely offending you.
and satoru's mother really liked to bring up that satoru had a "boyish crush" on you around the ages 10 - 14. she mentioned it at dinner all the time, when he was reaching the ages of 16 - 18 it really annoyed him.
"i did not have a crush on bugface." he would always deny it. ah, that ancient nickname, the one that still got on your nerves. and it came to be all because a bug landed on your cheek one day at the riverbank and you didn't notice until satoru pointed it out and burst with laughter.
satoru was gifted. you know, a child prodigy. he was the strongest. and growing up with him, he always used his gifts and strength to protect and care for you, whether it was physically or mentally. throwing fists with people who picked on you, acting like your bodyguard at times even if a boy simply wanted to ask you out on a date. studying with you until you aced your papers so that the both of you could go to the same high prestigious high schools.
albeit he was a bit enigmatic with how he showed his care. it was in the little things. helping you out the river when you fell in when you were twelve, confronting sukuna while you cried in suguru's arms about what he had said about your family, or picking blossoms out your hair.
that last one was something he continued to do through his whole life. whenever a blossom or leaf tangled into your hair, or got caught on your clothes, satoru would very gently pluck it off. he did it so smoothly that you never noticed he was doing it. though sometimes, you'd look at him suspiciously and ask why he was standing so close to you. he'd flick his brows up and hum "nothing."
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the swindling of steve harrington’s heart
word count: 9.5k
synopsis: you write for the advice column in the hawkins post, under the pen name gabby. you get a letter asking for advice about a first date and there’s no way it’s the same guy you’ve just landed a first date with, right? steve harrington doesn’t need help with his dates... right? [based on this post] [fem!reader + strangers to lovers but… steve’s a big sap for you already, ok?]
The first letter comes in on a Tuesday.
It’s posted in an ordinary envelope, with only a messy scrawl on the front to dictate that it was for the advice column of Hawkins Post. Inside revealed the same loopy letters, on a single piece of paper, reading:
Out of all the letters you’ve ever received at this job, most of which were lengthy admissions of troubles in suburbia, this one was by far the most interesting one you’d gotten all month. All year if you were being honest.
Writing advice under the pen name Gabby for your local paper likely wasn’t anyone’s first choice of job, not at least for those serious about writing as yourself was.
But between flipping burgers down at Benny’s and slinging shakes at Rita’s Diner, it seemed the lesser of all evils. And hey, it paid decently enough and you had a sweet little set-up in one of the drowsy corners of the office.
It’s how you wind up here, scanning over the letter from one mysterious S.
It’s penned on some spare paper, nothing special. It wasn’t even lined paper like you might usually use for sending a letter of any sorts. It intrigued you the moment it had been dropped into your basket.
Hands flipping through the 4 other letters in there, rows of soft pink and blue envelopes, all with familiar handwriting, you determined that this one was, indeed, a new writer.
You practically devoured it from the first line. Gossip was rampant in Hawkins, like all small towns, but it was not so often shared so publicly with the paper, despite the anonymity that came with the advice column.
Most people in Hawkins seemed to come for advice on outshining their neighbours with a peach cobbler. Some asked whether jazzercise really was the go. There were very few sad tales of love in between the mush.
But this? Even just from the use of the word crush, you knew this wasn’t the average housewife talking midlife marital issues. This was someone your age.
It’s just a little bit funny, you admit — you, yourself, couldn’t imagine ever turning to the local paper to seek out love-life advice. Especially considering none of your previous replies as Gabby implied you had expertise in that area.
You decided it meant they were truly desperate or perhaps completely a hopeless romantic, or a bit of both.
But you couldn’t lie, either way, it’s entirely endearing to you.
It didn’t matter that it was probably someone who had no ‘game’, it was entirely completely made up by the fact they were clearly trying very hard, very genuinely.
They cared enough about getting things right. Whoever they were wooing was very lucky— re-reading over the short letter shoots a grimy wave of envy through your chest. When was the last time someone cared that much about a first date with you? About any date with you? The answer was… probably, never.
It didn’t help either that you had just landed yourself a date. A date with Steve Harrington.
For just a moment, a very brief moment, you look down at the signed S and wonder: would he?
No, he wouldn’t, you decide swiftly. The fragile hope that briefly hung up on the idea is shaken off as you recall his charismatic nature, his easy grin when he asked you out just the other week.
There had been a bit of nervousness, sure, but when you consider the dating history he’d had through high school, well… You feel embarrassed for even considering it.
King Steve Harrington doesn’t need help with his dates.
Besides, the letter clearly states this was S’s long-time crush. You were fairly certain that if the school’s golden boy harboured any sort of feelings for you, it wouldn’t have slipped past your radar.
Last time you checked, Steve had only noticed you when you had gone into Family Video the other week — when he had promptly asked if you wanted to see a movie together sometime.
Sure, it hadn’t been nearly as smooth as you expected, though, that wasn’t to say you weren’t charmed. You’d heard a lot about Steve— though, who at Hawkins High hadn’t?
He had been that customer-service type of welcoming, hands braced against the countertop as he leaned into it, a handsome smile on his face.
You had pretended your stare didn’t linger on his arms. Or that you were drinking in all the subtle changes to himself, physically and more, since his primped-up freshmen-self.
You had even admitted to yourself that he managed to pull off the dweeby Family Video vest, trailing behind him as he led you both to the action-film section.
Steve had stood close enough that you could feel the warmth emanating from him, and had helped debate your choice. He didn’t even comment when you got distracted looking at his arms when he crossed them, even though he smiled a little more smugly, having seen your wandering eyes.
Like it was your fault he had gorgeous, tanned, toned arms that made you want to drool.
But even with all his suaveness, Steve still looked surprised when you laughed at his joke, or his attempt at one — and then some of his coolness seemed to flee.
He had fumbled through the whole interaction of checking out your film and asked if you’d like to ‘maybe if you want, totally cool if not’, wanted to watch one with him sometime.
You think you’d say yes all over again just to see the way he had lit up. He positively beamed, then swiftly ducked his head to hide his hasty grin.
Saturday at 8, you’d agreed on. At the Hawk. He’d pay for the tickets and you’d shout the snacks. It’s a date, were his exact words. He had looked extra delighted when you had repeated them back to him with a nervous grin of your own.
It’s what you think of as you peer down at the letter in your hands, loopy scrawls telling a plea in love. You think about what you hope you’ll get on a first date — with Steve or anyone, for that matter — and pull up a new sheet to draft a response.
It’s about the only advice you can give. Truthfully, dates fail for a multitude of reasons that change on a day-to-day basis and if this S just didn’t match with their date, well… that was out of your hands.
But if S liked them this much, enough to reach out to the murky depths of the local paper’s advice column, then they should show that. If nothing else, you’re sure their date would be flattered at their sincerity.
Try as you might not, the letter plagues your mind as you leave work. Your response sits on your desk, penned up and ready to be printed for the Friday morning paper, hopefully giving enough time to your advice-seeking S.
By Saturday, however, it’s the last thing on your mind — it’s hard for anything else to occupy it when it bubbles away blissfully at the thought of your date later in the evening.
You try to not let your thoughts carry away with what Steve might wear, what film you’d watch, whether you’d be able to sneakily hold his hand in the shadows of the cinema.
It plays a romantic pink-saturated loop in your brain, daydreaming of some silly kiss in the back row because Steve just can’t resist, he’s had a crush on you for so long— okay, maybe the letter was on your mind just a little.
But 8 o’clock whirls around faster than you expect and you arrive outside the cinema with only a couple minutes to spare. You’re more than relieved to see Steve already there, leaning up against the brick wall where the upcoming movies are showcased, bathed in soft golden light.
He’s got on a pair of dark wash jeans and the polo he’s wearing stretches around his arms deliciously, forcing a giddy sigh from your lips.
There’s a jacket slung over his crossed arms and one of his feet is tapping rapidly against the ground. Even from afar, you can see him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Your heart spurs faster at the sight. He’s nervous.
“Steve!” You call out, unable to help how you’re already smiling like a lovesick fool. It doesn’t help when Steve’s head pops up, his hair bouncing just a bit. He lights up at the sight of you, features moving from worry to something happier.
He straightens up, back scraping the bricks, and he steps forward to meet you in the middle.
“Hey,” he breathes, a grin stretching over his lips. This close, you can smell the cologne he’s wearing— something musky, with a hint of bergamot — and your head spins, all dizzy with delight.
“Hey, yourself.” You reply as playfully as you can manage. You swallow back another wave of nerves.
Fuck, was he this pretty when he asked you out? In the space of a couple of days, he seems to have gotten even more attractive. He’s got that entire look about him that reminds you of a daydream.
“You look, uh, really lovely tonight.” Steve compliments, tucking his hands into his front pockets nervously. He sounds so sincere it aches, the words worming under your skin til you believe them completely; he really does think you look lovely.
It’s a strange moment of consideration you find yourself having. You’re here, on a date with Steve Harrington and he thinks you look really lovely.
It’s not like you hadn’t heard the rumours about the cosmic shift in the King of Hawkins High — going from sneering at other kids in the hallways to cleaning off graffiti on his own accord.
Yet, some small part of you is still delightfully surprised, as though it had been unconvinced until you had seen it for yourself. In the past, a part of you had been truly miffed at the waste of a pretty face on a douchebag like King Steve.
Now, it’s like an entirely different person. When Steve offers you another smile, earnest and sweet, you’re secretly glad to get to be the one who takes a chance on him.
You come to a standstill at the back of the winding line outside the ticket booth, the pair of you lingering closer than needed. The brush of his shoulder against your own feels blazing, a streak of warmth. You hope he can’t feel your resounding shiver— and half-hope that he does and gets closer because of it.
“That— uh, thank you,” you manage to remember your words. Even better, you manage to accept the compliment semi-regularly, even though your insides are knitting themselves into a tangle of nervous anticipation.
“You too. Look nice!” You say, louder than you intend. The girl ahead of you peers over her shoulder and somehow even that’s not enough to keep your mouth from running. “I mean, you sort of always look good. That’s kinda—” you wave your hand over him generally, “—your thing. Looking… nice.”
Dear god stop, you will yourself, mouth snapping shut and eyes following quickly, screwed up in embarrassment. Way to completely disregard the advice you gave a stranger and pile on the appearance-based compliments.
You do your best to hide your wince as you peek your eyes back open. It’s a relief to see Steve chuckle good-naturedly, a delicate pink touching the apples of his cheeks.
“You know,” Steve begins as the line ambles forward slowly. His gaze switches between the ground and you, too nervous to commit to looking you straight on. “I didn’t just ask you out because you’re pretty.”
He pauses. Rethinks his words and makes a hasty correction. “I do! Think that you’re pretty, that is.”
His quick assurance makes you laugh just a bit and you hide it behind a bitten-back smile. Steve stops examining his shoes for a moment, glancing to check you haven’t taken his words the wrong way.
Your heart feels like it does a forward roll in your chest, seeing his even pinker cheeks. God, in what world do you make Steve Harrington so nervous?
“I just—” Steve continues, shoulders hiking up a bit, another nervous motion. “I don’t want you to think that that’s the only reason, I asked. I like that you’re nice. You’ve always been nice.”
You blink at him. In a moment of clarity, a couple of revelations roll through your mind, each one steamrolling the last one before you can grapple each one properly.
Revelation No. 1. is the fact that Steve had noticed you. Past tense. Noticed you enough to think you’re nice and bookmark that in his brain. He remembers things about you. And then— then he had made a special effort to compliment you. Specifically outside of your appearance.
And hadn’t you just given specific advice like that? You had! You had given advice to an anonymous person known only as S, with instructions for their first date. Their first date with their long-time crush.
Which means... you’re Steve Harrington’s long-term crush. Which means, oh my god, Steve Harrington accidentally wrote into your job to ask you for advice on his date with you.
The result of the revelations, each one blooming quickly as the one before it, leaves you entirely speechless for a moment. Baffled. You gape like a fish, mouth flapping around empty words. You can’t quite compute it. Steve? Steve is the one who wrote to the local paper for advice? Steve Harrington wrote in for advice about a date with you? His long-term crush?
You’re thankful Steve’s nervous enough to not look at you because, for a silent 10 seconds, you’re sure every emotion from ecstatic and bewildered crosses your features. What in the actual hell?
You’re not sure how you expect yourself to continue this date and act like a regular person, knowing what you know.
And, more importantly, should you tell Steve?
You get about 10 more seconds of floundering to debate it, tossing up a thousand different ways this entire evening could change if you reveal yourself.
Steve would be embarrassed. Steve would be angry. Steve wouldn’t believe you and just think you’re messing with him. Steve didn’t even write the letter and you’ve connected dots that don’t even exist.
You can’t pinpoint which one is the truth. You truthfully don’t know Steve well enough to predict how he might react, no matter how sweet he may have been. A realisation of how quiet you’ve been rolls through you when Steve’s head pulls up, concern knitting his brows together.
Something else altogether comes out of your mouth instead.
“You noticed me?”
Steve goes even more red. It’s a glorious sight and in an instant, you can tell he hasn’t meant to give that much away. The line shuffles forward and Steve seems thankful for it, clearing his throat and eyeing the ticket box ahead like he was wishing you were both there already. There’s only one more couple ahead of you.
“Is that weird?” He says after a moment, his voice a bit smaller than before.
“What?” You say, because it’s the last thing you’re expecting him to say. “No! I’m sorry I didn’t— that wasn’t an accusation!”
You mull over your thoughts, trying your best to put into words how it had actually made you feel. How it had soaked your inside with giddiness, not with worry.
“It’s... really sweet, actually.” You admit, feeling bold enough to nudge your shoulder against his.
“Yeah?” Steve asks, the question said so earnestly it’s like he’s not quite sure he believes you.
“I mean,” You smile, sneaking a nervous glance sideways at him. He’s watching you, expression hinting at anticipation. You nod, continuing, “I’m glad you didn’t just ask me out because you think I’m pretty.”
The last word comes out a bit strained. It feels strange to admit it out loud even with the way Steve looks at you; little glitters of adoration in his eyes.
“It’s-” You clear your throat and bite back a smile that might be too eager. “It’s nice to be noticed.”
Steve makes a small sound of content, like some sort of pleased hum. Then the couple ahead of you is moving and it’s your turn to step up for tickets.
You hurry through tickets and snacks, getting a packet of Reese's Pieces, some popcorn, and one huge cup of soda with two neon-coloured straws sticking out. When you duck through the velvet curtains at the theatre doors, arm already looped through Steve’s, it feels like you’re entering not as two people but as something closer.
The evening whirls by in a lavender haze and Steve is nothing short of everything sweet and charming. Even with his nerves tripping him up now and then, it’s all endearing to you.
You two are the last ones out of the cinema, ushered out by bored employees whose glaring only deepened when they realised you and Steve had conducted a popcorn throwing competition between yourselves. You had been left in the dust, with Steve catching near every piece you threw at him. You were less gracious, salt smearing on your cheeks from so many missed throws.
By the time you’re both back out the front, the night has found a chill to drape across the evening. The sky glitters darkly. The bulbs surrounding the front of the cinema glow and crackle quietly and you’re pleasantly delighted to find you don’t want to leave just yet.
“Hey,” Steve starts. He’s stuffed his hands in his pockets but you can see them twisting about nervously. “Yanno, I had a really good time tonight.”
You can see the moment he bites his tongue and holds back another sentence. You smile as encouragingly as you can — though something about how well the night has gone has your courage growing, doubling, tripling in size.
“Me too.” You admit. You ignore how your palms start to dampen just a titch and seize the words before your nerve fails you. “Did you— do you want to do it again, maybe?”
Steve nods, a stray strand of his hair escaping with the enthusiasm of the motion. He chuckles a bit, pushes it back, and steps closer. “Yes. I mean, yes, of course. You’re... this was so lovely.”
There’s a stir ecstatically in your chest in his words, which drip in sincerity.
“Thank you,” you murmur, head ducked in shyness. It’s still strange, for someone to be so forward in their affections to you. “Um, should I- I could give you my number?”
Steve nods again, just as fervently as last time. He’s somehow gotten closer in just the few minutes you’ve been speaking like there’s a magnetism within you that he can’t resist.
“Yeah, totally! Did you — I don’t have a pen, I’m sorry,” He chuckles again. His hand scratches at the back of his neck.
You’re thankful for your insane preparedness, digging through your bag to produce a pen. By the time you pop the cap off it, a green marker, Steve’s already rolled back his sleeve. He holds out his arm.
“Your canvas awaits,” He jokes. Your smile grows into a grin, almost ashamed of how funny you found that. God, crushes made you stupid — though thankfully Steve seems to grin wider at hearing your laugh.
You curl your fingers around his wrist to hold his arm still. He’s warm, hot blood pumping beneath your touch. You try not to focus on how you can feel his pulse under your fingertips, nor how it’s racing far faster than normal. After your number, you hesitate for a moment before adding a quick doodle of a heart. It’s sloppy, not exactly your best work.
Steve loves it. The moment you release his arm, he thumbs over the heart. Steve looks up at you, an infectious type of smile on his face now. “I’ll give you a call, yeah?”
You nod, tucking your hands in your pocket. You’re unable to stop yourself from rocking up onto the balls of your feet in your excitement.
“Uh, you should probably call after 9 unless you want to meet my mom already.”
Steve huffs a laugh. “Got it. After 9. No meeting mom just yet.” He promises.
This time, reading the letter feels like there’s sparking gunpowder littered in your very heart — lighting it up in a frenzy of fire in your chest as you read. It’s impossible to do anything except inhale each new word. You felt a little bad, sure, reading a review of your own date but then again, it was your job.
Besides, you’d tell Steve. When... Well, alright, you weren’t totally sure when you were going to tell him.
Definitely not before the next date. It was still fragile — and some part knew that if you told him, there was a good chance Steve would be too embarrassed. Would work himself up over it and it would ruin everything.
It was like... a souffle. You had to take it out of the oven at the right time; too soon, and everything would sink in on itself.
So, you decided to wait it out. Dish out some more advice and... see how the next date went.
You write back, There isn’t such a thing as giving too much away. This girl will be flattered to know you care as much as you do. Take her somewhere special to you.
It’s just enough of a nudge you think. ‘Somewhere special’ was a wide-open prompt that Steve could interpret as he liked. He could pick just how intimate the next date would be. You promise to yourself quietly, that if you get a third date, you’ll tell him then.
Steve calls you the night after your responding advice is published in The Hawkins Post. 10 minutes past 9pm. He tells you, voice low and sweet, that he’s got a surprise spot in mind.
“If you’re up for that,” Steve hastily tacks on. “We don’t have to. I’m- we can go out for dinner if you’d prefer that. I totally love dinner.”
Faintly through the phone, you hear the quiet noise, like a thud. You have to smother down a giggle as you realise Steve’s smacked himself with the phone in his own exasperation.
“I’m up for a surprise,” You assure him, clutching the phone a bit tighter in your excitement. “That sounds fun.”
“Fun,” Steve echoes, with a tone of disbelief. Like he hadn’t believed you’d agree until, well, you had. “Yes! It’ll be fun. So much. I hope so. When are you free?”
His words come out so quickly. You can’t hide your laugh this time, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to try to dissuade the giddy grin threatening your lips. No dice. Nothing can stop your elation.
“What kind of surprise are we talking about?” You ask first, thinking over your next words, wondering if you’re brave enough to say them. You take the leap. “Because, well, I know it’s a Tuesday but I’m free tomorrow night and—“
“Yes.” Steve cuts in eagerly. “Tomorrow night, let’s do it. I can pick you up?”
“Okay,” you agree, nodding even though he can’t see it. You don’t think your grin can’t get any wider, barely contained enough to relay your address for him to jot down.
Tuesday evening is soft, the sky a pale blue that washes warmth over the day. Steve picks you up on time. He’s handsome as ever, leaning up against the driver's side door as he waits for you.
Your heart does a little skip when he straightens up upon spotting you, perking up like he had at the cinema. It reminds you faintly of a dog wagging its tail; his happiness at seeing you so visible to see.
“Did you get prettier since the last time I saw you?” He says, in lieu of greeting as you trot down to meet him. You feel heat bloom beneath your cheeks.
“I-” Your nerves creep up and honesty takes over your words. “I don’t know how to answer that.” You titter out a laugh, a smile tugging at your mouth.
Steve hums as you come to a stop before him. He pretends to give you a serious once over, his eyes light and smile easy. His gaze comes back up to rest on your face before he nods firmly.
“Mmhm, it’s just as I expected.” He reports back, soft and genuine. “Prettier in every way.”
You laugh again, nervousness bleeding into the sound but his words sink into your skin warmly. Fingers twisting into your sweater, you try to rein in your rabbiting heart.
“You’re a goof, anyone ever tell you?”
Steve grins. “Never said I wasn’t. Now, your chariot awaits.”
He sweeps an arm to the car behind him.
He’s right, it is a surprise. You’re not entirely sure where you’d been anticipating — maybe his favourite spot to eat? But instead, he takes you to a clearing, with blankets of grass and wildflowers dotted across the landscape.
For a moment, when you creep out from his car, hands still clutching the edge of the door, you wonder if this is how he found Skull Rock and the likes — that maybe Steve Harrington was an explorer by nature. You think back to your advice and wonder; what makes this place special to him?
Your heart twists, knowing that he’s taken your advice, even if some part of you tears up in guilt. You will tell him. You take solace in knowing there’s not much to be guilty of; telling him the best way to woo you is hardly terrible manipulation.
Sure, it’s swindling but... of the sweetest kind. You lead him to your heart and in return, get to steal his own.
Steve’s brought along a blanket and picnic for the two of you. There are crudely cut sandwiches, though you don’t doubt he’s tried his best, paired with punnets of ripe fat strawberries. It’s... adorable. Dizzily endearing, how much effort he’s put in for you.
Your heart aches a little more at his pink cheeks as he unpacks all this for you like he’s worried what you’ll think. He is worried about what you’ll think, you realise. Despite all you’ve heard and known about King Steve, your mind winds up thinking back to his letter... I don’t want her to get freaked out if I come on too strong.
A fire of determination burns in your chest. Loving loudly would never be— could never be something to hide. Nor to feel embarrassed over, not with you at least.
So, you start by trying to feed him a strawberry, like a thousand romance novels have taught you. Instead of a cute gesture, you smush it into his cheek instead by accident as he turns his face suddenly. An apology squeaks out of you.
“I’m— oh my god, I’m so sorry,” You’re wiping the red juice splattered on his cheek, your own cheeks feeling fiery and hot. Steve takes your endless apologies well, assuring away the beginnings of your mortification.
He only manages to truly stop your flow of embarrassed apologies by squishing a sandwich against your cheek as well, just to make it fair — a peel of your laughter fills the field, some of your nervousness floating away with it.
Then, just as you had, Steve wipes off the smear of cream cheese on your chin with his thumb, the motion soft and gentle. Your nerves jump around again.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you begin, finally asking the question that’s been burning since you arrived. “Because I’m loving this date but… Why did you pick this spot?”
You’re careful to word your question in a way that doesn’t give away what else you know. Beside you, Steve takes a moment to think. His eyes scan over your face before he tilts it back to face the clearing, his arms resting on his propped up knees.
He’s just a boy. A pretty boy on a picnic rug he brought along to your date, in a field of flowers that he took you to. You have the thought to compare him to a painting in this moment right as Steve starts to speak.
“I came up here a whole lot after,” Steve heaves a loud sigh like he’s regretful for what he’s about to bring up. “After me and Nancy broke up. It was good to get out of town and just, like, have my own time to think. To think about what I really wanted.”
You dare to ask. “And did you figure it out? What you really wanted?”
Steve glances over at you and smiles crookedly. It’s one of his real smiles, you’ve come to realise. “To not get my heart broken again, for starters. That just— that shit sucked, you know?”
He laughs a little bitterly, more to himself, and steals another glance at you, like his words are a test and he’ll find an answer in your expression. You smile gently, hoping to convey every softness that you have for him. Every good intent.
“Well, m’not looking to do that.” You admit truthfully. “Maybe, I’ll… I’ll ease the ache?”
Steve seems to soften at your words, relaxing. His shoulders drop an inch. “I hope so.”
“And maybe, I want a little bit of loverboy Steve Harrington for myself too.” You say, your smile turning more coy. It’s true that loverboy was one of the nicknames for Steve tossed around Hawkins High halls but it hadn’t really stuck the same way The Hair or King Steve had. Except for, well, secretly with you.
“Loverboy?”
“That’s what they call you!”
“And who are they?” Steve asks, some of his signature charm creeping back in. He smirks at you, leaning in closer and your breath hitches nervously. You grin despite it.
“People!”
“Uh huh…”
Time flows easily around the two of you, weaving like the softest cocoon. As the sunset blossoms, the grassy clearing becomes breathtaking. The moment the sun dips below the horizon, dimming the sky and encouraging out the stars, you suddenly know why this is Steve’s special spot.
He stretches out on his back, eyes to the sky. You copy him. Two little bodies cocooned in the sweet grass, wrapped in the night-time.
“This might seem strange,” Steve starts. His brows are bunched together, thinking hard, but his expression lightens as he turns his face to you. “But... Thank you for coming out here with me. For trusting me.”
A beat of quiet. A wind ruffles over the clearing, a soft whistle in the night. Steve swallows nervously. “Was it a good surprise?”
His question is so earnest it aches. It’s so obvious that he just wants to do this right and well for you.
You know now that even without your advice through the paper, Steve would have charmed you all the same. That you might’ve taken another route and it might’ve taken another couple of dates before you got here, sharing secret spots— but that you’d end up here, with him, regardless.
“It was,” you tell him truthfully, chest glittering with happiness. You smile at him, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Thank you for showing me.”
Steve grins. He turns back to face the sky, eyes cinching shut for a moment. Breathes in the moment. You admire the dimple of his smile. His pretty mouth. His eyes peek back open as turns back to you, voice dropped down into a whisper, “You’re welcome.”
It feels like a little more than you’re welcome — like maybe, he’s thanking you too. You’re really thanking yourself too, for wandering into Family Video when you had, for saying yes to Steve, for giving yourself this chance with him.
Moonlight shadows across his face, strong brows and sloped nose even more defined in the dark. You stare, eyes dragging from mole to mole, avoiding his intense brown eyes that threaten to make everything in your chest melt pathetically.
Shit, is he going to kiss you? Your stomach jumps with a spike of pure want and you move forward— right as Steve sits up. Embarrassment flushes down your spine and you recoil back, sitting up quickly as Steve had but not quick enough.
“Wait,” Steve says suddenly, twisting to glance at where you’d both been lying just a moment. In your panic, you don’t hear the eagerness in his voice. “Were you gonna—?”
Somehow, it seems more embarrassing to admit it aloud. That you might have been ballsy enough to kiss Steve first. You shake your head without thinking about it, arms coming to curl around your knees. Fuck, you wish you had read that moment right.
“Uh,” You spit out stupidly. “No, no, it was just…” you clear your throat. The awkwardness of the moment is nearly painful.
“I mean, yes,” you correct yourself quietly, clearing your throat again. You don’t want Steve to think you don’t want to kiss him. “I was, but—“
“You were?” Steve sounds close to devastation. His expression has crumpled a bit, regret rippling off him in waves. Your stomach turns.
“It’s okay!” You assure him hurriedly. “It’s— you know, the moments gone but there’s always… next time, right?” Your voice comes out a bit tight.
Steve seems a tad bit relieved at your words, shoulders deflating an inch or so. He nods along, even though you can still see the tinge of embarrassment on his face — it’s adorable, that he’s the one feeling embarrassed like it wasn’t you who made a move at the wrong time.
“Yeah,” Steve hasn’t stopped nodding, even as his gaze has travelled off you, staring down at his hands. The furrow in his brow hasn’t eased up, still drawn together in the middle, even as he agrees, “Yeah, next time. Uh, totally.”
Then, his head jerks up in your direction. “I’m sorry, by the way, I didn’t mea—“
You wave him off, a nervous chuckle coming out. You sort of want to bury your missed kiss along with all your humiliation but with every other word but Steve keeps kicking off the dirt. “Seriously, it’s fine, Steve. Really.”
His nod isn’t all that convincing to say he believes you.
Regret festers deep in your gut when the evening seems to derail from that point on. Try as you might, you can tell Steve is stuck in his own head; no doubt hounding himself for the strange rebuff he’d given you.
It would be endearing, that he’s so twisted up inside over it, if it didn’t seep awkwardness into the remainder of your date. You wish you hadn’t tried to kiss him.
The car ride to drop you home is absent of the sweet conversation you’d had when he’d picked you up. Words lull, just an oddly tense air between you two. You’re not sure how to fix this.
When Steve pulls up to the curb, the engine idling with a low rumble, you don’t open the door, not yet. Instead, you turn to Steve.
He’s already waiting, already looking over at you, a hint of worry in his expression — though, it’s gone in a flash.
Steve peels his white-knuckled grip off the steering wheel, pressing his hands into his thighs nervously. He gives a strange sort of chuckle and exhales.
“Right,” He starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I know that— well, obviously, that wasn’t how I’d hoped that would go at the end and—”
He pauses, eyes scrunching shut with a groan as he tries to collect his words. The next sentence looks like it takes effort to grind out. “I would understand, is all, if you decided you didn’t want to go out again—”
“I do.”
“—because that was, well- wait, what?”
Steve forces his eyes open and doesn’t even try to hide his astonishment. Your heart throbs achingly at his obvious surprise.
“I do want to go out again.” You nod along with your words. Being so sincere makes you feel a bit naked, forcing your vulnerability out into the open so that you don’t let him spiral. But you’d rather deal with that discomfort that let Steve get the wrong idea.
“Yeah?” Steve breathes. He seems to remember himself, picking his hands off his lap and draping them over the steering wheel. They tap at it lightly. Still nervous. “I’ll— I’ll call you?”
You nod again. For a brief moment, you think of how dates are supposed to end with kisses, or so you’re told. Your eyes dip down to his lips.
You want to. Even just pressing a peck to his cheek might satisfy your churning, growing urge to kiss him — but you certainly don’t have enough courage scraped together after his accidental rebuff.
A little part of you whispers meanly that it may not have been so accidental.
“After 9pm, remember?” You hear yourself say with a smile. Opening the door, you step out onto the sidewalk and close it gently behind you.
Then you deliver Steve one more smile, one more look back, because that’s the bravest you can be at the moment.
He doesn’t call the next night.
Or the night after.
You’re certainly not expecting another letter from Steve, especially considering how your phone has sat idle and quiet in its cradle since your date on Tuesday. Ringing, but not for you.
But come Friday morning— there is it.
Another letter, scribbled in handwriting you’re coming to recognise. Your heart stammers through the next couple beats as you realise what it is, who has sent it.
This time, you nearly consider not reading it. For him and for you, you consider letting it get lost in the piles of paper, never seen, never read. But burning curiosity wins, coddled by your bruised ego.
This letter is messier and more hurried than its predecessors, letters looping together all slanted.
And…oh.
A small worry in you settles. Changes and transforms into something warmer as you realise he hasn’t called you because he’s waiting for advice first. Waiting, unknowingly, for you to answer him.
You genuinely think the space where your heart is supposed to be is empty — that the organ has melted down like gooey candle wax, dripping down your ribcage in burning hot affection. Your chest aches in the best way.
You’d never understood films where girls lie on their beds and kick their feet up, doodling hearts on paper. The urge is suddenly quite overwhelming. Christ. Steve really likes you.
He hadn’t called you back because— because part of him thinks you wouldn’t want him too. That one missed kiss would be the dealbreaker, even after those lovely dates.
You want to scoff, to laugh, to track down Steve and grip him by the shoulders and say, ‘I think you’re stuck with me if you’ll have me!’
You settle for pulling out a fresh sheet to draft your response.
It’s a bit of a gamble, considering the part about the stars is complete codswallop. The newspaper doesn’t even technically have an astrologist; the horoscopes are auto-generated every week. You’re praying Steve won’t know that.
The paper goes to print on Friday evening, for the early weekend morning the day after. Saturday morning, there’s a call of your name downstairs and you’re halfway down the stairs when you pause at the sight of your mom on the phone.
“Someone on the phone for you,” She comments, the smallest raise of her eyebrows. You ignore the way that makes you hot inside, rushing down the end of the stairs to rescue who you hope is Steve on the other end of the phone. Your mom skirts away but not without one more meaningful glance back at you.
You turn and face the other way, giving away nothing. You’re sure you sound a bit breathless as you speak into the receiver, “Hello?”
A crackle on the other end.
“Hi.” A voice says nervously. There’s a moment’s pause. “It’s Steve.”
You fight off a combination of responses; a girlish squeal and a hefty sigh of relief. He called. The cord of the phone loops around your fingers automatically.
“Hey,” You say, aiming for casual. You’re not sure if it comes out that way.
A small part of you doesn’t mind if he hears your poorly tamped down excitement — an even smaller part wants him to. There’s something different about this call, knowing what you know.
“I’m real sorry it took so long to call,” Steve says, voice genuine. He clearly feels the need to explain his silence. You suppose if you hadn’t received his letter, you might still be feeling a bit confused and bummed out. “I— I’ll tell you all about why tomorrow? If you’re free?”
It’s sickeningly sweet that he still sounds so nervous.
“Of course,” you say. “It’s—” It crosses your mind to tell him, here and now, to explain that you knew exactly why he took so long to call you. You fumble and something else comes out instead. “I’m- I’m glad you called, Steve.”
“Me too.”
Your cheeks ache a bit with the force of your grin. The cord of the phone loops over your finger again and again as you sink against the wall, clutching the phone tighter and pull yourself together,
“So, what’s the plan?”
“You, me, maybe head over to Indianapolis and try out the new golfing game they just set up over there? That sound… good to you?”
It sounds very good to you.
“I can’t say I’ve ever played golf.” You admit.
A little worry piques up about making a fool of yourself, then settles quickly. Steve wouldn’t make fun of you. If you sucked, you’re actually sure he’d find some way to spin it all romantic style.
“I’ll teach you.”
“You’ve played?”
“Never,” You can hear Steve’s smile through the phone. “But can’t be that hard right?”
—
There’s a lot of thought that goes into what to wear, evident in the holes you must be wearing in your carpet from pacing across it. Restless energy drives you, some labyrinth of nerves and anticipation knotted in your gut.
Spread out before you on the bed lies everything you own in the colour yellow.
If she wears yellow, it’s your sign. Make your move.
Your own words— well, Gabby’s words, delivered to Steve via the Hawkins Post on how to know if he’s earned your heart like you know he so desperately wants to. You want to show him he has — in a way that seems like a goddamn sign from the universe.
The skirt is one of your nicer ones.
Along the waistline, embroidered flowers are stitched into the fabric and it swishes in just the way you love. Best of all is the dreamy buttery colour, like the colour that bleeds through at the beginning of a sunset, when the sky starts to change at dusk. It’s yellow as yellow comes — for good reason.
You want him to see you and know.
For the sign to be so unanimously yes that he doesn’t have any space for the same doubts that tornadoed up in his head after your last date.
The type of giddiness that can only be spurred on by crushes and love alike spins up inside you, like sugar catching in a wheel and turning to cotton candy. You’re so sweet on him it’s making you feel gaga.
You’re also terrified — because you have to tell him now. Inklings of anxiety settle in your chest, leaving little notches in your ribs that twinge a little bit. You really don’t want Steve to leave your life, not now that he’s just come into it.
A little part of you regrets not telling him on the first date, when all your revelations rolled into one big Oh My God! outside of the Hawk cinema.
You hadn’t told him though, so you need to tell him now. And then again, if you’re asking Steve to trust in the stars then… maybe, so should you.
The afternoon sun lights through the glass of your front door and coats the entrance hall in gold. Steve, as always, is on time. You’re barely down the stairs, the clock chiming at 1 o’clock, when a familiar toot! sounds from out front. Your fingers stress with the fabric of your skirt, smoothing it down for the nth time.
Here goes… everything.
You open the door to step you and you startle in surprise to find there’s already someone on the doorstep.
The door snicks shut behind you, bumping your forward an inch, and the warmth of the afternoon sweeps across your skin.
Steve’s staring downwards, one hand adjusting his ringer t-shirt nervously and the other holding together a fresh bouquet of flowers- sunflowers.
He got you sunflowers.
Yellow, yellow, yellow. There seems to be a theme to your love.
His head shoots up at the sound of your entrance, his eyes snagging on your sunny-coloured skirt which shifts in the wind. You swear you can hear his breath hitch as he takes in the colour, a smile blooming wide across his face.
Remembering his manners, Steve clears his throat and tears his eyes off your skirt but it’s too late — the buttery yellow has done its job and he knows.
His grin has turned brazen and wild. Confidence rolls his shoulder back a bit and his chest puffs out. He looks so handsome it makes you hopelessly nervous.
“These are…” Steve holds the flowers out but his words trail off. His eyes back on the ground as he thinks, hard, teeth worrying at his bottom lip.
In a second, he seems to come to a decision because he’s stepping closer to you, so close that if you both leaned in a couple more inches, your nose would brush his chin. He holds the sunflowers purposefully out the way, mindful of crushing them.
He smells very nice, you realise. The scent of his cologne inspires a flustering reaction; you’re sure there must be cartoon hearts swimming above your head. You reign in your thoughts before they get away from you.
“Look, I messed up our last kiss and honestly, until recently I didn’t even know that was something I was even capable of doing.” Steve huffs a laugh, his throat bobbing as he swallows nervously.
His eyes screw shut for just a moment, gathering his thoughts, or perhaps his courage. Maybe both.
“But, I am. I’m- I feel like a fool around you and I miss these little cues because I’m trying to think of the right thing to say or— or because I can’t stop looking at you. And it’s because I like you. I really like you.”
He inhales a shuddering breath. The sun beams make his eyes two shades lighter.
“I’ve been confused and lost in love once before and it means that some days I’m not even sure what that feeling even is, what I’m looking for, but… I think it may feel a lot like you.”
There is it, presented forward to you. His heart on his sleeve, bleeding for you.
His affections are so transparent it makes you ache for him more. Sunlight seems to fill your chest, burning in its ardor and the tenderness soon follows.
You feel the fondness you have for him, just a seedling of new love, taking root deep in your heart. A part of you suspects it may have snuck in there far earlier, nestling in sometime between your longing glancing and shared smiles.
“And now, I really, really want to kiss you.” Steve says, the words so earnest they scrape on the way up his throat.
His brown eyes are searching your face as his free hand rises, hesitating for only a moment before it finds a home curled along your jaw. “And get a chance to get it right this time.”
“Steve,” you whisper. His name makes your mouth tender like no other word can. “Kiss me.”
His fingers slide along your jaw and touch the edges of your hair as he inches nearer and your heart lurches up your throat in anticipation. His lips are quivering ever so slightly, you notice.
And then his lips are on yours.
He kisses your mouth with all the adoration of a familiar long-time lover, deep and longing. Pushing up on your toes, your hands grasp at his shirt, the fabric twisting between your fingers as you pull him closer. It’s… lovely.
Your heart aches and soars, beating as one with him as his kiss sets a fire aflame within you. You are officially and utterly enraptured by Steve Harrington and all he is, but especially his kisses. You already miss the last of his lips when Steve breaks the kiss.
He doesn’t move back, staying close, and the tip of his nose bumps against yours. He’s sporting a grin that rivals the day in sunshine.
“You wore yellow,” He says, voice doused in awe.
Oh. That’s right. His words are a swift kick to reality. You pull back just a bit, hands flattening out on his chest, just so you can see his face properly because you know if you’re too close, you might fall victim to his brown eyes.
“About that…”
Steve blinks and takes a second to realise that he must have spoken aloud. He chuckles, a hint of embarrassment in the noise, and rushes to explain. “That was— that must’ve sounded-”
“I’m Gabby.” You interrupt before he can get carried away.
Steve frowns, confusion creasing between his brows. “What? I thought your name was—”
“No!” You jump in again, biting down your smile at his adorable misunderstanding. “I-I mean I write as Gabby. From the Hawkins Post.”
Steve blinks at you again. His face blanches and then, it’s like watching fruit ripen, the apples of his cheek getting pinker and pinker with every passing second.
He splutters, a myriad of emotions overtaking his features; surprise, bewilderment, embarrassment. He jumps from one to the other in an instant.
“You- you’re— and you?”
There’s not really a proper sentence coming from Steve, just bucket loads of endearing and unneeded embarrassment radiating off him, so warm you can nearly feel it. Steve sputters for another second before he finally manages to spit out a sentence.
“The whole time?”
You have the decency to look sheepish when you nod. Steve steps back for a moment and you try to ignore the spike of fear it invokes in you — he buries his face in his hands, squishing the flowers against his hair, and releases a pitiful sounding groan into his palms. After a moment, he drags his hands down his face and peeks up at you.
“The whole time?” Steve asks again, in a meek whisper.
“I’m sorry!” You squeak out, guilt beginning to overflow. Oh god, you’ve deceived him and he hates you—
“No, no, no,” He cuts you off with a wave of his hand, which then cards through his hair. He’s still looking a bit frazzled but his eyes finally focus back on you.
“It’s not— Oh, man, I can’t believe it was you. No wonder the advice worked so well! This is- this is a new kind of embarrassing—”
Steve groans again, though his smile is starting to return. “I can’t believe you still went out with me once you figured it out. God, I knew that writing in was a bit pathetic, it’s gotta be like a—” He holds his hand out flat, hovering at chest height. “Top ten loser move of all time and you still—.”
“No, it’s not!” You insist, stepping forward to close the gap between you. You shake your head, eager to convince him of how it had seemed from your side; a sweet love letter from someone who cared enough to try to get things right.
“It was sweet and honest. Before I even knew it was you, reading that first letter, I… I wanted it to be you.” You admit, a bit bashfully.
Steve takes a moment to look at you, eyes dancing down to look at your yellow skirt which swishes as another breeze passes by. Warm afternoon air cocooning around you, you look the picture of devastatingly pretty, dolled up for a date with him. You’ve seen this dorky and little bit pathetic side of him, with his desperate search for advice and missed kisses and yet… you’re still here.
“You did? You mean that? You don’t think it was… weird?”
You shake your head, a few strands of hair escaping from behind your ear. Steve thinks about tucking them back for you. He doesn’t feel brave enough yet.
“I mean that. I— it was crazy when I figured it out and I sort of thought it was just wishful thinking but, definitely not weird.”
You hold your hand up, fingers nearly pinched together with only a few centimetres between them. You squint, smile overtaking your lips before you can stop it. “Was just a little bit funny, though.”
Steve laughs, head tipping forward to hide his rosy cheeks. He peers back up at you through his lashes, a new twinkle in his eyes. “You’re a little minx, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t plan it!” You splutter out, defending yourself. “It was- it was just a freaky coincidence.”
“A freaky coincidence?” Steve’s brows hike up an inch. His smile turns into a smirk and he rocks up on the balls of his feet, then steps back in closer to you. “Mmhm. Totally believe you.”
“Doesn’t sound like you do.”
“Weren’t you the one who told me to trust in the stars? You should take your own advice, really.”
He leans in so close that you think he’s about to kiss you. He doesn’t— just hovers an inch from your lips.
“I’ve found it works astoundingly well.” He says, voice husky with how low it is.
You shiver a bit, delight zinging up your spine and try your best to not to smile too much because, well — as you find, it’s awfully hard to kiss someone properly when you’re cheesing out, grinning too wide.
Good thing, neither you or Steve seem to mind very much.
#dear god#i hope this doesn’t crash in burn#it’s been…. how many months since i posted an x reader fic#5 MONTHS!!!!#GOD IM SORRY#i had this idea…. november last year#took me so fucking long#anyways… if u liked nine facts…. maybe u like this?#except no enemies :(#ruby writes steve#steve x reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington fluff
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I think Our Flag Means Death is a very unique show in a way that they don't care to cater to mainstream media. And yes, by mainstream media I mean the general straight people.
I think it's very important that we have feel-good shows like Heartstopper. A few years back, a tv show about two queer boys in high school would be unthinkable. But its plot generally revolves around explaining queerness. Sure, it's nice. It's definitely the show I would watch with my family if I were a teenager and wanted to come out again (I had to watch glee with my mom to do that. not optimal). It's the show where teenagers find love and themselves, but sexuality is constantly discussed, explained, sanitized. It's the show straight people will watch. And that's good. We do need shows like that.
But Our Flag Means Death doesn't even bother trying. It's a show about mostly middle aged people, most of them not white, most of them queer in one way or the other. It's really a game of spot the hetero, like someone said. And the characters are not sublte about it. They have sex for fun, something most characters don't have in tv shows, definitely not queer characters. They make dick jokes. They are not all conventionally attractive and they know it, and the writing doesn't care. They are all people before they are queer representation.
Stede's storyline in s1 is in a part about discovering himself and his sexuality, but it's not obnoxiously repeated. Instead, it's played in a natural way. Stede's storyline is ALL about finding himself, yet it's not just about that. Just like Ed's storyline, it's about toxic masculinity and allowing himself to have fine things and self-hatred and finding his place in a world, something most of us can relate to. Hell, none of us were even sure the main characters were going to kiss and end up together, we were all so sure it's a queerbait. But this show doesn't bait its audience. It's not afraid of weirdness. It embraces it instead. There is a nonbinary character. No, they are not a mermaid. Call them jim. That's it. Yes, Lucius and Pete got engaged. Everyone there knows what mateolage is, congrats. Olu and Jim never break up and then Archie shows up, then Zheng, and we all know. We all know.
Two men nearing fifty have a deep, romantic moment where one of them appears as a mermaid, and it's treated as the profound scene it is without ridiculing it. This would never fly in a 'mainstream' media. It would have to be downplayed. Here, it saves Ed's life.
The show tells you racists suck, but it doesn't tell you in a condescending, finger-waving way catered to the white people. Instead, it sets your ship aflame and burns you alive, runs a knife through your hand, puts poison in your drink and kills you.
This is a show for adults, for queer people of all kinds, and it does not give a fuck if anyone else gets it. It's so rare to find a tv show that caters to us, yet alone a tv show that's genuinely good and caring and so well loved.
This is a show that basically straightbaited its audience in the first season, that's how much they don't care.
Idk, I just feel that it will take ages for another show like OFMD to exist in a world full of MCU and media that tries so hard to be liked by everyone it loses its personality and charm. Rant over
#ofmd#yes i am rewatching for the millionth time#just felt like talking about ofmd and how important it is for the milkiont time#it's not perfect but it is to me
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WON'T YOU LEND ME YOUR FAITH? | R. ITOSHI
❁ tags ; fem!reader (reader dresses femininely + is referred to as a girl / with she/her pronouns), reader is shorter than rin , strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, getting together, rin is soo teenage boy (and makes some annoying teen-boy comments), slow-burn, making out is as suggestive as this gets, stereotypical shoujo romance, usage of honorifics, coming of age
❁ wc ; 21.4k (insane. most insane thing ive ever seen)
❁ a/n ; i'm genuinely appalled by the length of this fic. how did that happen. what in the world. this fic is truly just. every single shoujou manga trope crammed into one okay. my silly little self indulgent romance !!!!
also this fic is sfw + takes place in their third of hs so im not gonna say mdni that's silly. however if you're a minor please do not follow me i post heinous dark content and this fic is a fluke in the timeline dskffjkfd
❁ synopsis ; the love story of a sensitive, stoic soccer player and an eccentric wannabe journalist
or that time you confess to itoshi rin, knowing he'll reject you, and asking to befriend him in spite of it.
“I like you,”
A breeze of wind passes.
“What?”
You confess to Itoshi Rin at the start of the Spring semester. On the school rooftop with your head down. Bent at a near ninety degrees as you hold out what looks like a love letter.
For a minute, he can’t do anything more than stare. He’s received countless confessions in highschool. Half of which he rejected immediately, not even stopping to hear the full extent of their feelings. Why would he? The lukewarm ideas of first love had never been of interest. Even before his fight with Sae, Rin was always focused on his goals.
After his second year of high school was spent in Bluelock, Rin has only returned for his third. He promised his parents he’d graduate properly, and Bluelock was off-season until Ego could fully prepare for the next stages.
And a lot has changed since then. But some parts of him, namely his feelings towards the idea of conventional relationships, haven't changed at all.
It’s only been a little less than three weeks since school had started, and by now he’s received more confessions than he can really remember. All of which he’s rejected coldly, and blankly, because Itoshi Rin has never been in the business of coddling anyone. Most of those girls he’s never even met. Knows nothing about them because they’re first or second years he’d never even spoken to.
Rin, however, does know you. You’ve been in his class in all 3 years of his highschool, and he’s seen you around more than once. You’re in the newspaper club, which he remembers because you covered their winning match back when Rin was a first year. He wouldn’t call you friends, but you’ve spoken to each other enough that he can remember your name with a little effort.
He also remembers you being sort of annoying. You’re one of those loud and earnest types that he can’t stand.
A year ago, Rin would’ve denied knowing you at all. But now that things with Sae have cleared up just a little - he’s not inclined to take his anger out on you. He knows you. Not well, but enough.
And if his reputation precedes him at all, then you know Rin too. You know that he’s never once gone out with a single girl in his 3 years of highschool and that most of the guys in all three grades consider him an arrogant jerk. You know that he mostly plays soccer alone during breaks and that he only really hangs out with one person.
Which means you must know that he doesn’t harbor any feelings for you. And that he’s going to reject your confession without thinking twice about it.
In the first place, he was just curious if you were stupid enough to do it. If you really called him up here for a roof-top confession. The fact that you were is what’s stifling him. Your words are familiar. He’s heard them so many times. But it’s baffling. It’s ridiculous.
You lift your head to face him. You’re still smiling, though there’s something more there that he can’t understand. He doesn’t do well with people like you begin with. He finds himself backing away when you jog up closer towards him.
He’s taller than you, he notices. You pick your head up to look at him and smile, toothy and at ease. You hold the letter up again and shove it towards him, though you don’t seem like you’re expecting him to take it. He stares at you.
“I like you,” You repeat, smooth and bubbly. He frowns.
“I don’t like you.”
He has expectations for this part. Normally he receives a saddened look like a dog whose tail he stepped on or a fit of crying (sometimes genuine, sometimes with the intent of guilt.) Sometimes he gets an awkward smile trying to seem unbothered by the whole situation.
You don’t falter though. You don’t even flinch at the words, cold as ice and steely. It throws him off.
“I know,” You say back, prying the letter away from him. You turn the other way, walking towards the metal grates and for a minute Rin wonders if you’re going to do something drastic. You don’t though, instead sticking your the paper in the air “That’s why I have a proposal,”
He stares, absolutely dumbfounded. You turn again towards him.
“I want to get to know you. And keep confessing to you,” You say first, and Rin immediately goes to reject you until you put your hands up “And I want you to keep rejecting me.”
He’s baffled. Really.
“What?”
“So I can gradually lose my feelings for you. Nothing that different on your end, honestly..”
It sounds annoying. It really does. If it were anyone else, under any other circumstance he would scoff and tell them to deal with their own shitty feelings alone just like everyone else. But there’s no hidden intention there. Rin’s always been good at sniffing that out. Your words are pure as can be.
Frustratingly simple and twice as sincere, no matter how confusing the whole thing is.
“Why should I?”
“We can be friends,” You reply like it’s the best deal he could ask for. “Isn’t that enough? Not like you really have any right now.”
He scoffs bitterly albeit he can’t counter you.
“Friendship is lukewarm. I don’t care about any of that stuff,”
“Lukewarm? Really? Then..think of it like I’ll be your shield. You hate when people socialize with you right? I’ll help you deal with it.”
That doesn’t sound too bad actually. On top of that, he’s kind of curious what your deal is. He rolls his eyes at you, turning to face the other way.
“Do whatever you want. It’s not like it matters.”
His response makes you beam. He hears you shout from the otherside of the yard, followed by the sound of your footsteps noisily thudding against the concrete as you try to catch up with him. He walks faster than you just to spite you for earlier, but he hears your last words through a huff of breath.
“Jeez, you’re fast. I’ll see you at lunch, be prepared!”
Somehow, he feels like he’s crossed paths with something he shouldn’t’ve.
__
You keep up with your end of the deal with Rin to the best of your ability.
The upsides of your arrangement is that the usual annoyances Rin has to deal with have decreased significantly in the time you’ve been hanging around him. You’re very good at using your speech to sway conversations one way or the other without upsetting the other party.
Normally, Rin’s rejections for different things leave a bitter taste in the air. He’s never been good at mincing his words for anyone and while it doesn’t affect him - the strange stares and whispers he gets are a little annoying to deal with. People always take his disinterest personally. Rin has always hated that. He was probably a little gentler about the denial before but still.
While other people are too stupid to pay it any mind, you’re clever at turning the tides your way. You always manage to completely divert their questions without making them feel uncomfortable. Rin has tried, many times, to actually break down how you’re doing it. He doesn’t think he’d ever be able to replicate it, no matter how much he studies you.
He’s reluctant to admit it, but really, your presence has significantly lowered the number of obstacles in his daily life and made him overall, less irritable.
Instead of many annoying things, there’s only you. Which is tolerable in comparison.
You also expect him to uphold his end of the deal. For the most part, this has just meant you inserting yourself into his usual activities. It started out small enough, mostly just you sitting with him during lunch. It draws too much attention to eat in the classroom so you both fuck off to the roof.
(You often joke about how romantic it is, reminiscing on your rejected first love with as much melodrama as you can muster.
Rin never laughs about it to your face, but he admits it’s funny. Your stupidity is mildly amusing, at least )
There, you eat lunch together. Rin learns you make yourself colorful bentos from time to time- though some days are much less elaborate than others. You like to unwind that way, your designated and nightly me-time. You work part-time, and you take care of your neighbors kids by helping them every morning and night.
Rin doesn’t ask you for more, not willing to deliberately show interest.
But you notice his curiosity for better or for worse and explain that she, the woman next door, used to make you dinner back when your parents were too busy. You have an older brother who's nearly twelve years your senior so you were alone for most of your childhood. She had children late, but they feel like your little siblings. So you help them in the mornings and in the evenings when you have time.
Rin learns you, funnily enough, have a sense of obligation towards other people that he can’t fully comprehend. He forgot there were people like that. In an environment like Bluelock that is so dead set on fostering ego, it’s easy to forget something so simple.
You haven’t confessed to him again since that time. Not like he’s expecting it, but given your personality he wonders why. He thought it’d be more of a daily occurence, something like a bit you did. But you never do. Even when at times, it’s so heavy in the atmosphere even he can tell you want too.
Admittedly, Rin wonders a lot more about you than he cares to. He wonders why you spend so much time with him when you have plenty of other friends who seem to cherish you. He wonders why you care so much about the dying club you're in. He wonders if this, in some strange way, stems from some kind of obligation.
He wonders, sometimes, what about him you could even like. It’s probably something stupid. You’d probably think long and hard before going on to say that you like him because he’s handsome or cool. Something shallow and meaningless.
He tells himself that when he starts thinking about it again.
__
Rin gets roped into cleaning the classroom with you.
He’s used to being paired with other people. But he’s never had to do with you before, even in the years prior. Or maybe he did. He doesn’t recall much of his first year.
Still, now that it’s already mid-May, Rin has never been on cleaning duty with you. He’s conscious of the sound of your name these days. It’s not something he’s happy about.
It’s a simple affair. Just 15 or 20 minutes. Nothing to talk about. Not really.
But, today you’re alone with him. Alone in an empty classroom with light pouring through the windows and reflecting off of the wooden desks. You’re busying yourself with wiping down the chalkboard, humming quietly. Rin has the broom and dust pan, slowly working himself towards the front of the room.
It’s mostly quiet. Just your humming. The soft thud of a dust pan, a gentle brush of the bristle.
Rin feels a crick in his neck, half-way done with the task at hand. He stares at you, off in the front. In your own little world as you fix everything up diligently without turning your head to look up at him even once.
The nape of your neck is visible from the way you’re standing. There’s a chain there. Do you wear a necklace under your uniform? He can see the slope of your shoulders. The light reflects on you.
It stops him dead in his tracks. All he can hear is the quiet. The soft humming of your voice. The thud of the dust pan, the woosh of an eraser. The gentle bristle of a broom. The sound of his own heartbeat, a little louder than it was a minute ago.
He shakes his head. He goes back to sweeping.
__
“Why do you look like that?”
You look depressed. For Rin, this expression on you is unusual. You do look sad sometimes. Somber, occasionally but the look you have on your face right now is down right harrowing. You’re staring blankly out into the open, sitting in the usual spot the two of you have lunch at. But you’ve hardly touched your food and your favorite juicebox (a lunchtime staple) doesn’t have a straw in it yet.
It’s freaking him out, quite frankly. He stares at you, waving a hand in front of your face until you click back into reality. You jump in your skin at the sight of him before taking a deep breath once you’ve realized who’s in front of you.
“Oh. It’s just you. Sorry,” You say, immediately going for your juice. See? “What did you say?”
He sighs, sitting down next to you with his own lunch. Nothing special, something his mom likes to pack when he’s at home - though he doesn’t often take it. He opens up his own tin, taking chopsticks out attached from the top.
“I asked why you looked like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like someone just died.”
You look at him morbidly, clasping your hands and leaning forward with your elbows on your knees.
“My midterm grades,” You say solemnly, voice wavering ever so slightly “They’re detestable. A shame to my bloodline.”
Rin looks at you plainly.
“Aren’t you an idiot to begin with?”
“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m average. Super average. But I scored even lower than usual and I’m concerned. I need to do well on the next one and on my entrance exams.”
Oh, right. Rin forgot since he has no plans to take any.
“Do you know what you want to do for college?” He asks, mostly out of obligation.
“I want to study journalism.” There’s a wispiness to your way of speaking. It gives the air a sentimental feel. “There’s a private university with a good program I want to get into but they’re kind of tough. So I have to focus and do well,”
“What subject are you struggling with?”
You deflate all over again.
“Chemistry and Classical Japanese,”
Rin does well in both subjects. He thinks it over, and decides he can consider this payback. That’s all it is. He’s never liked owing people for favors and while you say this much is enough - Rin can rest assured about your little deal if he’s actually been of use to you in return. He remains impassive as he takes a sip of water.
“Do you want me to help you study?”
You turn to him immediately, suddenly full of life. He doesn’t like the gleam in your eyes, an immediate regret settling in as he stares at you, eyes full of disdain. You don’t hesitate grabbing his hand, putting it to your forehead and bowing deeply as you face him. You’re like a fly that keeps buzzing around him.
“Are you serious? Really? Forreal? Do you mean it?”
“If you keep being a dipshit I’m going to take it back,”
You pull away, hands folded in your lap, going stone faced.
“I would be very grateful,” You say, hands clasped in front of your face. He rolls his eyes.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” He says bluntly, staring out into space “I just don’t want to owe you any favors.”
This you laugh at, leaning back on the wall behind you - with your legs stretched out.
“Don’t worry,” You reply, self-assured. “Somehow, you asking me to study with you so innocently really cements it in that you don’t have a shred of affection for me.”
Something in him stirs. He ignores it.
“Never in a million years.”
You laugh light-heartedly.
“You’re so cold to me, Itoshi-kun.”
“You still call me that.” He grimaces. You stare at him confused.
“How else would I call you?”
“When you use my last name it reminds me of my brother,”
“...Are you implying I should use your first name?”
Oh. Shit. That is what he sort of said, isn’t it?
“No,” He denies, somehow unable to come up with anything worthwhile “Don’t address me at all.”
“Eh? But that’s impossible? I can try but,”
Only an idiot like you would think to actually try. He shakes his head. It’s no good after all.
“Shut up,” He decides, because there’s not anything else he can think to say “We can study at the library.”
You’re quick to reject the proposal.
“We have to pick somewhere else. Like a cafe or something,” You say, not looking at him. You have your phone pulled up now, looking for places nearby. He’s lost again.
“What? Why? Isn’t it easier if it’s at school?”
You glance over at him wide-eyed, before suddenly smiling. It’s a knowing smile, almost like you feel sorry for him. He wants to ask why you look like that. It’s weirdly guarded and he hates that from you. He stares at you, trying to will you to explain yourself. You’re good at reading his thoughts, frustratingly enough, so he’s not accustomed to asking.
Which means your lack of answer is deliberate, and even with the pressure he’s putting on you, you don’t budge.
“Trust me on this one,” You voice light and airy. “It’s better if we find somewhere away from school, too. There’s still some time to look, so no rush.”
He lets it go because he doesn’t have any other choice. Lunch passes and you talk like everything's normal.
The question lingers in the back of his mind.
__
Rin spends most of his time between classes watching soccer. If he has some free time on his day off, he’ll look for a new movie to watch. There’s a new foreign film coming out from a director who he really likes and he’s just finished watching the trailer.
Thirsty, with nothing to do - he stands to his feet and briefly surveys the classroom. He wants a drink and there’s a vending machine down the hallway with a sports drink that tastes like..something.
His airpods are close to being dead so there’s no music as he makes his way. He’s not a fan of being forced to listen to the chatter of the general populace so it’s not that hard to ignore.
It catches his attention when he hears your name in passing before turning the corner of the hall. It stops him dead in his tracks, something tense left in the syllables after . He doesn’t know why he stopped, not exactly. He figured it’d be annoying if his presence caused a ruckus.
He’s used to people talking about you, though they usually describe you as a busybody. The Senpai who’s everywhere. A hand in every jar, or something like that. But there’s a tone to that, mild amusement - never malice, that Rin is more than accustomed to.
This is not that, he notices. He leans on the wall and listens. A group of girls. Some of the voices he recognizes. They’re from the third year classroom down the hall.
“It’s like, I don’t know,” Eto-san, he thinks. She’s come up to him before, more times than he can really count on one hand. Rin knows the type. Kind but not really. To the point it’s hard for anyone to call her out on it. “It’s weird how much she hangs around him. She’s not a bad girl or anything,”
The addition makes Rin’s eye twitch. Yeah. He’s very familiar with this type. He keeps listening. Another voice, but he has no idea who this one is.
“Really? But Senpai is pretty kind to me,”
“Mm, I guess so. I just wonder if it makes Itoshi-kun uncomfortable, you know? With pushy people like that, it doesn’t matter how blunt you are. I just worry about him a bit.”
If it wasn’t so annoying to listen in, Rin would laugh. He’s never understood girls. Especially not highschool ones. He doesn’t pay attention to that kind of social hierarchical shit to begin with, only forced to acknowledge it because other people do. None of it matters to him.
He does think back to what you said a week ago, about finding a place away from school to study. It clicks. You probably know they talk about you like this. Or you could surmise this outcome. Rin should expect that level of awareness from you. Sincere. Always attuned to everyone. Of course this is something you know but he doesn’t.
Why didn’t you tell him? That’s annoying. It’s nothing he couldn’t deal with knowing. He would’ve got it if you explained it earlier.
“Oh wow, you really care about him Eto-san,”
There’s a soft chuckle that makes Rin annoyed. Is he supposed to feel grateful? They’ve barely spoken to each other.
“It’s not like that. It must be hard since he missed second year, that’s all.”
With that, Rin decides to turn the corner.
He’s a little pleased at the reaction. How everyone goes into complete silence when he arrives. He spares her a glance as he moves towards the vending machines, clicking in the buttons. A generic sports drink comes tumbling out of the bottom, and Rin grabs it with deliberate slowness - drawing out the unease.
Eto-san gives him a blank stare before suddenly looking cheerful. She seems a little panicked, quickly trying to make conversation with him. The words don’t reach his ears as he stares down at her expressionlessly.
“Are you done?” He says, ice-cold. She stutters at that. Rin suppresses a smile.
“Oh, uhm, yeah. Sorry, were you busy?”
“Yeah,” He says back, completely apathetic.
He doesn’t plan on saying anymore in the first place. The little victories count.
It does feel like some kind of magic when he hears your voice from the other end of the hallway. You’re practically shouting it, and following is the sound of the hall monitors telling you off for running as you barrel toward him full speed. He can hear the thud of your sneakers all the way till they skid to a stop.
You’re out of breath, bent over your knees and messy as you put a hand up. Most times, he would be embarrassed. He’d even tell you off for being such an idiot. Right now, he finds the corners of his lips upturned as he stares at you from where you stand.
“Oh, hey guys. Sorry, I had some business with this guy. Oh, Fujita-chan, your hair is cute today! I like how it looks up on you,” You say, to the girl who was calling you kind just a minute ago “I hope he wasn’t too cruel to you. He’s actually afraid of women, it’s a generational curse. Every night he turns into a frog and—”
You shuffle in front him, arms stretched out like a shield. He sticks his leg out and kicks your shin. You yelp in pain.
“What the hell are you talking about? Shut up.”
“Ow, you strong bastard. You’re a soccer player, please be more conscious of your kicks. What if you shattered my shin? I know you’re loaded but it’s the principle of the thing, you know—”
“Stop talking or I’ll kick you a second time.”
You go silent immediately.
“Forgive me, Itoshi-sama. I’ve strayed from the path of righteousness. Alas, the people need you.” You say, turning around.
“Speak clearly.”
“Homeroom teacher wanted to double check with you about after graduation plans and told me to go get you.”
“Why you?”
“I was already walking around for the newspaper club.”
He nods, not needing any more explanation.
“H-hey, aren’t you acting too friendly with him?”
So she decided to speak. This makes you falter, just a little, and Rin detests the look of self-satisfaction on her face. He speaks this time. It’s not like he can’t fight any of his own battles.
“It’s fine,” He says, not bothering to think about it. He looks at you, as you stare back at him where he stands, wide-eyed. Idiot. “I don’t mind.”
You grin at him. Big and rounded and stupid, with all of your teeth like you’re giddy. If the hallway monitor wasn’t up your ass, he figures you’d be skipping about now. You usher him into the hall, back where he came from, waving them off.
“Be seeing you guys, then! Bye!”
And you’re off. It’s quiet until you’re both completely out of ear-shot. Before he can go any further you stand in front of him, hands behind your back with a dumb look on your face. He already knows what you’re going to say.
“Hey. I really like you a lot. Just now… my heart was fluttering. I thought I was hallucinating,”
“You’re a moron,”
“Ahhh, what should I do? I’m all hot under the collar. Is this what it’s like being a maiden in love? It’s great.”
“How can you say that knowing I’ve already rejected you?”
“It’s because you’ve rejected me, I can say that.”
And Rin doesn't really get it. He’s not sure he ever will.
But you seem happy enough. He decides against prying.
__
Somehow, you’ve ended up at Rin’s house.
He doesn’t know how it happened. Really.
He mentioned to his mother off-handedly that he needed to help someone study. He should’ve lied about it then, but coming off of running drills makes him pretty stupid. He uses most of his brain power when he trains. So in an altered state of mind due to dehydration, hunger and general exhaustion - he answered honestly instead of lying.
You’re helping someone study? Yes, they’re from my class.
Is it a boy or a girl? A girl. We’re friends.
You can’t study at the library? She doesn’t want to, so we’re trying to find somewhere else.
Why not invite her here, if her parents are okay with it? Her parent’s don’t really pay enough attention to be bothered.
Wait, what is he saying?
Rin doesn’t know how it happened. Really. Really. He tried pretty hard to reject his mothers advances about the situation but he’s never been one to upset her. The whole thing with Sae really tore her up so they both had a silent agreement to try and get along at home. And since Rin is still living at home for now, he tries harder to listen to her. Even so, he wasn’t planning on yielding for this one.
Rin is not immune to his mothers guilt. A long lecture about how her only sons never cared about anything but soccer and how she’s worried she’s never going to have grandchildren later, he finally gave in and gave you a call at his dinner table.
He was hoping you would come through and reject the offer. Say something stupid about how that’s dangerous territory for a young girl in love and let his mom down gently. He forgot about your whole thing about responsibility and being a nice girl who gets along well with adults.
And now, the door is ringing and Rin knows he’s going to open it to you. He mostly blames himself for not thinking ahead.
Rin opens the door on a Saturday afternoon and the first thing he thinks is that you’re not wearing your uniform.
You look…different. It’s weird. Your hair is styled in an unusual way, tied with something like ribbon. You’re wearing something flowy and loose but the neck is a little rounder than usual. There’s a necklace there, a heart-pendant with a chain. You have in...earrings.
Rin thinks vaguely that you look…something. He doesn’t know. But in his vision you’re like a troublesome and amorphous blob that yammers on about nothing. And right now you look…not like that.
“You’re dressed up.” Are the first words to come out of his mouth. You blink at him owlishly.
“Oh. Yeah. I wanted to make a good impression on your mom so I tried not to look sloppy.” You say sheepishly. He leans against the doorframe.
“She doesn’t care about stuff like that.”
“Well I do, okay? Now, can I come in?”
“The white slippers are for you.”
He steps aside and lets you in. You have perfect manners. He probably should’ve expected that. You take your shoes off neatly and place them on the rack the same way, slipping your feet into the slippers provided. Rin just watches, eyes tracing the curve of your neck.
“Where’s your mom?” You ask.
“In the kitchen making dinner. You’re staying for dinner right?”
You blink at him, surprised.
“I mean it’s not like I can’t.”
“She’d be upset if you didn’t.” He says noncommittally before walking you down to the kitchen.
His mother is right where he expects. He stands in the corner as you shuffle in watching on. She turns around to look at you, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Oh, my, you must be Rin’s friend? Such a lovely girl. Welcome! Welcome.”
To this, you bow your head as deep as it can go. The air around you feels serious. Rin scoffs internally. There’s a strange feeling in his chest that he can’t describe, seeing you bowing in front of his mom. An itch he can’t reach, locked tight around his ribs.
You give his mother your name first and she smiles like she’s absolutely delighted just hearing it.
“Thank you for having me. I brought some fruit with me as a gift, I hope that’s alright.”
His mom shoots him a look that Rin deflects by turning away, opening the plastic bag you’ve handed to her.
“Oh my! Aren’t these expensive fruits? Please thank your parents for me!”
“Oh no, don’t worry about that. I work part-time, so I paid for them myself. It was the least I could do. I’m grateful for the tutoring.”
You tense up, realizing that might’ve been an awkward thing to say. It isn’t. Even if it was, Rin’s mother has always been soft-hearted. His dad tells him they’re a lot alike but Rin doesn’t see it. Whatever it may be, Rin’s mom is too doting and too sociable to let you feel bad. Right now she seems emotional, an expression between empathy and pride. She reaches for you like it’s the most natural thing in the world, patting your head gently.
“How diligent. Thank you, then, for the fruit.”
Rin can’t see your face but it’s easy to picture.
“Of course. And pardon the intrusion! And uhm, thank you for having me for dinner.”
Clumsy. Rin thinks you’re clumsy. A flickering light. His mom laughs brightly and tells you not to worry. She leans in closer like she’s whispering but Rin can hear her loud and clear.
“Rin can be very brash but he’s a good boy, so thank you for being kind to him.”
He feels embarrassed. Even readies himself to intervene.
“He is very kind to me.”
Wait. What?
His mom smiles even brighter, and mouths something like ‘take care of her’ when you’re not looking. He wants to stop it before it starts. You’re not dating. You’re hardly even friends, you’re just here to study. Rin almost wants to shout it, but he’s stuck. Before he can do any of that, you’re turning around and smiling like you haven’t said anything strange.
What do you mean he’s kind to you? When his whole thing is rejecting you mercilessly? Being cruel?
What kind of person would ever describe him as kind?
He can’t find the words he wants to say, so he takes you to his room in silence.
__
You both make it to Rin’s room in one piece.
You’ve been studying now for about an hour. Given your personality, Rin was expecting more of a fuss. He thought you’d make some comment about being in a boys room and then fight off the actual studying like the plague.
Much to his surprise, you started studying with him right away. Rin tries his best to tutor you, though he does make fun of you in the process. But you’re a try-hard all the same, stopping only to ask questions and get clarification occasionally.
You’ve been focused that whole time, miraculously enough. Rin studies too, but only a bit, after deciding to study some recent matches instead.
( Every now and again, he’ll glance at you. Just to see if you’re stuck or still working. Each time, he gets caught up on the fact you’re not in your uniform and has to tear his eyes away. )
After a bout of silence, you yawn out loud, quietly shutting your workbook.
“I’ve finished all my practice problems for today,” You announce, before deciding to lay down on his floor “I’m beat.”
“I thought you were gonna give up before you started.” Rin admits. You frown at him.
“I was serious about needing tutoring. Thanks for all your help.”
“I already told you it’s fine. Is there anything else? Finals are next week.”
You shake your head.
“Mm, I don’t think so. One of the guys from the newspaper club helped me with math so I’ll be okay.”
…Huh?
“From the newspaper club?”
“Huh? Yeah. Murata-senpai. We’re in the same year. He’s a few months older so he insists on making me call him Senpai.”
“And he helped you with math?”
“Yeah. He was a delinquent like, all of first year but he really cleaned up his act. He’s actually really gentle.”
Rin frowns at that.
“Do people usually describe delinquents as gentle?”
You make a noise of indignance from where you’re laid on his floor.
“Hey. Murata-senpai is really nice, okay? And he is gentle, so I won’t tolerate your usual judginess.”
Rin rolls his eyes.
“How’d you even meet him?”
“Uh…I wanted to write a column about him, basically. He was helping in the garden last year and I kinda…stalked him. It sounds worse than it is. I just wanted to know what made him change.”
“So stalking people is pretty typical for you.”
You sit up and gape at him. Rin suppresses a laugh.
“Anyways. I eventually flagged him down for an interview. Apparently, he had a real scare with his granny getting sick and decided he needed to cut the shit. He’s a good guy. He joined the newspaper club after the interview,”
“After the interview…?”
You nod, leaning forward with your elbows on the table in front of you.
“Uh-huh. Said he was interested because of my passion or something. He’s been really nice to me ever since and helps me with all of the ideas I have.” You soften as you talk about it. Rin feels an ugly emotion in his chest “I’m worried about what will happen to the club after graduation, but Senpai is always encouraging me to make the most out of the time we still have. So I’m really thankful for him. That’s why you have to be nice.”
Rin is super annoyed. He doesn’t know why he’s so annoyed but he is. How do you not realize this guy likes you? He doesn’t know why he’s opening his mouth to tell you what’s so obvious. It’s not like it really matters. Rin doesn’t like you in the first place, so if he informs you that your beloved Murata-senpai has feelings for you - it’s no big deal.
In fact it might be better for everyone if you realize. He’s just frustrated by how clueless you can be sometimes.
“He’s interested in you,” Rin says, against his better judgment. It feels like the words are welling up in his throat “Your senpai or whatever.”
You blink at him stupidly. He wonders if you’re wearing mascara.
“Huh? I doubt that somehow. Senpai is kind to me but I think he sees me like a little sister.”
He scoffs at you.
“You would think that. Most guys aren’t just nice to girls they don’t like.”
“Not everyone is like you, yanno.” You say back without thinking twice. That’s not the point this time, he wants to say. And he’s right for this one. Anyone else with half of a brain would realize. You’re just… you. Which means you’re absolutely unaware of things pertaining to you. It’s the only reason he can think you’d deny something so obvious.
The only reason you could come to the house of a boy you liked just to study.
“Shut up. I’m saying this because you’re too much of a dumbass to put it together on your own. The guy definitely likes you.”
“I didn’t know you were a love guru,” You say sarcastically, sticking your tongue out at him. Childish. Annoying “It doesn’t matter if he does.”
“Why wouldn’t it matter?”
You give him an incredulous look.
“Unfortunately my heart is captured by an aloof sportsman.”
He doesn’t know why he feels relieved when you say that. He feels his heart all the way in his throat like he’s going to throw it up, even though his expression remains impassive.
“You already know I don’t like you, though. It’s a good opportunity, isn’t it? Don’t a lot of people move on that way.”
You shake your head.
“I’m not that sort of wishy-washy woman.” You reply, huffing your chest up and trying to ease the tension. You stop to shake your head, a small smile on your face. “You wouldn’t get it even if I explained.”
“It’s annoying when you do that,” Rin voices, not bothering to cut it any other way “You did that with the girls at school too. I’m never gonna get it if you don’t bother explaining it to me.”
You soften at this, then whisper.
“...Why do you care?” But it’s not said with any malice. It’s not said sadly either. Just curious. He freezes, but doesn’t let it show. He wants to ask himself the same question.
“I don’t. It’s just,” And he scoffs, not looking at your face “It’s a pain.”
You hum, not expecting more of an answer.
“I want to treasure my own feelings towards you,” You say, and something in Rin feels like it’s being set on fire. “It’s not just about having a boyfriend. If it was, then I’d consider Senpai's feelings.”
“...So it’s about me, specifically?”
“Yeah,” You say without offering any more explanation than that “It is. I like you.”
The words but why, linger in the air. You seem to be feeling merciful, as you lean back on your palms and stare up at his ceiling. You wear your heart outside of your body, more often than not. And he thinks that part of you is so hard to get used to.
“You’re really awkward. And aloof. And you don’t have any friends.”
“Is this some kind of revenge or…?”
“But. You’re also sensitive. The more I know you, the more I think you’re kind and well-meaning. You uh, remind me of a cat.”
He blinks.
“A cat?”
“A cat. Sometimes they want their own space. And sometimes they knock your water off your desk for fun. Plus they only really care about people in their own circle,”
“Again, is this—”
“Let me finish, jeez. They’re solitary creatures. But like when they accept you, they get comfortable. An’ nice . And they look out for you in their own way. To me you’re a lot like that.”
You give him a smile so warm it makes his back hot. So loud and so vibrant like it burst out of him at any minute.
“I’ve uh, always been interested in you. I watched you play in Bluelock too. I kept thinking to myself, there’s something about you. I want to know more, even if it’s just a little. Stuff like that.” You talk so quietly yet it’s all Rin can hear. All Rin can see in his vision is you. All Rin can think about is you. “I’ve always been interested in other peoples stories. So I thought, what a waste it would be, to throw away that feeling because of something like love or like. I thought, ‘What's your story, Itoshi Rin?’”
Rin doesn’t know what to say so he chooses to say nothing.
“When I confessed, I knew you would never like me. Because that’s just the sort of person everyone says you are. Still, what a waste, right? You miss all the shots you don’t take or whatever. So, I wanted to get to know you. I guess.”
“I don’t get it. I get what you’re like but it still doesn’t make any sense. There’s nothing special to know, is there?”
“Feeling that is special, don’t you think? That’s a special reason to me.”
He doesn’t follow. You laugh lightly.
“If I never became interested in Murata-senpai’s story, I would’ve never been his friend. If I gave up on trying to know you, just because you didn’t return to my one-sided feelings, then I would’ve never gotten to know you either. Don’t you think that’s a waste?”
Rin doesn’t know. He’s never really cared about it. He’s rejected so many confessions and never once thought enough about any of them in any depth. That part of you is foreign. He can chalk it up to a difference in character. He can’t understand wanting to know someone just because.
(Or maybe he can. He just hasn’t until now. Until this very moment, suspended in time. Where he wants to know what things make you the way you are.)
Some small, dark part of him wants to ask why. Over and over until his throat feels raw - long enough to understand it. Even as he grips onto that desire so tight, with such bruising force, the words sit in his mouth. They taste like iron. They taste like a bitten tongue. If you’ve watched him all this time, then you know. Being chosen. He’s never been confident in that. Rin wants to ask, why him?
What’s so special? Enough to keep talking to him? Enough to do any of this? Is getting to know people is always this difficult, he wonders. Does it always feel uncomfortable to be in proximity with someone?
In the end, he can’t bring himself to ask. He can’t even bear to examine it in himself, the sense of dread washing over him like sickness. He’s nauseous. And this time, there’s a residue of tension he’s finding increasingly difficult to ignore.
You come through again. He wonders if you can read his mind just like you do with all the nobodies at school.
“Rin-kun,” You say, your voice like the summer heat. “Getting to know you makes me feel like my feelings aren’t a waste. I’m happy getting to know you. I want to treasure that.”
What happens when you run out of things to know? The question is too heavy. He settles on a different one. He wants to understand it more. Just to put himself at ease.
“Isn’t being in the same room with someone who rejected you uncomfortable?”
“Maybe. But there’s a clear line for me and you, so it’s cool. In like, ten years, maybe someone will interview me about you. As your classmate and stuff. And I’ll go - ‘He’s actually a really nice guy. I actually had a crush on him.’ If I can say that, without being regretful, then that’ll be enough for me.”
“That’ll be enough for you? Really?”
“Really.”
“You’re so weird.” He says, unsure of what else he could possibly say. You giggle, and lay back down on his floor.
“I knew you’d say that.”
__
Summer comes.
It doesn’t occur to Rin how often he sees you in school until it all comes to a halt. He has your number, and you text him often - about unimportant and trivial shit that you think of. In that way, it doesn’t even really feel like you’ve separated.
But the sudden absence of your chattering in his life makes everything feel especially quiet. Summer is a boring time for Rin. It’s mostly the same. Practicing and playing and studying. On the few occasions he’s been out, it’s because some of the other Bluelock members are gathering and refuse to let him know even a breath of peace.
He’s seen Sae now, though they never really talk about anything. Sort of just look at each other and exchange enough words that their mom doesn’t cry before going back to their room. Sae will be gone before school starts back up again, so Rin isn’t all that worried about it.
It occurs to Rin for the first time that this summer will be the last of his highschool days. He’s never been sentimental about stuff like that - so he figures you’re to blame for these sudden thoughts.
Your summer has been a lot busier than his. He should probably expect this from you by now, but your surprisingly youthful social life always shocks him. You’ve been working part-time as usual. In that time though, you’ve also been to the beach and been on an overnight trip to Osaka with your newspaper club.
(Rin wasn’t happy to hear about this. He was relieved to know it was with a teacher and that you roomed with a girl. But still, not exactly his favorite of anecdotes for the summer.)
You’ve invited Rin more than once to come hang out with you, but he’s basically always declined. The group setting is troublesome, but being alone with you feels even worse somehow. It wouldn’t be a date, obviously, but it would be something. Something deliberate.
Rin doesn’t know if he can come see you in good faith for such a reason.
It’s another day spent doing his usual. Being technical, it’s a rest day, which means he’s only allowed to stretch. He has done his basics. Studied, messed around with his ball, responded to a barrage of texts from Bachira and Isagi. He played games for a while, checking out a new horror game before deciding it’d be best not to get too sucked in so he has something to play next time.
After all that, during a mid-August day while Rin sits on his couch and watches T.V., he receives a facetime call from you for the very first time. At first, he just lets it ring. But when it keeps ringing - he figures your persistence is going to continue unless he replies.
He looks around. No one's home, so he doesn’t need to go to his room. He swipes, and the call connects. The screen shows him, propped up against something with a full shot of your room. You’re turned away from the camera. Rin just stares.
“Oh, shit - did you actually pick up?”
“Should I hang up.”
“No! No, I just wasn’t expecting you. Don’t hang up. I need a guy's opinion.”
“What? What for?”
“I got in a fight with my brother about a dress I bought,” You say, exasperated, and Rin is surprised because you hardly see him. “I know he’s probably looking out for me but I don’t think we talk enough for him to be telling me how to dress.”
“He’s older than you, right? Maybe you should listen to him.”
“You’re the last person I want to hear that from. Either way, I’m not a kid. I’m already 18 and I’m going to college. It’s a cute dress! I feel like it’s fine.”
“So..why’d you call me again?”
“I’m gonna try it on and show you. Murata-senpai is busy.”
“You shouldn’t do that to a guy who likes you.” Rin deadpans. You laugh.
“Shut up. I really need an opinion. I wanted to wear it to go out today so if it’s actually too provocative then I have to change my outfit.”
“Where are you even going?”
“My friend needs to get a concealer, so probably the mall or something. After that I’ll go buy some stationary.”
“Alone? What about your friend?”
“She’s gonna go see her boyfriend.”
“Why can’t you just go with them? Or ask them to go with you”
“And third wheel? I’m good. I just need some stationary and then I’ll be home. Easy peasy. Anyway, what’s with the interrogation?”
“It’s not interrogation.” He insists. You’re offscreen so Rin can’t see you, but he can hear the sound of a zipper echo in the speakers. He’s also sure you’re rolling your eyes.
When you come on camera, the dress of the hour is on display. Rin’s first thought is to tell you to take it off. It is too provocative to him. The front is fine as is, but it’s nearly backless and it’s cut too high on your thighs. He’s never seen so much of your skin. Maybe that’s a given, since he didn’t go to the beach with you either.
You give him a quick spin, before patting the front down. You say something, but the words don’t register. It feels like his brain is full of cotton or something.
“So? Too much? I mean it’s backless but like. I don’t know, it’s kind of loose? And the sleeves are long. Neckline isn’t that bad, either.”
Rin just says what he thinks “You shouldn’t go out alone wearing it.”
You frown at him.
“That’s not helpful, Rin-kun.”
“It’s…fine. What time does your friend have to go?”
“Probably right after we’re done.”
He sighs.
“Tell her to go with her boyfriend early. I’ll come with you to get your stationary.”
“Wait, what? Did I hear that right? You’re coming to get me? After I’ve been hounding you to hang out? What’s with the change of heart?”
“I don’t have anything to do since it’s a rest day. You need stuff and I don’t think you should be out alone. Don’t read into it.”
“Kinda hard not too but I’m not gonna complain. Are you coming right now?”
“Yeah. Send me your address.”
__
Rin has no idea what impulse has brought him here.
That’s not entirely true. What brought him to your apartment towards the end of summer is impulse. He acted on nothing but impulse.
Rin, for better or for worse, finds that you’re clueless about yourself. The fact you were going to call Murata-senpai is already bothering him enough. That, along with the fact you wore the dress and didn’t think it was too short is troubling. It’s not that Rin wants to tell you what not to wear. He doesn’t have the right but you did ask.
Anyway, it’s a lot less agitating if you’re being accompanied while wearing it. Going alone in something like that, even if it’s the middle of summer, would be stupid.
Rin doesn’t make it a habit of worrying about the outfits of girls he doesn’t know. He does know you though. He thinks you’d be really annoying if something happened and you got upset about it. So, all he’s doing is preventing that outcome. It’s nothing more than that.
He knocks on your door as he shakes the thoughts out of his head, and he’s greeted by a man in his late twenties. It dawns on Rin that this is your brother. He really didn’t think this through.
Your brother is an imposing person. He’s a head taller than Rin with a gruff voice and a scar on his cheek. Rin stares at him blankly.
“Who are you?”
“Itoshi Rin. I’m here for—”
“Nii-san, tell Rin-kun to come inside and sit! I’m not done getting ready.”
Your brother glares at him.
“Who’s he? Your boyfriend? Is that why—”
You come stumbling out of your room, half-dressed and Rin immediately averts his eyes. This is the most uncomfortable experience of his life.
“He’s not my boyfriend. He already rejected me, so we’re just friends. Stop fussing and let him in, it’s hot out.”
“He rejected you?”
Rin should just leave.
“I already knew he was going to. Now move,”
Rin doesn’t enjoy being involved in your sibling quarrel. Suddenly, he feels a twinge of regret about some old Bluelock memories. He understands it now more than ever, gaining a little empathy.
Your brother moves out of the way. You’re standing in the hall, with a single stocking on and powder on your face he’s pretty sure is meant to be brushed. You grin at him.
“Sorry! I won’t be long, promise. You got here faster than I thought you would.”
Rin can feel a pair of eyes in the back of his skull.
“Uh. Yeah. I took the bus so it was quick.”
“It might be uncomfortable here. Do you wanna sit in my room instead? It’s colder but it’s kind of a mess—”
“He can sit here.” Your brother insists. Rin is never leaving his house again. You frown.
“Didn’t I already tell you we’re not dating? He’s not even interested in me, it’s not like anything is gonna happen.”
“It’s the principle of it.” Yeah. Definitely siblings.
“Whatever. If you make him uncomfortable, I’m gonna yell at you. Rin-kun, sorry. Do you need anything? Juice? Water?”
Your hospitality throws him off. You’re different at home.
“Uh. No. I’m okay.”
“Okay, then I’ll hurry and get dressed. Nii-san, please be civil.”
With that, you flounce back up to your room. Your brother is staring hard in Rin’s direction. He’s not intimidated. It’s just… so awkward it’s kind of unbearable for him. What do people usually do in this situation? Rin’s not exactly the sociable type.
“She confessed to you?”
Rin is startled.
“Uh. Yeah. In April.”
“And you’re friends?”
“She asked to be friends.”
Your brother looks distressed.
“I don’t understand that girl at all.”
Rin doesn't either.
“What’s she like in school?”
Rin stares. Oh. He’s that kind of older brother.
“Uh. Busy. She’s in the newspaper club so she’s always doing something. She has a lot of friends and gets along with our class.”
“I see…that’s good. I’m always worried about her. Our family has always been busy and I moved out when I was 18 so… we don’t see much of each other. She doesn’t talk about herself that much either.”
Rin nods absently. What circle of hell is this?
“She probably thinks I’m just being overprotective,” Bullseye “But I just worry she grew up too fast.”
Rin thinks if he were a different kind of guy, now would be the time he gives your older brother an encouraging heart to heart. The script is there. It’s just not how he honestly feels. Rin doesn’t take pleasure in defending you. But it’s hypocritical and a little ridiculous to hear it from him.
Some of it is leftover resentment from Sae. The rest is knowing you.
You did grow up too fast. From what he knows about teenage girls, they’re supposed to be…meaner. More hysterical. More inconsiderate. Less responsible and more in the moment. Messy. All teenagers are, really.
For all the ways you are clumsy and ridiculous, sometimes Rin thinks you’re too off-puttingly mature. It wouldn’t kill you to be more selfish. To be just a little less self-reliant. It’s not normal is it? To be so grateful for things you’re owed. It bothers him. Always has.
Rin knows what the script is. But it bothers him.
“If you know that then you don’t really have any right to intervene,” Rin says bluntly. “Suddenly acting protective and considerate when she grew up on her own is just going to feel stifling. Aren’t you just trying to make yourself feel better?”
He looks surprised by his answer. Hurt too.
“I guess that’s right,”
He frowns.
“If you actually care, just be honest. She’s not the type of person to turn someone away on a grudge.”
Before Rin can feel embarrassed about what he’s said, you come stumbling down the steps all dressed up. Your brother gives you a look.
“Do you need any money?”
You look at him confused then shake your head no.
“Okay. Stay safe and have fun.”
He turns to leave. You watch him go. Rin puts his hands in his pockets like he’s trying to wipe himself of it.
“Weird… anyways. Ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
__
Your outing goes well.
Outing. Not a date. No matter how many times people mistake you two for being on a date today - it was nothing more than an outing.
You start with stationary for the upcoming term, then you drag Rin to the mall because you need some more clothes. After that, you go into a bookstore to pick up some manga. Rin has fun there because he gets to pick out some new releases and you bond mutually over your tastes. Rin learns both like thrillers. You spend a lot of time together, reading over his shoulder.
It’s not a date. But it wasn’t bad. He’s so used to talking to you that the entire situation doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You’re funnier than he’s usually willing to give you credit for. Doing all that, plus train rides, makes it so you’re not home until sundown. You, however, refuse to end the night without having some kind of treat. After a lot of begging Rin to cheat on his meal plan, the two of you get ice-cream and you drag Rin to a local playground. Apparently you bring your neighbors' kids here sometimes.
Now he’s here. Sitting on swings with ice-cream and it is still not a date. Rin has no opinions on the day but you’re practically bursting at the seams with happiness. The dress you’re wearing is hiking up on your thigh from how you’re sitting. He was right to accompany you, by the way. The amount of creeps he’s had to stare down today alone is outright disgusting.
Rin takes a spoonful of ice-cream and lets it melt in his mouth. You let your feet hit the mulch beneath you as you lick the ice-cream carefully - trying desperately not to let it spill on your hand. He watches on in amusement. After you finally get a handle on it, you give him a small look.
“I had fun today,” You say sentimentally. Rin feels his stomach tie in knots “Thank you.”
He frowns.
“Gross. Stop that.”
“Aw, c’mon. You’re so edgy. Just admit you had fun! You had a fantastic and whimsical time.”
He gives you an unimpressed stare.
“Really? Nothing? You’re not feeling the flames of youthful joy in your loins at all?”
“Describing it like that is disgusting.”
“So you admit you know what it is.”
Rin wants to smile. Fuck, he hates you.
“...It wasn’t bad.”
You grin. You’re so annoying.
“Ladies and gents, we got an ‘it wasn’t bad’ from the ever soulless Itoshi Rin!”
Stupid. So stupid.
“It was more tolerable than hanging out with some of my other dipshit friends.”
You clasp a hand over your mouth dramatically.
“Oh…Oh wow… Do you want to try proposing next? The set-up is there. Perfect ambience.”
His face cracks into a begrudging smile.
“You’re insufferable.”
You suddenly go quiet. When Rin looks at you, you’re stunned
“Why’re you being weird?”
“No, sorry, I was just thinking I really like you,” You say, like it’s the easiest and most natural thing in the world “I’ve never seen you smile before. It’s nice.”
“...Your ability to say cringy shit like that so easily is astounding to me.”
“I don’t want to hear this from the guy who unironically uses lukewarm,” You say, biting into your ice-cream cone. Rin blushes. “Besides, nothing wrong with being cringe when you’re in love.”
“Freak.”
You give him a thumbs up.
“One of a kind.”
There’s a beat of silence. It’s comfortable. Rin eats his too, probably a little slower than he has to. Summer feels heavy in the air.
“You weren’t always like..an edgelord, right?”
Rin stares at you, perplexed by how sudden the question is.
“Where’d you hear that from?”
“Your mom after dinner. You already went upstairs. Said you had a nasty fight with your brother.”
He doesn’t say anything, posture stiffening at the mention of Sae.
“It’s not your business.”
“Hey. No need for the attitude. I’m curious as your number one fan.” You say, trying to back off as much as possible. Like he’s some kind of feral cat you’re trying to calm. “Don’t be mad, okay? You don’t have to talk about it.”
You try your best to be soothing and Rin softens
He is angry. Not at you. Not really. The mention of Sae just does that to him. And if anyone else even thought to bring it up - he’d probably tell them to go fuck themselves with nothing but bitter hatred.
With you, there’s not any of that. There’s a lingering sense of hesitance - an internal conflict, but not anger. Rin’s never enjoyed opening his heart to anyone.
Even so, he feels compelled to tell you, so he does.
“My brothers a dick,” Resentment seeps into his words “He came back from overseas and then basically insulted me for a minute straight. We were always meant to play soccer together but he went through something. He changed. We never talked about it,”
“What? He insulted you for no reason? That’s so weird. Did you always have a bad relationship?”
Rin sits with himself quietly.
“I don’t know if we have one now. We were close as kids. At least.”
“And he just… came back and started being an asshole to you? Seriously?”
Rin nods. There’s not much else to the story. Rin’s tried hard not to think about the situation itself. He only uses the feelings that stayed behind to make him better. To give him a reason to play - it’s motivation and nothing more. If he starts to view it too much like what it is, betrayal, he’s afraid everything inside of him will collapse.
“There’s probably more to it than that,” You conclude thoughtfully. Rin thinks the same “But still. You’re his baby brother. Even if he’s going through something…”
Rin scoffs “You sound like you’re worried about him.” It comes out more petulantly than he expects
“Not really. Not as much as I’m worried about you,” You counter, giving him a small smile. Rin feels his heart leap into his throat “I just figure, you know, maybe thinking about it like that would help. You were close right? Your mom said he used to dote on you,”
Rin nods. He feels his chest swell and tighten.
“Then…I bet it sucked. I bet it was hard. Or at least, it must’ve been lonely to go through that,” You say, frown deepening “Such a sudden change would be hard for anyone to deal with, I think. It’s okay if you feel like it’s unfair. His reasons aside.”
You sigh, suddenly, covering your hands with your face.
“What?” Rin asks. You shake your head.
“You poor thing. I wanna hug you to death you know. A good squeeze. I’m trying to refrain.” You say, stomping your feet just slightly. He feels a flush crawl up his neck, turning his head to look away.
“...It’s not like I’m stopping you.”
He doesn’t have the courage to look at you. Not as he says it, or after to steal a glance of what face you're making. Instead, he hears the metal of the chain and feels the warmth of your body. It’s a tight hug. You’re standing and he’s sitting, your arms around his neck, his face directly against your chest. He widens his eyes. He wants to yell at you for being a defenseless idiot, but the feeling of being hugged so tightly washes the words away. You’re soft…and warm. He’s never been hugged by someone who isn’t his mom or brother before, and he can’t remember the last time either thing happened to him. You pat his head.
Do you touch people like this often? So casually? Or is he special because you like him, he wants to ask. He wants to ask but doesn’t want to know the answer, pushing the feeling down as deep as he can make it go. He wraps his arms around you loosely, above your waist trying to be respectful.
But he leans into the warmth. Like it’s something that happens once in a lifetime.
“Hey, Rin.” You say, soft. He can feel the warmth of your breath against his hair.
“Hn.”
“I hope you kick your brother's ass in soccer.”
You sound teary. Weirdly, it makes Rin feel better.
“Yeah.”
__
School starts up again during September.
The autumn season welcomes warm colors, fallen leaves and the sort of cool weather that puts the summer uniforms back up on the hangers. Rin is listening to music when he spots you waiting for him at the gate, waving your hand at him. He has half a mind to ignore you, you’re so embarrassing.
But before he can pretend not to see, you’re jogging over to him. He has to stand so you don’t end up bumping into him. You walk like you were born backwards, two left feet with such little awareness of your surroundings it stresses Rin out.
He gives you a blank stare as you smile, securing your bag to your shoulder.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” You say warmly. Rin pauses to look at you. You look different somehow. Lately you always do, Rin wonders if you’ve picked up some weird shape-shifting in your time apart “Are you excited for the new semester, hm? Hmm?”
He keeps walking and you fall in step with him. You try but he’s too fast, so he slows just a little. He clicks his teeth, shaking his head, eyes taking in the view of the building in front him.
“Why would I be excited?”
You shrug.
“Because winter break is close? Because there’s fun leaves outside? Because it’s your birthday in 6 days?”
He stops dead in his tracks.
“What the hell? Why do you know that?”
“Your mom told me.” You say, skipping along happily to school like you didn’t just say something insane. His frown deepens.
“You have my moms number? You talk to my mom?”
“She loves me,” You say casually, turning only to look at him and stick your tongue out “And she’s nice. Get over it.”
With this, you rush into the building faster, giggling as you leave. Rin, frustrated, stomps after you.
__
Your time together at lunch continues into fall. It’s the third day of the term, September 6th and you’re sitting by his side. The two of you eat in casual silence now, falling into a regular routine. There’s something about the whole ordeal that makes Rin feel a little funny.
Friendship, as it stands, is still a lukewarm idea to him. But sprawled out next to you in a comfortable quiet isn’t the worst thing. The weather is cool enough to be nice and the daylight lasts for just the right amount of time to see sunset when he treks back home from practicing shooting into the net.
That kind of sentimental viewing of his surroundings is a bad habit he’s picked up from you. He can’t seem to shake it off. He’s tried at least, but Rin has been stopping to look at everything nowadays. The sun, the trees, the cars passing. Everything passes right by his life, slowly.
Eventually, eventually this whole thing will cease. You’ll never see Rin again and he’ll never see you - and you’ll part your separate ways. Thinking about that feels so stifling. But he figures since that’s the case, there’s probably not any harm in letting the time pass like this. As long as he’s still improving.
Your voice doesn’t catch him off-guard anymore, no matter how loud it is after a long bout of silence. You stuff something into your mouth, a tomato he thinks.
“Rin-kun,” You start, tilting your head to one-side “Are you doing anything for your birthday?”
“No.” He answers immediately because he never does. He hasn’t done much since Sae left home and now that he’s a third year and about to be 18, there’s even less of a desire to pull together a party and celebrate.
“What? Boo. That’s so lame.”
“Don’t be so childish.”
“I’m older than you, you dummy,” You say with such automation that Rin doesn’t even get the chance to process “You’re not even gonna have cake? Nothing?”
“My mom might but I don’t have any plans.”
“Your mom is so nice.”
“Stop.”
You frown at him but don’t say any more. You look like you have something on your mind. Probably something stupid, but Rin can’t help but wonder what’s making your brow crease so intensely.
“What?” He snips. You flick your eyes to him and shake your head.
“I just think it’s a waste,” You say simply, that tone of fondness seeping into it that Rin can’t get used to. “It’s such a big number, you know? A little cake and some show tunes or something would suffice.”
Rin scoffs.
“I don’t care about it. It’s pointless to me. Lukewarm” He says, before noticing your genuine sadness. He sighs a little to himself “Stop looking like a depressed mutt.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“I guess dogs are more well-trained.’
“Hey. Hey, what the hell do you mean by that?”
He ignores you.
“Anyway, stop worrying about it.”
You pout.
“Easier said than done.”.
__
Rin’s morning routine has been the exact same for two years.
He starts by opening the window, to let fresh air and sunlight come in through the glass. He feels like his room gets stale overnight and it wakes him up to taste the sun in the back of his mouth. He takes a deep breath of it, clearing out his lungs and blinking his eyes open.
After that he stretches. He unfurls a Bluelock brand yoga mat onto his carpeted floor and gets to his usual cycle. It’s integral for an athlete to keep their muscles stretched, functioning like a well-oiled machine. He has it down pat. He starts from the bottom up, stretching his legs and working up to his arms and shoulders. His legs always come first since he’s a striker, always focusing on the mobility of his calves and foot before he stretches out his thigh.
His core, then his chest and arms. When he’s done with all that - he practices yoga for fifteen minutes. Again with mobility but this time full body, like making sure each of his limbs work with each other without any stops. He’ll sit back down after those minutes are up to meditate for another fifteen - clear his mind of absolutely anything stuck in it. It’s the most peace he gets on any given day.
At the end, he sits with his feelings. Carefully, he undoes the wrapped clothed box around his heart and stares at it as it sits in his lap. Beating and raw and melancholy blue - so full of sadness and anger like it could burst at any minute. Revisiting his sadness and rage is a necessity. Sometimes it feels like only sadness. Only monochrome.
(He wonders if a day will come where that part of his routine is changed. If ever, he’ll unwrap his own heart only to see it pink or golden yellow or even a softer shade of red. He wonders if the colors ever change, or if time will fade them.)
All of this happens before he even brushes his teeth. The rest of his morning routine is keeping his room neat. He folds the comforter on his bed, puts any dirty clothes away, and gets dressed. He doesn’t really style his hair - it’s so pin straight after washing he normally just has to brush it to keep it nice.
After that he has breakfast, and checks through his bag. On days he has school he goes to school and comes back to practice. If he’s home alone - he picks one of many other things to do. He tends to practice closer to evening, taking a shower before he goes to sleep.
On the morning of Rin’s 18th birthday, he’s only really acutely aware of the date. His morning starts the exact same as it has everyday for nearly two years. Nothing to make him feel particularly different. When he looks in the mirror, he still sees his brother's face and when he looks at his heart it’s still a steely, melancholy blue.
When he comes down stairs, though - there’s a pair of shoes he doesn’t recognize. And there’s a humming traveling down the hall and always the way up towards him that he knows quite well.
He thinks, for a minute, he might still be dreaming. Why you would be in his house on a Saturday morning makes absolutely no sense otherwise.
He slips his feet into his gray slippers and treks into the living room, only to find you in view of the open kitchen. There’s a balloon attached to flowers and a spread of fruits on the table. Orange juice in a cold glass. You with his moms borrowed apron, humming contentedly as you bend over the stove.
Rin doesn’t know what the feeling is. He doesn’t know if he’s irritated or not. Just that it’s so overwhelming to see you in his kitchen, marching to the beat of your own drum like you always do.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?”
You startle when you hear his voice, whipping around to face him. Dramatically putting a hand on your chest - you shoot him an unfriendly glare.
“Well hello to you too.”
“Answer my question.” He demands. You click your teeth.
“Well, obviously I’m making breakfast. We’re celebrating your birthday.”
“Without telling me.”
You snap your fingers before giving him finger guns “Precisely. Genius deduction, Itoshi-sama.”
“What the fuck. Where are my parents.”
“They’re out on a day-trip! It’s a Saturday. They’ll be back here on Sunday afternoon. Read the note.”
“What were you gonna do if I had last minute plans?”
“You don’t though?” You say like knowing that is so obvious. He knows you asked but still “I guess I’d turn around and make my own breakfast. Give you your gift at school or something.”
“Why are you here?” He asks a little softer this time. With a little more emotion, just a touch. He never expects anyone to make a fuss about his birthday.
Rin doesn’t really ask for much. Certainly wouldn’t ask for this on his own accord. That’s a vain thing to do, right?
It occurs to Rin that this is the kind of birthday you do for someone you like. Someone you love. You’re always confessing your feelings to him. You only say it when you’re sure. It wasn’t like Rin didn’t know you had feelings for him, because the point of it all had been for you to try and get rid of them. Or honor them, or deal with them in whatever way you saw fit. Rin had agreed on a whim to help you with that. Your friendship had started with the very notion that you liked Itoshi Rin and he didn’t like you back. It’s not some secret.
When the light pours in through the windows and hits your back and for the first time - Rin understands what the fuss is about being in love is. He’s sure that this strange, grotesque warmth is the aftermath of being liked. He always thought it’d feel more simple. That he’d remain unmoved in the face of it because he was different.
It’s not like he’s unloved. He’s sure his parents love him. His brother did too. Still does, Rin thinks.
But it’s the first time someone has made their feelings so clear to him. Someone who isn’t supposed to love or like him. And even Rin, chronically apathetic, can’t bring himself to ignore the weight of knowing that. He stares at you, dumbstruck.
You’re still turned to him. There’s a cool tumbler of iced-coffee sitting on the counter that you sip, head tilted to one side.
“Well, I don’t know,” You start, a hand on your hip “It just felt like too much of a waste to do nothing on your birthday. But you’re not the kind of guy who likes big celebrations. So I thought maybe just hanging out would be more your speed.”
Rin swallows. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Bold thing to assume.”
You frown back.
“Well, I was gonna invite Isagi-kun—“
“Isagi? How do you know Isagi?”
“He saw me leaving your house ‘cause he was gonna visit. After we talked he followed me on Instagram. Anyway, I was gonna invite him and Bachira and all four of us could go to a movie,” You explain as you sigh and go back to the stove “But he said you’d probably just want to hang out with me.”
“…And he didn’t say anything else?”
“Well he asked if we were dating so I just told him the truth. Really nice guy, by the way.”
Rin’s going to hound Isagi next time they practice together.
“So. Now you’re here… doing what exactly?”
“Making you breakfast. I’ll make you ochazuke for lunch later. Haven’t decided on dinner, I thought I’d ask when you woke up. Your mom said you liked traditional breakfast but I didn’t think I’d be done by the time you woke up so there’s fruit.”
Sure enough, when Rin walks over to the other side of the table - there’s a half done spread of breakfast on the table. All the dining ware is set up neatly, the table arranged so well he feels guilty for not helping.
“You didn’t have to do all this for me.” Rin tsks, a frown on his expression as he stands next to you. He watches you pour egg into a square pan, slowly evening out the layers.
“I wanted to,” You reply, not thinking twice about it. “I enjoy cooking for people. It’s fun. I normally just do it to feed myself, so it’s nice to share.”
He closes his eyes.
“Thanks.”
He’s afraid to look over at you, the excitement radiating off of you. It makes him uncomfortable that something so simple could make you so happy.
“Can you repeat that?”
“Don’t start.”
“Rin-chan,” You coo, immediately making him so embarrassed he wants to hit you “You’re so docile today.”
“I’m gonna kill you.” He says, hitting your shoulder as light as he can.
“Woah…how romantic. Dying on the day you were born? Jeez. I’m swooning.”
He looks at you blankly.
“Stop being gross. Where did you even get that from?”
“Too many things to count,” You say with a snap. He shakes his head.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
“How diligent. It’s fine! It’s your birthday, right? Sit. Eat some fruit. Pick out what you wanna do. I rented some games and there’s some movies I had in mind too. Make your agenda. “
Rin laughs to himself, lightly.
“Isn’t that supposed to be your job?”
“Don’t be stingy! I’m already making breakfast.”
Rin rolls his eyes.
“Yeah. Whatever.”
__
You end up back in Rin’s room.
After a healthy discussion about what he would like to do - Rin landed on wanting to do both. He picked out a copy of Resident Evil to play until after lunch and then decided to binge a bunch of movies after.
You even agree to accompany him while he practices. There’s 24 hours in a day and the plans are nothing more than vague suggestions - but deep down, it makes Rin kind of…well whatever. It’s not a bad plan.
Currently, you’re sitting at the foot of Rin’s bed with your hands tight around the controller of his PS4. Rin feels a little bad for you. While you do okay with horror movies, the immersion of horror games seems to frighten you enough that your eyes are glued onto the screen. As such, Rin is trying his best not to startle you as you lean forward every so slightly. The leg of your pants is pushed up just barely. You’re dressed cozy, so it’s funny seeing your head shrink into your hoodie.
“Why the fuck would you set it hardcore if this BOTH of our first times playing,” You whine, turning yourself into the next room carefully on screen “I’m scared.”
“You’re such a wuss,” He scoffs, leaning back from where he’s sitting next to you on his bed. “We’re never gonna make any progress like this.”
You stomp your feet and Rin resists the urge to laugh.
“Shut up, it’s scary.”
He nudges your shoulder with his knee.
“Stop complaining. You got to pick the character and I got to pick the difficulty.”
“I deserve to lust after Leon after the shit I’m getting put through,”
Rin scoffs at your declaration. The irritation is softened when you walk into the backroom faced with a zombie - a short scream leaving your lips as you mash buttons and use your gun to kill it quickly. You manage to dodge as much damage as you can, obviously trying not to waste limited resources. Even so it takes damn near 7 bullets. Despite your cowardice, you’re pretty good at the game.
You loot the room for any possible supplies then leave. You turn the corner of the isle, a zombie filled gas station awaiting you. You manage to save bullets and stun the one closest to you before getting your shit completely rocked - quick to duck out. The first cut scene of the game comes next where you meet the other main character Claire. You gasp like you’ve been running, shoving the controller towards Rin.
“Your turn. Move, I wanna sit on your bed.”
“Why?”
“Cause it’s a weekend and I have a right to be lazy. Shoo. On the floor.”
“You’re getting way too comfortable in my house on my birthday.”
Rin, does, go sit on the floor where you were. Mostly because it’s a better position to play the game in. At least it has minimal back support. The cut scene plays in the background, nothing difficult as the main characters go to the next area - the police station and the technical start of the game. Rin hasn’t played the remake, but he did longingly watch some playthroughs while he was in Bluelock during its release.
He had never mentioned it to you, so he was shocked you knew enough about it to bring it over. He likes survival horror and he was always wanting to play it.
“Me and your mom are best friends so I practically live here anyways. Also shut-up and look.”
He does shut up, too invested in the story to be annoyed. The main characters get separated and Leon ends up in the streets.
For whatever reason, he’s conscious about proximity. Your knee next to his shoulder. You’re close enough to touch him casually and he’s wondering…hoping to know if you’re naive enough to do it without thinking. It feels like a stroke of luck, or maybe a form of mind-reading when you reach for his hair with your fingers. He wonders if you’re doing it on purpose. He thinks he should tell you to stop.
But when you ask “Is this okay?”
He can’t find the strength in himself to do it. He focuses on the scene in front of him, weaving through the cars to shake off a horde of zombies. Rin grabs the controls, immediately turning around to try and stun a group of zombies before turning into the gate so he can head to the station.
His heart is racing and his eyes almost feel cross from how much he’s focusing but it’s not exactly the game. The game isn’t even that scary, as much as it’s gory he thinks.
“I don’t care but,” He says through a breath, trying to sound like he means it and that he’s not so conscious of the way your pinky lingers on his nape “when’d you get so touchy?”
“I like touching you.” You reply, twirling a strand of hair around your fingers “Your hair is so silky and nice. I felt when I gave you a hug that one time and I kept thinking about it.”
Rin wants to say “Do you think about me that much?” but the words don’t come out how he wants.
“Do you touch everyone like this?”
You’re silent for a minute. It takes patience, effort - not to turn his head to see the look on your face. Though he probably knows it. He thinks he just wants affirmation from you.
“...No. Not really. I just like you.”
There’s a beat of silence - a pause designated for his rejection, the promise he made to you so many months ago. He knows what the script is. And he’s said it many times before. Not in a million years, right?
But he can’t bring himself to say it this time, so he doesn’t.
“Yeah. I know.”
___
Before Rin knows it, the day is coming to a close.
The entirety of it you spend together, with you faithfully stuck to him and without Rin feeling entirely suffocated. He isn’t sure why it’s so easy with you. Normally this much socialization would render him exhausted. Irritable at best and angry at worst. But he’s not. In fact even after his entire workout routine, he felt fine listening to you ramble. He didn’t need complete silence, but even when there were lulls and dips - it didn’t feel uncomfortable.
You didn’t get far in Resident Evil 2. Rin decides to cut it short since it’d definitely take a lot longer than all the time you had and there were movies he wanted to watch. When you whine about not being able to finish - he quietly told you to just come over next time and play it with him then.
He waited a year, so he can wait a little longer. Your face lit up idiotically, giddy with delight at the promise of next time. As promised, ochazuke was for lunch and after 30 minutes of digestion - he put it out of his mind as he did his daily drills. You joined him, insisting that you’d be fine doing nothing. Sat on the field with a book the entire time even though it was cold, tossing him his things whenever he took a break - smiling each time he talked to you.
(“You know you don’t actually need to stay with me the entire day.” He reminds you of this as he brings a bottle of water to lips, sweat dripping down the side of his head even in the cool weather. You turn your head up at him.
“When else am I gonna get to stick by your side all day? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
“You’re so good at being annoying it’s impressive,” He says, dropping his water bottle back down “Aren’t you bored?”
“Huh? No way. I have my fun book to keep me company and on top of that I get to see you play in the flesh.”
Oh, yeah. You mentioned watching him when he was in Bluelock. “Well, it’s not like a match. But I’m not gonna keep asking, so whatever.”
“Yes, yes - I understand. Now go, shoo.”)
Even though Rin practiced for his usually long amount of hours, you sat with him diligently - even stopping to cheer him on when you needed a break from reading or studying or whatever else you were doing.
Upon returning, he went to shower and you went to warm up in the kitchen. After he was redressed and clean, he joined you downstairs to order take-out and have dinner.
Finally, it’s after dinner and you’ve banished Rin to his room while you set something up downstairs. He’s mostly scrolling twitter, watching soccer highlights from the accounts he follows. He’s just about comfortable when you finally call him back down, which irritates him enough to click his teeth but not enough to bring it up to you.
After a long day, when Rin finally comes back down stairs, walking down into the hall and back into the living room - he can’t help but be surprised at the change in scenery. All the lights have been turned low, and everything looks different. You’ve taken to decorating a wall of his living room after some rearranging. A white sheet hanging up with something, and a plethora of fairy lights in stripes going down it in a nice pattern.
There’s a banner and it looks hand-made. It spells out happy birthday, rin in neat, thick blue letters on cut-out white shapes, attached along the back wall. On the table in front, there’s some decoration along with nice paper plates and plastic cutlery and a cake in the middle that’s nicer than he’s expecting.
You beam at him as he walks in. And you’re stupid enough to be wearing a birthday hat, giving him jazz hands as he enters.
“Happy birthday!”
On paper, Rin thinks it’s been something of a boring birthday. He did what he normally would do on a day off but you cooked for him twice. He spent most of it with you, even though it was a lot of nothing. A lot of being together like you were roommates or something. Maybe that's why he’s so reluctant to admit that this is making him feel something.
That the silly theatrics feel meaningful. It is thoughtful, isn’t it? Rin doesn’t think anyone in his entire life has done anything this thoughtful for him. Birthdays are birthdays, and they’ve never really been especially meaningful. He didn’t see the point in just celebrating the day of someone's birth. Certainly, he doesn’t think he’d have it in himself to do something like this for another person.
Rin stares at you. Wearing a stupid birthday hat and the most gleeful, idiotic smile he’s ever seen. All of this for a guy who’s rejected you, but you seem to cherish so much anyways. Apathetic and ungraceful as he is and always will be - he’s so overwhelmed he doesn’t know what to do. What a strange, unrecognizable feeling welling up inside of him. And not even one feeling, but so many so tangled with each other - he can’t see anything straight. His eyes aren’t drawn to the candlelight, or the moon, or the cake.
It’s like a sense of tunnel vision. Where all Rin can really look at is you. It’s happened before. How can anyone be like this, he wonders. Are there people born into the world so unselfishly? And if they are, why would he ever cross paths with them? How could someone so easy to love have any business loving him, in the first place?
Rin won’t ever understand you. He accepts that. He’ll never be able to understand this kind of person. Someone who shines even brighter than the sun.
But he’s not so stupid to not understand himself. He’s unable to say the words he’d promised to you all the way in April. Rin doesn’t like to lie.
He would be lying, that is, if you told him just one more time that you liked him. He’d be lying if it told you it’ll never happen. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t like you. And it’s not just because you like him, because that never mattered to him in the first place.
Some people are made to be adored. Born special and bright like everything should revolve around them. Perhaps that kind of thing is only afforded to people without ego. With heart and character and charisma.
It doesn’t matter. What a stupid thing to realize on his birthday of all days.
“Rin-kun?”
He blinks.
“Where’d you hide all of this?”
You laugh at him, bubbly and delighted.
“I brought it in a tote and kept it in the kitchen. Mostly stuff from my house, and your mom helped with the cake and stuff. It’s nice right? I did a good job, no?”
Ah. He’s fucked.
“It looks okay.”
You frown, huffing and puffing “Just okay? C’mon, don’t be stingy.”
“Doesn’t begging for compliments defeat the purpose of them.”
“Not to me,”
Your frown deepens and Rin is starting to feel the rose colored glasses set in.
“It’s nice. It’s good.”
“So you like it? You’re happy? Delighted, even? Absolutely overjoyed by-”
“Cut it out or I’m going to send you home.”
“No,” You whine, tugging on his sleeves like you’re worried he really will “I want cake.”
“Then let’s cut the cake?”
“We can’t,” You put your arms up in a cross and Rin gives you a look of confusion. “I promised I’d get a good picture of you.”
“What? Promised who?”
“Your parents, mostly. But also, you should post on your Instagram a little more, no? You’re basically a famous player already, you should have the courtesy to feed your fans.”
Before he can do anything to protest, you usher Rin to sit on the other side of the table before you back with his phone. He stares at you but you only look at him expectantly. Still, he unlocks it and hands it to you. He gives you an irritated sigh (though he isn’t really irritated).
“This is stupid.”
“It’s a good thing to capture memories, you dummy. Now smile,” You say, holding up the camera after some angling “Or don’t. The people do love a good scowl.”
That makes him want to smile. He’s awkward in the photos but he does stay still for them, trying his best not to look ridiculous. You take a few, then pause to come up to the table and light the candles in front of him. He hears the camera shutter one more time before you look up at him over the edge.
“Ready to blow out your candles?”
“I guess.”
Before Rin can do anything about it, he listens to you sing happy birthday - poorly with too much enthusiasm. You’re tone deaf and passionate all at the same time - singing each word with a dramatic flair until you’re on the final word. You can’t clap because you’re recording but you do cheer as he burns the candles out. Once it’s over you stop recording, looking down and swiping through the pictures.
“They turned out good. You should post them.”
“...You’re done taking them?”
You tilt your head to one side.
“Yeah?”
“We didn’t get any together.”
Your eyes widen like he said something shocking.
“...You wanna take them together?”
He scoffs.
“We spent the whole day together.”
You flush, suddenly embarrassed and god.
“I just wasn’t expecting you to want that. I mean we’re friends but-”
“Shut up. And come here.”
So you do, phone still in hand as you mess with your appearance.
“Do you want to take it or do you want me to?”
“Oh, uh lemme just-” You go through a bunch of filters and find one before handing it to him, a nervous expression “You take it cause your arm is longer and you’re taller.”
Rin just nods. Takes the phone from you, and lets you pose a little before he takes the photo. He hands it back to you so you can see, and watches your eyes light up as you stare at it. Stupid.
“It came out nice.” You say. You save it onto his phone before handing it back to him. “Send it to me later?”
“Yeah.”
You give him another grin and Rin takes his phone from you, going through the pictures as he opens up Instagram. He guess it wouldn’t hurt to post. You leave his side, saying something about cutting the cake. But he isn’t looking, really.
He drafts a post as he waits for you. He likes the picture you took together best and decides to put it second. He never has any idea on how to caption these which is why he doesn’t want to post it in the first place. He glances at you, then sighs internally.
itoshirin._ posted for the first time in a while.
posted 7 mins ago. liked by isagi_yoichi, bachiraaaaa, and others.
itoshirin._ ; 09.09.2002. thanks for everything, stupid.
isagi_yoichi commented: no way you’re getting a girlfriend before me. life is so unfair and cruel.
isagi_yoichi commented: oh happy birthday btw
bachiraaaaa commented: RIN-CHAN !!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶
official_itoshisae: happy birthday.
itoshirinsnumberonefan: WHO IS THAT??
yo_hiori: happy birthday!
“Rin, I cut the cake!”
He puts his phone on DND before taking a plate of cake from your hand.
__
The clock strikes two, and you’re still at Rin’s place.
After a long binge of horror movies, you’re both comfortably in each other's space - only inches away, talking about nothing. The movie ended a little over half an hour ago.
He’s still doing just that, listening to you chatter away next to his ear. The room is completely dark minus the soft glow of the T.V. which gives just enough light for Rin to gaze at your face. Your eyes are wide and sparkly, still, even though it seems like the tiredness is getting to you too.
Neither of you wants to stop talking. You’ve started discussing manga - particularly Rin's favorite manga.
“Ciguatera was interesting,” You say, hugging one of his pillows close to your chest. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
“I’m shocked you read it. Seriously. I thought you would’ve forgotten the minute after I told you.”
“Well, yeah. You recommended it, so obviously I wanted to at least try,” You say with a breathless laugh, turning over to face him. You’re facing each other, he realizes a second too late “You’re such a boy, by the way. Weekly young magazine? Really.”
“Shut up.” He says, with no real bite to his words “What were you expecting?”
“Dunno. Didn’t think you were interested in romance of all things. Especially cause Ogino’s kind of a loser.”
“There was other stuff in it.” He points out. You chuckle.
“Yeah. Way raunchier and darker than I thought. But it was mostly about romance. So, I was surprised to say the last.”
“What,” Rin starts, partially offended by the implication “Do you think I'm a soulless machine or something?”
“Well no,” You frown, shaking your head as you stare at him “But you’ve rejected every confession you’ve ever gotten, even from some of the prettiest girls in our entire grade. So I didn’t think you had any interest in that kinda thing.”
He scoffs.”You’re stupid.”
“You tell me all the time,” You point your fingers and place them under your chin. “Why did you reject them, by the way? Just trying to focus on soccer?”
He feels flush, explaining. Turning his gaze to the ceiling, he sighs.
“None of those people actually had feelings for me. It wasn’t meaningful in any way.”
“And you want it to be meaningful?”
“There’s no point being in a relationship with someone I don’t like and barely know. And who doesn’t really care to get to know me. I’m busy enough with soccer, and I don’t have time to entertain lukewarm relationships like that.”
“What an unexpectedly sentimental reason. How soft of you Rin-kun.”
“Shut up.”
There’s a pause of thoughtful silence where you hum and lay flat on your back, reaching your hand up towards the ceilings. Rin can’t do much more than look.
“You know. How I said I’ve been watching you since you were in Bluelock?”
“Yeah.”
“Y’know. I always thought you looked really sad back then. I might’ve been reading too much into it but,” You smile, corners of your lips upturned while you giggle “It’s like…weirdly relieving to see you like this.”
“Like what?”
“You’re like…just a boy,” You say wispy and delighted “A normal boy who reads shitty raunchy magazines and thinks about love. It’s comforting somehow. Makes me feel special. I really like you. A little more every day, it feels like.”
Another beat of silence. He thinks you can sense the hesitance of his rejection. There’s such a tangible shift in the atmosphere. If Rin stretches his hand out to touch it, he thinks he’d push through an impossible barrier and keep falling in it forever. He thinks it would swallow him.
He isn’t sure what it is. If it’s an act of bravery, or a sudden uptick in adrenaline, or if the exhaustion of a long day is finally starting to hit. Maybe it’s just these feelings that keep overwhelming him that make his body move. Something outside of his mind, nestled in his ribs, that has him inching closer to you.
He flips until he’s hovering over you. Your eyes widen and you stare at him. He stares back, like he almost can’t believe himself.
“Rin-kun?”
And he freezes. The confidence dissipates as soon as he finds it but now he’s above you, on top of you. You’re messy and flush from the day. Your mascara is smudged and your lipgloss is gone - leaving a faint sheen on your mouth that matches your skin. Your hoodie is rumpled around the shoulders - one of the sleeves pulled to your elbows. Rin really gets a look at you. Cognizant of the fact he spent all day with you. That’s why you look worn and sleepy and so unbelievably cute. So cute it annoys him. Irritates him half to death.
You open your mouth again, only to close it. It almost feels like he can hear your heart. Or maybe it’s his. It’s hard to know the difference.
“Is this a n-new kind of bullying?” You joke, trying to ease the tension. He frowns at you.
“Does it seem like I’m joking?”
Your eyes widen and you turn away. Rin wants to make you look.
“Well no but…” And you squirm a little “what are you doing?”
He doesn’t know, either.
“I don’t know.” He admits, and you laugh a little breathless and the tension is so thick Rin can’t swallow around it “I want to kiss you.” He blurts out. Awkward and uncharismatic and clumsy.
A bout of silence.
“...Am I going insane? Did you just say you want to kiss me?”
“I did.”
More silence.
“Why? Wouldn’t that make me your first kiss?”
“It would.”
“And isn’t that like… reserved for your special someone?”
“It is.”
“Rin-kun,” You breathe out, blinking in disbelief “Do you even know what you’re saying?”
“I do.”
You’re a little more serious this time. You put your hand on his shoulder. He feels like the Earth is gonna fall from under his feet.
“Stop messing with me.”
“I’m not.”
You frown.
“Do you really want to kiss me?”
“Yeah,” He can’t think “I do.”
You reach up for him. You’re more experienced with this kind of thing and it shows as you cup the nape of his neck. He doesn’t finch. He doesn’t look away from you either, as your thumb brushes under his eyes - the both of you so wrapped up in each other nothing matters. Rin would stay in this forever, if someone gave him the option.
“W-we have to talk about this afterwards, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious, Itoshi Rin. Because you can’t just—”
Your palm cups his cheek and he rubs against it instinctively. He sees your eyes widen and you swallow - a frown still etched into your features.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Your voice goes as soft as a whisper.
“You’re so unfair.”
He almost laughs.
“Please kiss me.” He asks, so silently it almost goes unheard but he knows you hear it because your lips press into a thin line before you’re pulling Rin down towards you. Your lips are soft. And warm. And they taste faintly like whip-cream and the slight sour of strawberries and your hands are so gentle. Somehow he feels at ease even though he feels like he’s going to implode on himself from nerves.
Just a little deeper before you pull away and stare at him. Rin looks back, eyes jumping from your lips up to your eyes and back down to your lips. You open your mouth to say something. Mumbling his given name only for him to cut you off with another kiss, a little deeper this time. The way it shuts you up is so cute it almost makes him angry. How it muffles your words, tapers off into a noise of surprise and ends up just back at a kiss.
He’s never felt like this kind of thing was a viable option. Itoshi Rin is an antisocial, angry, and apathetic soccer protege and he has no time in the world for anything lukewarm. He’s rejected every confession he’s ever received in his life and always thought of relationships as something far off and disconnected to him in his entirety.
Perpetually unloveable but maybe not in such an angsty, vulnerable way. Like a law of the universe. A truth, like thinking of him, means to postulate that he is that way. A prerequisite to understanding him.
Rin doesn’t like things that are half-ass. Perhaps, part of the reason he likes you so much is because you’ve proved him wrong in such an utterly defeating way. The fact your very existence is by and large, the antithesis of this truth.
Itoshi Rin is not only loveable, but he is capable of loving. There is evidence of it, right underneath him now - with soft lashes and wet eyes and the brightest smile that could ever exist.
And it’s haunting for more reasons than one. But he likes how unyielding the revelation is. You’re worried he’ll want to avoid it, and he does. But he doesn’t think he could forever, even if he tried.
He’s confident if he made the attempt, you’d come barreling towards him once more. With all the confidence in the world. It makes him want to at least try to face it.
Which is why he’s kissing you a second, third, and fourth time. Which is why he’s looking at you in between, wide blue eyes transfixed on every part of your face. He’s trying to face what daunts him most, not like but love and the difference is more important as the days pass.
You pull away, finally - put a hand on his chest and stare.
“Rin-kun,” You whisper, uncertain of yourself which he hates. “I like you. I really like you.” And again, a little softer “And I want you to like me too,” Like that had been the biggest secret of all. Something you’d never told anyone, even once.
Rin can’t imagine it. Have you been holding in something like this all this time? He only realized a couple hours ago and it already feels like he’s going to rip apart at the seams.
“I do. I do like you.”
“Really? Forreal? Seriously? You’re not pulling my leg? Yanking my chain?”
He knocks his forehead against yours.
“Be quiet. How can you be this stupid in the middle of getting confessed to?”
You pout. Pout at him, all whiny. God.
“It doesn’t feel real to me.”
He laughs humorlessly. “It’s all a dream. You’ll forget it all in the morning.”
“Stop being mean to me.”
He has to be. If he’s not you’re going to see right through him.
“No,” He says instead “Stop being so ridiculous first.”
“An impossible ask to the world's most ridiculous girl.”
He smiles a little.
“That’s a good name for you. I’ll change your contact.”
“Nooo,” You say again, this time pulling him down for a hug. His eyes widened. And he’s unfair? “Be nice to your girlfriend.”
He doesn’t have anything to say to that. It flusters him too, admittedly. Before he can think of a counter, you yawn big and wide. Rin is still on top of you and neither of you have brushed your teeth. He was planning on putting you up in the guest room, but currently you’re clinging to him half-away. And he has no such plans of telling you to move.
“I’m so tired.”
Rin feels like he’s going to pass out, He mumbles.
“You can sleep.”
“Want you to sleep too.”
Rin closes his eyes. He couldn’t refuse even if he wanted to. You’ll have to talk about it in the morning.
“Okay.”
__
“Rin? Where’s your frie—oh!”
Rin stirs the minute his mom enters the room. It only takes him a minute to regain consciousness and by the time he’s awake - he’s already regretting not locking his door.
He continues to pretend to be asleep. He thinks you still are because you’re comfortably slotted in his arms. Rin is so embarrassed he wants to die. He hears his mom gasp, and then quietly shouts for his father to come to his room.
“What are you—oh.”
Rin is going to have the worst morning of his life whenever they leave. He remains still. He hears the shutter of a camera and grits his teeth all the way in the back of his jaw.
“Oh this will make a great wedding photo.”
His dad laughs a little to himself, ushering his mother out of the room “Don’t get carried away,”
When the door finally clicks, Rin opens his eyes and lets out a breath of relief. Much to his shock, he also feels you stir. His eyes widen when you turn to him, your face painted in utter mortification before you bury it in your hands. He stares at you as you groan, kicking your feet.
“Oh god I’m going to cry. How am I going to face her? Oh my god”
Rin scoffs a little at your dramatics. It calms him down in a strange way “She’s not gonna say anything to you. She’s probably only going to bully me about it.”
“I’ve forsaken you, mother-in-law”
Rin nudges your ribs, blush crawling up his face.
“Shut up.”
__
Up until three weeks ago, Rin didn’t take issue with the way you interacted at school.
You two have a pretty strict policy about it. Though you’re in the same class and you chat occasionally in the halls - you tend to avoid Rin where you can. Originally, this made sense. For the sake of his comfort and yours, the best choice was sneaking to the roof together to eat where you could remain mostly undisturbed.
As such, Rin has never been particularly consciousness of your presence in the classroom. For starters, you’re always somewhere. A busybody of the highest pedigree and always running errands - even if Rin were to try to talk to you he can only really find you 20 percent of the time. Secondly, unlike Rin, you have a handful of friends surrounding you. Rin has interacted with them very briefly but you (seemingly for his sake) try not to force him out of his comfort zone too much by making you all sit together. The most Rin has gotten from them is a single knowing smirk or glance.
And lastly, before three weeks ago, it would’ve been a big problem if people started getting onto either of you about a relationship that didn’t exist. That would've been all around awkward and uncomfortable and maybe would’ve deterred your future endeavors with other guys.
That was when you and Itoshi Rin were in fact not dating.
Three weeks into your relationship and nothing much has changed, though nowadays you come over to his house on weekends where you can. You’ve even been on one date after his dad (of all people) hounded him about never taking you on a proper one.
You text the same as you did before, and you call Rin a little more often. Usually for the purposes of rambling so much you tucker yourself out and fall asleep.
But at school, Rin only really sees you for the spare minutes of lunch and not much more than that. He’s never really thought about it before. It was never enough of an issue to warrant his intervention.
It’s not like he cares, okay?
But he’s more aware of it, now - frustratingly enough. You really don’t see each other often enough in school and you have many more guy friends than he had ever considered before. Every time he catches you and Murata-senpai trekking down the hall he feels his blood pressure rise.
You and Rin have both decided, though. Despite his posting of you, neither of you have confirmed the relationship. Rin is immune to the prying and you’re good at dodging it altogether. This is the agreement.
It is therefore very irrational of him to be thinking of speaking up at this current moment in time.
Despite your mutual decision to keep things as private as possible, Rin has heard nothing but gossip about the situation for weeks. Outside of the usual, direct kind of prying - there’s whispers and stares and all sorts of other things. Rin doesn’t care about it. He’s used to it, it’s part of the gig and the neo-egoist league made him near immune.
It’s all the things directed at you that make him seethe. Misplaced jealousy and the disappointed remarks of guys in class that make him feel like his blood pressure is rising. The latter is what’s making him most irritated now. How fucking long are these idiots going to talk about this?
“Dude, you had like three years to confess,” Some idiot, who’s name Rin doesn’t know is still yapping “If she’s actually dating Mr.Popular then it’s on you for fucking yourself over.”
The other idiot in question groans, and Rin forces his face to remain impassive as he listens. He tries to stop listening. More than once, actually. But they just keep going.
“I didn’t think he’d actually do it dude. Like there’s no way, right? He rejected every single girl who ever confessed to him. I thought she was safe. And now my highschool love is forever ruined.”
Like he ever stood a chance. How ridiculous.
Another one of the goons speaks up “Dunno. Neither of them have said anything right? You miss all of the shots you don’t take.”
“Are you saying I should just confess to her anyway? She got posted on his Instagram dude.”
A smirk appears on Extra Three’s face “No confirmation means fair game. Stop being pussy and do it.”
“You think I stand a chance against that dude?”
Rin can feel all three pairs' eyes hit him at once.
“Nah. Not a chance. But you could always wait till she’s all heartbroken and comfort her, right? Hook, line, and sinker.”
“I hear when girls are heartbroken they’re like way more likely to let you—”
With that, Rin stands to his feet. He’s seething. It’s ridiculous. It’s stupid. He should definitely just leave to go cool his head but he’s so fucking angry it’s hard to sit still and he has no other way of dealing with his feelings. So he walks towards the table slowly, eyes darkened and just barely holding it in
He knows this is a bad idea. He can feel the whole classroom look at him as he slams his hand down on the desk. But he doesn’t care. He’ll deal with it later.
“You’d be fucking lucky if my girlfriend ever looked your way.”
As soon as Rin says it, there's a thud at the door-way of the classroom. When he looks up you’re there with your eyes widened. Rin just looks back, impassive and immune to the sudden uproar of whispers.
He only clicks his teeth when you grab him by the sleeve of his uniform - cracking a small smile as he hears the faint words “Just give up dude.” as he leaves.
__
Up on the roof top, you’re shaking Rin by the shoulders - visibly distressed.
“Hey! What the hell was that?”
“What.” He offers, not willing to budge on the situation. In the first place he’s a little irritated by all of it. And he’s a little irritated by how much you’ve been enforcing the no-talking rule. Right now, it really feels like he can’t take it anymore.
You frown deeply, distress only growing as the time passes in uncomfortable silence. Rin doesn’t want to be civil about it. About it and about you and about those idiots.
“We had an agreement!” You say, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, though it’s weak. He stares down at you.
“So what?”
“Rin, we talked about this. Don’t be like this.”
“Like what.”
“Pissy and weird. You’re being weird and I don’t like it. It’s making me sad.”
“How am I being—”
Before Rin can proceed with his sentence, he catches a glimpse of your face in the midst of his tantrum. Sad like a puppy who got its tail stepped on and about ready to cry, he immediately seals his mouth in fear of making it worse.
“Why are you doing that?” He spits.
“Doing what?”
“Being all sad and pathetic. Does it really bother you that much if people know we’re dating?”
“It’s not like that.” You assure.
“Then what is it?” Rin prods, frustrated but not wanting to make things worse “Why is it such a big deal?”
There’s a bout of silence before you sigh.
“Rin, you’re a huge soccer player. The people you’re dating and stuff - it’s a big deal,”
Rin cuts you off.
“That’s what you were worried about? My career?”
“Well, yeah.”
“You’re stupid.”
“Hey! I’m seriously worried about it and then you go and—”
He gives you a frown. He forgets all too often you’re like this. He’s used to your silly and unserious way of talking, so it slips his mind that you’re actually a massively responsible person. You probably have a point about it, thinking of the consequences of your relationship through hell and back. With a detached sense of rationality - Rin can recognize that you’re probably thinking about more things than this. Otherwise it wouldn’t be so touchy of a subject.
Nothing’s changed on paper, but everything will eventually. It’s something to think about, admittedly.
Honestly Rin doesn’t care what strangers think. He’s blunt and unfriendly. Always has been, and will continue to be through the majority of his career he’s absolutely sure. Even outside of Bluelock, he has almost no regard for the opinions of other people and what concerns them. Maybe it’s irresponsible, but Rin isn’t playing soccer for the approval of the populace and nothing will ever change that.
“If I thought that was something I should worry about, we wouldn’t be dating.”
You look up at him.
“You should be worried about it.” You emphasize.
“I’m not. I don’t care what any of those people think.”
“Then why’d you go and say something?”
Rin seethes.
“They deserved it.”
Your hand reaches for his cheek. He pauses and takes a deep breath, staring at you. He leans into your touch instinctively, frustration eased by the sensation. You stare back.
“Okay. We’ll announce it officially later, then.”
“Do we even need to do that? If you tell three people, half of our grade’ll find out anyway.”
“Are you saying my friends gossip?”
He doesn’t reply to that. You pout at him and Rin fights the urge to kiss you. There’s a beat of silence as you give him a hug - the two of you on the same roof you always are. Rin doesn’t mind it, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist.
“You know, it’s gonna get busy for me soon.” You mumble. So this is what else you were worrying about. “And for you. I have my entrance exam and the school is in Tokyo. And you’re gonna go back to Bluelock and—”
“It’ll be fine.”
“I’m worried about it anyways.”
“About what?”
“I’ll see you less. What if you stop liking me randomly and I can’t even hunt you down about it?”
Rin huffs “You’re insane enough to find me,” He drops his chin on your shoulder “Plus you talk to my mom.”
“You’re gonna be so busy.”
“I’ll come see you when I’m not.”
“And you’re going to be surrounded by the human equivalent of siren women someday soon.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“But you might.”
“I haven’t in eighteen years, you moron.”
“I’m gonna miss you all the time.” You say, sniffly and Rin is so struck with a feeling of affection he almost falls “I already miss you all the time.”
He squeezes you a little tighter “It’ll be fine.”
“For you.”
Rin furrows his brow, pulling back to stare at you.
“Not for me,” Because Rin can begrudgingly admit he will miss you worse than this “Just in general. It’ll be fine. You almost made it a year without me.”
“But now I’m with you,” You reply easily, and softly and oh-so in love Rin wants to turn away “And I’m so happy and I want it be like this for a long time,”
“Just a long time? Not something stupid like a blossoming eternity?”
“I thought I’d scare you.”
“You did that in April.” He points out flatly. You hit him lightly but smile anyway.
“It’s a problem how much I like you.”
Rin likes you just as much. You’re probably too much of an idiot to realize and won’t for a long while. He takes a little comfort in, strangely.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll come see you.” He says again, because it’s the only thing he can think to say. He believes in it thoroughly. If Rin were a better, more candidly vulnerable person he thinks now he’d give the loving boyfriend speech. He almost wants to half-assedly try but can’t bring himself to get past the awkwardness. He hugs you tighter because it’s all he’s capable of, and hopes he can will it into you. The sincerity of his words, he wants so badly for them to reach you “Stop worrying so much.”
“Rin-kun,” You start, then pause to look up at him. His breath hitches “Rin. I love you. Really.”
He feels like he’s gonna be sick as he stares at you, eyes widened. You look the same as you always do. Unexpectant, terribly sincere, with your heart on your sleeve. The more Rin knows you, the more he thinks it can’t be easy to be so vulnerable all the time.
So you do it for him, and only him. And Rin is always going to be intolerable. Frustrating and impatient. But he wants to do it for you too, where he can. Rin wants you to know it’ll be fine because the fact that you’re standing here now is nothing short of a miracle. Nothing comes out right.
“Yeah.” He says, but he can’t get the rest of words out. And you laugh, and peek up at him through your lashes.
“And you love me too, don’t you?”
Rin grits his teeth. He wants to say no.
“I guess.”
“And we’re going to be just fine.” You repeat, hugging him tight. Rin hugs you back. He wants to say thank you. He wants to kiss you stupid and make fun of you at the same time. He wants you so much and so often he’s sure he’s lost his fucking mind.
But he agrees with you, at least. He nods. He holds you. He doesn’t like to lie, so he looks at you instead.
“Yeah. It’s gonna be fine.”
__
EPILOGUE ;
In Rin’s defense, he’s not trying to listen in on the conversions of your underclassmen.
For starters, the club door is cracked up and Rin only has one airpod fully charged. Secondly, it’s not like they’re being quiet. Rin’s pretty sure anyone with decent enough hearing could hear them from down the hall. Given that it’s the newspaper club, he’s sure that the conversation isn’t usually this interesting.
It’s just when he catches wind of your name while you’re nowhere to be found, he finds himself eavesdropping just a little. He leans back into the chair he’s sitting in, face tucked into his black mask and hat pulled neatly over his head.
“Guys, I’ve decided I’m going to confess to Boss no matter what.”
He must mean you. Rin often hears how some of the people in the club affectionately add danchou to the end of your name. Rin scoffs a little at the kids' confidence. It reminds him a little of highschool. Rin really think you’re at more of a risk than he is. Being a celebrity makes him naturally unattainable - more of a fixture than a person.
Everytime someone confesses to you though it’s sincere. From knowing you. And he gets it but it doesn’t keep him from scoffing and turning his nose up.
“It’d be a good idea to give up while you’re ahead.” Says another unnamed voice.
“Yeah Nakao-san. Do you even know who Senpai's boyfriend is?”
“N-no. But it doesn’t matter. Through the powerful of love I’ll—”
Before Rin gets a chance to listen anymore, he hears your voice call out for him. He snaps his head up to look at you. You’re dressed so professionally it’s hard to recognize you like that. Your hair is cut neat and styled professionally and you’re dressed in business casual. He’s relieved he brought shoes for you to change into.
You run up to him anyway, and Rin stands up to make sure you don’t stumble as you throw your arms around his neck. You’re closer in height with your heels on so he doesn’t have to bend down much at all to kiss you. He pulls down his mask quickly.
“Rin-tan, you’re here.” You say with a soft, breathless giggle “I missed youuu.”
“Missed you too,” He says, an arm squeezed around your waist “I have shoes for you in the car,”
You gasp, rubbing your cheek against his affectionately.
“You’re the best in the world. My feet are so sore.”
“Did the interview go well?” Rin asks. You pull away, moving your hair away from your eyes before nodding.
“Uh-huh. The women's rugby team captain is super chill and she interviews great so it went smoothly. I just need to drop the transcript off and then we can leave,” You say holding his hand. He squeezes your palms “Do you want to meet them? You don’t have to but a lot of them ask about you.”
Normally Rin would say no. But he’s feeling a little petty today, after all.
“Sure.”
You beam, your hand in his as you nudge the door open. The room goes silent, a bout of excited cheering following at your return. He’s relieved to see you’re still so well loved, a little reluctant to let go of your hand.
“Senpai, you’re back.”
“Yup, yup. I have the transcript and recording on this USB. Watch it and draft the article up tonight. When I come in tomorrow, we’ll go through editing and get it out by Monday.” You say, hand on hip before remembering his presence. You grab him and Rin follows “Oh, and guys - this is my boyfriend! Rin Itoshi.”
Most of them seem to know. Rin can sense the admiration but it’s respectful. He can tell that everyone is professionals in the field. Rin likes that. He bows politely.
“Nice to meet everyone,”
“Nice to meet you too, Itoshi-san.”
“Danchou…you’re dating Rin Itoshi…the famous soccer player Rin Itoshi?”
You giggle, looping your arm in Rin’s. He laughs internally. It’s the same kid who wanted to confess to you.
“Uh-huh. We’re highschool sweethearts! And today is our very special date night so don’t contact me for any reason until tomorrow morning at least. I’ll see you guys later.”
“Bye, senpai.”
“Have fun on your date.”
With that, you turn the corner and leave the room - immediately beginning to ramble about your day. Rin half-listens. He only pays complete attention when he hears your kouhais talking from down the hall.
“Told you to give up, dude.”
“Rin. Are you paying attention?”
He chuckles to himself.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
❁ a/n ; hello!! me again. first of alll, if you read through this whole fic, thank you so much. second of all i want to discuss a few things about this fic.
im usually pretty keen on localization for my fics where possible because i think it makes for a smoother reader experience - however the usage of honorifics was important to the atmosphere for this one so i'll hope it wasn't too awkward to read.
secondly, im nervous about rins characterization for this one so i hope it was alright. apologies for any errors its 5am and im soo tired.
this fic was mostly meant as an exploration of how i think rin would really benefit from being with someone eccentric and bubbly. the core of their relationship is that reader is an overall emotionally intelligent and honest person and how that has a huge influence on rin so i hope that growth came thru. once again thanks for reading and i hope u enjoyed. rbs and tags always appreciated!
#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi rin fluff#bllk x reader#bllk fluff#writing tag#rin x reader#rin fluff#my brother in christ... how did this happen.
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Best & Worst BLs of 2023
My Top 15 BLs of 2023 are (in order)
1 Our Dating Sim
Korea Viki
Nerds in love, deadlines, gaming, teasing, pining tiny idiots, casual affection, linguistic oops, ADORABLE. If you haven't watched this, it's a must. A perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy.
I adored every aspect from the casting to the pristinely simple premise to the quietly smooth execution. Sure it’s low stakes, but that makes it high domesticity and extremely warm and gentle. This is a fuzzy blanket of a story - a cozy BL. It lives in my rewatch pile and you know what’s best about it? Every single episode is in that pile. There’s no skipping with this one, it might be good natured and calmly sweet but it’s tight and the pacing is excellent.
Also recieves my 2023 award for best giggle.
2 I Cannot Reach You
AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai
Japan Netflix
This classic friends-to-lovers BL is everything Japan does best. Angsty. Emo. Aching. Driven by real thirst. Yamato is deeply in love with his childhood bestie, Kakeru, and has been for ages, unable to hide his ungainly damaging high school need. He wants Kakeru in every way possible and it oozes off of the screen.
Kakeru is silly and a little simple, but not frenetic or overly camp about it. He is earnest, and genuinely wants to keep Yamato in his life which means giving a romance (and gayness) a fair chance. We watch him realize his affection and what form it can take in a truly authentic way.
This show was impossibly kind to both of its lead characters and I felt almost honored that I got to watch something so lovely and rare play out on my screen.
Also wins the best thirst award.
These were the 2 BLs that got 10/10 from me in 2023.
The rest of these got 9/10 from me.
3 My School President
Thailand YouTube
GMMTV gave us a classic high school set Thai BL with tropes like messy boys singing their feelings that made this one Love Sick for the modern age with all the gentle sweetness and pining ache, but none of the dated damaging tropes or issues. Who let my BL be this wholesome and funny? My favourite GMMTV BL offering to date. And yes, I've watched them ALL.
Received the Namgoong award for best wingman 2023.
4 I Feel You Linger in the Air
Thailand grey
IFYLITA is an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework. Steeped in history and family drama this is an elegant and classy BL. The main couple (both as a pair and individuals) were excellent, particularly Bright (Yai) whose eye-work acting style is a personal favorite of mine. It's a marker of how great it was that it's so high on my list despite the ending which was very much not what I wanted.
Additional accolade, sexiest moment of 2023 - (the oil scene).
You could try to fight me, but you'll have no grip.
5 Kiseki: Dear to Me
Taiwan Gaga & Viki
The plot is totally ridiculous and slightly unhinged. There’s a gum-ball machine of cameos, elder gay rep, great chemistry from all pairs (everyone is queer), and a KILLER side couple. It involves all the tropes under a very offhand framework of gay mafia gangs + food = love. As a result Kiseki is a poster child for Taiwanese BL, and I happen to love Taiwanese BL. Bonus? They also managed to END IT WELL, which we cannot expect from Taiwan.
Best side couple 2023!
(thank goodness Taiwan made this list!)
6 Jun and Jun
Korea Viki
A delightful office romance about an ex-idol who joins cubical life only to find his new boss is his first love. With a snappy (sometimes even raunchy) script, enjoyable sides, a pretty as peaches cast, and descent chemistry this show made up for in style what it lacked in substance. I like fluff. I loved this. I smiled every moment I was watching.
Best flirting 2023.
AKA "the tongue knows" award
7 The Eighth Sense
Korea Viki
This one is a bit chewy and sticky and less perfect than most KBLs. It’s got a bit of an age gap, country boy/city boy, stellar acting, complex characters, and leads with great chemistry and tension. This isn’t in the KBL bubble, there’s sharp edges and lots of triggers. For a BL the darkness of the content left me feeling unsettled (which is the only reason it didn't get a perfect score) but it has a glorious ending and that counts for a lot.
2023's most likely to appeal to non-BL watchers.
8 Unintentional Love Story
Korea iQIYI
The lead, Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT, who carried this show. He was luminous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, which he used to carry a killer plot and challenging role. Forced into a totally understandable betrayal, falling in love despite himself, put into a corner he can't get out of, the AGONY, the eyes EMOTING at us in PAIN. Driven by external conflict, social tension and pressure this story seems simple but it's actually refined and quite complex. I loved this show.
Best story structure 2023.
9 My Personal Weatherman
AKA Taikan Yoho
Japan Gaga
This is classic yaoi of the kind that really only works from Japan. Basically: boys who fell in love in college end up living together but both are so repressed they actually don't realize they're in love. It's high heat is well done, but it leaned into the "why don't they just talk for fuck's sake?" which is exacerbated by the fact that they're already fucking. Sure is sexy tho.
Best use of props 2023 for the shower of sheets.
10 Our Dining Table
AKA Bokura no Shokutaku
Japan Gaga
Lonely salaryman and talented cook gets accidentally adopted by a college kid and his little brother. It’s a quiet & cozy little parable of found family alleviating loneliness. It's lovely & sweet with the romance beats used to build a family relationship, not just couple intimacy. Special.
First prize for domesticity.
11 Laws of Attraction
Thailand iQIYI
This is a great gay suspense thriller with several solid couples, fun plot, killer characters, queer rep, and a happy ending. It’s tons of fun and I had an absolute blast watching it.
Charn wins my favorite character of 2023.
12 La Pluie
Thailand Viki
This BL takes to task the fated mates trope and what it means to have love chained intimately to predestination. It’s about how faith in destiny before choice diminishes the authenticity of emotion, relationships, and connection. This is a high concept to examine through the lens of a BL. With good chemistry and decent acting all around, plus some excellent high heat and representation of consent and a few other rare tropes, this one has to (like it’s sibling show My Ride) earn high marks.
Most interesting concept 2023.
13 The New Employee
Korea Viki
So good, SO QUEER, so soft, a near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also found family and a lesbian bestie. This is what I wanted from this new crop of office set KBLs ALL ALONG. Rainbow rice cakes forever!
Best overall queer rep from Korea.
14 Step By Step
Thailand Gaga & YouTube & Viki
This was Thailand’s answer to The New Employee, and everything I loved about that show I loved about this one. This was an office romance between stern boss and sweet subordinate that felt more authentic to an office environment than previous Thai BLs of this ilk which added tension to the narrative and character development.
Chot wins best queer character 2023.
15 Love Tractor
Korea iQIYI
Most of this country-set BL had me feral for the beautiful broken city boy and his hot young farmer. Hyung romance, puppy/cat pairing, open frankness meets jaded reserve, language play, water hose frolicking, only one bed = all my favorite silly tropes.
Biggest "he so pretty" gasp of the year award.
10 Worst BLs of 2023 (that I watched)
My Blessing
My Universe: Casanova Begins
Boyband the series
Cafe In Love
Chains of Heart
Hit Bite Love
Only Friends
Senior Love Me
The Luminous Solution
The Promise
Yes, you read that right. I know I'm against the flow but I really did not like Only Friends. Everyone's taste is different.
However I DNFed faster and more BL's this year than ever before, so that means my 10 worst probably aren't quite reflective...
10 Probably Actually Worst BLs (I dropped 'em)
My Story
The Day I Loved You
Beyond the Star
Crazy Handsome Rich
Dinosaur Love
House of Stars
Mr Cinderella 2
Love Bill
Stormy Honeymoon
The Star Always Follow You
Codicils in General
I only carefully track/watch Thailand, Taiwan, Korea, and Japan. Other countries are not fully represented.
My Numbers
So my spreadsheet chronicled 138 BLs that finish airing in 2023.
101 = watched & reviewed
2 = still in the docket (WDYEY2 & Love Syndrome III)
15 = CNF (could not find)
20 = DNF (which also accounts for how few very low scores I handed out in 2023 as opposed to previous years, I just stopped watching). Speaking of which...
Ratings spread
(# of stars. #of BLs given that rating)
0 (see the DNFs instead)
2 - IT'S DEPRESSING they killed the gay, save yourself
7 - I DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM WATCHING AND NEITHER DOES IT
7 - FATALLY FLAWED but still basically BL, however… do we want to support this kind of behavior?
9 - WATCH IF YOU HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO but don’t expect much, it’s a total hot mess
17 - WORTH WATCHING BUT FLAWED probably around the ending or in narrative structure/cohesion or censorship
14 - RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS i.e. isn’t quite BL, convoluted, not strictly HEA, too short/long, or chemistry issues
30 - RECOMMENDED some concerns around tropes (like dub con) or story structure but still satisfies as BL
13 - ABSOLUTELY RECOMMENDED probably a few pacing issues or one flaw
2 - HIGHLY RECOMMENDED faithful to tropes, happy ending, good chemistry, few flaws, high rewatch potential
(source)
#Best BLs of 2023#Worst BLs of 2023#Top 15 BLs#Our Dating Sim#Korean BL#I Cannot Reach You#Japanese BL#Kimi ni wa Todokanai#My School President#Thai BL#I Feel You Linger in the Air#Kiseki: Dear to Me#Taiwanese BL#Jun and Jun#The Eighth Sense#Unintentional Love Story#Our Dining Table#Bokura no Shokutaku
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➠ word count: 22.0k
➠ warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking (there’s a frat party), everything i know about hockey is from internet research for this fic i’m sorry for any inaccuracies i tried
➠ genre: fluff, gets quite suggestive (a heavy makeout scene/near sex scene) but no actual smut, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), halloween-themed at the beginning, sungchan’s not a frat boy but he’s like... a frat boy by association
➠ extra info: the ages/relative ages of the members in here are whatever i want them to be, don’t read into it too much. this is a very usamerican take on a college au btw. also i call kunhang ‘hendery’ in here like it’s his government name for a one-line gag bc i think i’m hilarious
the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines and thoughts/experiences as a chronically ill person are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines and chronic illness, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds
➠ author’s note: hi so this has been a wip for like a year lol. this one long predates sungchan’s deneofication (and subsequent re-debut in riize), hockey player sungchan just lives in my brain rent free ok. anyway, i hope you like
➠ series masterlist
“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”
“Hard to forget,” you snorted.
“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24
“Now shoo!” Dr. Son waved the small group of you out of his dimly lit office.
It was Phantasmagorical Phriday, a time-honored tradition going back to your freshman year of university. Dr. Son had been intrigued by the four freshmen who were somehow in his third-year class on Gothic Fiction and actually seemed to “get it.” His “Phantasma Phour” as you dubbed yourselves (a nickname that got quickly worn out, persisting only as the title of your groupchat):
Wong Hendery, who ended up in the class accidentally due to an error on his academic advisor’s part (she had gotten him mixed up with a Wong Henry, a junior Literature major who actually needed to take Dr. Son’s class) and he subsequently changed majors at least three times to your knowledge, so you were genuinely surprised he was graduating on time—he finally settled on Communications;
Jung Sungchan, at the time a promising young rookie hockey player who had now blossomed into your school’s reliable team captain—Biology major, being an athlete meant he could pre-register for classes and he picked Dr. Son’s at random to fulfill a gen ed Literature credit;
Zhong Chenle, an honorary member of both Nu Chi Tau, one of the biggest frats on campus, and the hockey team, as somehow 95% of his social circle were Nu Chi brothers and/or hockey players despite Chenle being neither himself, your best friend and also sometimes you swear a demon sent straight from hell to kill you—Literature major, who bullied you into taking the class; and
You, Chenle’s best friend who used to hate anything and everything Gothic fiction that got bullied into taking it anyway and now adored the genre more than any other—Literature major, who took the last spot in the class on registration day.
Dr. Son would invite you all to monthly extracurricular workshops in his office that built up to this: Phantasmagorical Phriday, a writing competition to see which of the four of you could write the best gothic short story. The stories were actually submitted the prior week, but it was the Friday before Halloween that was dubbed the Phriday in question. The four of you were invited to his office that night after classes (and Sungchan’s hockey practice) to review your pieces: how he thought everyone had improved from last year, discuss the writing process, and to finish off the night, Dr. Son would announce his top two stories. Those in the top two had the chance to send him a persuasive letter about why they should win. They had to be sent to him that night because the next morning, your professor would email the top two individually with the results.
Since this was your last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Dr. Son pretended not to see when Hendery brought out four celebratory White Claws for you all. You still had your warm, unopened, orange-flavored seltzer in your hand as the small group of you left the Literature, Writing, and Foreign Languages building together.
“I still can’t believe you couldn’t find anything classier for our last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Hendery.” You shook your head. “Ever heard of champagne? Literally any wine?”
“So you’re not gonna shotgun that, Y/N, is what I’m hearing?” Hendery teased as you all stopped under the light post right outside the building.
“Is that a challenge or what, Wong?” You scoffed, handing it back to him. “But no, I’m good.”
Sungchan thankfully cut in and changed the topic of conversation, “So are you going to start writing your letter of reconsideration, Y/N?”
This year’s top two were you and Sungchan, the member of the Phantasma Phour you spoke to the least. Outside of the monthly “workshops” (which at this point with your differing majors were just get-togethers of questionable academic value), you never saw him. You obviously saw Chenle all the time, and despite the fact that you considered him a bit obnoxious, you were sort of friends with Hendery, joining him for lunch if you happened to see him at the student union or at the coffee shop on campus. Sungchan was perfectly nice and all, you just found that you never really talked to him like the other two.
You looked down at your watch, taking a quick inhale when you saw the time. You’d stayed in Dr. Son’s office a lot later than you’d realized.
“Oh, no,” you casually waved off Sungchan’s question, readjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “I’ve got something more pressing right now. Anyway, see you guys. It was a good four years, I’m glad we got to do this.”
Lifting your hand in a wave of finality to the three men, you departed.
“She’s really not going to submit a letter?” Sungchan asked, still watching after you as your figure faded away in the distance.
“Nope,” Chenle shook his head, reaching for the spare White Claw in Hendery’s hand. “Y/N never does.”
“You didn’t know that?” Hendery questioned the hockey player, holding the drink away from Chenle.
“Why not?”
“She’s not in it to win really.” Chenle lunged for the can as Hendery jerked it away at the last second. “Just wants to make stuff.”
“So she was lying about doing something?”
Hendery and Chenle were now running circles around Sungchan in their game of keep-away with the seltzer.
“No.”
“What do you—” Sungchan sighed, yanking the drink from Hendery’s grasp and holding it high above his own head, well out of either of their reaches. “Hey!”
Now with their attention, the hockey captain kept his arm straight up as he returned to his question, “What are you talking about, Chenle?”
“Y/N does have something pressing right now. If I tell you where she’s probably going will you give me the White Claw?” Chenle bargained.
“You’d exchange your best friend’s location for an orange White Claw? Not even watermelon?” Hendery asked incredulously.
“It’s Sungchan, someone we’ve known for like four years, not some creep off the street who’s going to wear her skin.”
“No, Chenle, you don’t have to tell me that,” Sungchan shook his head, offering the can out for either one to take.
The Literature major was able to snatch it first, jumping up in celebration, “Suck an egg, Hendery!”
“I wouldn’t—” Sungchan’s words were too late though, as Chenle had already popped the tab, and the overly-shaken seltzer exploded all over all three of them.
“Zhong Chenle, I’m going to strangle you, you little weasel!”
“Ah! Sungchan, save me!”
“I would, except you got fucking orange White Claw in my eyes and I’m fucking blind now! Goddamn!”
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25
Rolling over in bed the next morning, you let out a big sigh and buried your face in your pillow, fully intent on going back to sleep. Saturday morning. No school, no work. Just you, your bed, and some much-needed sleep.
Then, the obnoxious blaring of your phone came from your nightstand. You groaned, reaching blindly for the object, and barely opening one eye just enough to snooze it. Damn, you really had slept in, to be woken up by your first medication alarm. Well, you weren’t going to die if you took your morning doses fifteen minutes later than normal. You were about to stuff your phone under your pillow when you briefly caught sight of your lockscreen after the alarm disappeared.
Text notification from Jung Sungchan?
Flopping onto your back and bringing your phone with you, you squinted against the harsh light of your screen to make sure you were reading that right. Yep, Sungchan had definitely texted you a few hours ago, separate from the Phantasma Phour chat. At almost 7:00 a.m., too. What the hell?
Curiosity won out over a need to sleep for fourteen more minutes, and you opened the notification.
[jung sungchan: Congrats, Y/N!]
You stared blankly at the text, your groggy mind desperately grasping around for any sort of context as to why Jung Sungchan would be texting you that at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday. Then it struck you like lightning, and you let out an audible “Oh, duh!” as you remembered where you both were last night. Phantasmagorical Phriday. The writing contest. You and Sungchan were the top two. Dr. Son must have sent the email out already, and apparently you had won.
Normally, you wouldn’t check your school email on the weekend until Sunday night, unless you were waiting to hear back from a specific professor—and the Sunday night check was just to see if any of your Monday classes were cancelled. Lord knows you definitely wouldn’t have checked it at seven in the morning on a Saturday. You let out a snort of disbelief as you reread the timestamp on the text. But still, it was nice of him. A good show of sportsmanship, as one would expect from the hockey captain.
You quickly checked your own student email, and did in fact see an email from Dr. Son at the very top with the subject ‘PHINAL PHANTASMAGORICAL PHRIDAY RESULTS.’
‘Y/N and Sungchan:
Thank you again for your submissions. I enjoyed working with everyone these four years.
The winner this year is Y/N. Good job.
Dr. Son.’
An amused smile crept across your face at your professor’s usual blunt email style. But this was also some of the nicest feedback he’d given your writing, even when you had won Phantasmagorical Phriday in the past, or in classes that you’d taken from him over the years. Something about it truly did feel... final.
And so with an odd bittersweetness, you drafted an equally short and blunt email back to your professor.
‘Dr. Son:
Thank you for taking us on these past four years. I will never forget the experience.
Y/L/N Y/N.’
Then finally, you went back to the original reason that you were even doing this.
[you: thanks, sungchan!]
Then, your alarm went off again, making you jump out of your skin. Well, time for your morning meds.
MONDAY, OCTOBER 27
A tall figure was nearing the corner table you had claimed in one of the campus coffee shops the following Monday afternoon, and you looked up from your laptop screen, a little surprised at who it was. Jung Sungchan was standing at the end of your table, black flannel over a graphic t-shirt and dark wash jeans, one backpack strap slung over his shoulder. He had an iced coffee in one hand.
You paused the movie playing on your laptop, taking out both your headphones as you looked up at him inquisitively, “Uh hi, Sungchan.”
“Hi, Y/N.”
“Are you here to study or something?”
“Mm.” He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “Not really. Just grabbing a coffee and saw you. Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?”
“Oh, sure. I’m waiting out the storm to leave,” you gestured to the near-constant downpour that had started right after you’d arrived over two hours ago. Noticing that some of Sungchan’s hair and shoulders were damp, you added, “The storm you apparently got caught in without an umbrella.”
“Oh, yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair to push some of it away from where it had been falling into his eyes.
“I don’t mind having some company while I wait.”
To your surprise, instead of sitting across from you, Sungchan plopped himself onto the same bench that you were on, one leg slung over either side so he could face you directly.
You picked up the mug in front of you, your second cup of your drink of choice. You’d gotten a refill after it became clear that the rain wasn’t letting up any time soon. Sungchan was already a third of the way done with his iced coffee as you blew over your hot drink before taking a small sip. He glanced up at you, and you felt like you were going to choke on the uncomfortable silence. So you took a gamble. Turning in your seat to face him as well, you hiked a knee up onto the bench, bringing your mug with you.
“Do you want to ask me something, Sungchan?”
The hockey player startled, having to catch himself from nearly choking on his coffee. Seems like you were right. Sungchan finally stopped sucking down his drink, setting it down on the table and wiping his palms on the knees of his jeans. “I heard that you never sent in a letter to Dr. Son. Any year you were a top two.”
“Oh, yeah, nah.”
“Why not?”
“Didn’t seem worth it,” you shrugged.
“What?”
“Every year I participated I wanted my work to stand on its own two legs. After the death of the author, that’s all that’s left, right? The work. It has to speak for itself.”
“Oh,” Sungchan nodded, then squinted his eyes, confusion entirely overtaking his features. “Wait, what?”
“Sorry, I don’t know how much Lit Theory you’ve done. Probably not a lot as a Bio major, huh? Death of the author is both literal and metaphorical. Removing what the author meant to do or say with a text from how you actually interpret the text as the reader. It’s a lot easier when they’re actually dead, but the abstract concept is practiced when they’re alive too. It’s… seeing the text as separate from authorial intent. Mind you, it’s only one tool in a literary critic’s arsenal, but I liked it for our Gothic fiction class. All the authors we read in that class, they’d been gone for a while, we had no way to know what they really meant when they wrote all that stuff. And it didn’t really matter for our purposes. All we did have was what they wrote, and that was enough for me. So the same should be enough for whoever reads the stuff I write. Even if it’s just Dr. Son.”
“Huh.”
“Though I guess I just explained myself a little, oops,” you laughed at yourself, taking another sip from your steaming mug. “I’m getting less and less mysterious by the second, aren't I?”
“Chenle made it sound like you didn’t care about winning,” Sungchan asked, cheek in hand.
You arched an eyebrow at this. “You asked Chenle about me?”
“W-Well you left so fast after we saw Dr. Son, and you two are you know...”
“Oh he’s my best friend,” you clarified for perhaps the ten-thousandth time in your life. “And while others may use any litany of swears for him and Hendery calls him a little weasel, I prefer ‘actual demon sent from Hell to kill me.’”
“What?” Sungchan’s eyes widened.
“He pushes me out of my comfort zone. In a good way, most of the time.”
“Got it. Then what do you do for him? If he’s your yang…”
“I’m entertainment?” You snorted, taking another sip of your drink. After setting it back down, you answered more sincerely, “I’m kidding. Sometimes it feels like that but I did ask him one time a couple years ago, when he was tipsy enough that I believed the words coming out of his mouth but not so drunk that it was unintelligible. ‘A safe place.’ And since then… I can see it in us. That’s my yin to him.”
He smiled softly at you. “That’s... really nice.”
“Sorry, what were you asking me before that?”
“Oh, uh— Chenle said you really didn’t care about winning Dr. Son’s contest, you just wanted to make stuff? That’s why you didn’t submit a letter.”
“Generally, sure. Winning would’ve been great, but I didn’t write what I thought Dr. Son wanted. I took all of his feedback with a grain of salt. Took stuff that I liked from him, took stuff I liked from other profs I had. Mixed and matched to make something that was mine.” You pressed your lips together, then leaned forward like you were about to tell him a secret, “I didn’t live for Phantasmagorical Phriday, Sungchan. You do know that, right?”
“Wow,” he blinked, seeming a bit disoriented. “I’ve never really thought about… you like that.”
“Well to be fair to you, you only ever knew me there and in Dr. Son’s class. Makes it hard not to think of me only through that lens. All you know about me is that I presumably like Gothic fiction and I’m a Lit major, right?”
“Right.”
“So what do you think I was doing here before you showed up?”
“…Reading Edgar Allan Poe.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at that, turning your laptop screen to show the paused movie to him, “I was watching Pacific Rim.”
His jaw literally dropped, and you felt the need to save him at least a little. Grabbing a book from your bag, you held it up, “I did come here initially to finish reading this new mystery novel I just got, but then the storm came and I had nothing else to do after I was done with the book.”
“But still… you’re so…”
“I have interests outside the one class we took together?”
“Smart,” he finished, an absolutely adorable expression of wonder across his face.
You weren’t expecting that, surprised giggles bubbling up out of you as you felt yourself growing warm under his awestruck gaze.
“Anyway, your turn,” you tapped his knee with your book before putting it back in your bag.
“For what?”
“To expand my horizons of you. All I know about you is that you’re the hockey captain, and a Bio major who took a gothic fiction class one time like three years ago. Show me you’re a multifaceted individual, too.”
“Uhm, that’s about it.”
“Oh come on, Sungchan.”
“No really, if I’m not on the ice, I’m in class; if I’m not in class, I’m with my team; and if I’m not with my team, I’m studying.”
“You’re here, right now,” you pointed out. “Last I checked I’m not on your hockey team, and we’re not studying. You have to do one thing that’s not for school or hockey. My thing was just watching Pacific Rim this one time, remember?”
“Alright…” he paused to think, fingers tapping along his thighs. “I used to play the piano.”
“Past tense, but I’ll accept it. When did you stop?”
“High school? Around when piano lessons and hockey practice started conflicting.”
“And you chose hockey?” You asked, hoping it didn’t sound judgmental. You really were just curious, trying to understand him.
“Actually, the choice was made for me.” He held his right hand out in front of you, and it was then that you saw his pinky finger was unnaturally crooked as he pointed to the digit. “I broke it in a game without even realizing it. Bruises and stiffness sometimes are normal so me and my parents didn’t know anything was up until weeks later when I was fucking up all the notes at my piano lessons because it still hurt. By the time I finally saw a doctor and got a splint on it, it set up wrong. All dexterity for piano out the window. Hockey on the other hand… guys have done a lot more with a lot less.”
You couldn’t help but curiously run a gentle fingertip over the crook in his pinky. “Does it hurt at all? Now?”
“Not really.” He went to bend and flex the fingers of his right hand, and you saw how the fifth finger didn’t curl up as much as the others. “It’s just a lot stiffer. Doesn’t bother me all that much.”
He brought his left hand up and wiggled the fingers on that hand. “Besides, I’m a lefty anyway.”
“So—apologies if this sounds like a stupid question to you, I don’t know anything about hockey—are there like, different hockey sticks for left-handed and right-handed players?”
Sungchan immediately broke into snickers, and you set down your mug to cross your arms over your chest indignantly.
“Hey, I didn’t laugh at you for not knowing what death of the author was—”
“I wasn’t making fun of you, I’m sorry,” he covered his mouth. “That was just… too cute. Uhm yes, there are lefty and righty sticks.”
You had to bite down your bottom lip to not smile at him calling you cute, and instead keep up your ruse of being offended. “I feel patronized.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There was still a hint of a giggle in his tone, and you felt your self-righteous façade slip away as he continued, “You should come to a game, then, if you really want to broaden your horizons. The season just started. First home game is this Thursday, actually. 7:00 p.m. and students get free admission with your student ID.”
“Thursday?”
“Fridays are for basketball, Saturdays are for football.”
“Oh. Right.”
“You don’t go to those games either, do you?”
“Oh no, did I make it obvious?” You asked sarcastically.
“A bit,” Sungchan jested back.
Outside the window visible past Sungchan, the rain had let up a few minutes ago, and you briefly glanced over at your laptop for the time. Shit, your next alarm was going to be going off soon. If you left now, you should be home at roughly the right time for your next dose.
Clicking your tongue, you started packing up your things, “Well, looks like the rain’s finally let up enough to allow me safe passage. That’s my cue.”
“Oh.” The hockey player with you looked over his shoulder at the newly sunny day outside before turning back to watch you put your things away.
“Are you heading out too?” You nodded to his empty cup.
“I’ve uh, got some homework to do.”
“Guess this is where we part ways then.”
“Um, you didn’t say if you were going. To the game.”
You tucked your chin to your chest to hide your smitten smile as you put your laptop in your bag. Typically just asking for the details would’ve been taken for a yes, but Sungchan wanted extra confirmation. This boy wasn’t good for your heart, truly.
Turning back to him, you gave him a firm and nearly business-like nod. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
A bright grin lit up his features. “Okay! Great! Uhm, feel free to bring some friends, I know just sitting in the stands by yourself might be lonely.”
“I’ll see if I can drag somebody else out. It’ll be a tall order, though. Literature majors, you know, we prefer our Shakesperean poetry readings.”
“Oh, well—”
“I’m kidding,” you laughed and stood then, slinging your tote onto your shoulder. “Honestly, have you seen Chenle at a rager? Boy can drink twice his body weight I swear. He shouldn’t, but he can.”
Before you could reach for your cup and saucer to buss your place, the hockey captain spoke up, “I’ll take care of your mug, don’t worry.”
“Oh, thanks, Sungchan! I’ll see you Thursday then.”
“Bye…” Sungchan trailed off, watching the door long after it had closed behind you.
He didn’t actually have any homework to do, and scrolled on his phone for a few minutes to make sure you were out of the area before leaving himself. He grabbed his long-empty plastic cup and your mug. His went in the trash, and as he went to put yours up with the other dishes and trays, his eyes were caught by the iridescent glitters left behind on the rim by your lip gloss.
[you: hey what are you doing thursday at 7:00?]
[chenle: depends on what weird poetry reading you’re trying to drag me to]
[you: not this time. Sungchan’s hockey game?]
[chenle: you want to go to a sporting event?? why????]
[you: i told him i’d go please don’t make me go by myself]
[chenle: did you offer to go or did he ask you to come?]
[you: he asked me to? i guess?]
[chenle: haha yeah fuck no i’m not going with you]
[you: why not????????]
[chenle: a guy invited you to one of his games? yeah no way am i coming with you]
[you: what difference does that make? you’re seriously going to make me go to a hockey game by myself?]
[chenle: i don’t know how to tell you this gently so: he wants to fuck you]
[you: bro???]
[chenle: especially hockey? caveman brain is activated, he wants to show off how big and strong he is for you over the other males]
[you: damn can’t believe i just blinked and woke up in 200 BC]
[chenle: i’m warning you, only go if you’re ready for the consequences. i.e., that]
[you: so you’re not coming with me]
[chenle: no <3]
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30
Your chronically early self had gotten there as soon as the doors opened to spectators in order to scope out the perfect spot for yourself. Somewhere not too close to any speakers, where you could still see what was going on, hopefully somewhere Sungchan could maybe see you, but you could make a quick escape if need be. A lot of parameters, hence the need to be early. That meant that you got to watch the visiting team warm up first, and now your school’s team was warming up before the game. Finally the stands started filling up, and you had to do a double-take at the newest figure entering.
“Zhong Chenle, you lying little bitch!” You cursed out your best friend who was approaching you.
He immediately went to defend himself as he plopped down beside you, “Look, I told you I wasn’t going with you, not that I wasn’t going at all. Come on, Lit major.”
He finished off with a solid knock on your head, which didn’t hurt all that much through the beanie you were wearing, but you still slapped his arm away with a glare.
“Are you sure you want to live until graduation day? I can’t tell sometimes.”
“Half the team are Nu Chi guys,” Chenle explained his being there, then waved at one of the players skating by, 23, who gave a salute back. “Jeno.”
“Oh.” You belatedly waved too, but your friend had already turned back to warming up.
Chenle then gave you the run-down on all your friends and acquaintances’ numbers as he spotted them.
“Goalie. Sicheng, 7.” He just blocked a shot from a familiar number, 23. “Already told you, 23 is Jeno. Right wing.”
“Does he always suck?”
“Here’s Ten, number 10. Right defense. He’s never told me which came first, his nickname or his jersey number.”
Sicheng blocked Ten’s shot.
“2 is Mark, center.” His went in.
“66, Donghyuck, center alternate.” His also went in.
“24, that’s Yangyang, left wing—and a miss!”
“This doesn’t bode well that so many of our players apparently kind of suck.” You muttered to yourself, well aware that Chenle was no longer listening to you.
Finally, the tallest of the team was skating up to take a shot. “And there’s your guy, Y/N. Number 27, Jung Sungchan, left defense, captain, your dreamboat—”
“If you don’t shut up—”
“Oh! All net!”
“Isn’t that a basketball—”
“Hey, you got your earplugs, right?”
“Yep, same ones for concerts,” you confirmed, reaching into your purse for them. You hadn’t been able to take your full tote bag into the school sporting event, so you had to condense the essentials into your smaller purse.
“Good, because uh, it’ll get loud.”
“I figured.”
“Yeah, remember how half the team are Nu Chi guys?”
Your eyes widened in realization, “Oh god.”
“Here they come!”
Whipping around to face the same direction he was looking, you saw a horde of about ten to fifteen guys storming the rink, practically shaking the audience section. They were all donned in blue and orange, your university’s colors, various hockey or Nu Chi merch and paraphernalia, and you would’ve absolutely bet money that at least three of them had Nu, Chi, and Tau symbols painted across each of their chests under their shirts. Chenle leapt up to greet them all, the volume of the area immediately rising tenfold at least.
You recognized most of the Nu Chi frat brothers, they were mutual friends or acquaintances of yours through Chenle over the years, and there were even some familiar graduated faces. Lee Taeyong was the first to pick up on your presence, squeezing past Jisung—a new pledge that had glommed onto Chenle in particular—to plop down behind your seat.
“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Taeyong asked you with a tilted head. “Not exactly a good place for you, is it?”
Taeyong was frat president for your first two years of college and his last two. You had an absolute disaster at a Nu Chi party in your freshman year that he was witness to. Ever since then, when you would see him in passing at other lowkey (or as lowkey as frat functions could get) Nu Chi events that Chenle took you to during those two years, you always got the distinct impression that he was keeping an eye on you during them.
“Could be asking you the same thing, Taeyong,” you countered, fully turning around in your seat to chat with the man. “Didn’t you graduate two years ago? You don’t have anything better to do on a Thursday night? Like your taxes or something?”
“Us old-timers who peaked in college like to come back and re-live our glory days vicariously for the first home game,” he entertained your jibe, making you giggle. “And somebody’s got to be these kids’ DD. They always go at it too hard after the first game. Win or lose.”
Johnny, another graduated Nu Chi brother, spoke up then, eyes laser-focused on you, “So Chenle’s finally dragged you out to a game, Y/N?”
You immediately looked at your friend with wide eyes, knowing what the answer was, and exactly what reaction said answer would garner. Chenle, on the other hand, seemed all too thrilled to join in, turning to face you with his hands on his hips and a knowing smirk on his face.
“Oh no, I didn’t bring Y/N. She actually didn’t know I was coming at all. I found her here all on her own,” he announced to all the guys, who were hanging on to every word he said. If literally anything else were happening, you might’ve laughed at how they were all wrapped around his finger.
“No offense, but you don’t really seem like you’re interested in hockey,” Jungwoo, a junior who you’d shared a couple literature classes with, said curiously.
You sighed, giving Chenle a frank look before admitting, “Jung Sungchan invited me.”
They exploded with various hoots, hollers, whoops, and whistles.
With a shake of your head, you turned back around to look back at the players on the ice, knowing full well that there was nothing you could do alleviate—or even really participate in—the absolute chaos that was happening behind you.
Eventually, the game started. Taeyong, who had moved to sit on your other side from Chenle, quietly explained the basics of what was going on to you: positions, plays, scoring, why the referee made certain calls. Chenle was caught between cheering along with the other Nu Chi guys and rattling off hyper-specific stats on individual players to you, so you were truly grateful to have Taeyong giving you your “hockey for dummies” tips and tidbits throughout.
You kept your eyes on number 27, as Chenle had pointed him out to you earlier. The gear made it somewhat difficult for you to really recognize any distinguishing features about Sungchan himself except maybe his height, made even greater by the skates he was wearing. But as much as the intellectual side of you might’ve hated to admit it, there was definitely some part of you that very much enjoyed watching him play; that got some kind of thrill every time somebody tried to check him and he didn’t budge—or when he checked somebody and they most definitely did budge.
Before you knew it, all three periods were over, and you were jumping to your feet along with the others, cheering wildly. Your school won by a landslide.
“Oh, they’re going to get plastered,” Taeyong murmured from beside you fondly.
All of you had been in the cheering section milled around in the ice rink lobby waiting for the team to get out of the locker room.
“That was fun,” you declared to Chenle as the two of you stood off to the side from the larger group of loud Nu Chi brothers.
“Yeah, you didn’t seem like you were listening to a word I said.”
“Because you were telling me sports stats, Chenle, I’m surprised my brain didn’t start bleeding out of my ears.”
“Well I’m surprised your nose wasn’t bleeding watching your dreamboat Jung Sungchan beat up all those other guys,” Chenle teased. “200 BC called, they want their cavewoman back—”
You lunged at him, managing to get an arm around his throat in the beginnings of a questionably friendly chokehold, “I’m going to kill you, you little—”
“No murder in the rink!” Came the chastising voice of Johnny Suh from afar, and you reluctantly let him go.
The players started streaming out of the locker room soon after, and you nervously scanned the crowd for Sungchan. Chenle was easily dragged into the chaos of everyone celebrating, leaving you standing off to the side waiting.
Finally, you spotted him. Sungchan was wearing a simple pair of black sweatpants and black hoodie with your school’s name embroidered across the front, his hair a bit mussed up. He was deep in conversation with Sicheng, brow furrowed. The goalie’s features were similarly serious as they gestured to each other. You stayed put, not wanting to interrupt. Taeyong had mentioned that Sicheng was sort of like a co-captain, you guessed they might be doing something important.
Then you’d suddenly made eye contact with Sicheng, who was facing you. He gave you a casual head nod, and said something to Sungchan you couldn’t quite make out. The captain whipped around, a bright smile coming to his face as soon as his eyes landed on you. You lifted your hand to give him a small wave and smile back.
Sungchan quickly ended his conversation with Sicheng, making his way over to where you were standing by a wall.
“Hey, Y/N,” he was still smiling down at you, his eyes practically glittering even in the harsh fluorescents of the lobby. “So you really made it out.”
“I said I would.” You fidgeted with the straps of your bag.
“And…?”
You tilted your head, “And?”
“What did you think? You know, are your horizons super broad now or something?”
You couldn’t help but laugh. His phrasing was funny, but also remembering how he played and was now giving you his undivided attention admittedly made your chest flutter.
“It was good, yeah. I had fun,” you confirmed. “You uhm, you played really good. I think.”
“Thanks,” Sungchan scratched at the back of his neck, and you swore the tips of his ears were pink, but that could’ve just been the cold. “Did you drive yourself?”
“Walked, my apartment is close.”
“Uh, so, we all go out to a bar after games usually. It’s kind of a sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday, but I’d really like for you to come. I’ll buy you a dr—”
“I’m really sorry, Sungchan, but I can’t. I’d love to, but…” You trailed off, wracking your brain for some concise way to explain why he couldn’t buy you a drink.
“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Sungchan assured you, and you winced at the way the hopeful smile fell from his face.
An awkward silence descended over the two of you. You were chewing on your bottom lip, desperately trying to think of something to say to gloss over your rejecting his offer. You didn’t want to end the conversation on such a sour note, nor did you want to leave him just yet either. Stealing a glance at the clock above you on the wall, however, you knew that you’d need to be going soon anyway.
The hockey player was the one who ended up breaking the silence, “Can I walk you home? It’s late for you to be out by yourself.”
A relieved smile overtook your features, and you hoped he could see the sincerity in it, “Sure, thank you. Let me let Chenle know he’s relieved of his man-shaped friend duties for the night, and we can go.”
You got on your tiptoes to look around for your friend, finally spotting him in a headlock by Jeno, with Yangyang giving him a noogie. They all seemed to be laughing, so it didn’t look too much like bullying that you felt the need to intervene.
“You know, I’ll just text him, actually,” you chuckled, bringing out your phone to do just that.
“Man-shaped friend duties?” Sungchan questioned as the automatic doors parted for the two of you.
“His words, not mine,” you snorted. “But you know, making sure a woman doesn’t walk places by herself at night, that kind of stuff. Having a man just with her makes her safer, as fucked up as that is. Chenle corrected it to be man-shaped since he’s not the manly protective type.”
“I see.”
“But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties for tonight, Sungchan.”
As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you wanted to stuff them back in. Friend. God, that was absolutely not what was happening here and you knew it. Chenle’s previous texts flashed across your mind. You obviously knew why Sungchan would’ve wanted to invite you to his game, and you said yes purposefully. Friend. Foot, meet mouth.
Sungchan blinked down at you, but seemed to take it in stride, “Of course, Y/N. Anytime you need a man-shaped person at your side, just call me up. I’ll bring my hockey stick.”
He patted his gear bag that was slung over his shoulder, making you giggle.
“I’ll keep you on speed dial, then.”
It was a short walk to your apartment, and you and Sungchan mostly talked about the game. You asked him a couple questions that Taeyong hadn’t covered during it— which Chenle might’ve, except you had tuned him out. And as you came to a stop at your front door, you didn’t yet fish your keys from your bag.
“How often do you have away games?” You asked.
“They’re usually about half,” Sungchan shrugged. “It’s a bit annoying missing classes, and the bus is kind of rank on the trip back.”
“Ew…” You wrinkled your nose.
“But they’re always a lot of fun.”
“So, uhm, when’s your next home game?”
His face brightened as he seemed to realize what exactly you were asking, “Next week. Same time.”
“Okay, cool.” You bit your lip.
“Cool,” he echoed.
You looked up at Sungchan, catching his eyes for a heart stopping moment. Both of you were standing on your welcome mat, he was close enough that you could catch a faint whiff of the detergent from his clothes—a college athlete with freshly washed clothes? You might already be in love—and watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. You had the urge to grab him by the front of his hoodie and yank him—
A garish, blaring ringing going off interrupted your split-second pros and cons weighing that had been going on. Sungchan startled at the noise, reminding you very much of a baby moose in the moment. You groaned as you reached into your bag for your phone.
“Oh my god, stop it,” you hissed under your breath as you snoozed the alarm that was going off on there. Once it was quiet, you looked back up at the man with you sheepishly, “Sorry about that.”
He joked, “Curfew?”
You laughed lightly, “No, just a reminder for something I have to do after I get home. It’s fine.”
“Well, before you go do that, can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Nu Chi and the team are hosting a joint Halloween party this year, and I’d really like it if I could see you there.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow, people will probably start showing up after like ten, eleven. It’s at the Nu Chi house, theirs is bigger than ours.”
“Fascinating phrasing,” you snickered.
“I know this is last minute, so I get if you have other plans or something.”
“I… can probably swing by for a bit, yeah,” you nodded.
“Great!” Sungchan beamed. “Oh, it is a costume party, by the way.”
“Costume?” You arched a brow. “What’ll you being going as? And please don’t say hockey player.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, “Definitely not… that would be lame…”
“You were planning on going as a hockey player, weren’t you?”
“Me and Mark have been putting all our spare time into planning this thing, I haven’t had any time to think about a costume.”
“Well you’ve given me 24-hour notice for a costume, so this is your 24-hour notice for one too. When I find you at the Nu Chi house tomorrow, I do not want to see a hockey jersey, Jung Sungchan. Any sports player is off-limits, understand?” You poked his chest with finality.
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded in assent.
Just then, your alarm went off again, and this time you jumped out of your skin. Apparently, another 5 minutes had elapsed. With a sigh, you reached into your bag for your keys.
“I should let you go do that thing,” Sungchan chuckled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Sungchan,” you unlocked your front door. “See you tomorrow.”
Sitting at your kitchen table a couple minutes later, you were looking down at the vitals displayed on the screen of your blood pressure cuff.
“Jung Sungchan…” you muttered to yourself as you added the reading to your digital record, noting how the line graph jumped up with the new data.
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 31
“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. You two were grabbing a quick lunch between classes, and doing an obligatory catch-up on how your short but sweet walk with Sungchan went last night. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”
“Hard to forget,” you snorted.
“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”
You threw a fry from his plate at him, “It wasn’t like that!”
He ducked, letting it sail by his head and hit the wall behind him.
“Then what was it like?”
“It was more like a big puppy that I couldn’t say no to and—”
You were cut off by loud gagging noises from your friend, and went to kick him under the table, but missed and hit his chair leg instead. He still got the message, quieting down to let you continue.
“I told him I’d be able to just pop in for a bit. I’ll be in and out before it’ll get too bad.”
“Famous last words...”
“Hold on, LeLe,” you grabbed your friend’s arm to stop him on the sidewalk in front of the Nu Chi Tau frat house.
Taking another look into your tote bag, you made sure once again that you had everything you could possibly need tonight. Medications, snacks, water bottle, ear plugs, the usual. After closing the snaps on the bag, you nervously fidgeted with the hem of your costume. Generic witch, it was the last thing the costume store had in your size that wasn’t garishly scary. You understood well and good how college Halloween parties worked: you had to look hot, not terrifying. Not to mention that those horror show costumes were also much pricier than your “Sexy Witch” one.
“You look cute, Y/N,” Chenle reassured you, readjusting your witch hat for you. “Jung Sungchan won’t know what hit him.”
Chenle, on the other hand, was an almost scarily realistic zombie. If you hadn’t spent an ungodly amount of time hanging out on his bathroom counter this afternoon watching him apply the SFX makeup himself, you would’ve thought he had hired a professional makeup artist to do it. He’d always gone ham on Halloween since you two were kids, ever since he figured out how to make a Transformers costume out of cardboard boxes in primary school. You usually participated in partner costumes with him, but you really didn’t want him to make you a gross-looking zombie tonight.
“Thanks.” You gave him as confident a smile as you could muster.
Resecuring your grip on your go bag, you started up the walkway to the house with your friend.
You had been able to faintly hear the thumping bass of the music from outside, but once inside, you were almost immediately hit by a wall of music. Just inside the front door you were faced with a mass of people in bright costumes, flashing lights, corny Halloween decorations of cobwebs, spiders, ghosts, and pumpkins all over the walls.
Chenle looked over at you expectantly, “Y/N?”
“I couldn’t find my concert earplugs, only my noise canceling. I won’t be able to hear anybody unless they’re shouting at me if I put those in,” you replied, having to raise your voice to make sure he heard you. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay…” He sighed and grabbed your elbow. “Come on, let’s find a quieter spot in the house then.”
You gave him a thumbs up and bright grin, already feeling your ears acclimate to the loudness. You could totally do this. It was one night, and you were just going to see Sungchan for a bit then go. Pop in then back out, just like you said.
You didn’t have to wait long to spot Sungchan. Chenle had barely tugged you into the next room over from the small foyer when a familiar head was visible over the crowd, his bright smile focused on you.
“Hey, Y/N!” Sungchan grinned down at you. He was dressed in a suit and tie, what you were guessing was probably his only set, and his hair was parted to one side, styled off of his face. The tie had already been loosened, and the tuck of his dress shirt wasn’t so crisp.
“Hi, Sungchan,” you smiled up at him, amazed that you could hear anything over both the music and now your heart beating so loudly in your ears.
“So you did find a costume.”
“Oh, yeah,” you messed with the hem of your skirt. “Last one at the shop.”
“You look great.” He was still beaming down at you, and you could feel your skin growing warmer. “I’m really glad you could make it.”
“Thanks. Uhm, so what are you? Funeral director?”
“What? No, I’m—” His sentence stopped in its tracks as he looked down at the front of his suit jacket. He started patting his empty breast pocket, then other jacket pockets, then pants pockets, then looked around on the floor. “Fuck.”
“What?” You looked around under your feet, but weren’t able to see anything other than the usual party debris. “Did you lose something?”
Sungchan looked back up at you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I was about to say that I’m Mulder from the X-Files. But I’ve apparently lost my fake FBI badge. So it looks like I’m a funeral director now.”
You giggled. “Maybe you can be Mulder when he retires and buys a funeral home.”
“Yeah, the perfect costume. Won’t take too long to explain to anybody, they’ll get it immediately,” he laughed.
“Hey, I’m just glad you didn’t wear a jersey.”
“I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”
“Oh, have you seen Chenle’s makeup by the—” But when you turned around to gesture to your friend, you found that he had disappeared, leaving you and the hockey captain all alone.
“Chenle?” Sungchan asked with a tilted head. “I didn’t even realize he was here yet.”
You shook your head fondly at your friend’s antics. Well, you’d have to thank him later.
“He must have gone to get a drink or something. Either way, it seems I’ve been abandoned.”
“Well, you can come hang out with me and some of the guys, if you want?” He offered.
“Yeah, I’d really like that,” you nodded, readjusting your bag to make sure it was pulled in tight to your body.
Sungchan led you through the frat house with a hand on the small of your back, and you snuck a glance up at him when he went to greet someone who had called his name as you passed by. He kept you tucked into his side as he slowed to give the guy a friendly slap on the shoulder. As soon as Sungchan had stopped to say hello, two more people appeared seemingly from nowhere, eagerly greeting him as well. You faintly recognized one, Jisung, a new Nu Chi pledge. He’d been at the hockey game you went to, and always found Chenle at Nu Chi events that you tagged along to. You looked up at Sungchan’s animated, handsome face again as he continued talking.
“This is Y/N.” Sungchan’s voice suddenly pulled you into the conversation. You snapped your focus down from his face to the other three that were in front of you, and realized that they all definitely knew that you’d been staring.
“Oh, hi.” You gave the three boys a nervous smile.
“Y/N, this is Jisung, Shotaro, and Renjun. Jisung and Shotaro are Nu Chi pledges, Renjun’s a sophomore brother, and he’s—you’re a Literature major, right, Renjun?”
“Yes.” One of them nodded.
“Renjun’s a Literature major too, Y/N,” Sungchan finished the introduction.
“Cool, cool,” you nodded. It had been Shotaro that called Sungchan over in the first place, you were pretty sure.
“Anyway, thanks for the offer, guys, but I already promised Hyuck I would, so we’ve got to go.”
Sungchan ushered you away to the tune of a chorus of disappointed groans from the three boys, and you wracked your brain to see if you could recall hearing any sort of proposition from them. But nope, between the loud music and your prior lack of attention to the conversation, you had nothing.
“What did they want?” You gave up and finally asked Sungchan.
“Beer pong. Hope you don’t mind that I declined. I’ve already had a couple and am not looking to get wasted quite yet.”
“Oh, no, not at all,” you shook your head. Thank god you didn’t have to deal with that yet. “Not really my thing anyway. Terrible hand-eye coordination.”
Sungchan seemed about to say something when someone walked by you with an exceptionally pungent cologne. The whiff shot directly to your head like a bullet, the sharp pain making you wince and hiss. It took everything in you not to cover your nose like Edward Cullen and instead shift to breathing through your mouth for a few moments.
“Y/N? You okay?” Sungchan’s voice was clearly concerned.
The sharp pain was gone just a couple moments after it had registered, and you opened your eyes up again, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, don’t know what that was.”
“Okay, good.” He squeezed your shoulder before dropping his hand back down to your back and continuing your trek through the Nu Chi house.
You and Sungchan finally made it to a room adjacent to the main living room, where there were a couple of beat-up old couches and lots of Nu Chi Tau paraphernalia. The bass of the music playing in the next room over would occasionally make the picture frames and plaques on the walls rattle, and you could hear every word of the songs crystal clear, even though the room that you were in was packed to the brim with partygoers as well. Sungchan stopped you at a group of people gathered around one of the couches, tapping the shoulders of two of them who had their backs to you. Donghyuck and Hendery turned around, immediately parting to make room for the both of you in the group upon seeing you.
Almost everyone in the group was familiar to you either as friends or acquaintances. Your social circle was big thanks to Chenle, who was friends with practically the entire hockey team and Nu Chi house, despite being a member of neither. But now you didn’t have your best friend at your side, just Sungchan and your tote bag, both of which you were keeping close to you.
“Oh shit, Y/N!” Hendery grinned, pulling you into a one-armed hug of greeting. “Damn, it really is you!”
“Yeah, I’m a witch, not a ghost, Hendery,” you retorted jokingly. He was dressed as Prince Eric, if you weren’t mistaken.
“Well, when Sungchan said you were coming, some of us were a bit... skeptical.”
Someone dressed as Venom cut in from Hendery’s other side sharply, “No, I believe you said ‘never in a million fucking years, loverboy.’”
The rest of the group erupted in tipsy snickers and ‘ooh’s, and you felt Sungchan jostle a little as someone had presumably given him a teasing shove.
“Alright, guys. You can cut it out now,” Sungchan spoke over them authoritatively. He then looked down to you, features softening. “Sorry. Anyway, this is Donghyuck, he’s on the team and in Nu Chi—”
He pointed to the boy right next to him, wearing a very classic vampire costume splattered with a little bit of fake blood or fruit punch (you couldn’t tell in the poor lighting), and you wondered if he had also gone to a Halloween store last-minute like you. You knew him both from the game, and from a couple times you’d seen him with Chenle outside of frat or hockey events.
“Mark, frat president and he’s on the hockey team—” He was next to Donghyuck, dressed as Spiderman. You were already familiar with Mark, both from the game, and a group project in a class last year. You wondered if Mark remembered that.
“Ten, hockey and Nu Chi—” Ten was reclined on the couch, a top hat that had presumably been on his head earlier now resting on his propped up knee. Between that and his eyepatch, he clearly was dressed as some character that you couldn’t identify in the moment. You knew Ten outside of hockey, the frat, or even Chenle. He was a Lit major, so you had shared classes and study groups over the years. He raised a friendly hand in greeting.
“Sicheng, my co-captain and he’s in Nu Chi, too—” He was on the couch with Ten, sequestered to one corner as his teammate was taking up most of the space with his legs. Sicheng was dressed up as an angel, fake wings, little halo, and all. And you knew Sicheng through Ten, they’d been roommates since freshman year and could often be found together around campus. He gave you a nod of familiarity.
“Dejun, Nu Chi—” Sungchan had finally reached the man who was dressed as Venom.
“And you of course, unfortunately, know Hendery, Nu Chi.”
“Oh, boo, Sungchan,” Hendery stuck his tongue out at the captain.
You smiled and nodded a little bit at everyone else, but you were finding it hard to concentrate with the music in the background. Did it really need to be that loud?
“Y/N?” The sound of your name snapped your focus up, and you looked around for the source.
A few of the guys had gone back to their own conversations. Sungchan was looking down at you, head tilted inquisitively. Presumably he had been to the one to say your name.
“Oh, sorry,” you tried to give a nonchalant chuckle, but it was getting harder and harder to even articulate yourself with all the stimulation. “The music...”
“Oh!” Sungchan perked up at this. “Do you want to go dance?”
He was offering a hand out to you, and you stared down at it, mouth opening and closing as your brain felt like it was moving through sludge. You quite literally could not process what that string of words actually meant for a good second, and then it took even longer for you to even tie together the right way for you to respond. Cognitive fatigue. Oh this was not good. You squeezed your eyes shut, then open.
You again gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m- I’m kind of light-headed right now. Could you get me something to drink?”
His features immediately turned concerned. “Of course. Do you need to sit down or a ride h—”
“Can you just get me a drink?” Your brain was stuck in a perpetual loop now that it had locked onto one task. It took all of your energy just to regulate your tone enough to keep your voice (hopefully) as sweet as possible, despite the fact that you had cut him off.
“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed your upper arm reassuringly before taking off.
Your eyes were fixated on the spot where he had just been, your vision seeming to continuously zoom in and past your head. Squeezing your eyes shut once more, you took a deep breath through your mouth to try to recenter yourself. But it didn’t help any. Your head felt like a balloon that someone was overinflating, and you knew exactly what was coming next. You swallowed thickly, taking a second to look through the crowd. Nope, you couldn’t wait for Sungchan. Not like you could even verbalize much of anything right now. You had to go take your medication.
So you hurried into the crowd, clutching your tote bag to your chest like your life depended on it—which it really did. Mumbling ‘excuse me’s to everyone you shouldered, bumped into, or stepped on the toes of, you finally made it to a door that you were pretty sure was a bathroom. You tried the handle first, and when it gave in, you still knocked as you opened it, just in case. It was miraculously empty. Maybe there really was a God. Then, the balloon started to deflate, the pressure in your head inverted, becoming a harsh, squeezing pain instead. Nope, nope, definitely not a God. Or at least not a benevolent one.
You locked the door behind you with clumsy fingers and shuffled over to the sink. The countertop was in good enough condition for you to toss your bag up there and start rooting around through it. Bottle after bottle after bottle, then you finally secured the right two. You shook out a pill from one, then a pill from the other. The lights above the mirror were becoming more insufferable by the second. You cracked open the fresh bottle of water you had stored in your bag too, and knocked both pills back in one big gulp.
Tossing the water back into your bag, you could fucking finally flip the switch and turn the lights in the bathroom off. After feeling your way along the wall, you eventually found the bathtub, and sat yourself down. The music was somewhat muffled in here, and you figured this was going to be the darkest room in the whole Nu Chi house. Right now, your plan was to wait in here for your medication to kick in and hopefully stop this migraine before it really got going. Then you could make your great escape, and send Sungchan some bullshit apology text later. After tossing your witch hat to the ground vaguely beside your bag, you gently rested your head against the cool tile of the shower with a sigh. Chenle was right, you shouldn’t have come. Cynically, you thought that you should have timed it. See how long you lasted before you got a migraine. You’d be surprised if that was even 15 minutes.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Sungchan returned to the group with your requested drink in hand and another for himself, frowning when he immediately noticed your absence. “Hey, where’d Y/N go?”
“Oh, shit, uh…” Mark looked around with a baffled look on his face. “No clue dude, she was just here a second ago.”
“I’m going to go find her. Here.” He shoved both drinks into Hendery’s hands.
“Sungchan, come on, take a hint, man,” Donghyuck sighed, patting the taller boy’s shoulder sympathetically.
“What?”
“She asked you to get her something to drink and then slipped away when nobody was looking.”
“Y/N’s not like that.”
“And denial’s a river in Egypt.”
“No, she hasn’t been feeling well all night. I think. I’m going to go look for her.”
“So you’re admitting that you make her physically ill.”
“Dude, you’re just asking to get your shit rocked, you know that, right?” Ten warned him.
“Hey, I’m standing up for women—”
Mark cut him off, “Hyuck, you’re on your own if Sungchan decides to fuck your shit up. I don’t care if you’re my little, I’m not—”
“Oh, wahhh, my big strong big won’t protect me.”
“Christ, I swear he’s only had like four shots and a couple…”
His friends’ voices quickly faded into the din of the party as Sungchan pushed through the crowd. He couldn’t spot you, but found maybe the next best thing.
“Hey, Chenle.” He grabbed him by the elbow, turning him away from the arm wrestling competition between Jeno and Yangyang that he was spectating. Or, he at least hoped this was Chenle, it was a bit hard to tell with the zombie makeup.
“Hey, Romeo!” Chenle greeted him jovially, punching him in the shoulder over-zealously. Okay, definitely him.
“Have you seen Y/N? In the past like, five minutes or so?”
“You lost her?” The zombie asked angrily, cheerful mood immediately soured.
“Uh, yes? Sorry?”
“No, I’m not pissed at you,” he shook his head at Sungchan’s apology. “You go check the bathrooms, I’ll look outside. Don’t bother calling her, she’s not going to pick up.”
“What’s—”
But Chenle was already gone.
You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting in there for, but you could feel some of the overstimulation from the party beginning to slide off of you. Which could be either a good or bad thing. Cognitive fatigue was usually a prodrome and postdrome for you. Regaining some clarity could either mean that your medication was working and the migraine was going away, or you were about to enter the proper migraine phase. The fact that the pain hadn’t gone away was worrying. But at least it was dark, and relatively quiet. Oh, quiet... you could put in your earplugs now too.
Just as you had gone to grab for your bag, there was a knock at the bathroom door. You froze. Shit.
“Occupied!” You yelled out hesitantly to them, wincing at the loudness of your own voice. Okay, ow.
The person knocked again, harder.
“Seriously! Busy in here! Puking my brains out!” You yelled even louder, hoping they got the fucking idea this time. There was no way you wanted to have to actually get up and deal with a drunk partygoer that needed to piss and/or puke.
“Y/N? That you?” A familiar voice came through the door. “It’s Sungchan, can I come in?”
“Oh, sure, hold on.” You clambered out of the tub as carefully as you could in the dim lighting coming from under the door.
Against your better judgment, you turned one set of lights on in the bathroom, then cracked the bathroom door open. Sungchan was in fact on the other side, and you stepped back to let him in. He looked around the bathroom, worry on his face.
You shut the door behind him, saying sheepishly, “So, I was lying about the puking my brains out.”
“But you don’t look okay.” He peered down at your face as you were still wincing against the bright lights. “You didn’t drink anything tonight, what’s wrong?”
You went to sit on the side of the tub, feeling a pain in your eyes now. You gestured to the light switch. “Can you turn that light off?”
“Uh, okay…” He obliged, and the room was dim once again.
Your eyes adjusted quickly, and you could still see the general outline of everything in the room. Sitting back in the tub, you pulled your knees to your chest. Well, no chance for your great escape now. Sungchan climbed into the dry tub with you, facing you. He didn’t fit great in the small space, all gangly limbs, and your knees bumped into each other. But he sat there with you quietly.
“I’ve got a migraine coming on, I had to get somewhere quiet and dark and take my meds.” You told him bluntly, opting to just take the plunge. Not like you could even attempt flowery language at the moment anyway. Sure, some of your speech capabilities were coming back now that there was less sensory input, but you weren’t going to be doing any soliloquies tonight.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sungchan said quietly. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No, no. I actually- I actually don’t want to be alone right now, if that’s okay?” You surprised yourself with your answer.
“Yeah, of course.” He said reassuringly. “Do you want me to take you home?”
“I might not have drank but you did. I’ll be okay here, for the most part. I’m the one who came knowing that I get sound-induced migraines.”
“Wait, really?”
“Mm, yeah,” you pinched the bridge of your nose to alleviate some of the tension there for a moment. “Remember when I said Chenle pushes me out of my comfort zone in a good way most of the time?”
“Right.”
“One of the times it wasn’t... good was when he got an invite to Nu Chi’s Halloween party our freshman year, dragged me with him. And he always means the best when he does stuff like that. I hadn’t made any new friends at college, meanwhile he had a bunch, including some of the pledges at Nu Chi.”
“How he got the invite.”
“Exactly.” You needed to take a pause, resting your head against the cool tile again. After a few deep breaths, you pushed on in the story. “Anyway, we’d been there for a couple hours when the loudness and the music and everything finally got to me and I got a migraine. I had my go bag on me, and went to what I thought was an empty corner of the house to take my meds. But a couple other people saw me knocking back pills and wanted some. My head was hurting like a bitch, and they were trying to grab them from me and anyway, I spilled a bunch of them all over the floor, drenched myself with my water and their beer, and elbowed a dude and gave him a bloody nose.”
“Holy shit,” Sungchan breathed out.
You opened and closed your jaw a couple times to try to relax the muscles and joints there. “I couldn’t even open my eyes because my head hurt so bad. Chenle told me later I was screaming and Taeyong wanted to call an ambulance until Chenle ran up and explained what was happening. They put me, Chenle, and Jeno��turns out that’s whose nose I broke—in Taeyong’s room in the house for the rest of the night. Neither Chenle nor I were in any shape to drive ourselves home.”
“Wait is that how you met Jeno?”
“Yeah, and it turns out he wasn’t one of the ones trying to take my pills, he was trying to break up me and the people who were. Collateral damage.” You recounted it regrettably.
“When Jeno found out I’d invited you, he told me he’d keep his room clear in case we needed it. I thought he was just being a dick.” Sungchan sounded like he was having an epiphany. “Y/N, do you think you’ll be okay to move up a floor?”
The bass was thudding through the door, and you knew that if you stayed here when you transitioned into the throes of however bad this migraine fully got, you’d regret it. Grabbing your earplugs from your bag and putting them in, you gave him a thumbs-up and attempted a smile, but you knew it came out like more of a wince.
Sungchan kept you between him and the wall as you moved through the Nu Chi house, casting as much of a shadow against the garishly flashing lights as possible. Even through your earplugs, the music was raucous, people were practically screaming at each other, and you gripped one hand around his arm and the other onto his suit jacket to keep yourself balanced and to not lose him. When you got to the stairs, he fully wrapped an arm around your shoulders to jerk you out of the way of a drunk Nu Chi member stumbling his way down, and kept it there the rest of the way up. The noise was squeezing around your head like a vice, and you shut your eyes tight at the top of the stairs for a moment in an attempt to clear your head.
Sungchan’s voice was right beside your ear, muffled through the earplugs, “We’re almost there, Y/N, I’m sorry, come on.”
You were vaguely aware of the man with you feeling around on the top of a doorway before jiggling a doorhandle, and finally you were in a blissfully dark and quiet-ish room. Your head definitely hurt more than before, and you practically collapsed onto the bed.
“He was kind enough to stuff all his dirty clothes in the closet,” Sungchan muttered.
You managed a strangled chuckle at that, dropping your go bag onto the floor beside the bed. A moment of silence passed, and you could hear Sungchan awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet at the doorway.
“Sungchan,” you said his name, then patted the empty half of the bed beside you. “You can sit. I know Jeno doesn’t have any other furniture in here besides the bed and his PlayStation.”
“He probably only has a bedframe because it came with the room.”
You snickered, but were cut off by the squeezing pain turning to a sharp, stabbing pain behind your left eye, “Oh fuck!”
“Y/N?!” Sungchan was right beside you, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down beside you.
“Sorry, sorry, it feels like I’m getting an icepick lobotomy! Jesus!” You hissed, cupping a hand over your left eye as if that were actually going to do anything. “It’s normal, I’m fine. Relatively.”
“Okay…”
Still clutching your eye, you rolled onto your side and brought your knees up towards your chest. You blindly fumbled towards the head of the bed, and felt a pillow being pressed into your hand.
“Thanks,” you muttered, tucking it under your head.
“Do you want to lay under the covers?” Sungchan whispered.
“Do they smell like Jeno’s washed them in the past week?”
He laughed breathily at that, “Miraculously they do. I think he was planning on getting laid.”
“He gave up getting his dick wet for me. Jeno’s a real one,” you mumbled, feeling the covers that you were laying on top of being pulled out from under you.
Sungchan gently brought the sheet up to your shoulder, then a blanket too. The stabbing pain behind your eye was still there, and your stomach filled with dread as you acknowledged that your acute medication wasn’t going to be working this time. This was going to be a full-blown migraine, and who knew how many hours it would last.
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything else you need? Water?”
“No. Just uh, let me know when two hours have passed, I can take another dose of my meds that aren’t fucking working then.”
“Oh. Will do.”
You opened and closed your jaw, letting out a distinct groan. Another few minutes passed. Or, you think it was a few minutes, you couldn’t really check your phone for the time.
“Sungchan.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have to stay. I’m sure the party is a lot more fun.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“…No.”
“I want to stay. I’m not going to have any fun out there knowing that you’re in all in this pain all alone in here.”
You squinted your right eye open, and had to crane your neck to look up at where Sungchan was sitting against the headboard. He had taken his suit jacket and shoes off at some point, now just in a rumpled dress shirt, loosened tie, slacks, and socks. He held your eye contact steadily, head tilted slightly and a frown across his handsome features.
Reaching your unoccupied hand up towards him, he watched it with confusion.
“What do you need? Your bag?”
“No.” You grabbed his hand, giving it a light squeeze.
“Oh.” An adorably radiant grin was on his face now instead.
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1
Sungchan knew you’d finally fallen asleep when you stopped muttering swears and curses under your breath, the pained expression fell from your face, and your hand that was holding his went limp. He could still hear the party going strong outside of Jeno’s bedroom, and a glance at his phone told him it was just after one in the morning. He had no want to rejoin his friends, to leave you.
He took his tie all the way off, thinking to himself that if you were feeling better, you might have joked that he looked like Mulder the off-duty funeral director. And he would’ve laughed and watched the cute way the corners of your mouth quirked up when you said something that you thought was funny. He set the tie down with his shoes on the floor beside the bed.
Careful to stay on top of the covers that you were sleeping under, Sungchan shifted until he was laying down too, pillow tucked under his head, facing you on his side, hand still holding yours.
Like usual, you didn’t remember falling asleep, but you did remember shutting your eyes tight and wishing really hard for your head to stop hurting so bad. Or to die. Whichever the Universe felt like granting. And judging by the fact that you were now waking up without a migraine, it seemed like the former.
The first thing you were aware of before you even opened your eyes was that you felt like shit. Sure, your head didn’t hurt anymore, but jeez the morning after wasn’t much better. Tired, achy, and your brain felt like TV static.
The second thing that you were aware of, after opening your eyes, was Jung Sungchan just a few inches from your face. He was still asleep, soft bursts of air passing from his lips and mussing up strands of hair that were falling into his eyes. You didn’t quite have enough in you to coo over his bedhead, but you could give half of a fond smile as you pushed yourself into a sitting position, running a sleepy hand over one side of your face.
Only one of your earplugs was still in your ears, and you looked around the bedsheets for the other one. After securing it, you scooted over to the edge of the bed to put the plugs back into your carrying case before rolling back over and pulling the blankets over you again. You deserved this, honestly. Sleeping in late, a comfy bed, warm blankets, a cute boy next to you, nothing to—
Your happy thoughts were ripped away by the sound of a loud alarm. You shot up, scrambling towards your tote bag to grab your phone from the depths of it and turn your goddamn alarm off before it woke Sungchan up.
“Mm?”
Too late.
Sheepishly, you looked over at him, “Sorry…”
“‘S okay,” he mumbled, flopping onto his back and rubbing a hand over his face. “How’s your head?”
“Better. A lot better, thanks.”
“Good, good.” He yawned, “Morning, by the way.”
“Good morning.”
His eyes were closed as he laid there, a hand resting on his chest, and you weren’t sure if he had fallen back asleep.
“…Sungchan?”
“Hm?”
Taking his inquisitive tone as a sign that you could keep talking, you said, “Uhm, that was the first time I’ve had anybody around for one my migraines in a while. I’m sorry if it was… well, I don’t know. What was it like for you?”
He opened his eyes, rolling onto his side to face you and tucking a hand under his cheek, “Oh, uh, I mean, I wasn’t quite worried, since you seemed like you knew exactly what was happening, you know? But still, I… I was wishing there was more I could do. It was weird knowing that you were in pain but not being able to see where it hurt.”
“I should’ve figured that might be upsetting. Sorry about all that.”
“No, Y/N, it's okay. I get it, you just wanted someone with you when you were hurting.”
“Yeah, yeah, I did,” you nodded, curling one of your hands into a fist in your lap, digging your nails into your palm in an attempt to not cry at how easily he saw right into you.
“I was more than happy to sit with you.”
“I’ve had these stupid migraines for years now. Tried every treatment in the book, been on every regiment. And my friends and family, they don’t treat me like I’m made of glass or anything, which I’m grateful for. Everyone in my life knows I’m a pro at it all: I’ve got my go bag, all my meds, my alarms, I’ve been going to doctors’ appointments, testing, everything for years. But like... they still hurt. The migraines still fucking hurt.” Your voice cracked over the word, and your nails dug in deeper. “And I just… think they forget that part sometimes? I don’t know, I guess they hear the word ‘migraine’ thousands of times over the years it sort of loses its meaning. They kind of forget what one actually is. But it hurts Sungchan, my head just hurts for hours or even days, sometimes so bad I throw up from the pain. I can’t do anything but lay in bed in the dark and cry. Last night’s wasn’t that bad but still… thank you. I needed for it to all be real to somebody.”
Sungchan pushed up into a sitting position, and through your watery vision you could see that his brows were furrowed. You followed where his gaze was locked, and watched as he gently unfurled your fingers. You used the thumb of your other hand to rub at the divots that your nails had left in your skin.
“The migraines are why I’ve been all weird, by the way.” You added, trying to ignore the strain in your voice.
“What?”
“When you wanted to buy me a drink after the game. One of my migraine medications that I take, I can’t drink alcohol on it. It just felt like a weird and long explanation to have to give in the moment. And when you asked if I wanted to dance with you last night, the music would’ve made the migraine come on quicker than it did, but explaining it to you then, again it felt like it would’ve ruined the moment even more.”
“Oh… don’t worry about it.”
There was still one big thing you hadn’t smoothed over. But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties tonight, Sungchan. Stupid, stupid.
Pushing through the discomfort prickling at your skin, you asked, “Sungchan, do you want to go on a date?”
“A…” He looked you dead in the eyes for a moment, mouth parted, and blinked once, twice before he was absolutely beaming at you. “Yeah, yes, I do.”
“Okay.” You couldn’t help but giggle, nerves buzzing through you as your chest was airy and you were lightheaded for two reasons now, “Okay, good.”
“Is it bad for me to say that I’m relieved? That you have migraines? Well, not that you have them, because obviously they hurt, but like, that this is what it was? I seriously thought I was being stupid, like mixed signals or something. Like, you came to my game but then you didn’t want to go to the bar.” He ticked the instances off on the fingers of one hand.
“Medication,” you nodded.
“Right. Then you let me walk you home after, but you called me your friend.”
“That was just plain stupidity,” you admitted with a groan at having to relive that moment again.
“And you said yes to coming to the party, but then you didn’t want to dance with me,” Sungchan had now run out of fingers and dropped his hand back down to the bed.
“The music...”
“And when you disappeared, I thought you left because you didn’t like me. I just… felt like I was going crazy.”
“It’s not awful of you to be relieved about this. I’m sorry, Sungchan. Migraines aren’t conducive to romance, apparently.”
“Oh, bullshit.” He pushed back immediately. “They’re just not conducive to drinking and loud parties. That’s not romance.”
“Alright, fair. I’m wont to agree with you.”
“And you need to stop apologizing for your migraines. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose.”
“Well, I did come to a loud ass party knowing I’d probably get a sound-induced migraine.”
“Okay, aside from that— which, I’m very flattered by and will never ever ask you to do anything like this ever again.”
“Okay.”
Suddenly the door handle rattled, then there was a banging on the door. “Hey! Are you two done in there?” Jeno yelled through the wood. “You better not be having post-headache sex on my bed!”
“Seems like he didn’t get laid last night,” Sungchan muttered.
“If he keeps up that pounding I’m going to get a rebound headache and he’s going to wake the entire house, please let him in,” you groaned.
The boy with you quickly moved to do so, unlocking the door and throwing it open to whisper aggressively, “Jeno! Shut the fuck up! People are still sleeping!”
“Oh. You’re dressed.”
You rolled your eyes at your friend, “I don’t know what you think a migraine is like, but getting my back blown out is pretty far down on my to-do list for immediately after.”
“How are you feeling?” Jeno was nice enough to ask as he rooted through his closet.
“Like shit. While you guys nurse actual hangovers today, I get to nurse a migraine hangover. Same awful morning after without the fun night before.”
“That sucks.” He secured a rumpled shirt and inside out pair of sweatpants. “I told Chenle you were crashing here last night, by the way. He didn’t just abandon you for shits and giggles.”
“Oh, thanks. He was sober enough to drive?”
“Mark had a Breathalyzer and everything.”
“Wow…”
“Now I recommend you two get the fuck out before everyone else wakes up and sees you sneaking out together.”
“Right,” Sungchan nodded, sitting on the edge of Jeno’s bed and pulling his shoes on.
You quickly gathered your shoes, phone, witch hat, and go bag before giving Jeno a short goodbye and following Sungchan out. The Nu Chi house was thankfully quiet as everyone was still asleep in their own rooms, save for the partygoers and brothers who had passed out on the couches in the living rooms. Once you were on the front porch, the two of you dared to speak again.
“I’ll drive you home, Y/N,” Sungchan offered.
“Mhm, thanks,” you squinted against the bright sunlight, reaching into your bag for the spare pair of sunglasses you kept in there.
He gestured to your bag. “So what all do you have in there?”
“Everything but the kitchen sink.” You sighed, finally securing your sunglasses and putting them on. They did help, but you knew there was no way you were going to avoid a rebound headache today. Realizing that Sungchan might actually have been genuinely asking and wasn’t just trying to be polite, you decided to give him a sincere answer as well. “Uh, my meds, my blood pressure cuff, earplugs, sunglasses, some snacks, other miscellaneous non-migraine related stuff like an umbrella.”
“Blood pressure cuff?” He stopped in front of a sedan parked on the street, and opened the passenger door for you.
Even through your unpleasant migraine hangover, you couldn’t help the giddy smile that crossed your lips at the gesture.
Once the both of you were in the car, you explained, “One of my medications affects my blood pressure. I have to check it every few hours, or whenever I feel kind of funny. That’s partially what the snacks are for too.”
“Really?” He started the car and pulled out into the street.
“Most of my meds I need to take with food, so keeping snacks on me makes it easy. The sweet ones are in case my blood sugar drops though.”
“Blood sugar too?”
“A different medication affects my appetite, secondary effect is on my blood sugar. Fun fact, it’s the same one that keeps me from drinking alcohol. Anyway, if you’re ever craving something sweet, I keep gummies and stuff on me usually.”
Sungchan let out a deep breath. “Wow…”
“Oh and water.” You perked up as you realized you’d forgotten something, and reached in for said item. “I've got my water bottle. I need water to take my meds, obviously, but I also need to drink water to make sure I don’t get kidney stones from my medication.”
The car had stopped at a stoplight, and he looked over at you in disbelief. “What the fuck.”
“Hey, it’s this or be entirely unable to participate in society.” You explained. “I used to get five or six migraines a week, with really bad or mild headaches constantly in between. I couldn’t do anything, they were disabling. Clearly, they still are now when I do get them, but I only get one or two a month.”
“I can’t imagine— I… yeah…” He trailed off as the light turned green, a deep frown etching itself on his features as he clearly was trying to imagine what a huge shift in his life that would be. And was having a hard time doing so.
“People without chronic illnesses usually can’t, until they get one,” you shrugged. “I know I couldn’t imagine it either. Then I got my first migraine. Then my second, and my third. I think the ‘chronic illness’ part really hit for me when I had to order my first sharps disposal bin for the monthly injections I take.”
“You’re…”
“Do not say that I’m so strong or any live laugh love type shit right now.”
He laughed, shaking his head, “No, no, not what I was going to say. I was just thinking… you’re really cool.”
“I just info-dumped about my migraines, medication, medication side effects, and treatment to you for ten minutes straight and that’s the conclusion you came to?” You asked in disbelief as he pulled into your apartment complex, and it dawned on you just how long you had been talking about yourself for. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been that detailed with someone other than your neurologist or your mom about your condition and treatment.
Sungchan put his car in park to turn and look you in the eye. “I’m looking at the bigger picture here: You’re a Lit major, you like Gothic fiction, you’re good at writing, you’re smart and know things like death of the author and stuff, you like Pacific Rim, you’ve come to one of my games, you’re funny, and you just info-dumped to me about something personal for ten minutes. So yes, I think you’re cool. Actually, cool might be an understatement.”
“Jung Sungchan, you…” Your cheeks were hurting with how wide you were grinning. Whether it was the migraine hangover or truly from how warm and happy his words made you, you couldn’t formulate a proper response, “Congrats, I’m speechless.”
“I think that's good?” He laughed again. “Anyway, you told Jeno earlier that you felt like shit, so I won’t hold you up anymore. Rest well today, Y/N.”
“Thanks. You too, Sungchan.” You wrapped your hand around the door handle but stopped just short of actually opening it. “Oh, and uhm, I don’t know if this too eager or whatever, but I’m free tomorrow.”
His face lit up with recognition at what you were implying. “Me too. But are you going to be okay? Like, recovered?”
“Yeah, I’ve got all day today to sleep it off.”
“Okay.” He grinned.
“Okay.” You repeated. “Text me?”
“Yes, yes. I will.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
And with that, you got out of his car, making sure to take your go bag that had been on your lap for the whole drive.
Halfway to your front door, you turned around to give Sungchan a final wave goodbye, and he waved back through the windshield. Once you’d finally disappeared into your apartment, he looked over at his now empty passenger seat. Well, not completely empty, he realized. Your witch hat was on the floor of the passenger side, you’d forgotten to grab it on your way out. He picked it up, gently setting it on the seat beside him. He’d just give it back to you when he saw you again for your date tomorrow.
“A date,” Sungchan sighed happily, feeling his chest swell and nearly burst with joy. “A date, a date, a date.”
Putting his car in reverse, he looked through the rear window as he muttered, “Suck an egg, Donghyuck. Man-shaped friend, my ass.”
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2
Sungchan picked you up at 7:00 p.m. on the dot for your first date. You made sure to take your nighttime meds early and silence your alarms so there was nothing to bother you that night. Migraines notwithstanding, of course. You still had to bring your go bag just in case you needed anything acute, but you didn’t think twice about leaving the majority of it in the car, tucking just a couple individually packaged tablets into your pocket before accepting Sungchan’s hand that he offered to you after opening your car door for you.
Walking into the movie theater with him after he bought your tickets, you were about to start off in the direction that the usher had pointed you when your date stopped you.
“You want anything from concessions?” He nodded towards the long line of other couples, families, and groups of friends.
“I’m not big on overpriced popcorn,” you shook your head with a smile. “Thanks though, Sungchan.”
“You sure you don’t want a soda or candy? How’s your, you know, blood sugar?”
It was then that your polite smile morphed into a genuine, touched one, and you squeezed his hand that you were holding. “I’m doing good, promise. I made sure I ate before. But thank you, seriously. You’re really sweet.”
“Okay, but let me know if you need anything.”
“Sungchan, can I tell you something?” You ducked your head in towards him conspiratorially.
“Yeah, of course.”
You gently shook one side of your jacket, and a muffled rattling sound came from within it. “I snuck a bag of Skittles in,” you whispered to him.
He chuckled as you dropped your jacket back down and smoothed over the inside pocket inconspicuously. “Two steps ahead of me.”
“I just didn’t want to ruin our date if I got low.”
“It’s very thoughtful, thanks.”
“So are you!” You tried to reassure him.
The two of you entered where your movie would be showing, and picked your seats. The previews had already started, so you had to drop your voices to whispers.
“But you’re going to be good with the bright light, and the sounds?” Sungchan double-checked with you.
You nodded insistently. “You’re the one who made me compile a list of stuff that I could do, remember?”
“I know, but you also came to that party knowing that it was like 100% guaranteed to give you a migraine. So I think I’ve earned some skepticism.”
“Okay, fine. You got me there,” you sighed. “But I get nothing out of suggesting things that will give me migraines other than cutting our time together short. Which I don’t want to do.”
Sungchan shifted in his seat, and when you looked over at him, you could see a small, bashful smile on his face. “Good. Glad we got that cleared up.”
The previews finally ended, and the entire theater quieted down, including you two. You settled in to watch the movie, scooting closer to your date, looping your arm under his, and resting your head on his shoulder. He hesitantly leaned his head against the top of yours.
As you left the theater hand-in-hand with Sungchan, you two were deep in discussion about the movie, and in the back of your mind, you realized with a panic that you had far too much that you wanted to say that wouldn’t fit into the short ride back to your apartment. Not to mention that you didn’t want your night with him to be over yet.
“Hey.” You called for his attention as he opened up the passenger door for you, stopping before you got in the car.
“Hey.” He offered you a lopsided grin, still holding the door open with one hand and now caging you between him and the open car door.
If the parking lot wasn’t literally swarming with other movie theater patrons, you swore you would’ve grabbed him and kissed him stupid right there and then. But a family of five walked by at that moment, so you swallowed down the itch.
“We should go somewhere,” you suggested, trying to sound equal parts nonchalant and hopeful. Which was a weird combination, you knew, but you didn’t want to come across as too desperate. Again, a ridiculous sentiment, but it was engrained in you with social conditioning or whatever.
“We just went somewhere,” he pointed out knowingly, and you swore that was a smirk that you spotted on his face in the shadowy lighting afforded by the parking lot streetlamps.
“We should go somewhere else.”
“Like where?”
“I don’t know,” you shrugged, despite how desperate you felt on the inside to just be around him right now. “Somewhere. Are you hungry?”
“Are you?”
You pressed your lips together in a thin line. “Well—”
Finally, he smiled, nodded towards the car, and said, “I know somewhere. Get in.”
Sungchan closed the car door after you before walking around to get into the driver’s side. He didn’t offer you any information or clues as to your new destination as he left the movie theater parking lot. The hockey captain drove with one hand casually holding the bottom of the steering wheel, the other tapping out the rhythm of whatever song was playing over his speakers onto his thigh. You dragged your eyes from his fingers to the passing scenery.
Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a good date. Even the last date you’d been on was a distant memory. Lunch with some CompSci major your freshman year, a blind date set up by a mutual acquaintance. He just talked over you the whole time. You didn’t deign to go on a second date with him. It wasn’t that your migraines made it impossible to date—they hadn’t even come up at the date with the CompSci major (mostly because he didn’t give you the opportunity to say much of anything)—but you knew that it was always going to be something to get out of way. Either up front or at some point down the line. And it was exhausting enough for you to have to completely restructure your life around them, how could you really ask some stranger who barely knew you—or didn’t at all—to consider doing the same? It felt like it just made your dating pool even narrower, an added standard that you didn’t even get to pick.
But with Sungchan, it had happened in the worst way possible, you disappeared on him because you were having a migraine, without even having told him anything about them. And not only was he more than chill about it, he stayed with you through your entire full-blown migraine. Listened to you explain every ailment, medication, and medication complication that you have, and just tucked all that information away to keep track of your wellbeing. Taken it all in stride and made it look easy. And that was before your first date. It almost made you angry. Not at Sungchan, but at the fact that other people had ever made you feel like an inconvenience.
The car slowing to a stop knocked you from your thoughts, and you didn’t even realize that you had been silent for the entire trip. Sungchan didn’t seem to mind, though, as he hadn’t tried to start a conversation either. He put the car in park as you looked around, trying to gauge where exactly you were.
“Are we… on campus?” You turned to him with an eyebrow raised.
He was already out of the car, though, jogging around to get your door. As he opened it for you, he tilted his head innocently, “What was that?”
You stepped out, taking in your surroundings. “Are we at a campus parking garage?”
“Specifically, the top floor of Evergreen Parking Garage,” Sungchan clarified, rolling the passenger window down.
Evergreen Parking Garage was a commuter-only parking facility, meaning that this level was empty this late at night. It was also located at the furthest reaches of the north block of campus, which bordered a nature preserve, meaning that while on one side was your university campus, the other side was entirely evergreen trees. Hence the name.
Sungchan had parked on the side that faced the nature preserve, and as you turned to question your date as to why exactly he’d taken you to campus, you were instead greeted by the sight of him hunched over to lean into the open passenger window, seemingly messing around with the audio controls of the still-running car.
You tilted your head to one side, then the other as you just watched him struggle for a moment before finally speaking up. “What uh… What are you doing, Sungchan?”
He banged his head on the frame of the window as he went to stand back up. “Fuck! Ow…”
Covering your hand to muffle your giggles, you waited patiently for him to turn around and answer you.
Still clutching his head, he said with a sheepish smile, “Just give me a sec, sorry. Technical difficulties.”
And with that, he opened the door to properly sit in the passenger seat, futzing with his phone and the car radio. Finally, there was music playing from the speakers as opposed to the radio station ads, and he turned the volume up before getting back out of the car and shutting the door. With both the driver and passenger windows rolled down, you could hear the song clearly.
“I was originally going to try to take you to this lookout, but there were other cars there, so I had to keep driving by it and oh my god why did I tell you that—” He scratched the back of his head nervously. “Anyway, since we didn’t get to dance at the party…”
Sungchan offered his hand out to you, and you set yours atop it. The upbeat song that had been playing finished just then, switching to a much slower, softer one. You stepped in closer, smiling up at him as you looped your free arm around his neck. His other hand settled on your hip, and he slowly started leading you in an uncertain sway of sorts.
You let out an airy chuckle, “Was this really the kind of dancing you had in mind for a frat party?”
“Would you believe me if I said yes?” He questioned.
“Would you believe me if I said that I believed you?”
“No.”
You snickered. “Smart man.”
“But this is good, too. Better, even.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, there’s not a bunch of other drunk, sweaty, loud people everywhere knocking into us. I don’t have to worry about somebody spilling beer on me, or other guys looking at you, or the DJ picking something bad. Or you getting a migraine.” Sungchan slotted his fingers with yours. “I just get to think about you.”
You rested your head on his chest, eyes zoning out on your linked hands. It was his right hand, so his pinky finger couldn’t quite fold down along with the others. “Yeah. I like this, too,” you agreed softly.
A cool breeze gently blew across your cheek that wasn’t resting on Sungchan’s chest, and you were glad for the warmth of him pressed against your front. Your feet awkwardly bumped into each other, making you chuckle, and he apologized with a nervous laugh.
“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I haven’t exactly taken any ballroom dancing classes. Have you?”
“Well...”
You jerked your head back to look him in the face. “You have?”
“You know how Greek life has those formals every year?”
“You’re not in a frat...”
“No, I’m not. But freshman year, Nu Chi had pitched in for this dance teacher and— God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Sungchan said regretfully, tilting his head back to look up in embarrassment.
“Sungchan, come on!” You pleaded.
“Hendery swore me to secrecy...”
“Well now you have to tell me!”
“Hendery’s date couldn’t make it to one of the lessons, so he asked me to fill in for her...”
Your jaw dropped with delight, “Was his date an Amazon? How did that work? He couldn’t have possibly dipped you! Or twirled you!”
“She was taller than him, to be fair,” he admitted. “Nothing that couldn’t be adjusted for with some thick soles, but, you know...”
“You’re such a good friend, Sungchan,” you said through a couple of giggles, imagining the two of them attempting the aforementioned twirls and dips.
He dropped his head, shaking it. “Right, thanks.”
“So I guess I should be leading then, hm?” You teased, your feet bumping his again in that moment.
“I feel like you’d lead us over the edge of this parking deck, Y/N,” he joked.
Before you could make a retort, he stepped back from you to gently twirl you around by the hand, and a cross between a surprised yelp and a laugh tumbled from your mouth. As he brought you back into his chest, you could barely think over the joyful buzzing in your head that resonated out to every square inch of your body.
“Okay, okay, I guess you can lead,” you surrendered, looping your arm back around his neck again.
After some time, the songs had picked up tempo again, but you and Sungchan were long past actually dancing to them. You were more so just holding each other, leisurely swaying, and from here you got to listen to the sounds of his breathing. He’d taken to rubbing absentminded circles into your hip with his thumb, and the fingers of your arm that was around his neck had dipped below the material of his collar, resting on his bare skin.
“Sungchan?” You murmured.
“Yes?” He responded, his voice rumbling right under your ear.
“Thank you for not making me do this in front of a bunch of other cars at the other lookout.”
He let out a couple quiet laughs, his chest shaking with each. “You’re welcome. I figured all of the teens making out in their cars also didn’t want to watch us do this either.”
You mock gasped, pretending to sound scandalized, “You were going to take me to a lover’s lookout? On the first date? Jung Sungchan…”
“Who are you, my grandma? Nobody calls it that anymore.” He pinched your side. “And only because it’s actually got a great view over the city and—”
“I’m kidding, Sungchan.” You pinched him back, lightly, on the nape of the neck. “Besides, I wouldn’t have been opposed to a trip to a lover’s lookout with you anyway…”
You heard the breath hitch in his throat, then Sungchan swallowed and inhaled through his nose, before he finally spoke, “Really?”
His grip on your hip tightened, sending a bolt of electricity along your skin out from the contact point. You brought your head out of his chest and used your arm around his neck to draw him in even closer.
“Really,” you echoed, blatantly staring at his lips now that they were centimeters away from yours. “And it looks like we’ve got our own right here.”
Then Sungchan was using his hold on your hip to push you back step by step until your back was against the side of his car. Your own arm around his neck kept him anchored to you as he stood hovering over you, blotting out any light that would’ve come from the light post above you. Your noses were almost touching, your breaths mingling in the negligible space between your mouths. You were looking at Sungchan’s eyes now, usually a warm, deep brown, now all inky blackness in the dark of night, and staring down at your own mouth. Your tongue instinctually darted out to wet your lips, and that seemed to be the final straw.
His mouth on yours was desperate, but not desperate to get laid, like your previous lover’s lookout banter might imply. Like he was just desperate for you. He stole kiss after kiss from your lips, but never forced his tongue into your mouth, nor moved his hands anywhere else. Despite leaning more and more of his weight forward onto you, utterly pinning you to the car, he kept his bruising grip on your hip and never let go of your hand.
You parted your mouth with a bedraggled gasp of his name, and he finally took this as an invite to slip his tongue into the mix. You shifted to rest the hand that was laced with his above your head, on the roof of the sedan, giving his hand a squeeze. He squeezed your hand back.
Turning your head and breaking the kiss, you hoped he’d get the idea as you continued laying there half-spread out under him. He did, thankfully, kissing from the corner of your mouth across your cheek and down your jaw and neck.
“Sung…chan…” You breathed out his name, stroking the back of his head with your free hand as his lips latched onto a spot at the base of your neck.
Trailing your hand down further, you snuck it up under the hem of his shirt, feeling over the expanse of his chest and stomach. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You pulled the article of clothing up towards his head insistently, and he detached from your neck for the two of you to jointly strip him of it. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You truly didn’t know if he looked or felt better, but you couldn’t ogle him for long, because he was back on top of you as soon as he’d thrown the shirt into the front seat via the open passenger window beside you. His lips were so warm on yours, his skin even hotter under your touch now as you unabashedly felt up every inch of it and the muscles underneath.
But soon that wasn’t enough either, and you were fumbling at his pants button. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating down into your own chest, as his hand snapped around your wrist.
“Ahh…” He hissed regretfully.
“What?” You looked up at him with wide eyes.
“I can’t get my dick out in public.”
You glanced at the car behind you, with its tinted windows, then back at Sungchan. He met your eyes, then shrugged. “That’ll work.”
It was a mad scramble to get the door to the backseat open, so much so that you accidentally smacked Sungchan in the leg with said door. After lots of apologies through giggles, both of you were in the backseat with the doors closed and locked. Sungchan had the task of awkwardly reaching forward over the console to roll the windows back up first, during which you made a couple observations about his backseat, which you hadn’t seen much of before. His practice bag for hockey was back here—which was different than his gear bag, as you’d already been told. The gear bag actually had his equipment that he needed to play with like mouth guards, sticks, and all of that, while his practice bag had more personal stuff like changes of clothes or hygiene products. You figured his gear bag was either in the trunk or at the rink, as he didn’t always need to carry it back and forth with him. But other than the practice bag and a couple of reusable grocery bags on the floor, the backseat was pretty clean. You were genuinely impressed, especially because he made it sound like he tended to chauffeur a lot of his teammates/roommates around frequently.
Sungchan eventually reentered the backseat fully, focusing a content, closed-lip smile on you. You’d taken it upon yourself to lay down on the seat, your knees propped up by your feet. He settled in to kneel on the same cushion as your feet, but just rested an arm on your knees and his chin atop that forearm to gaze down at you, still smiling.
“What? What’s that smile for?” You asked, starting to feel a bit self-conscious.
“Nothing, I just—” He reached both his hands out towards you, fingers spread, and you got the idea, linking yours with them. “I hope you don’t get the wrong idea. I want this to be a real thing, Y/N. Like, I don’t just want to sleep with you. I don’t even do this kind of stuff—car sex on the first date in a campus parking garage?—literally ever. I’m just kinda crazy about you. I know for most people usually it’s the opposite; you know, they save it for later for really important people. They try to make it special, but I know it’ll be special just because it’s you.”
“Sungchan... I’ve never done something like this either,” you admitted, squeezing both of his hands tight. “I think I’m just kinda crazy about you too.”
“Okay. Cool.” He beamed at you, and you felt your insides turn to mush in that moment. You didn’t think they’d ever un-mush again.
“Now can you please take my clothes off before I spontaneously combust?”
“Fuck. Yeah.” He nodded, immediately turning serious as his brow furrowed and he leaned forward to lock his lips with yours again, propping himself up with one hand to hover above you.
You let your knees fall apart to give him room to settle in between your legs. He pulled at your jacket first, and you sat up to help yank it off, dropping it to the floor with his practice bag. With you no longer laying down, he could use two hands to get the next part, your top. His fingertips skimmed along your skin as he grabbed the hem. You broke the kiss so he could start pulling the clothing up your body—
A loud knock against the driver’s side window quite literally made you scream, and Sungchan jerked up and hit his head once again, this time on the roof of the car. You tugged your shirt back down to cover you, ducking to lay flat on the seat as Sungchan looked at you with panic in his eyes.
Another knock came at the window, this time accompanied by a man’s voice, “Campus security! Roll the window down or I’m going to ask you to turn the car off and step out!”
“Just a second!” Sungchan yelled back, a noticeable crack in his voice. He had a difficult time maneuvering his lanky body over the console fully into the driver’s seat again.
“Now!” The man called out again. “Three! Two!”
Sungchan didn’t have time to put on his shirt before ‘one,’ and he rushed to roll the window down. A flashlight was immediately shone into the car, and you didn’t doubt your own visibility to the security officer. You were remaining laying down for your own mental wellbeing at this point. You didn’t think that you could deal with looking this man in the eye right now.
You didn’t know if it was wisdom or embarrassment that kept your date from saying anything, but he thankfully didn’t speak until spoken to, not offering up any incriminating information. After five entire seconds of silence, the officer let out an audible sigh.
“No overnight parking in this garage,” he said, his tone making it very clear that he knew that was not what was going on. “I’ll be back in five minutes and if you’re still here, you’re getting a ticket.”
“Yes, sir,” Sungchan replied.
“I’m sure that the captain of our hockey team wouldn’t want to get put on probation at the beginning of the season.”
“N-No, sir.” His voice cracked again.
The security officer grunted, but said nothing more. You heard Sungchan roll the window back up, then the sound of another car driving away. Slowly, Sungchan turned around to look at you over the console with wide, horrified eyes.
“He knew who I was…” He whispered. “That was the most terrifying 45 seconds of my life.”
“You’re famous, Sungchan,” you teased, sitting up in the backseat now that the coast was clear.
“Yeah, and fame has got so many perks so far.”
“Almost got into your first scandal already.” You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. “Caught with a girl in your backseat. What will the fans say?”
“Considering my fans are all frat bros, probably something along the lines of wolf whistles and incoherent, congratulatory lewd jeering.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, able to picture that perfectly considering you’d already gotten a taste at the first home game you’d gone to. “Sounds about right.”
“Anyway, I should take you home before that guy comes back.”
“Good idea.” You slipped your jacket back on.
“Are you going to come up here or am I your chauffeur?”
“I suppose I’ll sit up there with you,” you sighed, opening the backseat to get out and into the front normally since there was no security man around.
Back in the passenger seat, you handed Sungchan’s shirt back to him, “Here, have some decency. You’re the captain of the hockey team, you know.”
“I’m sorry, who was going to spontaneously combust if we didn’t get naked in the next 0.2 seconds?” He scoffed, pulling his top back on.
“I don’t recall.”
“Sure.”
“And who’s still hard in their jeans right now?”
“Don’t remind me, I have to drive like this,” he groaned, taking the car out of park with a shake of his head.
As Sungchan drove with one hand, the other reached over to take yours, lacing his fingers together with yours.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6
Just a few days later, and you were at the rink again, eagerly watching the hockey game in front of you. Chenle was beside you, continuing his constant sports commentary on every play that happened. You still mostly tuned it out, but you were pretty sure you at least understood most of the basic rules that Taeyong had explained to you before. You kept your eyes on Sungchan, cheering him on along with the other various Nu Chi brothers around you and other fans in the stands. It wasn’t as full of a house as it had been for the first home game, but you were perfectly content to have a slightly quieter environment.
Sungchan happened to skate by your section as everyone was resetting their positions, giving you a wave through the clear barrier. You gave him a slightly bashful but nevertheless bright grin as you waved back.
“So are you two like... dating now?” Hendery asked from your other side, leaned forward with both of his elbows on his knees as he watched the game. He looked back at you over his shoulder with a shit-eating grin, though, one that made you roll your eyes.
“I don’t know. We’ve been on a date. I mean, there was the Halloween party, but I got a migraine so I don’t think that really counts, so— I don’t have to explain myself to you!” You scowled at him, shoving him away by his shoulder.
He laughed as he let himself get jostled around in his seat from the push, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just curious. Unlike your bestie over there, I think you two are adorable.”
“What?” You looked over at Chenle, who Hendery had pointed at.
Chenle had apparently been listening enough to be able to jump in to defend himself. “It’s not what it sounds like. I think you two are great, promise.”
You turned back to your other friend. “Then what the hell are you talking about, Hendery?”
“He just doesn’t want to lose,” the Nu Chi member explained. “I pegged Sungchan’s huge crush on you on day 1 of Dr. Son’s class. Once the Phanta Phour stuff started, I knew that boy had no chance. Chenle just didn’t think you’d ever... hold on, how’d he put it... be into uh, ‘Neanderthal frat-bro-in-law types.’”
“I was maybe a bit tipsy...” Chenle added in.
“So you made a bet on if Sungchan and I would get together? In four whole years?” You looked from left to right between them.
“Loser has to buy winner a 12-pack,” Hendery confirmed with that same grin. “When Phantasmagorical Phriday ended this year, I really thought I’d lost. But then you turned up at the game last week and I figured Sungchan just might score himself a buzzer beater.”
“You two need to get better hobbies,” you declared with a snort.
“This so counts as sudden-death OT, but whatever,” Chenle scoffed under his breath.
You smacked him across the chest. “And don’t call my dating life ‘sudden death’ either.”
“Hey.” He said softly, grabbing your arm, and you turned your head to meet his gaze. “I really was worried about you going to the Halloween party with your head. I swear.”
“I know, LeLe,” you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “You did some great wingmanning once we got there.”
The brief flash of sincerity you got from your best friend was over as quick as it had come, as you heard the crash of helmets on the ice, and both your focuses were drawn back to the game. Two players had collided into each other and the clear barrier right in front of your faces. You grimaced sympathetically as you tried to identify the player from your team. 23— Jeno, ah, he’d be alright. And you were right, he took off almost immediately as the other guy was left behind still dazed.
At the end of the game, with the buzz of another win in your veins and the anticipation of seeing Sungchan thrumming along your skin, you bounced on your heels as you waited in the lobby. You weren't paying attention to the ecstatic, dramatic recollections that Chenle and the Nu Chi brothers were giving of specific plays around you, your gaze entirely focused on the locker room exit.
The very first player to leave was Sungchan, his eyes already scanning the crowd. Without a second thought, you darted over to him, ignoring the couple of whoops and whistles you two got from your friends.
Sungchan beamed down at you as he went to pull you into a hug, and you were immediately enveloped in the smell of the freshly washed clothes that you’d caught last time. This time, though, there was the distinct, crisp smell of ice rink ice under it as well, reminding you of when you’d go ice skating with friends.
“Hey,” you smiled up at him as he let you go, but didn’t step back very far. “You played really good again. I’m pretty sure. A bit more sure than I was last time.”
He was still grinning, looking down at the floor then back up at you before he responded, “Thank you. And I don’t really expect you to become a hockey pro or anything if all that doesn’t interest you. As long as you don’t expect me to remember what death of the author is.”
“This was only my second game, have some faith in me!” You cried out indignantly. “And no, I don’t expect you to become a full-blown literary critic either.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologized through a couple of poorly suppressed giggles. “I do believe in you. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to learn boring sports stuff for me.”
“I do want to be able to follow the basics of a game without Chenle or Taeyong annotating it for me, at least.”
“Oh, yeah, you can definitely do that. Might need to come to a few more games, though...”
You nodded giddily. “Just let me know when the home games are and I’m there.”
“Yo!” A voice had called from the gaggle of guys heading towards the exit. You didn’t even realize that the rest of the team had left the locker room in the time that you’d been talking to Sungchan.
While you couldn’t tell who had gotten your attention, it was Donghyuck that asked, “Are you two coming or are you just going to keep making moony eyes at each other all night?”
“Yeah, Sungchan, you’re our ride!” Yangyang yelled out from somewhere.
“DD!” Jeno cheered.
“I’ll drive you two,” Mark offered with a shake of his head.
“Shotgun!” The two of them immediately dibs-ed in unison.
“Sorry, bitches, I’m his little,” Donghyuck declared. “That means eternal dibs on shotgun in Mark’s car.”
The frat president scoffed, “You only give a shit about that when it directly benefits you.”
“You guys go ahead,” Sungchan cut into their bickering. “We’re right behind you.”
After they had all filed out, he looked back down at you, a nervous smile worming across his face. “Sorry about that...”
“It’s okay,” you said. “So... you ready to go?”
The two of you had already discussed going to the after-game celebrations with the team before this. Sungchan texted you last night to check in and make sure you’d be okay with going from the loud game to a noisy bar/pool hall with a bunch of frat guys after. You’d assured him that you’d be okay as long as you sat away from any music speakers at the bar, and he’d in turn made you promise to tell him if you needed to leave early.
However, he now halted you as you were slowly turning towards the exit. “Wait, I want to try this again.”
With a sneaking suspicion of what he was about to do, you assured him, “Sungchan, you don’t have to—”
“Let me do this. Please.” He gave you those same eyes that had convinced you to go to a frat party in the first place, and you were squaring your shoulders back to face him, giving him a firm nod.
“Okay. Go for it.”
He asked casually, “So, did you drive yourself?”
You had to hold back a laugh, covering your mouth to straighten your face before replying coyly, “Oh, me? I walked. My apartment is close.”
“So, the team all goes out to this bar after home games. It’s a pretty sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday night, but I’d really like for you to come with me. I’ll buy you a... soda.”
“I would love to come, Sungchan,” you giggled, adjusting your purse strap.
“Awesome,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
As you walked up to the passenger side of his car with him, you suddenly realized something. “Wait, did you have your car last time, too?”
“Maybe?” He rubbed the back of his neck, reaching for the door handle to open it for you.
“Then why did you walk me home?”
“To spend more time with you?”
You stole a quick kiss before ducking into the passenger seat.
Squished into one side of a booth with Sungchan’s arm around you, you chatted happily with Chenle, Ten, and Sicheng, who were sitting opposite from you. The team and cheer section were spread out between a couple booths and tables near each other, a few of them up playing pool too. You sipped on your soda between discussions about tonight’s game, upcoming games, classes, or whatever else struck you all. Currently, you were locked in a conversation with Ten about the most recent assigned reading in a class that you two shared together this semester.
“I thought that scene had a lot of great allusions back to the earlier one with her mother and the pie baking,” you gushed.
“Really?” Ten tilted his head curiously. “I was seeing it more as a continuation of the cannibalism-sex-love metaphor, since they were eating figs, you know.”
You nodded knowingly. “That’s true. Everything’s about sex—”
“Except sex.” You two finished quoting your professor in unison.
“And then with figs, there’s the Bible interpretation, of course,” you continued.
“Always the Bible.”
“We can never escape what John Milton did for Christian fanfiction, truly.”
“But I do like the pie scene connection the more that I think about it, actually.” Ten knocked back the rest of his cocktail. “And, tying her mother into the cannibalism metaphor could be a fascinating angle, too.”
Your eyes widened as you were practically vibrating your seat with excitement now. “Yeah, her earliest memory being of food, parental love, and harm...”
“Anyway, I need a refill.” Your friend shook his glass of ice with a smile. “Be back. Good chat as always, Y/N.”
Chenle and Sicheng scooted out of the booth to let Ten out, the former heading off towards the restrooms while the co-captain followed his roommate to the bar, leaving just you and Sungchan. You continued musing over the new connections you’d just made in the text as you turned your gaze back over to Sungchan beside you. He was already looking at you, a fond half-smile on his face.
“Hi.” He said quietly.
“Hi,” you replied, just as quiet.
Sungchan took a swig of his drink, then eyed yours. “You haven’t drunk any water since we get here.”
He’d been sure to not only order your promised soda of choice, but also water, and as you now looked over at your two cups, you could tell that the water had not been touched at all while the soda was practically empty.
“Oh uh, I guess I haven’t.”
“Drink some.” He pushed it towards you insistently. “Can’t have you getting kidney stones on my watch.”
“Okay, okay.” You acquiesced easily, switching your straw over to that glass and chugging a quarter of it in one go. “Better?”
“Much.” He nodded in satisfaction. “So what were you and Ten saying about pies and sex or whatever? Sex isn’t about sex?”
“Oh, it’s just something one of our professors says a lot. ‘Everything is about sex except sex.’ For lit analysis. In literature, pretty much everything is about sex. Or can be. You can turn like, anything in a piece of text into an innuendo or euphemism if you wanted to. Except for sex. Like, if a sex scene is included in a piece of literature, it’s not actually about the sex that’s being depicted. The sex is meant to represent something else. Like politics, or social structures, or whatever other themes are present in the work. Unless you’re just reading porn. But even then, there’s artistic merit to erotica, and plenty to be learned about the social structures at the time it was written, too.”
Sungchan hadn’t blinked the entire time you’d been rambling on, and upon you finally stopping, blinked in rapid succession as he seemed to come to from a daze. “Wow. Uh, interesting. Filing that away with death of the author.”
“Sungchan...” You leaned in to whisper, placing a hand on the inside of his thigh, just above his knee. His leg jumped, knocking his knee into the tabletop. Your hand had narrowly avoided being smashed too, saved only by its position curled around his leg instead of directly on top. You didn’t move it up or down now though, simply tapping your index finger against the loose material of his sweatpants as you giggled. “What are you thinking about?”
He cleared his throat a couple of times. “How you still have three-quarters of that glass of water left to drink.”
You laughed, slumping to relax into his side and pulling your hand back up to a more casual position on top of his leg. With your other hand, you grabbed your water. “Alright, fine.”
Not too long after your water had been drained, Sungchan was driving you home. Some of your other friends had taken off as well, and you didn't put up too much of a protest when he offered. As your familiar building came into view, you suddenly remembered something.
“Oh, visitor’s parking is over there. Sorry, forgot to mention before.” You pointed to a few parking spots painted with yellow lines instead of white, further away from the apartment entrances than the resident parking. “They’re a bit picky. Chenle got towed after like, five minutes one time.”
“Got it. Thanks.” Sungchan smoothly turned the wheel to pull into one of the open visitor’s spots.
Your reason for showing it to him was two-fold. One, to let him know you hoped he’d be coming over more often, so he’d need that information for future reference. And two, for perhaps less innocent ulterior motives tonight. Truly, your apartment complex only towed people after dark. Overnight visitors. Chenle’s five-minute tow had been a fluke.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said with no prompting, and you had to hold in a sigh of relief.
Instead, you gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks, Sungchan.”
“I don’t think I thanked you for coming tonight. To the game.” He slowly meandered up the sidewalk with you, hand holding yours.
“Thanks for inviting me again. I had a lot of fun.” You squeezed his hand.
Your front door loomed in the not-so-distant distance.
“Uh, are you busy this weekend?” He rushed to ask. “I have Saturday morning practice, at 7:30, but it’s over at 9:00, and after that I’m free.”
So that’s why he had texted you at seven in the morning to congratulate you on winning Phantasmagorical Phriday.
“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to do something, just pick from the list I sent you. Surprise me, hm?”
“Will do.”
You were finally on your front welcome mat, and watched his face fall as he seemed to be drawing a blank about how else to prolong your night. But you had an idea.
You didn’t let an alarm or anything else possibly have the chance to interrupt you, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his mouth down to yours. He stumbled forward at you suddenly yanking him off-balance, catching himself with one hand on your front door and the other on your doorframe. Then, he dropped a hand to the small of your back, drawing you in even closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.
Disconnected just enough to murmur against his lips, you asked, “Do you want to come in?”
“Please?” He replied with a nearly sheepish chuckle.
“So polite,” you quipped.
You gave him one more peck before turning around to unlock your door and drag him in by the arm.
➠ sequel | series masterlist | blog masterlist
#sungchan x reader#riize x reader#sungchan imagines#riize imagines#sungchan#sungchan imagine#riize imagine#nct x reader#nct imagine#nct imagines#jung sungchan#i: sungchan#f: buzzer beater#s: buzzer beater#writing#text#mine#bias tag#*100#*200#*300#*400#*500#*600#*700
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