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blueprint-han · 1 year
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𝗚𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗣: STRAY KIDS; hwang hyunjin x reader
𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘: fluff, angst
𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧: 1809.
𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: reader has an emotional breakdown, hyperventilating, a bunch of dread in general but hyunjin being the sweetest ever and comforting us through it
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It’s days like today that make you feel like your entire world is crumbling apart. Like things don’t make sense, like the world behaves unnecessarily cruel towards you. Nothing was out of the ordinary today. Not one bit, yet you feel the heaviness in your heart grow more and more, and it only reaches a snapping point when you come back home from work.
Usually, the sight of Hyunjin would be all it took to make you forget about anything that happened, but you figure even he has his limits. All you feel when you see him are tears — it’s like a million different images flash in front of you — of his hands stroking your back, of you crying into his shoulder. Regardless, this is the third time in the week you’ve bothered him with such antics, so you swallow the lump in your throat and approach a focused Hyunjin, reading a book and sitting on the couch.
“Hey love…” You say dully, pulling his attention onto you as you take off your jacket.
“Hey sweetheart!” Hyunjin chimes, his voice trailing off when he notices your expression. You sometimes find yourself marveled by how expressive he is. His eyebrows scrunch ever so slightly, it’s as if he’s compelling his body to fall into a gentle space, a space he seems to understand you require.
“Is everything alright?” Hyunjin asks, keeping the confidence in his voice intact, because he’s well aware of what gets you to open up easily.
Sometimes you wish he wasn’t, because every ounce of energy you’d put into maintaining your façade unravels when you look into his eyes.
Tears roll down your cheeks, and you seem to not notice anything other than everything crashing down on you. Soft sobs echo throughout the room, and you vaguely feel Hyunjin’s hands guiding you to the sofa, engulfing you in his embrace and keeping you there. He combs his fingers through your hair, rocking you back and forth.
Everything he does soothes you, yet you can’t stop crying. 
You wonder how Hyunjin ended up with you. Seeing as to how you end up being the last option for everyone you encounter, it feels surreal to know that a man so kind, graceful, so… out of your league feels such unconditional love towards you.
“Sweetie,” Hyunjin cups your cheeks and makes you look at him when you start hyperventilating, his hands being gentle yet firm enough to force you out of your dizzy state. “Look at me, and breathe — Yes, just like that.” He smiles sadly when you follow his instructions and close your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. But it’s like your body refuses to co-operate, because you end up crying for half an hour straight, snuggling into Hyunjin’s shoulder and letting out everything you’ve been holding back all this while.
You’re pretty sure his sleeve is drenched and that you’ve effectively ruined his favorite sweater, but Hyunjin isn’t even focused on that — it’s like every little sob from you shatters his heart more, and he wishes he could do more than just hold you. He wishes he could change the people who make you want to cry like this.
When your sobs finally die down to little sniffles, Hyunjin pats your hair slowly. Your eyes are puffy and your nose is red, and your breathing still hasn’t evened out.
“Come with me.” Hyunjin says and doesn’t wait for your response before lifting you off the couch. On a bright sunny day, you’d protest — you’d laugh, try to kick yourself out of his embrace, do anything to get him to giggle. But right now, all you can do is let him maneuver his way to the balcony. All the while, you’ve found peace in his shoulder, and never want to lift your head from it and experience this harsh world once again.
He seats you down on a chair and sits down next to you. You want to whine about the loss of his embrace, but he immediately holds your hand, delicately playing with your fingers and running his thumb along the back of it.
Stargazing has always been one of your favorite activities to calm down. Something about the calm view of the sky, and a million stars twinkling about them as though they’re all silently encouraging you to cheer up makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. A soft, barely present smile pulls at your lips, and Hyunjin would’ve definitely missed it if his eyes weren’t on you the whole time.
You’re pretty sure you look like a mess right now, with your eyes all puffy and your hair matted and ruffled, but Hyunjin looks at you like the single most beautiful thing to ever exist. A small part of you feels bad for worrying him so much.
“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” He asks, tightening his grip on your hand reassuringly. You could go on for ages about how gentle Hyunjin was when it comes to you, but right now all you can do is, stare at the night sky and give yourself something to focus on other than the raging emotions inside you.
“I…” You begin reluctantly, and Hyunjin wraps his hands around you, leaning into your embrace, trying everything he can to comfort you. He kisses your cheek and coaxes you to continue. “Hm?”
“I-It’s stupid…”
“Not if it’s affecting you like this, sweetie. What did we discuss before? We don’t downgrade our experiences, right? Whatever you feel is valid. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but never consider your problems to be stupid.”
You sigh, snuggling into his embrace.
“I don’t know, I guess I’m tired of being everyone’s last choice?”
Hyunjin only hums, running his hand along your arm soothingly.
“It’s like… Even before this job, even before college, I always tried to be friendly, I always tried to fix everything wrong or annoying about me, and yet I’d either get taken advantage of or end up being left alone.” 
You sigh, continuing.
“I just… I guess I’m tired and I don’t know what’s wrong with me, you know? If everyone I’ve met seems to not think of me genuinely, seems to never feel the same amount of attachment I feel for them, then surely I must be wrong with something right? Yet no matter what I do to try and be a better person, it feels like I can’t rid myself off of the ‘last option’ nametag.”
Hyunjin places a soft kiss onto your shoulder at that, humming and allowing you to speak your mind more. He always found a way to get you comfortable — it was just the way his aura worked. You never felt like you’d be judged for saying what was on your mind.
“I know that half of it is just my own anxiety and that most of the people who make me feel this way would disagree, but I could state off multiple instances where half my friends would clearly neglect me once they found someone ‘better’ And I know it’s not their duty to make sure I don’t feel anxious and don’t think that way, but it still hurts.”
“Then that’s no friend, Y/N.” Hyunjin replies. “A good friend, a true friend, would never leave you like this.”
“But every single person?” You ask, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks again.
“Not every single person. Our mind often makes us see only the worst of things when we feel sad or depressed, but there are so many people who cherish you for who you are.” Hyunjin pulls you into his lap and lets you lie on his shoulder, fingers rubbing soft circles on your skin. “Me, for instance. When we were just friends, would you have ever said I made you feel that way?”
“Never.” You answer immediately. Hyunjin had not once made you feel left out when you were friends. You consider Hyunjin’s friend group to be fairly large, and even once your relationship started, he managed to find a way to spend equal time with both his friends and with you.
“Then you have your answer.” Hyunjin smiles at you. You feel your heart flutter at the sight. His eyes hold more stars than the sky above you right now, his expression conveying everything words could never put together. You’ve never felt as loved as you feel right now.
“See, Y/N.” Hyunjin intertwines your fingers together. “The only thing you can truly control in this world is the way you act and the way you carry yourself, at least in a social setting. The way people perceive you, no matter what anyone says, is not something you can control to an extent greater than some basic level.”
You nod, allowing him to continue.
“You could do everything right. You could be the best human being to ever exist, you could do everything good that you possibly can for a person — but if they still choose to perceive you in bad ways? It’s not something you can control, really. They’re just dimwits for letting their jealousy, or their ill conceived notions ruin an amazing friendship.” You feel yourself smile when he kisses your cheek. “And I can say from personal experience, that you are a wonderful person to be friends with.”
You hum, unable to speak anything due to warm feeling in your chest. You hold him tightly, afraid that letting go would somehow dissolve this moment, and take you back to the cold tears of sadness.
“You can’t control the way people think, Y/N, but what you can control is how much you attach yourself to them, and how much you expose yourself to them. I know it isn’t easy when you see each other every single day, but it’s a step you need to take.”
“Mhm,” You hum in understanding. “I get you. It seems like the most logical way, but like you said, it’s… so hard to execute it.”
“Well, then take it slow, sweetie. No one’s forcing you, nor do you have a deadline to meet.” The darkness of the night is comforting, in a way, especially when you have your favorite person speaking the sweetest things to you. 
“One step at a time, yeah? You can start slow by trying to distance yourself from them and then work on not feeling hurt when you see them abandon you like that. Okay?” He asks. 
You take a deep breath, trying to process everything that happened. “Okay, I get you.” 
Perhaps things weren’t so bad after all. 
No matter what happened, you were sure Hyunjin would always be by your side. And that was something to be happy about, even if it felt like the world crumbled around you, because in the end, he’d always be there.
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𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘: Hey guys! It’s been a long time since I’ve written, so please excuse the rusty writing. Also I’m sure the advice Hyunjin gives here could possibly not be the best advice, but I wrote this fic in a time where i was sad and felt everyone around me hated me, but i’ve been working on trying to not feel that way. regardless, if anyone feels this way, know that if you’re worrying about being a bad person, then you probably aren't. We all make mistakes, and we become a better version of ourself every single day. Peace out <3
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missinghan · 10 months
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i heard the prettiest lilies bloom in june ⤖ lee felix
❖ genre : funeral home director au; supernatural; hurt/comfort; platonic bonding because i said so
❖ word count : 6,8k.
❖ warning : fem reader, swearing, plenty mentions of death, killing, violence(!!!), blood. 
❖ summary : you have one duty in life—to help people cross over to the other side with dignity and no regrets. if there happens to be any remorse, you are present at their side to resolve it. you’ve seen more than a regular person should, however, it’s definitely a first for you when someone tries to steal a client right before the hour of the ceremony.
❖ author’s note : it’s been a while but i hope my writing is still somehow enjoyable <3
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One of your jobs ends when you walk through an interval gateway—the barrier that separates those who have yet to leave the living world from those who have. This is the hundred and eleventh time and you think you’re almost at your limits. You doubt it, though, since the same thought occurred to you every other time as well yet you’re still here, bound to this endless cycle of salvation and farewells. 
This occupation was never forced onto you nor did it come to you under uncommon circumstances. It’s simply a family tradition. Funeral ceremonies are crucial for mortals to part ways with their previous lives. And your family’s funeral home has always taken care of each step and followed each rule with the utmost respect regardless of people’s social standing. Everyone deserves a ceremony that will do them honor even in the afterlife. 
For that is the Higanbana Funeral Home’s work etiquette. 
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It’s already late when Chan summons everyone out of the office and away from the boring paperwork. A crazed chuckle finds its way out of his throat when they all stand in a straight line, beholding an enormous shadow. It possesses arms and legs of all kinds, crimson eyes, and the growls of a wild beast. Yet it is anything but a mortal world’s being. 
“Run,” it whispers, breaking the suffocating silence. 
A branch snaps from behind and Chan speaks without having to look, “Jisung, get your ass back here.”
Jisung thinks he doesn’t feel like dying today. “What, it said we can run!”
Hyunjin is extremely offended because he sacrificed his beauty sleep for this. “Jisung, what the fuck-ack!!”
Jisung pauses at the strangled cry his friend has managed to let out before charcoal claws fish him into their iron grip, wrapping themselves around his chest and squeezing every dying breath out of his lungs.
“Okay, sorry, coming!!”
“I’ve got you, Han!”
Seungmin stands back to back with him, wobbling a little as the ground shakes. The monster is trying to pull something, fine dust sent flying into the air. The two squint through the small storms and notice a figure approaching them. One multiplies into two, then four, eight, sixteen, until there are too many to keep count of.
Jisung is convinced his job is a living nightmare. “This thing is spiraling out of control. I don’t think she’d make it.”
He staggers when one pounces on him, breathing shakily as he blocks its claws with his blade. Fear boils in his stomach at the thoughts of you. You’ve been gone. Gone for far too long. So long that he’s afraid you might have disappeared from this world without anyone knowing. 
Where could have you been in your last moment? Was it cold? Were you all alone like you always have been? Was there at least a soul kind enough to stay with you? It’s not fair, Jisung thinks. It’s not fair because every job to you is a contract, proof that even the most miserable of souls don’t have to be so lonely at the end of their journey.
So why…why couldn’t you-
“No,” Seungmin assures him, kicking a shadow into cement and crushing its skull in the process. “I know she can.”
A sigh comes from somewhere behind them both.
Tremendous force snatches the two by the waists, miraculously pulling them up onto a nearby rooftop at the speed of light, away from danger. Chan has made it up here, too, somehow. 
“I’ll settle this. Chan, get Hyunjin.”
His gaze flickers to the owner of the declaring voice. Red spider lilies embroidered on sleek black—it’s their uniform, only that it’s drenched in mud and blood. 
“Damn, took you long enough,” Chan lets himself trip and fall, laughing incredulously.
If Jisung didn’t know any better, he would assume that you have lost yourself in the afterlife, wandering endlessly without a place to return to. Worse, disintegrating into nothingness, or going feral and giving into the demonic whispering. 
His eyes water now that you’re standing right before him. A sob hitches in his throat and before he knows it, his arm moves on its own, fingers clinging onto your coat desperately. “It’s been five years…not fair, Y/N. You’re so…not fair!!”
You exhale in slight relief, bending down to pat Jisung’s hair and take the blade from his hand. You have the same fierce ray in your eyes as the day you left when you smile at him.
“Jisung, I’m home, you crybaby.”
You’re going to finish this and call it a day.
After five whole years.
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You should have known you’re not allowed to have a proper break.
“This will do,” you mumble and loosen the tie around your neck while scanning the new set of clothes Chan has brought you. The funeral home’s uniform still manages to fit you. 
“It’s only been five years. I believe you’ve stopped growing, too,” Chan says casually as he closes his silver briefcase. He laughs when you throw him a sideways glare. “Ready?”
You shrug nonchalantly. “Ready when you are.” 
“Just making sure. It’s been a while since you’ve interacted with living people.”
“Less talking, more moving.” You wave a hand and stride through the lobby of the morgue. Chan knows it’s a bit much to ask you to work overtime like this but this case, in particular, makes him a bit queasy. 
As you two walk up to the front desk, common peals of laughter and chatters fizzle out and deflate in seconds. It’s almost as if they aren’t expecting your arrival. The receptionist looks up from her computer with a start, her expression shifting five times gloomier. She must have recognized the red spider lilies embroidered onto your coat.
“Good day to you both, how may I help you?” 
You’re too tired to muster a default smile at this point. “We’re from the Higanbana Funeral Home. We’re here to receive a client’s body and proceed onward with the necessary ceremonies.”
“Yes, of course. Can I get a name?”
“Lee Felix. Nineteen years old,” you explain and hand over a sheet of paper from Chan’s briefcase. The woman looks it over promptly, tilting her head in confusion. 
“This is odd. There must have been a mistake,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. 
Chan raises a brow and you grumble a mental complaint because you’re hungry, exhausted, and have better places to be at. 
“His body has already been retrieved,” she pauses, biting her lip nervously. “By his family.” 
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Chan clenches his fists, wishing he can somehow vaporize into thin air as two pairs of eyes bore holes into him. He sighs quietly and braces himself for whatever is to come. 
“I don’t want to deal with this right now,” you whisper-shout at his side. “Can’t you leave this to Jisung?”
Chan shakes his head profusely, not backing away from his stance.
“I haven’t got any sleep for five years.”
“Right…about that.” Chan leans in with a hand over his lips. “We’re running low on money at the moment so-“
“Chan, what the fuck-“ 
He clasps a hand over your mouth instantly. “I know, I know, okay. Just calm down and let me figure this out.” 
“So,” a third voice in the room echoes, numb and filled with underlying cold rage. 
“What problem do you have with us bringing my brother home?” 
Chan closes his eyes to breathe, recalling many past experiences dealing with loved ones who had an issue with their client’s ceremonies. Most of them went through smoothly, some have nearly lurched at your staff but no one has gone as far as retrieving the dead body. 
An inhale. An exhale. Chan straightens his posture and decides to face this head-on, as always. “It goes against what is written in our contract. If your family wishes for the ceremony to happen at home, you should have contacted us beforehand.” 
The eldest son, Minho, glares back at him with the eyes of someone who’s ready for a massacre. Then, he smiles, “Why, it’s because we no longer need your service.”
Chan holds himself back from flinching; he can’t risk his professionalism being ruined just because of a scary-looking-but-also-kinda-good-looking guy who obviously lacks common manners. 
“My family will handle it from here. Your payment will be compensated double the amount, naturally.” Minho brings his cup of tea to his lips, taking a small sip. 
“Still-“
His smile drops, a glint coming into his eyes. It’s terrifying. “You really are stubborn, aren’t you?”
Eventually, Bang Chan, Director’s Assistant of the Higanbana Funeral Home, realizes it’s high time for his weekly mental breakdown. He scoots away and hides behind you like a hermit. 
“And you do realize you’re threatening my employee, don't you?”
You begin speaking once you’ve finished skimming the house’s interior. Their choice of furniture is simple and practical, enough to give off the warmth of a mundane family. Everything is well organized, all in all. There are very few photos, however. Only one of Minho and a younger freckled boy who you assume is Felix. 
The one thing that’s bothering you is the energy here. It crashes against yours like fire against ice. It’s godly. It’s unsettling. 
“Actually, no, forget that,” you shake your head. “Minho. May I ask you something?” 
“Go ahead,” he offers grimly. 
“Why are you in such a rush to die?”
Chan winces, grateful that he’s facing away from the conversation. With that question goes his last chance to merely make it out of this house in one piece. Silence settles over the room and he swears the temperature has dropped a few degrees. 
“So much so that it affected your brother. I’ve read through his death report, actually. His injuries were beyond what an average human is capable of,” you proceed without as much as a blink of hesitation, manila file firmly held in your hand. 
“We were informed that you were there with him in his last moments. What could have happened, I have to wonder?”
“Y/N, stop it,” Chan begs you quietly; he knows you’re enjoying this way too much. “You’re going to get us killed.”
Of course, you neglect to listen to a single word. “What exactly were you doing that night, Lee Minho? To have your brother experience such a painful death…couldn’t you have done anything about it?”
You blink. And Minho has already leaped from his sitting position. Your lashes flutter again and your head thrashes against the floor with sharp metal hovering over your pupil. It stings even from a distance—that is no regular knife.
“Impressive. You could tell right from the start,” you comment with a grin, sharp and slit-eyed. 
Chan scrambles to his feet in a frenzied panic. “Y/N!!”
All things are escalating as you’ve planned. You watch as Minho’s features contort and tremble. He’s far too blinded by rage in his own head already, now to start reeling him in. “No wonder Felix had to endure so much agony. He was born into a family of exorcists, after all.” 
“Exorcists…?” Chan pauses dumbfoundedly. His gut feelings have never wronged him. 
Minho falters, his breaths broken, forcing him to release the iron grip and take a step back. His hand clenches into a fist before he exhales shakily, “You…what are you? The energy you give off is disgusting.”
Many have questioned your presence, whether living or dead. You don’t really mind, at all, because, at the end of the day, you only want to complete the tasks given at hand. Sentiments are meaningless. There is no time and space for a detailed explanation—frankly, you don’t even know of it yourself. 
Can your job be considered as what they call ‘good deeds’? You can’t quite tell but there’s no point in resisting death. Death leaves no exception. It has been pinpointed as everyone’s fate right from the moment they come into this world. 
“Good question. Though, you should loosen up a bit. I don’t bother with the affairs of living people. My only duty is to lend the dead a hand so they can return to the cycle with dignity. A consultant, you may call it.”
A look of utter disbelief crosses his face for a moment. There’s a split second before you stride toward him. You’re gentle and swift with your movements, not giving Minho enough time to realize you’re aiming for his left hand. 
Or more specifically, the bracelet on his wrist. 
“What are you—“
You snatch the beaded accessory with ease, the material stingy against your palm. “There’s no need to be so surprised. I believe you’ve been an exorcist for as long as you can remember, correct? Curses and spirits and supernaturals should be nothing new to you.” 
The already heavy atmosphere gains another metric ton to its weight at the mention of curses and spirits. Nausea gnaws at Minho’s throat, hot tears gathering at the ends of his eyes. Chan quickly rushes up to catch him before he manages to collapse. 
“I apologize for- I’m not usually like this- I just-“
“Take a breath. You’re shaking.” Chan offers him a few pats on the back and snaps a sharp stare toward you. Old habits die hard. You’re always stifling a smile every time you inform your staff of your plans for the day. Panic-stricken, but unable to muster the courage to say anything in opposition—you are indeed one to take joy in others’ sufferings.
“Okay, okay, geez,” you mouth back, a tad bit annoyed.
It takes Minho a few minutes and another sip of tea to settle back into his neutral tone. “You need the bracelet to come in touch with Felix, don’t you? You must have seen his photos on the walls. You should take it with you, it’s his amulet.” 
He’s much quicker now that he’s got himself together, you purse your lips before nodding. Playtime is over, you assume. It's a shame your work is long overdue. Watching people squirm at the tips of your fingers is of utmost entertainment but you’d love to finish the job and rest up soon. 
“How long will it take?” 
His question is a dreaded reminder for you. “Depends. Time functions differently on the other side. Most cases only take a few hours but there are unwanted surprises as well.” 
Minho lifts his head to look straight at you this time, his gaze is soft and tender. A brotherly look, you suppose. “…then, I’m counting on you to do your best. Take care.” 
Take care. As if you need a person like him out of everyone to tell you that. As if a fate worse than death might crash upon you on the other side. Empathy is unneeded. You know you are better off without it because you have never once detested your job. 
Your parents did everything in their power to give you a normal life until you’re legally old enough to run the funeral home. They helped you in every way to understand the human souls, their fears, their tears, and their relief to heal them, not entirely but enough. Even without your parents now, you understand what you need to do; it’s a breeze. 
You just need to endure a bit of blood and the mortal’s grief, or half a decade of being completely detached from reality. 
“Any ideas of a location your brother spent most of his time at?”
You stop for a moment as if reminded of something—the bracelet’s material works as an amulet because it’s made of materials that stave off evil. 
“Oh, and do you mind if I take a napkin or something? This thing is burning my skin.”
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“A bookstore?”
“He often goes there to study by himself in the cafe on the rooftop.”
You mull over the concise conversation from earlier one last time, recollecting your thoughts now that you have a few guesses of your own about their relationship. Although you’re never the type to stick your nose into people’s personal business, this step is necessary for a case to go through smoothly. 
Taking a deep breath, you tilt your head upward to be met with your own reflection in the glass door. Ironic enough, it just happens to be the bookstore you used to stop by. A part of you is relieved that nothing much has changed despite the neon lights losing their bright color over the years. Too bad you won’t be able to enjoy a good book any time soon. 
With caution, you unravel the white handkerchief in your palm, watching as the bracelet floats freely over the tips of your fingers. You clasp your hands together and close your eyes. “Oh Demon of Salvation, once again may I perform this rite…”
As the world melts away, you continue chanting, “To be a guiding light…”
Luminous essence comes crashing over your vision like a tsunami and your consciousness sinks into inky darkness. “For souls who yearn for the end of their flights.” 
The moment your eyes flutter open, you squint. Your surroundings slowly but surely come back into view. You find yourself standing in the same exact spot with the one difference being you are finally away from prying and grieving eyes. 
The door slides open with a slight push and you step in. With each stride, your brain nearly overheats trying to remember the face you are on the search for. In this world, everyone is nothing but faceless phantoms, their chatters oddly low and their expressions unreadable. 
Someone bumps into you with their full-body weight.
“Oh god, sorry. Are you okay?”
You turn around on alert—it’s impossible to have direct contact with phantoms, except for the subject of the memories. 
Damned good genes, you almost curse aloud.
The boy standing before you is like a fresh breath of air in pure daylight, a crystal drop of dew bathed in the lights of dawn. So brilliant that the sun can blanch in shame, so full of life that it’s hard to believe he has long passed away. Though, he shares very few similarities with his brother. They must take after each of their parents.
“Hello?”
You snap out of it. “Oh, sorry. Let me get that for you,” you offer after seeing the book in his hand dropped to the floor. At the sight of the title, you blink in disbelief. A rush of adrenaline whirls around in your stomach.
“Th-This is…!” You clench the book with your hands still shaking from the overwhelming reel of shock. It’s only natural for the publishing house to proceed onward with the series and five long years have passed without you in the real world. 
The boy laughs lightly at your reaction—you must be acting like a mad woman. “Ah, so you enjoy reading these kinds of books, too?”
“What do you mean ‘enjoy’! I’ve been dying to know what’s going to happen next to the main character’s mentor!”
That one statement jolts him to a stop. “The mentor? What are you talking about? He died like two volumes ago.”
Horror is cast upon you in mere seconds. Your favorite character is dead while you’re wandering in an even-god-doesn’t-know-where place for five years straight. 
“…huh?”
He blinks back at you. “Huh?”
The sheer audacity of him to act all innocent and confused is outrageous. 
With an angry huff, you shove the book into his chest. “You brat, that’s such a spoiler!!!” All that excitement and motivation to get back to reading has evaporated into nothing. What a disappointment to come back to after half a decade. 
“Spoiler? It’s been out for five years,” he states the obvious and frowns, seeming to pick up on the situation. 
“And I’ve got exactly twelve hours to catch up with those five years of my life so shut your mouth!! Spoiling stories is an absolutely unforgivable sin.”
He tilts his head at you. “Are you dead, also?”
You halt, a bit taken aback by the sharp acknowledgment of his current existence being theoretically no longer alive. Something inside you decides to shrug it off. It’s best to take whatever easy completions of tasks you can receive before things begin to escalate in a complicated direction. 
“Technically, no.”
“You can return still?”
You stop making eye contact with him after an exasperated exhale. “Yes. And it depends on how much of my time you will take up.”
His eyes are focused and very much awake. They never leave you as he keeps smiling yet the smile doesn’t really reach its end. For a split second, a ray of despair flares through his vision, so quickly that you can barely catch it. “I see,” he lets out a low chuckle. “Whatever you are here for, I’m glad that there is someone to accompany me.”
Lee Felix is young but wistful of the reason why he can no longer lurk amongst the living. Parts of him seem to yearn for a choice of returning while the other half wants to have nothing to do with it. His resolve is present, he just needs a helping hand and a little push. 
You hum in lighthearted acknowledgment, your lips quirking up.“We haven’t been properly introduced now, have we?”
That’s why you’re here, after all. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Felix. I am Y/N, Director of the Higanbana Funeral Home. It’s my pleasure to be at your service.”
His smile drops, his eyes are doubtful as he watches you bow. “Funeral home? The industry offers this kind of service these days?”
You shrug, “Only our funeral home as far as I am aware.”
“I don’t know if I should be grateful or creeped out by that.”
Felix knows little to nothing about the afterlife. When he was wandering by himself for a few hours, he was more than aware of the faceless phantoms and the fact that no one would talk to him. Or his mind was still lingering around the bloodied mess that is his death to focus on anything. Once you came in, he had a few wild guesses but your answer matched with none of his theories.
Your attire gives him some proof that you come from the same time period as he does, though. You dress in a rather formal outfit, the common suit with the tie he used to see on the daily. What sets you apart from office employees is your coat. It fits a little too big on your torso, its tail fluttering whenever you move. Beneath the dark fabric, embroidery of red spider lilies peeks through, crimson-bright and painstakingly detailed. 
You clasp your hands together to gain his attention. “Let’s take a trip down memory lane, shall we? I’ll explain as we go.”
He nods curtly, following in your footsteps. Still, his gaze lingers upon the pair of rings on your fingers. They seem to match somehow, almost like wedding bands. 
Felix thinks he’ll leave his wonders as they are. Most things don’t matter anymore either way.
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Felix begins walking down a familiar neighborhood with you, faint traces of light guiding his footsteps. He side-eyes you every now and then, his head tilting as he thinks. 
“I’ve heard you’re in a drama club,” you chirp, hands clasped loosely behind your back. 
“Oh, I am.” Felix breaks his concentration with a faint shake of his head, a smile curling on his lips by default. “Only been a few months actually. I’ve never properly acted on stage before.” 
This time, it’s your turn to stare back at him as he grins sheepishly at the ground. Again, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes at all. They look somewhat droopy, most likely asking for a good night’s rest. 
“Is that so? I think you’re pretty good at it,” you comment, retreating your gaze. 
Soft chuckles emit from his throat. “How would you know that?”
You leave his question unanswered and instead, stride toward a familiar house. He remembers very clearly the first and last time he ever set foot in here. He used to play in the woods for hours when he was young, making up games and characters in his head, splashing barefoot through the freezing mountain stream. 
Felix twists the doorknob and pushes it wide open. “After you.” 
“Come.” You gesture with your hand for him to follow you upstairs once both of you are inside the house. 
The first thing Felix notices is the rain tapping against the perplexing glass of his father’s window. Then there’s a sharp smell in the air—disinfectant mixed with the scent of his childhood home. 
It’s silent aside from the dull hum of the air conditioner, adding to the sterile atmosphere. He directs his attention to the two line occupants of the room, Minho, and a middle-aged man. 
Felix recognizes this scenery. This took place many years ago on a night when his gravely-ill father summoned his older brother into his presence. That night, his face was paler than usual yet the warmth in his gaze never withered. 
Now his memories are weaving it into an illusion so he can relive it all over again. 
Minho sits down promptly, a cushioned chair situated near the bedside. He looks many things: weary, distraught, perhaps even angry. His umbrella and coat have been discarded to the side, drenched and bloodied. 
His father forces himself to stay awake and ask Minho about school, dinner, and if his training is progressing well. 
Minho answers each question with adequate details, earning nods from both of his parents. After much hesitation, with his mother’s encouragement, Felix’s father finally says, “Minho, whatever may happen to us, remember that we are proud to have you as our successor, that we trust you to protect the family’s bloodline, and most importantly, Felix.”
Minho seems to have shrunk in the oppressive atmosphere, looking smaller than Felix has ever seen his brother before. The Lee Minho he knows has always held his chin high, shoulders square, and his heart closed. Never has he allowed himself to show his struggles or that he’s in need of help. 
Felix knows not of the agony his brother had to endure to ensure that he grew up safely after their parents had passed. He didn’t neglect any methods at his disposal to secure the safety of his family. Any obstacles are to be annihilated, no matter the cost. 
That’s when Felix realizes that maybe, he understands nothing about his brother after all.
“Do you hate him?” 
Your voice breaks him out of his accelerating thoughts—he almost forgets that you’re right there by his side. 
“Hate is a very strong word. I don’t hate him. I just find him difficult.” 
Felix turns away again so that you won’t look into his eyes. Uneasiness thickens his throat, his voice so bitter as if he can’t stand to hear it himself, “Minho never allowed me to interfere with anything that involves exorcists and spirits. All I was allowed to do was stay home and replace our mother.”
You nod curtly. “He did it to keep you safe.” 
Felix clenches his fists, conclusion drawn. You are no different from everyone else, telling him the same thing over and over again. Chuckles of disbelief clog his throat, an indirect response that you have touched a nerve that you shouldn’t have. 
This house isn’t the main estate of the Lee Family; it belonged to their grandparents, and Minho rarely spent any time here with Felix. Once, when Minho stayed the night during a holiday, Felix asked if he could visit the main estate for a few days. Minho simply laughed it off and said, “No, no. It’s no fun there, you’d get bored in five minutes max. Really, it’s no fun.’’
Surely it couldn’t have been that bad. Even if it was, Felix wanted to see where Minho grew up—were there dozens of servants? Did the estate really hold over a hundred rooms? What were the training grounds like? Did he like his old teachers? Oh, Felix knew they absolutely loved him—Minho was a natural at everything and anything that he put effort into. 
‘‘Come on, Minho. Just one time wouldn’t hurt?’’
Minho always refused. 
Felix laughs through pursed lips, incredulous and furious, “Safe? Safe from what? I was killed by the very same thing that he tried to distance me from all these years!” 
You do understand where he is coming from. No one has ever measured how much a mortal heart can bear—one can only take so much pain, even if it’s not directly hurting them. “Safe from what, I wonder? He did it all not only to protect you but also because he has always been in an awful rush to die.” 
“Why would you say that?”
Felix hates it when someone smiles at him as if they know something that he doesn’t. You’re doing it right now and it irks him in every conceivable way. 
The curl of your lips has turned eerie now. “Have any of your relatives ever told you that you’re very clean?” 
Chills shoot down his spine. “How do you know that…?”
“Follow me,” you quip and exit the bedroom. 
Suddenly, the memory around him shatters. The house then falls into despair in its true state of abandonment. Dark and suffocating and tastes of curses. When you try pushing past a rotting screen door, the house creaks with sentiments that aren’t yours to bear. Felix follows suit, stepping on every squeaking floorboard on his journey through the corridor. Broken walls catch moonlight through their gaping holes, a foul scent drifting midair. 
“How do you know where you’re going?” 
“Oh, I have my ways,” you happily respond to his doubtful question. The walk is short yet unbearable with each breath he tries to take in. Then, you stop in front of a bedroom, facing him in a serious manner. 
“This will be unpleasant. Brace yourself.” 
The door slides open with a push of your hand. 
Minho stands in the center of the room with sagged shoulders, moonlight embracing him from the cracked window like an unwanted spotlight. He is wearing his former high school uniform, wrinkled with creases created by wrestling around. His hands are soaked, so are his clothes. 
“Minho,” Felix breathes out from the doorway. 
Crimson red. Everything is red. There’s so much fresh blood that it could have flooded the room and bled along the hallway, seeping through every corner and angle and- Felix stops feeling his knees when his gaze trails downward, from the crimson tips of Minho’s fingers to the blood that has puddled around his feet. 
He halts and looks up again to see two mops of black hair crumbled in his brother’s hands. He remembers- no, he should have remembered that night. The night when his parents were possessed and Minho had to exorcise them. 
Exorcise them as though they were curses and spirits. Meaning, erasing their existence. Meaning, ending their lives. 
His parents never passed away from terminal illnesses. They were killed—exorcised—by Minho’s hands. 
“No,” Felix suddenly snaps with vice, nausea knocking loudly at his door. 
“No, no, no, no. It can’t be real, it’s not real, Minho would never do that—!!!”
He neglects how he chose to forget, to replace his parents’ deaths with something more bearable—illnesses because all his life, he’s ashamed of who he is. A good-for-nothing younger sibling. A useless son. A distant classmate with a default smile on his face. A cursed child because he would see spirits while playing in the woods with his friends and no one believed him. 
All his life, he was pathetic and well deserved of it. 
Coldness engulfs him and he realizes that he has fallen over, with your arms around him to keep him from collapsing completely. “Careful. Don’t let it consume you,” you tell him. 
Tears drop past his lids. It dawns on him then, realization a slow dread as he thinks of a Lee Minho swallowed by darkness for so long that something about him went rotten. His brother, unable to stop slaughtering because it’s his only duty in life, craves relief from killing each day. To search for something tangible. To feel something. To save himself from this recurring nightmare that is reality. 
You were right. Minho has always been in a rush to die. 
A drop of glowing dark liquid hits the puddle of crimson, black and unpleasant. Felix looks up at it in surprise as it continues to drip from Minho’s exhausted figure. Miasma coalesces around him like vines, bleeding across his bare skin, flickering eerily along the lengths of his arms, up the curves of his neck and cheeks. 
“What—“ Felix gasps, jerking backward in shock. “What is that?”
You reach out and draw him back in. Felix catches his breath when you pull his head against your shoulder, cupping the crown of it gently. 
“Karmic debt,” you explain. “Most souls either succumb or wither to it in the afterlife, turning into demons. No matter the outcome, the agony they have to go through is unbearable.”
Felix doesn’t reply. After a moment, you can feel his arms wrap around you and cling, tightly, as though he’s afraid to let go. 
“It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to him,” Felix wants to say but he can’t quite hear himself. 
“Minho was supposed to be fine because he is who he is. He’s everything that I can never be. He was supposed to be fine. But…why did I think of him like that for all these years?”
When Felix trembles again, he feels your cool breath on his neck as something inside him cracks. 
“Ever since your parents had passed, your brother spent his life loving you as the closest person to you. I don’t think he’ll ever stop. And it shows, because now in the afterlife, you are clean, you are free from the bindings of karmic debt.”
“I know you didn’t want any of this to happen.”
“I know that you did your best, Felix.”
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“Felix never had a proper graduation. I couldn’t come.”
“Congratulations on graduating!”
Felix stares in awe at the scenery drawn out before his eyes. Flowers fluttering, his schoolmates pushing each other around and bustling with life, even a sniff of the air brings water to the corners of his eyes. It feels like it’s been too long.
He would give into the illusions for once if it weren’t for the bouquet that you’re carrying. The red spider lilies are an awfully effective reminder that he’s in fact standing in the afterlife. 
“Trying to be original, I see,” Felix snorts, taking the bouquet with both hands anyways.
You fail to tug back a smile and decide to take it out on him by pushing his shoulder harshly. “Ungrateful brat.”
Your chest heaves with him when he laughs.
Felix stops, faces skyward, gives himself a moment to think, and looks back down. He won’t remember any of this, will he? He purses his lips into a tight smile to keep a sob from bubbling up his throat. Then…at least, he wants to feel it again.
Without a warning, Felix reaches out and pulls you into a deliberate hug, relishing in the immeasurable affection that only humans’ touch is privileged to possess. To feel close to someone. To embrace and be embraced. To understand them. It might not be the best thing out there but if there’s anything he could do right now, his last action as a living entity, it will be this.
For the entire process, you’ve been closing your eyes. Your lashes flutter open when a familiar scent brushes past your nostrils. 
“You have really bad taste, did you know that?”
The bedroom stays the same, with useless mesh curtains, pretty to look at, though. You can’t help yourself but feel the blanket with your fingertips, soft and silky and it smells like home. Felix walks you to the window and outside lies a field of flowers. And no, there are no red spider lilies, just very mundane kinds. Roses and daisies and sunflowers. 
Your dad couldn’t choose because your mom liked them all. With every place you gaze at, the little recurring moments of a complete family replay in your head. All these years, you never dare to allow yourself to forget. It would be depressing if you could recall every client’s story with perfect clarity yet have no recollection of your most important people.
Felix watches your eyes turning glassy and shakes his head, “I disagree. I think this view is wonderful.”
You smack his shoulder again and nag, “I should sue you for raiding my memories. Stupid, stupid, stupid—”
Felix catches your hand in time to save himself another deadly hit, pulls you against him once more, and exhales into your hair, “Can we stay like this until it’s over? It’s really warm like this.”
You take back a choke, letting him melt into the moment, with the desperation of each last breath. “Of course.”
“Oh, by the way, I wanted to ask, what do you do with people’s karmic debt?”
“I eat it.”
“…You can’t be serious.”
“Take a guess?”
“You’re morbid.”
Humans are weak, you know that. So fragile that even papers can make them bleed. So soft that a bump can bruise their skin and flesh. You may be god’s cursed gift to this world but you are sturdier than any mundane hurt and mortal agony. 
Then why does this boy before you feel like so much more? Have you become soft? Perhaps, well, it’s not a bad thing you suppose. 
It’s those brown eyes, warm like the Heavens’ halo and sweet like honey. Or maybe it’s that smile, gentle and peaceful in the face of death. Or it can be his arms around your body, desperate for one last interaction with a living entity. 
You like him. He is human and he is meant to perish. Felix isn’t one to fight it, there’s no point in going against death, something so unpredictable yet always inevitable. 
You’re not sure what has gotten into you but you hug him back, tightly. Because you know that Felix will be gone. 
“If I die, don’t you dare go look for me, okay?”
His chest vibrates against your ears when he chuckles, “What? Afraid I’d remember you at your worst?” 
“No, you’d remember me at my most beautiful.” 
And isn’t that the most terrifying thing?
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The rain seems endless today. Sad, gray droplets fall from the sky in sheets, drenching everything in their path. Dancing lights glimmer upon the gloomy shade of the city, cars flashing headlights as they zoom onward to their destinations. Even then, the world doesn’t seem truly colorless or muted by misery. If anything, the air has become crisp and clean, the sky turning crystal-like.
And there stands Chan among the raindrops. He lets them soak into his skin, not shivering one bit. A small smile curls upon his rather handsome face, features relaxed with no thoughts of shielding himself from the refreshing storm. 
“There’s a saying that goes around our city that if it’s raining, our guardian spirit is mourning.”
An umbrella hovers over his hair.
“The rain falling upon us are her tears.”
Chan turns around to meet with the owner of a nearby cafe—he has been debating whether he should come in. The middle-aged man fixes the glasses on his nose bridge thoughtfully, standing to enjoy the scenery with him. It seems people are too busy rushing home to stop by for a warm drink.
“I don’t think she is mourning,” Chan offers to hold the umbrella, exhaling deeply, “After all, her tears are lighting up our sky.”
Soon enough, clouds part way for sunlight to stretch through the blank canvas. He hopes to meet you this time once he gets home. You despise working overtime anyway. 
Chan closes his eyes and breathes in the taste of the farewells and salvation, “Not many would agree, but being able to cry like this means you’re one step closer to happiness.”
The cafe owner stares at him for a long, long time with a puzzled look. “You are…”
And Chan breaks into a dazzling smile, “Me? I just want to see a beautiful, bright, blue sky.”
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chaninfused · 2 years
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The Sky is Green | Seo Changbin
◤“It was only a different shade of the same madness he found in himself. An affinity for bloodshed that was cocky and reckless, paralleling his silence and calm.”
In which both are killers, but while one is roguishly carefree, the other is merely drifting through life like a ghost.
◤Disclaimers: Female reader insert. Chapter one from the ‘Dead Men Don’t Speak’ series. Mafia au. Very mild angst. Descriptions of blood and violence. Usage of vulgar language. Somewhat dark so be careful (characters are very violent). 
◤Word count: 1.9K
◤Note: This story is mine and any case of similarity with someone else’s is purely coincidental. Events are pure fiction. Please do not take my content without my consent. masterlist.
◤From the author: This is completely self-indulgent and useless but it helped break the curse of my writer’s block so, happy reading!
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Series Masterlist | Next Chapter
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Changbin was born for hell. That would explain how he had killed all those people without so much as a pang of guilt to show for it. His only regret was having ruined his crisp new suit. He would have to pay a visit to the tailor shop once tonight’s job was finished.
An empty magazine clattered on the ground as Changbin refilled his ammunition, hands moving deftly and precisely despite his focus being elsewhere. 
A contented sigh came from somewhere behind him.
“The sky is green.”
His gaze flickered to the warehouse’s skylight. Pitch-black night stared back at him. He lowered his gun and tried to relax. Like hell it is green.
Electing to ignore the stupid remark, Changbin turned in time to see the owner of the voice jump off the container atop which she was crouched. Her coat billowed out around her as she landed with a soft thump. Deep burgundy in the fleeting light, unlike the typical black most preferred.
The mysterious individual nudged one of the bloodied corpses with a careless foot. “Is he dead?”
“Yes,” Changbin answered, devoid of any interest.
“What a bore.”
That piqued his curiosity, though it was quickly stamped out. The Shadow Front had many such bizarre characters. One would even go as far as to dub them mad. This girl was nothing new.
“Haven’t introduced myself. I’m Y/n. Junior Two Private, Chaos Crescent Unit.”
“Seo Changbin. Junior Two Private, I’m also with the crescent,” he gave one firm nod of acknowledgment toward his apparent equal, who responded with a roguish grin. “I know who you are, Seo. The higher-ups seem to have high expectations for you, one-eyed brute.”
He said nothing. Any conversation after introductions was futile, and he’d rather not bother himself with it. Outside the warehouse, muffled shouts grew louder with the pounding of approaching footsteps.
“Ah. Looks like their backup finally arrived.”
If Changbin didn’t know any better, he would have assumed that his colleague was enjoying the progression of events. Anticipating the fight, even. But it was only a different shade of the same madness he found in himself. An affinity for bloodshed that was cocky and reckless, paralleling his silence and calm.
“Best give them a warm welcome, then,” the burgundy dressed agent declared, guns flashing as she pulled them out from under her coat. Changbin took a hiding spot behind one of the containers, wordless as he had no witty one-liners to spout.
He couldn’t wait to settle this trivial dispute and call it a day.
•⭓• 
It was deathly quiet, unsettling even for Changbin. If he strained his ears enough, he might’ve been able to make out the sound of blood rushing through his veins.
From where he was stationed between two warehouses, he had an excellent view of the berth where the target cargo ship would arrive in less than an hour. His mission was to retrieve the shipment of smuggled firearms that belonged to the Shadow Front and kill the fools who devised this silly little scheme.
“The sky is green.”
Changbin’s eyes strayed to the horizon and the last rays of sunlight desperately reaching beyond it. The sky was every color but green.
“Is saying mindless things your way of passing the time?”
“Is it not?” your eyes sparkled. Mischief danced on your lips. It was as though you hadn’t heard a thing Changbin said.
He returned his focus to the lifeless dock. Talking to you was akin to drinking himself dumb and seeing stars. It felt like he was going insane, and his head always hurt afterward.
The two of you had moved up eight ranks since you first met, becoming Senior One Privates, yet you still insisted on wearing that burgundy coat. It was a wonder to Changbin how the both of you were paired up, but that decision was another headache he didn’t want to concern himself with.
As long as you did your job fine, he could tolerate your absurd quips about the color of the sky. Whatever that meant.
•⭓• 
Calling himself a member of the mafia sounded pretentious to Changbin. They were all plain criminals in the end, distributing goods in the black market, killing and stealing for no reason other than their own benefit.
How he was roped into such a sinful lifestyle was a story long buried in the past. One that mattered to no one anymore.
“The sky is green.”
Changbin glanced at the afternoon sky, cloudless and endless and very blue.
This was becoming a bad habit. It would obviously never be green. He wasn’t an idiot.
You were sitting cross-legged on the roof of the van, admiring the blank azure above with a strange air of serenity. A crescent-shaped brooch glinted on your coat, elegant silver on rich burgundy. The emblem of the Chaos Crescent Unit, identical to the one Changbin had pinned on his jacket.
On the ground around you were twenty-five men in black suits, armed to the teeth and ready to engage in battle. Another twenty-five joined them, machine guns loaded and awaiting orders. They were the teams you led, now that the two of you had risen to become Commanders in the Chaos Crescent.
The transmitter in Changbin’s ear crackled as a message came through. “They’re moving toward you, west unit. Sixty with explosives. Over.”
“Well,” you sighed, having received the same message through your transmitter. You unfolded your legs and swung off the roof of the van, landing on the dirt with the litheness of a cat.
The exit of the tunnels you were holding gaped at you, wide and dark, with broken lights at the top of the structure. Changbin thought it looked like a screaming face.
This was the hideout of a mid-league organization that had the misfortune of warring against the Shadow Front.
They were to be eliminated by sunset.
“You all heard,” your grin was like the crescent on your coat, cold and wicked. The gun you pulled out seemed eager, too. “Kill them all.”
Your teams spread into formation and Changbin took his place beside you. He could hear the targets running toward them as though they were rats coming out of the sewers.
Organizational wars were such a pain in the ass.
•⭓• 
The man hit the polished floor with a choked gasp, but that wasn’t enough for you. Changbin watched as you crouched beside his head and pressed the barrel of your gun against his forehead. Square in the middle. Your eyes were clear. Your features were relaxed. “Think if I shot him enough, I’d be able to see through his head?”
“He’s dead. You’ll only waste your bullets.”
You pulled the trigger and shot. Once. Twice. Thrice.
Changbin continued to observe you from where he stood under the doorframe. He had no taste for useless violence, though you seemed to enjoy it quite much.
The blood on the tip of your gun bothered you none as you stood back up, lips stretching in a slight smile. You were satisfied with yourself, it seemed. “Can’t see the cracked marble through all that blood.”
The man’s glassy eyes stared ahead, lifeless with shock, never to blink again. Blood trickled down his face in a web of crimson. They called him the Baron, and he led several small-scale operations across the city. He only became a threat to the Shadow Front when he interfered with the trade routes.
And now his blood was coloring the smooth marble.
One day, Changbin thought, he might find himself killed in such a grotesque manner too. 
He stepped over the body and you drifted toward the wide desk, violently sweeping an arm across its lacquered surface. Papers and envelopes flew into the air. The brass desk lamp hung on the side limply, saved from gravity by the wire that connected it to power. The Baron’s gold-etched nameplate clattered on the floor, flat on its face.
The crescent emblem over your breast winked in the light, as though delighted by the mess. You truly embodied the spirit of the Chaos Crescent.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here.”
Changbin faced the tall window and gazed at the miniature city below him. The room smelled of stifling death. He could hear you rummaging through the drawers as though you had an urgent mission to conclude. 
Then, a gasp, “What’s this?”
He turned to see you hold up a bottle of wine like it were a trophy of some sort. You grinned at him. “Care for a drink?”
“No.”
Taking a seat on the edge of the desk, you uncorked the bottle regardless and tilted it slightly. Without a glass, the wine splattered on the floor, a slow, steady stream of blood-red liquid. You watched it spill with that same eerie serenity, as if everything wrong and senseless was right in your eyes.
For an Executive of the Chaos Crescent, you really had no care in the world.
Changbin turned back to the window, and not too long later, he heard the shattering of glass against stone followed by languid footsteps. You came to stand beside him. “Would you look at that? The sky’s green.”
Before he could stop himself, Changbin raised his gaze. It was midday, and the sun blazed with might.
The sky was as green as the Baron was a live man.
•⭓• 
Traitors. They were traitors, all of them.
You were bleeding so much, but the bullet didn’t hit any of your vitals. You’d live if Changbin found a way to get you out of there in time.
You ran with a hand on your wound, the other skillfully managing your gun. The band of traitors wasn’t large, and they had solely relied on surprise to carry out their assassination. Now that you were aware of their plan, outmaneuvering a group of amateurs was mere child’s play.
If Changbin would guess, the assailants didn’t rank higher than Junior Five Privates. Poor gunmanship and an uncoordinated team, yet they dared to think up such an ambitious plot. An attempt on two of the Six Claws was a direct attack on the Boss. He should thank them for making work amusing.
Damn them. Damn them all.
Your bloodied hand slammed against the wall as you steadied yourself, chuckling airily, “Bastards.”
In the hallway behind you, a man raised his gun.
Six shots rang across the narrow space. Three from your gun, one from Changbin’s, and two due to the man’s finger clenching the trigger as he fell dead.
“They’re like flies,” you laughed, though it quickly became a wheeze of pain as you leaned against the wall and slid into a huddle. The redness blooming on your side was almost indistinguishable from the burgundy of your coat, but Changbin saw it, nonetheless. You were gradually losing strength.
“I called for backup. They’re coming any moment now.”
Still, it was unwise to stay in the hallway. You had to move before you got cornered.
“Don’t you start worrying about me now. I’ll get up. Shit like this won’t kill me.”
Words were meaningless in the kind of situation you were in, trapped in an abandoned hospital building with all your men turned against you, but you had always done and said meaningless things. Nothing ever stopped you.
You gazed at the dawn break creeping through the broken window. Changbin could hear the words in his head.
“Sky’s...red.”
No.
Your slurred words weren’t right.
Throughout the five years Changbin had known you for, he had never heard you utter such a thing. It felt like a fundamental truth that he couldn’t just let be twisted.
He loaded his gun. Those traitors were bound to find them soon. “Green.”
“Yeah, right,” you breathed, sounding surprised that you got something so obvious so wrong. “Sky’s green.”
And out of pesky habit, Changbin looked at the not-so-green sky. 
It was a great day to ruin his new suit.
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I know this one was a little short but thank you for reading this far! A reblog and any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I hope you have a spectacular day! ♡
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skzwritersclub · 2 years
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as of the 29th of august, 2022, skzwritersclub is closing down. thank you for following and joining our network. 
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hongssami · 2 years
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again
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hyunjin hours anyone?? || chan ver, minho ver, changbin ver
// cursing; normalize platonic kissing (on the cheeks lol); kiss kiss fall in love au with hyunjin
fluff, slight angst, childhood friends-to-lovers, humor ig
description: First times aren't always the best, so you'll do it again and again and again until you'll get it right; alternatively, the five times you kissed Hyunjin in your life and the time he kisses you first.
w.c.: 2k (why did i make it like this)
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Hyunjin was never huge on skinship. Even back when you two were little, he’d do his very best to avoid any form of unnecessary physical touch as much as his little ass could. It’s not like he was against it or was uncomfortable whenever someone was showing affection by touching him, he just prefers not to be touchy.
It took you a while to understand this, maybe because your sense of reasoning as a child was relatively more clouded than it is now. Yeah, it might have been that and definitely not because you were used to your mother being very touchy and affectionate, therefore instilling into your young bean sprout brain that being touchy equals affection.
What’s worse is that her go-to action was kissing your cheeks – whether to reassure, to apologize, to encourage, whatever! That ultimately translated to you normalizing kissing others cheeks as a sign of friendliness.
Little Hyunjin did not like this one bit. So he’s made a little list for every time you managed to land a smooch on him, accident or not.
one. The “get better soon” kiss.
The first time was unexpected and accidental, but it happened when you were both seven so it technically didn’t count. Hyunjin insists it does though, like he insists until this day that it was entirely your fault.
It happened on the playground where no form of physical affection between playmates should take place lest you want a crowd of children chanting cooties! cooties! which was exactly what ended up happening. That day had the perfect weather for playtime, clouds scattered across the blue summer sky that offered shade from the smiling sun ever so often. Little seven-year-old you had been playing a game of hide-and-seek with the rest of your classmates when you bumped into Hyunjin and he caused a whole scene about it.
“You pushed me! You pushed me!” You remember him whining in front of you as if you hadn’t landed on your butt either. It took a clenching of your small fist and your mother’s reminder to always be kind playing at the back of your head before you had gotten up to check on him.
In your defense, it wouldn’t have been a big deal if he hadn’t started crying right after you apologized and even offered him a small get better soon kiss on the knee he hurt. But he did and that had led your teachers to call your guardians to report the incident to them.
two. an “i’m sorry” kiss.
If your child brain had learned anything about treating wounds, it was to kiss them better – just like how your mother used to do to you when you’d been clumsy and hurt yourself. So naturally, you would apply it at any given chance you would get (it didn’t really work when you did it to yourself, but you’ve only seen your mother kiss others so maybe that’s how it worked). Unfortunately for you, the first person you tried curing with your get-better-soon kiss was a very confused and very upsetHwang Hyunjin.
You don’t really recall much from that day but both your mother and Hyunjin’s mom had an absolute blast watching you two interact. Obviously, you had no bad intentions whatsoever and Hyunjin’s mom only stifled back from laughing at her son’s reaction to affection from a stranger, so things were resolved pretty quickly.
The second kiss you gave Hyunjin was an apology kiss – the same one your mother gives to you when she can’t afford a new toy you’d really wanted. He didn’t take it that well either and had promptly hid himself behind his mother’s skirt as every brave seven-year-old does.
three. an “i missed you” kiss.
Hyunjin’s scraped knee from that day didn’t get better until a few weeks later and for a whole week Hyunjin tried to avoid your get-well-soon kisses to no avail. You’d figured 3 days in that he didn’t particularly like being kissed, so you resorted to sharing sweets and snacks with him instead.
A few weeks with you constantly bugging him with friendship over recess surprisingly paid off and just like that Hwang Hyunjin would not sit with anyone but you, mostly because he’s gotten used to getting food out your lunchbox without permission because you always shared with him anyways. But also, maybe he thinks you’re cooler than the other kids.
By the time you were nine, you’d had sleepovers at each other’s houses and joint family vacations and you could safely say you were pretty close. So when Hyunjin’s mother told you about him falling victim to chickenpox (and what chickenpox was), you were devastated. For a week and a half you had to sit Hyunjinless at recess.
The moment he walked back in your classroom that one Monday morning he was greeted by a big fat ‘I missed you’ kiss on the cheek from you. He kept wiping his cheek whenever you weren’t looking, but he was glad to be back too.
four. a “good luck” kiss.
By middle school, you’d have learned what personal space was and it was all thanks to Hyunjin.
“Don’t you think they’re too close to be friends?” He whispered to you once at lunch, subtly nodding his head towards a new couple sharing food in your class.
You scrunched your eyebrows, looking away before they caught you staring. “Didn’t they only start talking like a week ago?”
“Aren’t you too close to be friends?” Jisung butted in, placing his lunchbox on Hyunjin’s table where you both sat to eat. The way Hyunjin flinched made him laugh, but you could only frown.
He did have a point, but it’s not like you two only met in middle school.
The swim meet that Hyunjin had been pissing himself over the past month had finally arrived and it was safe to say he wasn’t feeling any less nervous for it. Of course you made it your duty as his best friend to hype him up and give him pep talks, you even asked his mom for help making an embarrassingly huge banner for him.
Come to think about it, you shouldn’t have been so over the top with it. It was a district meet, not the nationals. Still what’s done is done, and there you stood beside a Hwang Hyunjin in swim trunks looking like he was about to cry for his mom in the locker room.
“Hyunjin.”
The goggles in his hands shook and you’re pretty sure he’s blinking back tears with his head down. It wasn’t helping that he was sitting on the benches and slouching.
“Hyunjin!”
He turned his attention to you, only to see that you’re wearing a stupid shirt with his face on it. “Thanks for the support,” he joked, pointing the goggles to your shirt.
“Oh, you little bastard.” Taking furious steps closer, you nudged his forehead until he was looking up at you. “Thank me later when you have a dumb medal around your neck!”
And in the spur of the moment decision, you kissed his forehead. “For good luck.”
Hyunjin promptly fell over and, to this day, blames you why he only got a bronze in that swim meet.
five. a practice kiss.
“There’s a certain distinctness to it.”
You never imagined that you would be able to say those words to your best friend in this context. And you didn’t really know how to feel about it honestly.
Hyunjin sat curiously on your bed, pouting, and head slightly tilted up to look at your figure looming over him. “Distinctness?” The wrinkle in his forehead creates a mask of innocence to his otherwise very ─ uh, experienced? ─ outward appearance.
You quickly shook your head. “Nevermind. Forget I said that.”
“Well, can you just show me then?” You looked back to see him standing, already tired of watching you pace in front of him.
“I can’t just show you how to kiss someone!”
He grabbed your shoulders, steeling his gaze on you. “So what’s the point of me being here then?”
“It’s just not that simple!” You wanted to explode.
He loosened his grip, stepping back a bit. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Then, slowly, he let his hands stray back to his sides before yours shakily found their place under his jaw. A deep breath and a quick glance at his lips, and you’re kissing Hwang Hyunjin.
You wanted to yell. You wanted to smile in giddiness. Hell, you wanted to pull him closer the second you felt him return the kiss. But instead, you pulled away, patted him on the back, told him he did a great job, and pushed him out of your bedroom.
You hoped he’d never get to kiss his date.
and the first time he kisses you.
Hyunjin was a lot of things: dead honest, passionate, more dramatic than he needs to be, and really good at being unexpected. He was not, however, a little shit.
“If you won’t get down from there, I’ll kiss you!” He called from under the slides, too lazy to lug his ass up to join you above.
Hyunjin was a gigantic piece of shit.
You snort, not at all convinced with his threat, if that was even a threat. “Sure you will.”
You know this because he never does anything crazy to prove a point but would actually scale the old neighborhood’s slide set to get on your nerves.
“Oh, you bet I will.” His tone is playful, smile evident even though your back faces him. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Look, if you came here to make fun of me I suggest you come back in 3 to 5 business days.” You rolled your eyes when he sat beside you, knocking your knees together. “It’s not everyday you get turned down by your best friend.”
He hummed. “I don’t think I can wait that long─”
Then blinked, confused, turning to see what the hell you’re talking about. “Wait, what do you mean I turned you down?”
Was he serious? Now it was your turn to blink unbelievingly at him.
Your silence made him pout. “C’mon, you’re making me look bad here.”
“Hyunjin, since when have you ever looked bad?” You’d have pushed him off then if he wasn’t looking at you like that ─ like he had something more to say.
“Well, remember back in preschool I was absolutely disgusted by the prospect of getting a get well soon kiss from you? That was pretty nasty.” He recalled. “Oh, and that time when you tried to kiss my forehead for good luck but I ended up falling backwards. Yikes.”
“Now you’re just making me look bad for wanting to kiss you.”
“Hey, I never said you looked bad for it!”
Silence again. How do you even respond to that?
Curse his dumb hair and his dumb face and dumb kissable lips. You pushed him off the slides. “Alright, thank you. You can leave me alone now!”
“I wasn’t joking, you know.” He called to you as he slid, standing up to face you as soon as he reached the ground. “If you won’t get down from there, I’m going to have to kiss you.”
Your heart was about to burst. “Go home, asshole.”
“Not without a ‘I-didn’t-mean-to-make-you-think-I-turned-you-down’ kiss I won’t.”
“A what?”
He’s halfway up the slides when you turned to him. Before you know it he’s beside you, holding your shoulders as if he’s afraid that you’d run away again. “I never turned you down, idiot. Stop getting ahead of yourself.”
Hyunjin kissed differently compared to the time he had you teach him. His lips felt unreal, but at the same time familiar. The way he tilted his head to taste you even more sent tingles down your fingertips, almost akin to electricity running through your veins.
It’s eager, yet relaxed. Expected, but so comforting.
“Would it be too much of a stretch if I asked for another one?”
He chuckled. “Again?”
Hyunjin learned that he liked kissing you, just as much as you liked to kiss him. Maybe even more.
168 notes · View notes
etherealino · 3 years
Note
oh for those kiss prompts can i request chan + kisses for comfort?
comfort kiss — b. chan
content/warning(s): chan breaking down :(, flufffyyyyyyy
note: chan always gives the hugs. i think it's time for him to receive a hug. send me a request if you waaant <3
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it was overwhelming. chan was way past the due dates he have set for himself to finish the needed tracks. It wasn't that someone was rushing him—well, there was one: him. chan brushes his hand through his hair as he leans his head against his hand. he was on the verge of crying, but he held it not wanting to show weakness even though no one was there.
but he heard soft taps on his door, so he sits up straight trying to compose himself as if he wasn't just breaking down a little while ago. it was probably one of the boys and it was no time to show weakness, chan thinks. he hears the door open so he keeps working, editing the track.
chan hears the door close softly but no voice speaks up so he turns his chair lightly and sees you on the door leaning as you look at him. "hi, baby." you mumble, pulling your lips into a thin line. you push yourself from the door, walking to chan who just stares at you. he knows that you know what was happening a little while ago. he doesn't know how but he is thankful that minutes before he says anything, you already know what's happening. "you wanna rest or sleep, maybe?" you tease lightly and chan couldn't help but laugh lightly.
"says you." chan says, trying to turn it around but he knows it wouldn't work. it never does. just one look from you and he leans back on his chair, looking at particularly nothing. "i wasn't able to chase my deadline."
"your deadline." you repeat and chan nods. you sigh, about to sit on the back of your ankles when your boyfriend pulls you on his lap. "i know that this is one of the ways for you to get working and all," you start as chan looks at you. "but.. you should give yourself a break, baby." you say, kissing his nose. "give yourself some credit," a kiss on the forehead. "you've done great, channie." on the cheeks. "and you will do greater as time passes by."
gently, you leave soft pecks all over his face which he gladly accepts as he closes his eyes to savor the moment. "you're so great." you mumble and chan smiles, looking into your eyes. "you don't have to beat yourself up for nothing." you say with a smile, cupping his jaw. "you're so good." you say, kissing his cheeks as you trails your kisses all over his face which makes him giggle loudly.
chan puts his hands on your wrists, spulling away lightly. "thank you, love." he says and you kiss his forehead. "ah, i love you." chan warmly says, feeling his chest full of love for you as he opens his arms. you wrap your arms around his torso, placing a kiss on his cheek.
"i love you more."
410 notes · View notes
jeonginify · 3 years
Text
j:mixtape/heart_drive — han jisung. ·˚ ༘♡
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↝ pairing: han jisung x reader ↝ genre: humor, angst, fake dating au, soundcloud rapper au ↝ word count: 24k ↝ warnings: alcohol consumption, explicit language, jisung is dumb... like actually an idiot. this is the idiots to lovers that you didn’t know you needed. some good ol’ slow burn, which i’m sure is obvious because this is a fucking beast but it must be noted, so i’m going on the record here... yes this did take me an entire year to write, no i am not proud of it but here we are. i hope you enjoy?
↝ description: for the past year, you’ve had a big fat crush on the (very) oblivious han jisung. you’ve dreamt about dating him… you just never imagined that when it finally happened, you would be the last to find out. or, jisung, in all his glorious idiocy, decides that the two of you faking a relationship is the solution to all his problems. (he, of course, conveniently forgets to let you know about it.)
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At 10:30am on a Saturday morning, halfway through midterm season, you find yourself studying hopelessly at home by candle light.
You know how it sounds—studying, on a Saturday, in the morning? Just because you’re a struggling college student doesn’t mean you don’t have standards.
Except, at this point in the semester, you’re getting desperate, and all your standards are quickly going out the window. With exams and deadlines piling up, you’re barely hanging on, and it’s all you can do to not drown under the sheer amount of work you have to complete within the next week.
If you’re being honest, you’ve probably been wearing the same hoodie and leggings for the past three days, and you can’t quite remember the last time you had a proper meal—you know, one that consists of more than hot cheetos and gatorade. For the last week, you’ve bounced back and forth between your apartment, the library, and your classes like a ball inside a pinball machine, and you can feel your will to live slowly disintegrating as time passes.
As an anthropology major at a university renowned for their liberal arts programs, your curriculum is challenging—and although it is undeniable that you love what you’re studying, sometimes it can get a bit much.
It’s usually around this time in the semester, actually, that you begin to regret your life choices.
Choices like deciding it would be a good idea to study by candlelight.
In your defense, though, you don’t really have many options. Not since the storm last night that knocked out the power in your building, anyways. Your landlord promised it would all be up again by tomorrow, but you need to study (like, today) and well... Let’s just say the tiny windows in your apartment make a jail cell look like a resort.
You’re pouring over your archaeology textbook miserably when your phone chimes, startling you out of your reverie.
You fumble for your phone, eagerly dropping the pen you had been previously holding, and your best friend’s name flashes across the screen as you unlock it.
[10:37am] hyunjin: y/n r u up yet [10:37am] hyunjin: wait, dumb question. ofc u are
You almost groan when you read the messages, blinking blue across your LED screen.
You love Hyunjin, you really do. As his best friend, you don’t really have much of a choice in that manner actually. But you can’t help the dread that washes over you at his message.
Because the thing about Hyunjin is that he has a knack for coming up with harebrained ideas and half baked schemes, and always—always, no matter how hard you try—manages to rope you into them too, regardless of whether or not you have more important things to be doing.
[10:45am] hyunjin: i can see u reading the msgs!! respond to me!!!!
[10:45am] you: fuck [10:45am] you: i thought i had my read receipts off??
[10:46am] hyunjin: u did [10:46am] hyunjin: i turned them back on 😌
[10:48am] you: bitch
[10:48am] hyunjin: mayb if u answered my texts i wouldn’t have to turn them on huh
[10:49am] you: wtvr 🙄 [10:49am] you: what do u want?
[10:50am] hyunjin: come over
[10:52am] you: look i know i’m hot and all but
[10:52am] hyunjin: what [10:52am] hyunjin: OH EW NO
[10:53am] hyunjin: why would u ever say that 🤢 [10:53am] hyunjin: i’m out of ur league pls
[10:54am] you: u mean I’M out of UR league
[10:54am] hyunjin: no i said what i said
[10:55am] hyunjin: but NO this is not why i texted u [10:55am] hyunjin: some of the guys r coming over so u should come 2
[10:56am] you: can’t, have 2 study
[10:57am] hyunjin: it wasn’t a question
[10:58am] hyunjin: cmoooon y/n you’ve literally been killing urself over midterms [10:58am] hyunjin: pls. i haven’t seen u in like a week :(
[10:59am] you: yea cuz unlike u i actually want to PASS [10:59am] you: shouldn’t u be studying too??????
[11:00am] hyunjin: pfft, studying is for losers [11:00am] hyunjin: when was the last time u left ur apartment anyways
[11:01am] hyunjin: ur brain is gonna liquefy soon!!!!! [11:01am] hyunjin: pls :((((( i think u can take a break for an hour at least :(
[11:03am] you: srry can’t hear u over the sound of archeomagnetism and dendrochronology
[11:04am] hyunjin: did i mention jisung is gonna be home
At the mention of his roommate, you tense up.
Because here’s the thing—his roommate, Han Jisung? You’ve known him almost as long as you’ve known Hyunjin, and there are a few undeniable facts about him.
Like how he’s really loud, kind of annoying, maybe even a little bit of an idiot. But if he’s an idiot, you must be an even bigger one, because you’ve had a big fat crush on him for a long time.
A really long time.
On the upper side of 2 years kind of long time. And the thing is, you aren’t even the kind of person who’s good at hiding these kinds of things. You think the only reason he hasn’t figured out is because of how oblivious he is, because you aren’t very discreet. Hyunjin caught on over a year ago, and he never fails to use it as emotional blackmail.
But you’re not so whipped that you would drop everything at the chance to see him, okay... You’re not!
Still, your heart beats a little faster as you fumble to type out a response.
[11:08am] you: okay, and?
[11:09am] hyunjin: oh, nothing~
You can hear his teasing singsong in your ear, like a tick you can’t shake off, and you’re not sure whether you want to smack him over the head or kick him in the shin more—probably both.
[11:11am] hyunjin: listen, i know ur stressed over this archaeology midterm [11:11am] hyunjin: but i need my weekly y/n fix sooo
[11:13am] hyunjin: if ur not here in half an hour i’m gonna beat ur ass
[11:16am] you: u think that scares me? [11:16am] you: i’d like to see u TRY
[11:18am] hyunjin: well if ur not coming... i guess i’ll just... [11:18am] hyunjin: tell jisung all ur embarrassing secrets
[11:19am] hyunjin: maybe i’ll start with the waffle house incident from freshman year?
[11:20am] hyunjin: pls come over :((( we can play mario kart :((( [11:20am] hyunjin: i’ll even play toad h- 🤢toad harbo- 🤢
[11:21am] you: Mrssage read at 11:21am ✓
[11:22am] hyunjin: BITCH IS THAT A TYPO [11:22am] hyunjin: TOAD HARBOR IS DISGUSTING I’M WILLING TO SACRIFICE A LOT 4 U
[11:24am] you: Message read at 11:21am ✓
[11:25am] hyunjin: ITS NOT EVEN 11:21 ANYMORE???
[11:27am] you: Message read at 11:27am ✓
In the end, though, it doesn’t take much for you to cave.
You would like to make it expressly clear that your decision to take a break has absolutely nothing to do with Han Jisung, and instead has more to do with the fact that Hyunjin (as infuriatingly annoying as he is) was right when he said your brain would liquefy soon if you don’t leave the house.
After all, you have been studying your ass off for the past two weeks, and maybe a little break would give you a chance to refocus. And, although you aren’t going over in the hopes of seeing Jisung... Well, it couldn’t hurt, right?
So, with the intent to stay for two hours, max (you do have a little self control, after all), you find yourself at Hyunjin’s building.
The building that he lives in has thin walls, and the moment you step onto the landing of their floor, you can hear the faint sound of the Mario Kart theme and some very aggressive yelling echo down the hall.
It gets louder as you round the corner, and you can vaguely make out someone telling Hyunjin to “suck it, frogface!” by the time you arrive at his door. Shaking your head slightly, you lift your hand to knock, but before you get too far, the door swings open.
“Y/N!” Hyunjin exclaims brightly, the grin on his face faltering as he looks you up and down.
“Wow. You look...”
“Amazing?” You respond dryly. “I know.”
He raises a brow. “I was going to say like you haven’t showered in a week or slept in two, but okay.”
You narrow your eyes and then punch him—because, yeah, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean he should say it anyways.
“Yeah, well, whatever,” you grumble. You can’t help but feel a bit jealous as you take in his appearance: clean and fresh and like he’s actually slept in a bed recently.
You and Hyunjin are both anthropology majors—it’s how you met, actually. Freshman year and he was one of the only people you could stand, mostly because of your shared love for dinosaur bones and aversion to large groups of people.
And yet, despite carrying the same course load for the past two years, he always seemed to manage it better than you ever could.
You don’t really understand it, like... At all. It’s like one of the mysteries of the modern world—how Hwang Hyunjin manages to ace his classes with flying colors while simultaneously not knowing the difference between Paris, France and Paris Hilton.
“Are you going to let me in?” You ask pointedly and he opens his mouth, probably to say something snarky back, but promptly shuts it when you shoot a glare at him.
Wordlessly, he holds the door open for you, and you step into the apartment.
“Guys,” he calls out and your eyes land on Jisung and your two mutual friends, Felix and Seungmin, as you walk into the living room. “Guess who finally decided to show up!”
“Hey Y/N,” Seungmin smiles slightly as you flop onto the couch next to him with a sigh. Felix and Jisung both grunt in your general direction, but they seem too consumed with what looks like an intense game of Mario Kart to do much more.
“Hyunjin threatened you into coming over too?” You ask as you shrug off your sweater, and Seungmin snorts. 
“Yeah, something like that,” he says back lightly. “Were you studying?”
“Yes,” you wallow, “but... Here I am despite my better judgement. What about you?”
“I don’t really have much work this weekend,” Seungmin replies. “Other than, you know...”
He holds up the worn book in his hands and you groan.
“Lucky... I wish I was a literature major.”
“Jisung, did you just red shell me?!” Felix exclaims, aghast, and your attention shifts to the TV.
“And if I did?” Jisung responds smugly, his eyes trained on the illuminated screen.
Felix narrows his eyes. “I mean, that’s what this blue shell is for, I guess.”
“Fuck,” Jisung curses as he—playing as baby Peach—gets bombed, and Felix (baby Daisy) speeds past.
“Language!” You chide instinctively. “There are children here...”
“Sorry!” Jisung spares a glance at you, a cheesy and apologetic grin stretched across his face, and your heart skips a beat.
Your cheeks heat up and he tilts his head curiously to the side, as if he’s about to say something more—and then the moment passes as Hyunjin chimes from the kitchen, “don’t talk about Felix like that.”
You turn in his direction and try your best to deadpan, but your face still feels warm and the words almost catch in your throat.
“I was talking about you,” you childishly stick out your tongue, and felix reaches over for a quick high five without looking away from the screen.
“Y/N,” Jisung complains distractedly. “You can’t take Felix’s side. You were my friend first!”
“Sorry,” you say as nonchalantly as you can. “Maybe if you were winning, but...”
“You’re not,” Hyunjin pipes up helpfully as he slouches down in between you and Seungmin, and you nod in agreement.
“What he said.”
Jisung sticks up his middle finger at the two of you. You and Hyunjin, ignoring him, fist bump.
It takes a few more minutes (precisely three more courses, including Moo Moo Farm and Yoshi Falls—seriously, who gets 12th in Yoshi Falls?) before Jisung throws down the controller in defeat, a groan leaving his lips.
“You’re cheating anyways,” he scoffs, crossing his arms as he turns away from Felix stubbornly.
He looks like a child, and you and Hyunjin burst into laughter as Felix ignores him, breaking out into a very... interesting victory dance as he chants “I beat you!” over and over again.
Seungmin rolls his eyes at their childish antics and Hyunjin keels over, almost falling off the couch as Felix begins doing something reminiscent of the chicken dance. You pull out your phone with no hesitation and open Snapchat, unwilling to pass up the opportunity for blackmail material.
“I won,” Felix crows, and Jisung waves him off, annoyed. 
“Yeah, we know.”
Felix jumps back on the cushions next to him and looks at him expectantly. “So, ‘fess up. What have you been hiding from us?”
“What, did he feed Minho’s cats fish food again?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Okay, that was one time,” Jisung complains immediately, “and you know how confusing the label is! Both of them have pictures of fishes on them, how was I supposed to know the difference between the cat food and the fish food?”
He pouts, and you look away quickly—even when he’s upset, he still looks cute.
“By reading the label,” Hyunjin says plainly. “You know, like an actual functioning adult.”
“Bold of you to assume he’s functioning. Or an adult,” Seungmin pipes up.
“Okay,” Jisung scoffs. “Is it, like, national bully Han Jisung day?”
“It doesn’t have to be when you make it so easy,” Felix shrugs.
Jisung looks around helplessly, and when his eyes meet yours, you just purse your lips.
“Look, I’m not saying he’s right,” you begin,” but if the shoe fits...”
He pouts again, and you cough as your breath gets caught in your throat.
“Okay, but seriously—“ you begin, desperate to change the topic before he does something even more adorable and you just spontaneously combust on the spot.
“—What are you hiding? If it’s a dead body, I can help, but you’ll have to give me a few hours.”
“It’s not,” Jisung shudders, “but the fact that you are so prepared for that possibility makes me absolutely terrified.
You grin at him sweetly. “As you should be.”
“Y/N, please don’t kill anyone,” Hyunjin begs. “Please, not again.”
“Again?” Jisung coughs, aghast. The four of you collectively ignore him.
“Okay, so if it’s not the fish food thing, or a dead body, then what did he do?” You ask Felix.
“Hmm, I wonder what it could be?” Felix says sarcastically, turning to pointedly stare at Jisung. “Would you like to, I don’t know, share with the group?”
“Share? W-What?” Jisung asks, suddenly nervous. HIs ears are flushed, and you can see the sweat forming on his brow. “I have nothing to hide!”
Any semblance of conviction vanishes when his voice cracks on the last word, and you snort.
“Well, now we definitely believe you,” Seungmin says dryly.
Felix rolls his eyes. “According to Yuna, that’s not true.”
“Yuna?” You interrupt, slightly confused. “Like... Yuna, my roommate Yuna? Changbin’s cousin, Yuna?”
“Yes, Y/N,” Felix sighs. “Do we know any other Yuna?”
“Oh.” You pause for a moment. “I suppose not. Well, you can continue.”
“W-who’s Yuna?” Jisung stutters and his voice pitches upwards. Much to your chagrin, you can’t help but note once again how cute he looks...
“Jisung, you’ve literally been friends with Yuna since you were kids,” Hyunjin deadpans.
“...I don’t have friends!”
“You won’t after this...” Felix sighs again, exasperated as he turns to you.
“Y/N, you said something about knowing how to hide a dead body?”
You raise a brow. “Are you doubting me?”
“...No.”
“That’s what I thought,” you nod smugly.
“Whatever Yuna told you, she’s lying,” Jisung declares finally, after a moment of silence.
Felix scoffs.
“So you’re saying that you didn’t tell Yuna about some secret girlfriend you have, that you conveniently forget to tell any of us about?”
You must be really tired from all the studying earlier, you think to yourself,, because if you didn’t know any better, you would swear you just heard him say Jisung and girlfriend in the same sentence, unironically...
Jisung, the idiot who after a year and a half of pining, still hasn’t realized how you feel about him. Jisung, the thick headed dummy who literally can never take a hint, and somehow has the worst track record with girls despite how attractive and funny he is.
Hyunjin snorts, voicing your thoughts. “Girlfriend? Who would date Jisung?”
Well, you would, but you’re not about to say that out loud...
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out!” Felix hisses as he turns to glare at Hyunjin, who’s jaw drops open in response.
“Wait, you’re being serious?”
There’s a strange feeling that starts to rise in your throat. It’s almost like a bitterness—but the kind that burns, and a knot tightens in the pit of your stomach. Your body feels hot, almost as if fire is coursing through your veins.
Is he being serious?
“Yes, Hyunjin, obviously,” Felix groans.
His words are like a knife in your stomach, and you almost forget how to breathe.
“Well... I mean...” Jisung begins slowly, his eyes flitting around the room, and Felix punches him.
“I will call Yuna right now.”
That shuts Jisung up, and he sits that, pouting like a wounded baby.
But he doesn’t deny it, and your throat tightens. Your body feels like its overheating and you think you might vomit—is this what jealousy feels like? You swallow, and your tongue scrapes against the roof of your mouth like sandpaper.
“So Yuna doesn’t know who it is?” Hyunjin asks skeptically.
“No,” Jisung rolls his eyes, “because there is no one. She must have heard wrong.”
And he sounds convincing—partly because his voice stays steady as he says it, but also because you want it to be true. But you know Yuna. She’s blunt and straightforward and sometimes a little mean, but as long as you have known her, she’s never told a lie. SHe hates bullshit, so you know Felix is telling the truth.
“How could she have heard wrong?” Felix cries. “Nothing rhymes with ‘I have a girlfriend!’“
“Not nothing,” Jisung reasons, but he’s quickly shut up by the pillow Hyunjin snatches from your grasp to throw at him.
“We’re going to find out one way or another,” Seungmin reasons, “so you might as well tell us now.”
“Well—I mean, there’s not—“ Jisung splutters, and you can feel how frantic he is. How much he doesn’t want to talk about this.
Well, that makes two of you.
Felix opens his mouth, looking like he is about to protest, but you can’t take it anymore—you have to change the topic, and quick.
“Okay ladies,” you clap your hands together dramatically and all attention turns to you temporarily, the words dying on Felix’s tongue. “This has been fun and all, but can we wrap this up? If he says he’s not dating anyone, then he isn’t. Plus, I have 30 minutes left of my break, and I believe someone promised me some Toad Harbor action.”
“Are you challenging me?” Hyunjin quirks a brow, and any thoughts of Jisung and his mysterious girlfriend are forgotten.
Bless boys and their short attention spans...
“And if I am?” You throw back half-heartedly.
He scoffs, flexing his fingers. “Oh, you’re on.”
“Well, would you look at the time!” Jisung glances down at his bare wrist, tapping it as if a watch is there. “I should be going now...”
Felix scowls at him. “What do you mea—”
Jisung catches your gaze, mouthing a quick “thank you,” before he jumps up from where he is sitting and makes a break for his room. He manages to get inside and slam the door shut before Felix gets the chance to wedge his way in, and there is a distinct click of a lock as Felix bangs on the door angrily.
“Han Jisung, this is not over,” he says murderously.
Jisung doesn’t respond, and Felix, glowering, slinks back to the couch.
Hyunjin, who seems to not give a fuck about it, throws you the spare controller and willingly selects Toad Harbor (the worst course, in his opinion, but his opinions are often wrong.) You finish the race in first place—obviously—but the entire game,  your head swims with thoughts of Jisung and his mystery girlfriend.
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You’re not sure when or why you started liking Han Jisung. Your feelings for him weren’t something you expected—there wasn’t one grand gesture that captured your heart or one particular instance you can remember that decided it for you.
It’s just, one day you started to notice the little things—like, how when he laughs, he has a habit of hitting whoever is nearest to him because he laughs so hard. How when he tells a joke, he tells it with his whole body: his words, his hands, his face. How when he’s out eating with anybody, he always makes sure everyone else has started eating before he does. How he’s not the best at putting his emotions into words, but while he might be boisterous and loud, when it comes down to it, he’s a really good listener.
And then, you started to realize other things too. Like how you unconsciously look for him everywhere you go—how your heart beats a little bit faster when he’s around, and when he’s not, an unshakeable pit of disappointment weighs your stomach down.
That’s when you knew you were absolutely and totally fucked.
Developing feelings for Jisung wasn’t very memorable, but meeting him for the first time... That’s a different story.
It happened a little more than halfway through the first semester of your freshman year, on one fine Wednesday night when Hyunjin happened to forget his lab notebook in his dorm (like the absolute dolt he is) twenty minutes before said lab began.
He calls you, panicked, begging you to get it for him. He doesn’t have time to make it to his dorm and back in time, and his TA is an ass who’s policy is that every lab session you show up late to, your grade drops a letter. He’s near tears on the phone, blubbering on and on about how much he’ll owe you if you do this one thing for him—so of course, out of the kindness of your heart, you begrudgingly agree to bring his notebook to him.
“Yes, Hyunjin,” you sigh into the phone that is wedged between your shoulder and your ear as you pull your sneakers onto your feet. “I know where your room is. Yes, I know from the—I don’t know, hundreds of times I’ve come over?”
You pause.
“Yes, I heard you. The blue one. Yes, okay, I got it. Can you stop stressing? I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay?”
He starts to say something more, but knowing him, it’s probably just more complaining, so you hang up before he can give himself another panic attack. The line disconnects with a beep and you step out of your room, heading towards the nearest stairwell.
Hyunjin is just lucky that you both happen to live in the same dorm building, you think to yourself wryly as you begin to hike up from the 2nd floor to the 5th, where he lives.
It’s only 3 floors, but you’re still winded by the time you make it up, and you take a moment to catch your breath and curse your weak lungs before you continue down the hall towards Hyunjin’s room.
The two of you are so close that you spend almost every waking moment together, but despite it, you never really spend much time in Hyunjin’s dorm. It’s a combination of the facts that he has a bit of a cleanliness problem, and that your dorm happens to be less stairs to climb—which sounds like an absurd excuse, but when you consider that the elevators seem to be out of service every other week, actually makes quite a bit of sense.
As such, you haven’t met his roommate yet. You’ve heard stories of the elusive Han Jisung from Hyunjin, as well as your other mutual friends Seungmin and Changbin, but he might as well be a ghost for how many times you’ve actually seen him.
When you arrive at room #5014, decorated with cute little postcards by Hyunjin’s endearing RA, Chan, you don’t hesitate before grabbing the handle and swinging the door open. You might not spend much time in his room, but you’ve definitely visited on enough occasions to know that (despite your best efforts) Hyunjin has a bad habit of leaving his door unlocked.
You can’t count how many times you’ve scolded him for it, but his reasoning is that nobody wants to steal from a broke college student and, well, you can’t really argue with that.
You’ve barely taken a step into the room before a high pitched shriek pierces your ears, and you jump in fright when you see a tall and very blond figure cowering on in the left corner of the room.
It’s only when your eyes meet his wide and terrified gaze that you match his scream.
“Who are you?!” You demand immediately, your hands fisted and thrown out defensively in front of you. “What are you doing here? Are you trying to steal from Hyunjin? He doesn’t have anything worth stealing, if that’s what you’re trying to do!”
“Who am I? Who are you?! And why would I want to steal from Hyunjin?”
“Why should I answer you?” You challenge. “You’re the one trying to steal from a poor, unsuspecting college student!”
He gapes at you.
“He doesn’t have anything worth stealing, anyways! Just... this?” You trail off, confused as you pick up a small metal frying pan from the mess of his desk.
“I—“ The boy begins, but you thrust the frying pan in his direction threateningly.
“Who are you?” You repeat. “And before you answer, you should know I have pepper spray and I am not afraid to use it.”
“Woah there, Rapunzel!” He throws his arms up in surrender. “I’m Jisung! Hyunjin’s roommate.”
You pause, slowly lowering your arms.
“Oh.” Then, as realization hits you: “Oh.”
A wave of embarrassment washes over you, and you clear your throat as you try to play off your fighting stance as a really, really awkward hair tuck—which turns out to be even more challenging than you anticipated, considering the fucking frying pan in your hands.
“Yes. Well, that would make sense.”
He stares at you, his eyes narrowed, and you roll your bottom lip anxiously between your teeth.
“Well. Um, I’m Y/N.” You offer awkwardly as you try to set the frying pan down as inconspicuously as you can.
Even as you do, his bewildered gaze never leaves you, and you wince at the loud clang the pan makes as you set it down.
“Oh,” he says a bit lately, and you see recognition flash across his face. “Y/N, you’re Hyunjin’s archaeology friend. Right?”
“Yup,” you say, popping the p and immediately regretting it afterwards. “That’s me.”
His mouth forms a small, soundless ‘o’ but doesn’t say anything more, which you take as your cue to continue.
“I, um, didn’t mean to barge in like this. I just thought, you know, that you wouldn’t be here... I swear I don’t just randomly barge into people’s rooms! Hyunjin just left his lab notebook, and he needed someone to get it for him, so... here I am,” you ramble.
“Of course he would forget to mention that his roommate would be here,” you mutter to yourself.
“Huh?” He asks, confused, and you perk up.
“I was just saying that again, I’m really sorry for barging in on you like this.”
You pause.
“Oh, and, um, for accusing you of being a thief...”
“It’s alright?” He says awkwardly, unsure how to proceed. “I mean, it’s not the first time someone has come in randomly, so I guess... Don’t worry about it.”
You nod and another moment passes. The discomfort is palpable.
“So...”
“So!” You repeat, wincing as your voice comes out a little too loud.
You aren’t sure what to do in this painfully uncomfortable situation.
“Um,” your gaze flits around the room as you search for something—anything to say and break the tense silence. When your eyes land on his desk, you light up.
“Oh, are you into music production?” You ask, genuinely curious as you take notice of the mic and synthesizer he has set up and plugged into his laptop.
“Huh?” Jisung splutters for a moment, his eyes wide as his composure slips. “W-What would give you that idea?” 
His eyes flit nervously around.
“D-Did Hyunjin say something to you? Because, I mean, wh-whatever he said, it was just a joke!”
You give him a weird look and he flushes to his ears.
“Um, no, Hyunjin didn’t say anything.” An awkward pause.
“I just was asking because of all... that.” You motion at his desk.
“O-oh,” Jisung winces. 
“W-Well, the thing is...” he stutters, grasping for words that don’t seem to be there. “It just an, um—“
You don’t give him the opportunity to explain.
“No, it’s okay!” You exclaim hastily. He looks even more flustered than earlier, and you can’t help but feel bad. This—whatever it must be—seems to be a touchy subject.
“I didn’t mean to pry!” You say quickly. “Hyunjin keeps telling me I have a problem with running my mouth and butting my head into other people’s business, so really, you don’t have to explain! Just... Forget I said anything, actually!”
You walk as you talk, blabbering as your head towards Hyunjin’s mess of a desk. His blue lab notebook is glaring at you from on top of a stack of miscellaneous assignments, and you waste no time as you snatch it up.
Jisung just watches you wordlessly, absolutely dumbfounded.
“Um,” you hesitate for a moment as you turn around to face him. “Well, again, sorry for... literally everything that just happened. I’ll—I think it would be good if I left now...”
It’s so awkward that you half-wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole, and your only consolation is that it seems Jisung feels the same way too.
You grab the doorknob and twist, speed walking out of the room and down the hallway without another word.
It’s only once you’ve rounded the corner that you pause, barely refraining from banging your head on the wall in frustration. That was a fucking disaster.
Oh, you are definitely kicking Hyunjin’s ass for this later.
With a deep breath, you make it to the stairwell and take the steps two by two until you reach the ground floor. You’re only slightly winded as you pull out your phone to check the time. There are still thirteen minutes until Hyunjin’s lab begins, and yet you’re not surprised to see eight unread text messages from him.
[7:40pm] hyunjin: it’s the blue one!!! pls get the right one omg
[7:41pm] hyunjin: y/n are u getting it [7:41pm] hyunjin: my dorm is unlocked u know that right
[7:43pm] hyunjin: y/n [7:43pm] hyunjin: y/n why aren’t u reading my msgs
[7:45pm] hyunjin: y/n!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[7:46pm] hyunjin: o yeah i forgot to mention.... jisung might be in the room
[7:46pm] hyunjin: oops
You quickly type out a message
[7:47pm] you: yeah thanks for the heads up 😐 [7:47pm] you: i’ll be there soon now stop bothering me
Four minutes and a very furious scooter ride across campus later, you are met with a very frantic Hyunjin outside the life sciences building, who tackles you the second you prop the kickstand of the scooter and step off of it.
“Y/N!” He throws his arms around you and squeezes you so tightly that you choke. “Oh my god, thank you. Have I mentioned I love you? Because I do. I love you so much!”
“Yeah,” you flip your hair over your shoulder as you hand him his notebook. “I know.”
“You literally have saved my life tonight,” Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle with tears and you roll your eyes. Why is he so overdramatic?
“It’s what I do,” you shrug in response. “You owe me dinner though. Friday night, no excuses! I want sushi. That expensive place we always pass on the way to the convenience store.”
“Anything for you,” he says seriously and you grin.
“I met your roommate, by the way,” you tell him.
“You did?” Hyunjin glances up. “And?”
“And?” You parrot, glaring at him. “And I’m going to kill you! I can’t believe you never told me he was hot, and now I’m pretty sure he hates me!”
“What did you do to him?” He asks wearily.
“Nothing!” You exclaim quickly. “I swear. I mean, I might have accused him of trying to steal from you, and also maybe, um, embarrassed him when I asked about his whole music set up, but...”
“He told you about 3racha?” Hyunjin gapes.
“No.”
A moment passes.
“Wait, 3racha?” You backtrack, baffled. “You mean, the rappers that you’re always playing that are, like, internet famous? That is what your roommate does? I thought he was just an audio engineering major like Chan!”
You watch as an expression that clearly reads oh shit passes over Hyunjin’s face before he tries to hide it and fake confusion.
“What? Noooo...” He says nervously. “W-What are you talking about?”
“No wonder he was super weird when I asked about it. But 3racha’s stuff is like, really good.”
A moment passes. “Does this mean your roommate is famous?”
“W-What?” He stutters. You glare at him, and a moment later, he lets out a heavy sigh.
“...Yeah.”
“Does this mean you’re friends with the rest of 3racha, too?” You ask.
“Well...” He says slowly. His eyes are too guilty, so you know it must be true.
Then, you gasp and your knees start wobbling as something clicks in your head. 
“Chan?!”
He breaks.
“Okay, yeah, Chan, and Changbin too.”
This time your knees really do almost give out.
“Seo Changbin?” You choke. “And he enver told me?”
“Yeah, well, you can’t tell anyone,” Hyunjin grumbles. “Technically, I’m not even supposed to talk about it. Nobody knows except me, Chan’s roommate, and you know.”
“Nobody?” You gape. “Not even Yuna?”
“Especially not Yuna,” Hyunjin says solemnly. “It’s a really sensitive topic for Jisung... His one condition for joining Chan and Changbin was keeping a low profile, and well... People really eat up the whole secret identity thing.”
“Oh.” A moment passes. “Okay.”
He looks at you expectantly.
“Oh, yeah, I promise I won’t tell anybody. My mouth is shut,” you mime a zipping motion over your lips and Hyunjin lets out a sigh of relief.
“Okay, good.”
He glances down at his watch and lets out a wheeze.
“Oh shit, I have to go!” His eyes widen comically and he doesn’t waste a moment before turning on his heels and running towards the science building.
“Okay, bye sweetie! Have fun in class. I’ll come pick you up after soccer practice!” You call out like the obnoxious friend you are.
Predictably, he flips you off, and you laugh.
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A week after that Saturday that you find out that Jisung has a girlfriend finds you finally through with all your exams. You are stuck in the library, struggling through your last essay before you’re finished with this midterm period, and the freedom tastes so sweet that you are having a hard time focusing.
But, somehow, by some magical stroke of luck, you make it through your essay. You’re putting the finishing touches on your argument against big pharma when Hyunjin comes barrelling through the bookshelves, nearly slamming into the table you’re sitting at in his haste to reach you.
Surprised, you look up to find your best friend keeled over at the waist, panting loudly as he tries to catch his breath.
“Hyunjin?” You whisper, confused. He has class right now, and you’re not sure why he’s here in the library instead of in the liberal arts building halfway across campus.
“What are you—”
He takes a deep breath, before screeching out, “you bitch!”
You can’t count how many heads turn at his exclamation and you narrow your eyes and yank him down into the seat next to you before he can say anything else.
“Not that I don’t love to be greeted this way,” you whisper, “but can you keep your voice down? We’re on the quiet floor.”
“Keep my voice down?!” You think you see a vein bulge in his forehead and his eyes almost pop out of his face, but he listens and lowers his voice to a very aggressive whisper-shout.
“Still too loud,” you pinch his ear. He winces but doesn’t say anything but before he can say anything, you pin him with a look that shuts him up immediately.
“Now. Why aren’t you in class?”
“Oh, sorry,” He mutters sarcastically. “I seem to have forgotten about it because of bigger things on my mind. Like, I don’t know, my best friend keeping a secret from me!”
You deadpan. “What are you talking about?”
Hyunjin scoffs.
“What are you talking about?” He mocks, his face twisting up. “Stop acting like you don’t know! You’ve been outed, okay, and I just found out from Changbin.”
“I have no idea what your talking about,” you tell him honestly, then pause.
“Wait... Is this about the time Changbin and I went out for ice cream without you? Because in my defense, you were passed the fuck out on the couch after those six shots and Chan said he would take care of you.”
He gasps, outraged. “You went to get ice cream without me?”
“Maybe don’t black out during the pregame next time,” you shrug.
“We’ll get back to the ice cream thing later,” Hyunjin promises you seriously, “but that is not what I’m talking about.”
“Okay,” you say mildly and he glares at you.
“I mean really,” Hyunjin pouts now. “How are you going to let me find out you have a boyfriend from Changbin, of all people?”
There’s a moment of silence, and then you snort, turning back to your essay.
“Yeah, okay. You had me for a moment there.”
He narrows his eyes and kicks you rather meanly under the table.
“Wait, are you being serious?” You double take, but his eyebrows are drawn together, and there isn’t a hint of humor on his face.
“Y-You think I’m in a relationship?” You ask in disbelief, and he nods resolutely.
“I know you are.”
“And pray tell,” you say, trying to stifle the laugh that bubbles up in the back of your throat. “Who exactly am I dating?”
“Jisung,” Hyunjin says simply, and you swear—your heart stops beating in that moment.
“Who?!” You splutter as blood rushes to your face, and now you are the one loud enough to draw the attention of everyone within a 10 foot radius.
He just scoffs.
“And you really thought the two of you could hide it from me, too. Your best friend. Honestly, the audacity!” he rants, but you’re still unable to contain your shock.
Your mouth opens, then closes, opens, then closes again as you search for words that aren’t there.
“O-okay, you can stop joking around now,” you blubber nervously. “What is this really about?”
Hyunjin just stares at you, unimpressed.
“That’s not going to work on me, Y/N. I can see right through you.”
“T-Then Changbin must be pulling your leg,” you mutter as you start drumming your fingers against the table nervously, “because I am most definitely not dating your roommate.”
You say it, and you know it's the truth—it’s so painfully the truth, but by now your cheeks are flushed and warm, and your eyes are shifty. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that Hyunjin thinks you’re lying to him.
And you aren’t, but he’s so stubborn that you know he won’t believe you no matter what you say.
But—you aren’t dating Han Jisung. You’re pretty sure you would know if you were, and you definitely wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, much less from your best friend.
“He’s not,” Hyunjin says, exasperated.
“A-And how do you know that?” You ask him.
He raises an eyebrow. “Because Jisung is the one who told Changbin about your relationship.”
“He did what?” You shriek. You’re so loud that you are probably two minutes away from being kicked out, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
You feel like you’re in an alternate universe, one where things don’t make sense and everything is opposite of what is should be. You must be, right? Or maybe you’re dreaming. Yes, that would make so much more sense.
“I mean, I don’t care that the two of you are dating,” Hyunjin sniffs, “but you could’ve at least told me. I mean, my best friend and my roommate. Hiding it from me! I can’t believe…”
He keeps rambling on, but the blood rushing through your ears muffles his voice, and you take two fingers and pinch yourself—hard. This fever dream must be because of all the coffee you drank yesterday, you think.
Except when you pinch, you actually feel it.
“What?” You mutter yourself, your heart beating a mile a minute as your brain struggles to comprehend the fact that you are, in fact, awake. Which would mean…
“Hyunjin,” you interrupt him, feeling a little bit crazed. “You’re saying that Jisung told Changbin that his secret girlfriend, the one he’s keeping from all of us, is… me?”
Your best friend scoffs. “Yes, Y/N, obviously. We all know now!”
You look at him, your head swimming with many thoughts (none of which make sense) and he stares right back.
And then—you can’t help it. You burst out laughing.
“Y-Y/N?” Hyunjin asks uncertainly, concerned when your cackling starts to border on maniacal.
Your chest hurts and you reach a hand up to wipe away a tear—it’s just that funny. It’s funny that Hyunjin thinks you’re dating anyone, let alone Han fucking Jisung, the guy you’ve had a big fat crush on for who knows how long. It’s just funny.
It takes a moment for your laughter to subside, but you can’t shake the crazy grin that seems to have taken up residence on your face. You’re more than aware how fucking mental you must look, but—well, you feel like your brain might melt into goo soon, so you can’t really help it.
Hyunjin looks more than a bit frightened, but you pay no mind as you close your laptop (probably a bit more forcefully than you should have) and then shove it into your bag.
“Where Jisung is right now?” You ask him with a sweet smile, but your tone is cutting and sharp, and he shrinks back into his seat a little.
“He’s a-at Banana Tree,” Hyunjin stutters out, mentioning the local café on the outskirts of campus, and you jump up from your seat.
“Great. I’ll see you later.” And before he can process it, you’re gone.
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It’s a ten minute walk from the library to Banana Tree, but with the amount of adrenaline rushing through your veins, you manage to make it there in six.
The café is cute and quaint and is like a little slice of heaven for you. It’s been your favorite place on campus since you discovered it your second semester of freshman year, and you can’t count how many times you’ve been since. It’s so adorable and—most importantly—affordable, which is why you’re a bit surprised to find that it isn’t as crowded as it usually is.
On most days, the line is long and winding and it’s more than a little difficult to find a place to sit, but today you find that the line is considerably short and only a few people are scattered throughout the coffee shop.
Usually, you would be ecstatic; the short line means instant gratification for your coffee addiction, but today—you don’t hesitate before breezing past the cashier and heading straight towards the back, where you immediately spot Jisung hunched over his laptop in the corner.
His eyebrows drawn together in concentration beneath his wire-rimmed glasses, and he’s looking good in his hoodie and skinny jeans, but you’re here on a mission and you refuse to let the way your heart skips a beat distract you from it.
“Wha—Oh!” Jisung yelps, looking up and almost falling out of his seat in surprise as you slide into the empty chair opposite of him.
“Y/N! Jesus, you gave me a heart attack,” he breathes out, as he clutches his chest, and you raise an eyebrow.
“You’re still alive,” you say mildly. “I think you’ll be fine,”
“Well,” he clears his throat as he straightens up in his chair. “Yes, but…”
He isn’t sure what it is, but the way you’re eyeing him, like you’re trying to figure out the best way to kill him, makes him nervous.
Which is funny, because in your head, you actually are running through places you could hide his body without being caught…
You know, just in case.
“So…” He says slowly. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing much,” you respond conversationally as you snatch his iced coffee away from him before he can protest and take a nice, long sip.
You watch as the frothy liquid travels up the straw as you try to convince yourself not to stare at him, because you know the longer you look at him, the quicker your anger will escape you.
Even now, looking half-scared and half-confused, he still manages to look good. With those glasses, he’s giving off those “hot TA that you might hook up with at a frat party” kind of vibe, and you know if you stare too long, you’ll forget why you’re here in the first place.
“What’s up with you, boyfriend?”
That one word is almost like an arrow with how sharp you throw it out, and from the way Jisung’s expression slowly melts from one of confusion to one of grim understanding and dread, you can tell that it hits right on the bullseye.
“Look,” he says quickly, his face heating up. “I can explain, I promise!”
“Well,” you drawl. “By all means, go ahead.”
You’re shorter than Jisung, but from the way he seems to shrink under your gaze, you might as well be towering over him.
A moment passes, then another, almost as if he’s trying to figure out how to begin, and then:
“Do you remember the first time we met?”
You wrinkle your nose at the unexpected question.
“Well, actually I’d rather like to forget the whole accusing you of being a thief part, but yes.”
“Yeah, understandable,” he nods. “It was really awkward.”
That is an understatement.
“But I’m not talking about you threatening me with a frying pan,” he continues.
“You said you forgave me for that!” You protest, and he deadpans.
“I lied.”
You open your mouth, not sure whether or not you’re going to insult him or just kick him under the table.
Instead, you opt for saying, “well then, which part are you talking about?”
“The, um, well,” he looks around, suddenly awkward as his voice lowers to a mumble that is so soft you can barely make out what he’s saying.
“What?” You ask, your ears straining.
“Well, you know… When you found out about, um,” he gesticulates randomly in the air, and you squint.
“Jisung, I have absolutely no idea what you’re trying to say,” you tell him exasperatedly. “Can you use your words?”
“3racha!” He finally explodes. “You found out about it when we first met.”
You stare at him, confused. “Okay?”
“And, it’s just that… You know how it’s a secret right? The whole ‘nobody knows who they are’ kind of thing. I mean, now it’s really big all over campus and people like the whole mystery… Say it’s part of the listening experience or whatever… But even from the beginning, I never really wanted people to know it was me,” he rambles on, and it’s like a dam has broken. The words pour out of his mouth and he can’t seem to stop them.
“Which is why it’s kind of ironic that, like, the entire time you’ve known me, you’ve also known my biggest secret. Actually, it’s a bit unnerving, if I’m being honest. I’m surprised Hyunjin managed to not tell you even before you met me, actually but it’s just that—” He takes a deep breath, cutting off his tirade when he notices the glare you have focused on him.
“—Well, what I’m trying to say is, you know, the reason we don’t go public isn’t because we think we’re above it all.”
You stare blankly at him.
“Yeah, I understand that,” you tell him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and he balks at you.
“What I don’t understand,” you continue on, “is what exactly 3racha and your underground rapping career have to do with the fact that our closest friends now seem to think we’re in a relationship.”
“Well,” he begins sheepishly. “It’s actually kind of a funny story.”
You glare at him.
“Okay!” He’s quick to say. “Well, basically, Yuna might have suspected I was hiding something from her, and when she was, like, two seconds away from figuring out about 3racha, it might have just… slipped out?”
Jisung pauses and the air is thick with anticipation, as if he thinks you might smack him right then and there.
“Slipped out,” you echo in disbelief. “That you have a secret girlfriend, and that girlfriend is me?”
“Yes,” his voice is small.
“But… Why me?” You ask after a moment, lost.
“I-I mean, you were the first person to come to mind,” he mutters as his shifty eyes avoid yours. “You know about 3racha, and I panicked, and then I had already said your name and it was too late...”
You narrow your eyes and he lets out a sigh.
“Look,” he begins solemnly. “I know it’s out of the blue, but you know how Yuna is… Well, actually, you know how all of our friends are. They don’t give up easily, and I swear it wasn’t my intention to drag you into this, so I’m really sorry.”
Jisung hesitates.
“And I’m really sorry to have to ask you this, too, but…Would you mind going along with it? Just for a little while! I know it’s a lot to ask, but you would be saving my life.”
He looks you dead in the eye. “Like, literally saving my life. I think Yuna and Felix might murder me if they find out the truth.”
A moment passes, then another as you scramble to find words. You’re not sure what so say, how to respond to… that, and the longer you wait, the more worried he becomes.
“Wait, you don’t have a boyfriend right now, do you?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed.
Your reaction is instantaneous and you scoff a little. “No, I definitely do not.”
Jisung sags in relief, but his eyes stay trained on you, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous. The earnesty of his gaze is piercing, and it makes you flush.
“So, you actually want to do this?” You ask him for confirmation. “Lie to our friends and pretend like we’re dating?”
“Yes?” He winces.
You look at him for a moment, watching as he braces himself as if he’s expecting the worst, but the truth is—you already know your answer. Hell, he could ask you to jump off a cliff and you would probably say yes to that too.
“Okay.”
“Wait—really?” He asks in disbelief, and you nod.
“Yeah, I mean… I wouldn’t want you to have to tell everyone about 3racha because of me, so… I guess there’s not much of a choice, anyways.”
“Oh, thank God,” He blurts out, looking like he’s only seconds away from bowing down to you and kissing your feet. “Thank you so much. I really owe you.”
“I just have one question,” you say after a moment.
“Yeah?” Jisung replies, distracted, as if nothing could bring his mood down.
“Why didn’t you just ask me?”
“What?” He cocks his head to the side.
“I mean,” you say slowly. “Why didn’t you just ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I would have said yes.”
“Oh.” He pauses, and a look of realization passing over his face.
“You know… I didn’t even think of that.”
You have to refrain from smacking yourself in the head. Of course you had to go and fall for an idiot.
Of course.
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You are spiraling.
“Jisung, I don’t think I can do this.”
You are spiraling, and there is literally nothing anyone can do about it because, oh my god, you are an idiot for agreeing to a plan so idiotic that it has already started to fall apart.
It’s currently two days after you agreed to lie to all of your friends and fake date Jisung, and the two of you have been sitting in the student activity center for the past thirty minutes working through the details of your “relationship,” because like the idiots you are, you both managed to forget you had to figure these things out if you hoped to convince anyone that you are in love.
Great.
Except—when you wake up this morning, the day starts off bad, and only continues to get worse. It’s almost as if Murphy’s law chooses you as it’s sole victim today, because anything that can go wrong is most definitely going wrong right now.
First, you almost sleep through your British literature lecture in the morning when you’re alarm decided to conveniently stop working (and by stop working, you mean completely fall apart, most likely because of the way Hyunjin had thrown it at the wall last Thursday when the two of you decided to unwind with a bottle of wine... Each.)
After stumbling into the giant lecture hall still in your pajamas, you manage to make it to you next class—Stats—on time. Until you realize you somehow managed to forget about the quiz that your TA sent fifty emails out about.
Then, after that ordeal, you show up at the sandwich shop right next to the Maths building in hopes of grabbing a quick bite to eat, only to find the line winding and out the door.
It’s as you are about to scream violently into the void because of how crappy the day has been going that you get a text message from Jisung, who asks if the two of you can meet at the student activity center. With a sigh, you quickly type out a reply before dragging your feet up the hill and towards said building…
…Where you proceed to wait for who knows how long because, in true Jisung fashion, he shows up late to a meeting he himself set up.
And then, after you eat half a bowl of soup, he finally shows up, frantic and apologetic—which leads you to now.
“Y/N?” Jisung asks uncertainly, waving his hand in front of your face.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually managed to talk me into this,” you breathe out, rocking back and forth slightly in your chair.
The weight of what you are about to do—lie to your friends, pretend to date the guy you have feelings for, all of the above?—hits you like a freight train.
“Like, seriously?” You turn your frantic gaze to Jisung’s face. “You really want to do this? There is no other excuse we can use? Maybe they’ll believe us if we tell them it was just a joke?”
“Um…” He says meekly, but you are on a rant and you barely even hear him as you continue on.
“I can’t believe that out of all the people in the world, it had to be my name that you thought of first... I mean, I don’t even know if I should be flattered or just angry, because oh my god, Jisung I really can’t do this. Hyunjin is my best friend! How am I supposed to lie to him? I don’t think I can lie to him. Like, physically, I think it’s impossible. And then I’m going to have to lie to Yuna, and Changbin too? I live with Yuna, she’s going to see right through me! Who’s going to believe the two of us are dating? Oh my god, I think I’m going to pass out. Why would you—“
“Okay, Y/N,” Jisung interjects, grabbing you by the shoulders gently. “I’m going to need you to stop for a moment and just breathe. Can you breathe for me?”
You look at him, bewildered, as if you’ve never heard of the concept of breathing. Right now, it actually feels like you haven’t. You’re all hot and panicky, and you’re not sure your lungs are functioning correctly—if they are at all. It’s like all eyes are on you, and if you were a little bit less crazed, you would know that’s not true, but right now—right now, all you can think about is how nice it would be if you just dropped dead right here.
“Breathe,” he nods encouragingly. “Yeah, in and out, can you do it with me?”
A moment passes, but he’s looking at you so expectantly, and even ten seconds away from a panic attack you’re still whipped for him, so hesitantly, you nod in agreement.
“Alright, that’s great,” he beams at you.
“Just in,” he breathes in and you shakily follow suit. “And out.”
You repeat once, and then twice, and by the third time you can feel yourself calming down.
“Oh. Okay, yeah,” you shake your arms out. “It’s all good, right…”
Jisung grins and your heart skips a beat—but this kind of nervousness, well, you’re used to it by now. The familiar butterflies in your stomach are almost grounding, and it only takes a few moments before you’re completely calm.
“So,” you clear your throat, embarrassed. “It’s all fine. Lying to our mutual best friends is fine, right. What were we talking about, anyways?”
“Oh!” Jisung starts. “I think we were on what our first date was.”
“First date?” You wrinkle your nose. “Can’t you decide?”
“Hey, I already decided how I asked you out. Our first date is yours to decide.”
You groan, thinking about how Jisung—after a lot of thinking—had come to the executive decision that he asked you out two months ago, after he ended up taking care of you at some frat party you both went to while Hyunjin was home visiting his parents.
The truth is, that weekend you were abysmally sick and could barely get out of bed, and Jisung was studying for the four midterms he had the following week, so neither of you went to that party—but... Nobody needs to know the truth, right?
“Fine,” you say finally. “We’ll just say our first date was the movies and dinner.”
“No, that’s too boring,” Jisung protests, and you glare at him.
“Excuse me?”
He rolls his eyes. “I would never plan a date as boring as the movies and dinner.
It has to be at least a little realistic, right?”
You glare at him.
“Then, pray tell, what kind of date would you plan?”
“Well,” Jisung begins matter-of-factly. “To start off with, dinner is so overrated. I think a brunch picnic is much more fun, especially because breakfast food is like, ten thousand times better.”
“That’s just because you have an unhealthy obsession with french toast…” You mutter.
“French toast is a superior food group!” He tells you adamantly.
“Not a food group,” you sigh. “But fine. A brunch picnic, is that all?”
“Well, the brunch picnic would be at that park next to the Han river, and while we’re there, we would feed the ducks there because they are so cute,” Jisung continues. “And then, I would take you go karting—but I would let you win, because I’m good first date material.”
“Go karting?” You raise an eyebrow and he sticks his tongue out.
“I mean, you’re so competitive…”
A moment passes as you think about it, and then you nod.
“Okay,” you shrug. “But—let’s get one thing straight. I would win because I’m better, not because you let me.”
Jisung scoffs. “As if.”
“Really?” You raise an eyebrow. “I wonder who it is that can’t even win Mario Kart, then?”
“First of all,” he is quick to protest. “That’s just a video game!”
“Sucks that you can’t win at go kart even digitally,” you respond, disappointed.
“Well—“
“Anyways!” You exclaim, pretending you don’t hear his cries of protests. “We’ve figured out how we met, when and where our first date was, how long we’ve been dating… What about why we’ve been keeping this a secret?”
“Oh,” Jisung pales. “That one is easy.”
You furrow your brow in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Um…” He trails off. “Well, hypothetically… Hyunjin and Changbin might have threatened to, you know, hypothetically kill me if I ever tried to make a move on you?”
You narrow your eyes. “They did what?”
Jisung winces, as if bracing for you to yell at him, but after a moment, you just sigh.
“Whatever…” You mutter under your breath, even as you plot. “I’ll deal with them later…”
He lets out a sigh of relief and visibly relaxes, which only makes you want to smack him because—you can’t be that scary, right?
Instead of asking, you clear your throat. “Anyways, is there anything else?”
“Uh… I don’t think so?” Jisung scratches his head as he thinks.
“Well then,” you say. “We should be fine. I mean, we’ll have to tell our friends soon, but with a few more days to prepare, I think we might be able to pull it off…”
You reach up to gnaw on your nail nervously, and it’s as you’re running through the various ways you might actually be able to convince your best friends that the two of you have been secretly dating, Jisung gets a text message.
“It might be rough,” you mutter once again, although this time it’s more to yourself than to him. “But, well, Hyunjin is kind of unobservant, so with our luck, he might just glaze right over it anyways…”
“U-um… About that,” Jisung starts nervously, and you look up at him.
“Yes?” You ask, taking a long sip from your water bottle.
“Hyunjin just texted me that he’s going to meet us here in, like… 5 minutes?”
You choke on the water, barely stopping yourself from spewing it everywhere—and just like that, your hysteria from earlier comes crashing down on you.
“I’m sorry, what?!” You balk, your fists clenched so tight you can feel the crescent-shaped nail marks forming on your palm.
“Okay, in my defense,” Jisung protests immediately when you threateningly wield your blue mechanical pencil in his direction. “I told him not to come, but he has my location on and he said he’s coming here anyways!”
You inhale sharply, and a moment passes.
“Give me your phone.”
“W-What?” There’s a hint of fear in Jisung’s eyes, but you don’t even care as you try to calm yourself.
“Did I stutter?” You ask, your gaze murderous, and he sinks back into his seat.
“N-Now, Y/N, let’s just think about this logically…”
He looks like he’s going to say more, but you’re already up and out of your seat, reaching over the table you are both sat at for his phone. Jisung, a step ahead of you, snatches it out of your grasp.
“Give me your phone, Jisung,” you say stubbornly.
“If I give it to you, are you going to throw it across the room?” He asks.
“…Maybe.”
He pauses, as if he’s actually thinking about it, before telling you plainly: “Mmm, in that case… No.”
“Jisung,” you whine. “Give it to me! All I want to do is turn off your location sharing, okay? I promise I won’t do anything to your phone… Mostly.”
He opens his mouth, but before he can speak something over your shoulder catches his attention. You’re still halfway out of your seat, pouting at him.
“Y/N—“ He tries to interrupt, but you ignore him and continue on.
“I mean, first you decide to go around and tell all of our friends that the two of us are dating without even consulting me first, and then you let me find out from Hwang Hyunjin of all people, before finally coercing me into a fake rel—mmph!”
Panic flashes across Jisung’s face and his eyes widen as he stares at something directly behind you. And then, before you can process it, he’s grabbing your face with both his hands—his left one on your cheek and his right one awkwardly placed half on your chin, half over your mouth.
Then, he yanks you close to him and plants an over-exaggerated kiss on top of the hand that is covering your lips.
“Oh, hi Hyunjin,” Jisung says loudly when he pulls away. “Didn’t see you there!”
Your face is so red and you’re so surprised that you can’t move, not even when Hyunjin lets out a strangled gagging noise as he comes to a skidding halt next to the table you and Jisung are sitting at.
“Were you guys just—kissing?” Hyunjin asks, his face contorted in disgust.
“What?” Jisung says, almost defensively. “Nooo…”
“—You know what… Nevermind.” Hyunjin shakes his head, as if that might remove the image he just saw.
“I guess you two really are dating…” He mutters to himself, repulsed.
“Anyways,” Jisung clears his throat a moment later as you continue to stare, unblinking and stone faced off into the distance. “Why are you here, Hyunjin?”
“What?” He asks. “I can’t visit my best friend and roommate on this random Wednesday afternoon after they kept their secret relationship from me?”
“Um…” Jisung trails off. “Honestly, I’m not sure how to respond to that.”
Hyunjin huffs. “Well, if you must know, my ecology lecture was cancelled, and I have nothing better to do, so I came here.”
You’re only half listening, and your best friend looks at you weirdly.
“What’s wrong with her?” He asks Jisung, waving his hand in front of your face. “Was kissing you really that emotionally scarring?”
Jisung scowls and kicks Hyunjin under the table, and you still don’t respond.
“Y/N,” Hyunjin calls out. “Y/N?”
Somewhere in the back of your mind, his voice registers, but it’s like your brain has shut down and your synapses have stopped firing, because all you can do is stare.
“Y/N,” your best friend sighs exasperatedly, and then reaches out and smacks you across the face.
“Ouch!” You squeal, effectively knocked out of whatever stupor you had been in.
“What the fuck, Hyunjin? That hurt!”
“That hurt?” He mocks.
“You know what really hurts? My best friends hiding their relationship from me for—“
He stops.
“—Wait, how long have you guys been dating for?”
“Two months,” you grumble.
“Two months?!” Hyunjin shrieks. “You imbeciles hid this from me for two months?”
“Yes,” you glare at him.
“Sorry?” Jisung adds helpfully.
“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Hyunjin cries out and you roll your eyes.
“Nobody is paying you for this, dummy.”
He pouts. “Well, someone should.”
“Pay you? For doing nothing? This is exactly why the institution of capitalism is detrimental to the function of society as a whole,” you scoff, and Jisung and Hyunjin look at you weirdly.
“What?” You say defensively. “I’m taking a course on communism versus capitalism, and I have a paper due today.”
“Okay…” The weird look doesn’t leave either of their faces.
“Wait,” you start. “My paper! What time is it?”
“It’s 4:24—“ Hyunjin tells you.
“Fuck!” You exclaim. “I have to turn in my paper to my TA by 4:30!”
You waste no time in grabbing your bag and throwing it over your shoulder, and then getting up and practically running out of the student activity center.
“Good luck!” Jisung calls out, but you’re already gone.
“Do you think she heard me?” He asks Hyunjin.
“No.”
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A few days later, you’re walking out of your music appreciation class when you get a frantic text from Jisung.
Technically, you aren’t even meant to be taking music appreciation this semester. But when you were registering for classes last semester, the ethnoarchaeology course you wanted to get into was full, and this was your only other option.
It turned out fine, though, because it’s a blow off class, an easy A that gets your fine arts core credit out of the way, so it’s a win win.
[7:01pm] jisung: HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[7:02pm] you: what’s up?
[7:02pm] jisung: OUR COVER IS ABOUT TO BE BLOWN!!!! [7:02pm] jisung: YOU’RE IN THE MUSIC BUILDING RN RIGHT????
[7:03pm] you: yes??? [7:03pm] you: what do you mean our cover is abt to be blown???
[7:05pm] you: jisung????
[7:05pm] jisung: was doing 3racha stuff [7:05pm] jisung: now yuna is coming to visit cb
[7:06pm] jisung: HELP?!
[7:06pm] you: oh lmao [7:06pm] you: u had me worried.. just hide somewhere until she leaves
[7:07pm] jisung: no y/n [7:07pm] jisung: i told her we were hanging out 2nite [7:07pm] jisung: y/n she has my location on
[7:08pm] you: oh [7:08pm] you: oh fuck [7:08pm] you: where r u??? i’ll come 2 u [7:08pm] you: outside practice room #4
You find yourself breaking out into a brisk jog right when you receive the message, turning down the hallway until you find the stairwell and then taking the steps two by two. Three flights later, you come out on the 2nd floor, and it doesn’t take long for you to spot Jisung pacing nervously in the corridor lined with practice rooms.
“Jisung,” you hiss as you approach, looking both ways down the hall to make sure Yuna isn’t here yet.
“Oh my god, Y/N,” he breathes out in unadulterated relief when he sees you.
“Why did you tell Yuna we were hanging out tonight?” You ask, your eyes narrowed.
He shrugs helplessly. “Changbin, Chan, and I had plans tonight, but she knows Changbin is a part of 3racha, and—I don’t know, I panicked!”
You let out a deep sigh, and then square your shoulders.
“Okay, first of all—we need to have a talk about having your location on for all of our friends, because this really keeps fucking us over,” you tell him sternly.
He nods miserably. “I know.”
“Second of all,” you continue, relaxing slightly. “This actually isn’t that bad… If Yuna asks what you were doing here, you can just tell her you came to pick me up from class. It’s the perfect cover.”
“Really?” He asks dubiously, but you can see the weight ease up on his shoulders slightly.
“Yeah,” you shrug. “It’s believable, and she’ll have no reason to suspect otherwise.”
“Okay…” Jisung relaxes. “So, how was your—mmph!”
And then, before he can finish his thought, you’re yanking him by the wrist and all but shoving him through the first door you find.
Which, of course, with your luck, just so happens to be a broom closet.
“What the fuck?”
“Yuna was coming down the hallway,” you hiss. “Now be quiet!”
“Oh,” he mumbles, and silence falls over the two of you.
You’re hyperaware of how close you are to Jisung—the closet is small and dimly lit, and there’s virtually no where to stand with all the space the mops and buckets, and you’re almost chest to chest. He’s staring awkwardly off into the space behind your left ear, and your furrowing your eyebrows as you strain to hear out in the hallway while simultaneously pretending this isn’t the worst situation. Ever.
As you listen, you hear the clicking of heels grow closer—which you assume is Yuna, if her obsession with strappy heels is anything to go by. The rhythmic clacking becomes louder as she gets closer, and then, it suddenly comes to a stop.
“Yuna,” you hear Changbin’s voice, close to the closet you’re currently hiding in. “What’s up?”
“Changbin!” She exclaims. “I have a bone to pick with you.”
“W-What did I do?” You can hear the fear in his voice, and if you weren’t scared shitless that your roommate might find you and turn that anger onto you, you would probably find it hilarious.
“Chan told me everything,” you can practically hear the way her eyes narrow murderously, and you and Jisung share a mutually horrified look.
Being on Yuna’s bad side is something you never wanted to experience.
“H-He did?”
“Yes, you fool! I know that you were passed out last Saturday after going to that Sigma party when I specifically told you that you couldn’t go because we were having brunch with your mom.”
Jisung lets out a snort, and you elbow him in the ribcage.
“What?” he mutters. “I was there. He downed like eight shots in fifteen minutes and blacked after that.”
“Be quiet,” you glare. “They’ll hear us.”
Changbin and Yuna’s conversation continues on, escalating into what seems to be an argument, but Jisung is grinning, his eyes bright, and it takes your breath away to the point that you can’t even hear what they’re saying above the rush of blood in your ears.
Now you’re the one staring off behind his head awkwardly, your palms sweaty as you try to think about anything except how cute he is and how nervous that makes you.
A moment passes, with Changbin and Yuna still talking outside the closet you’re in, and Jisung clears his throat awkwardly.
“So…” He whispers a second later. “Do you come here often?”
You stare at him full on.
“What the fuck?”
He shrugs. “I’m trying out new pick up lines. What do you think?”
You wrinkle your nose in disgust. “That wasn’t even a pick up line. That was like… I don’t even know, but it definitely wasn’t a pick up line.”
“Really?” He raises a brow. “Then what is?”
You scoff. “As if I’d ever use my lines on you.”
“No, now I’m interested.”
“Well that’s too bad,” you stick out your tongue.
“Please?” He asks, and you open your mouth to say no—until you see his wide puppy dog eyes, pleading with you, and you melt.
“Mmm,” you press your lips into a tight line.
Yuna’s voice rises outside, and you turn away from Jisung as you mumble out, “I dunno, something like... Are you a greenhouse gas? Because you’re hot enough to cause global warming... Or something.”
There’s a moment of silence and you cringe at how embarrassing it is, and then Jisung barely manages to stifle a laugh.
“Maybe I should just stick to being straightforward,” he says, pursing his lips to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “Because it seems you have the witty pick up lines covered.”
“Personally,” You wrinkle your nose. “I think you should stick to saying nothing…”
“What?” He pouts. “The classic ‘let me take you out on a date’ never fails.”
“Mmm,” you grimace. “I give it a 5 out of 10 for getting to the point, but 2 out of 10 for creativity.”
“Wow okay,” he says. “I guess I can’t do anything to impress you, huh?”
“Not really.”
He grins. “What a mean thing to say to your boyfriend.”
Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help the way your jaw drops when he says that. Because—it’s one thing to fake a relationship. It’s another thing to actually hear him call himself your boyfriend.
You cough slightly, barely managing to clear your throat before glaring at him.
“Fake boyfriend.”
Jisung chuckles, and he’s so close to you that if you think about it hard enough, you can convince yourself that you can feel his laugh. His breath is minty and warm, and ghosts across your cheek. You think you might melt into a puddle if you spend another moment in this closet with him.
“What?” He says playfully. “Am I not real boyfriend material?”
You deadpan.
“Jisung, I’ve seen you pick your nose.” You snort. “The day I date you is the day you dye your hair blue.”
“Well, I mean—“ He begins, but it’s at that moment that you realize you can no longer hear Changbin and Yuna arguing on the other side of the door.
“Shh!” You hold your finger up towards him, pressing your ear against the door.
A moment passes, and then another, and you still don’t hear anything.
“I think the coast is clear,” you say hushed to Jisung.
Then, you open the door slightly—only enough for you to see out into the hallway through the sliver of space between the hinges of the door.
The hallway is empty, and with a sigh of relief, you swing the door open all the way.
“Oh thank god,” you exhale, and for the first time in the past 10 minutes, you feel like you can breathe again.
“Well,” Jisung says awkwardly, following you out of the broom closet. “Sorry about this… I really didn’t think Yuna would be coming here tonight.”
You roll your eyes. “It’s no big deal. You’re just lucky I actually decided to go to class today.”
“Well,” he says. “Thanks anyways. Can I treat you to dinner to show my appreciation?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Free food?”
“I mean,” Jisung mutters. “It’ll be cheap food, but yeah. I’ll pay.”
You grin. As a broke and nearly starving college student, the cardinal rule is never turn down free food.
“Lead the way!”
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The next night, Jisung finds himself at Chan’s apartment in an attempt to complete the song the 3 of them had been working on the night before.
After spending the past three hours mixing and remixing sounds and still being dissatisfied with the product, Chan had decided they needed a little bit of a break from it all—which leads them to now, sitting in the living room around the dingy coffee table that only has 3 functional legs, eating spicy ramyeon like their lives depend on it.
“So,” Jisung starts in between slurps, chewing obnoxiously as he talks. “What d’you think of the new lyrics? I know the old ones were a bit… eh, but I really feel like these might be the one!”
Naruto is playing in the background, and as Jisung goes to take another bite, Chan and Changbin exchange a look.
“Well…” Chan starts wearily, but Jisung—consumed in his food—doesn’t notice his tone.
“Jisung,” Changbin interrupts, shooting a pointed glare at Chan. “We need to talk.”
“We are talking…?”
“We need to talk… About you and Y/N,” Chan clarifies, and Jisung freezes.
There’s a noodle hanging out of his mouth, which is agape, and ice floods his veins as anxiety washes over him.
Y/N? Why do they need to talk about you?
They stare at him, expressions deadpan, and then it hits him.
Oh god, Changbin and Chan found out that you’re not really dating and you’ve been lying to all of them. The ruse is up, the two of you have been found out.
“W-Well,” He sets his chopsticks down hesitantly, his hands shaking slightly as he goes. “I mean, we don’t n-need to…”
“Um,” Changbin gives him a weird look. “Yeah, I think we do. This is kind of a big deal, Jisung.”
“Mmm, no,” Jisung’s voice pitches upwards and he clears his throat. “It’s nothing! Whatever you’ve heard, it’s not like that!”
Chan furrows his brow.
“No, I’m pretty sure it is like that.”
Dread builds up in the back of Jisung’s throat, and he realizes—his death is close. Because if Chan and Changbin have found out his lie… It’s only a matter of time until Hyunjin discovers the truth, and then the rest of their friends…
…Including Yuna.
The thought is so scary that Jisung has to frantically take a large gulp of water to calm himself down.
“Jisung…?” Changbin questions, concerned as he watches the younger boy down his entire water bottle in ten seconds flat.
“Okay,” he sighs, squaring his shoulders as if he’s preparing to fight someone.
“Look, I know it looks bad, but I have a reason okay!” Jisung blurts out.
Chan clears his throat. “Well, yeah, of course you have a reason… But that doesn’t mean you should have done it anyways…”
He shudders and Changbin nods.
“Yeah, dude,” he says, disappointed. “Like come on. I thought you were better than this.”
Jisung runs a hand through his hair.
“Listen, guys, I’m really sorry! It wasn’t supposed to go down like this, I swear…”
Chan sighs heavily. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should write love songs.”
“Yuna just cornered me, and—wait, what?!” Jisung cuts off when he realizes what Chan has just said.
Chan winces. “Yeah… your new lyrics aren’t, um, bad, but…”
“Please, no more sappy love songs?” Changbin adds helpfully. “Like, you and Y/N are dating, which is kind of cool… gross, mostly… But please. We have a reputation to uphold.”
“Huh?” Jisung continues to just stare at his friends, openmouthed and confused.
Changbin rolls his eyes. “What will people think if the mysterious and elusive 3racha suddenly start writing love songs?”
“Um—I, um, imagine that… Wouldn’t be cool?”
“Exactly,” Changbin nods. “So, we have an understanding?”
Jisung stares, helplessly. “I guess?”
“Great,” Chan affirms. “Now, about that bridge, I was thinking…”
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The next few weeks pass in a weird sort of limbo, where you find yourself spending more time with Jisung than you thought you ever would.
After he treats you to cheap diner food that Thursday you almost get caught by Yuna, you two make it a habit of grabbing dinner together every week after your music appreciation class. Jisung somehow manages to convince Changbin and Chan that spending their Thursday nights in the music building is a good idea just so that your schedules can match, and you think it’s kind of cute that he’s that dedicated to keeping up your fake dating ruse.
Soon after that, you end up seeing him everywhere you go.
Like when he shows up with coffee for you after your Tuesday tutoring sessions in the student activity center, or when he saves a seat for you in the library on Wednesday nights because he knows you have weekly quizzes on Thursday to study for.
You soon find that if you aren’t on campus for classes or back at your apartment, you’re usually at Hyunjin and Jisung’s place. You spend so much time there—which you didn’t think was possible, considering your friendship with Hyunjin—to the point that they end up telling you where they hide the spare key.
You’ve known where it was for the past year (under the doormat, because they aren’t very creative) but you let them think that it’s news to you.
It’s weird, because in the span of a few weeks, Jisung becomes so commonplace in your life that sometimes, even though you don’t mean to, you forget it’s all fake.
Okay, well—obviously the friendship part isn’t, because the two of you have been friends (or, at the very least, friendly) for the better part of two years.
But when Jisung casually slips his hand into yours as the two of you walk down the street together, or when he greets you with a hug that makes you feel so warm inside while your friends are watching, it’s easy to pretend—even if only for a second—that this is for real.
When you let yourself believe that (which, you’re ashamed to say is far more often than you’d like it to be) you’re left feeling even worse afterwards, when you come down from whatever cloud 9 he has pushed you up onto and reality sets in.
When you remember that none of it is real, that you’re just friends and you’re a fool for thinking otherwise, well… Let’s just say, it’s not the nicest feeling.
Which, as one can imagine, leaves you feeling increasingly confused. You spend so much time with Jisung that you never get a reprieve from him, which—a few months ago would have been a dream, but now, it just feels like torture.
You end up spending more and more time obsessing over your complicated feelings for him, and sometimes (most of the time) you just want to scream because of how frustrating it is.
You almost do, actually, when you walk into their apartment after your classes end, and Jisung greets you with a tiny kiss on the cheek—something that he’s done before, usually when your friends are around, but still continues to catch you off guard.
“Hey,” he says easily with a grin, and you kind of want to punch the stupid smile off of his stupid face. “How were your classes today?”
You clear your throat, fighting off the heat rising to your cheeks.
“They were fine… Yours?”
“All good,” he responds before frowning. “Although, Professor Moon was kind of a dick today…”
“Well,” you begin as you set your bag down and flop onto his couch. “You’re only taking his class for credit, right?”
He nods.
“Then you shouldn’t stress yourself out about it like you did last time. He’ll always be a dick, no matter how long you spend worrying about his class.”
“Yeah,” he sighs, melting into the seat next to you. “I guess you’re right.”
You scoff. “Of course I am. I’m always right.”
He raises his arms in mock surrender. “Oh, my bad for forgetting, your Holiness.”
You flip him off and he laughs.
“Anyways…” You continue, your eyes roaming across the living room, which looks different than it usually does today. “What is this all for?”
You motion to where there are streamers hanging across one empty wall, and then to a banner underneath that reads simply ‘HAPP’ in big bubble letters.
“Oh,” Jisung’s eyes land on the decorations, and he shrugs. “We’re kind of having a part tonight. Didn’t I tell you?”
“Um.” You stare. “No?”
“Oops,” he mutters. “Well, we’re having a party?”
“Thanks for the heads up,” you roll your eyes sarcastically, and he grins.
“Well, now that you know… Are you going to come tonight?”
You purse your lips. “When you say party, do you mean like, a party?”
“…Maybe?”
You raise a brow. “And what’s the occasion?”
“Nothing big,” Jisung mumbles. “Just, you know, my birthday…”
You choke.
“Your birthday?!”
He winces. “Yeah.”
“What the fuck, Jisung!” You gasp, punching him in the arm. “It’s your birthday today?”
“Yes?” He says it like a question and you smack him again.
“How did you manage to not tell me that?” You exclaim.
He pouts. “I didn’t think it was important.”
“Jisung,” you deadpan. “We’re literally faking a relationship. Of course it’s important!”
“Oh, yeah,” he says a moment later, as if he’s forgotten completely about it, and you want to give him one of slap, just for good measure.
God, when did you get so violent?
“Well… I’m sorry?”
“You should be,” you gripe at him. “I don’t even have a present for you…”
“Oh, I don’t need any presents,” he says bashfully, and you glare at him.
“Now everyone is going to think I’m a bad girlfriend!”
“No they won’t,” Jisung placates, and you let out a groan.
“Well,” you sigh forlornly. “I guess this means I’ll be here tonight…”
“Yay!” He claps excitedly.
“Yeah, whatever…” You mutter under your breath.
At that moment, Jisung’s phone buzzes, and his smile melts into a frown when he  checks the message.
“What’s up?” You ask, curious.
“Oh, Changbin just messaged saying there’s been a mix up with the drinks for tonight,” he tells you slowly. “He needs my help.”
“Are you going now?”
“Yeah,” he gets up, grabbing his coat from the chair across from you. “I’ll be back in like, 30, okay? Don’t destroy my apartment while I’m gone!”
You scoff. “You’re the messy one.”
“I’ve seen you in the kitchen, Y/N,” he calls out, hopping a little to put his shoes on.
“Okay, first of all—“ You splutter, but he’s already out the door with a wink in your direction, and you’re left alone.
“—Whatever…” you finally mutter to yourself, a pout on your face.
Without hesitation, you kick off the house slippers you are wearing and curl your feet underneath you, grabbing a blanket and the remote to the TV as you settle in on the couch and make yourself more comfortable.
That’s how Hyunjin finds you fifteen minutes later, when he arrives with an unholy amount of party decorations in his grasp.
“Y/N?” He asks, his arms overflowing with plastic bags.
“Hey,” you say distractedly, not bothering to look away from the TV as you greet him.
“O… kay…” He says to himself after a moment, setting the stuff down onto the counter.
“Where did Jisung go?” He asks as he grabs scissors from a drawer and begins cutting open the bags of decorations.
“He said something about Changbin… drinks… I’m not really sure, actually,” you reply back.
Hyunjin sighs. “That’s so helpful. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” you snark back.
“So…” He trails off. “Are you going to help me set up, then?”
You roll your eyes. “Do I look like I want to help you set up?”
Hyunjin glares at you.
“You look like someone I’m about to kick out of my apartment.”
With a loud, overdramatic sigh, you pause the show you are watching and then haul yourself up off of the couch so you can join Hyunjin in the kitchen.
“Well… I guess I can help,” you say begrudgingly.
“Thanks,” Hyunjin says blandly. “You can start by finishing the sign.”
He motions to the ‘HAPP’ hanging sadly on the wall, and you snort.
“What, you’re telling me it isn’t supposed to look like that?”
Hyunjin looks like he’s about to smack you, but instead says, “Y/N, can you just do it?”
“Yeah, whatever…” You snatch up the bag of bubble letters and grab a roll of tape before heading to the living room.
It isn’t too difficult to finish the sign, and you’re finishing sticking up the last two letters when Hyunjin joins you with—surprise!—even more streamers.
“Y/N,” Hyunjin says slowly as you finish the sign and step back to admire your handiwork.
“Yes?” You ask, grinning at your best friend.
“…Why does that sign say ‘Happy Birthday Bitch!’?”
You bat your eyelashes innocently.
“What?” You ask. “Am I wrong?”
He sighs. “No… But it’s Jisung birthday. Don’t you think we should be a little nice to him today?”
You pout. “Well…”
He glares at you.
“Fine, whatever! I’ll change it… You’re lame anyways…”
It takes you another ten minutes to take down the sign and replace it with the much more appropriate, and much less fun ‘Happy Birthday Jisung!’ but you do it, and right as you move on to helping Hyunjin hang streamers—because God forbid there be anything less than the hundreds of them already lining the walls—Jisung arrives back, with Changbin and Felix in tow.
Changbin and Jisung are both carrying cases of beer in their hands, and Felix follows with a large tote bag that you assume is full of various bottles of hard liquor, although you can’t see inside the bag because of how big it is.
“Hey, Y/N,” Changbin smiles at you as he passes, and Felix perks up when he notices you.
“Y/N!” He exclaims. “Do you—“
You cut him off before he can finish.
“—And that is my cue to leave.”
Felix scowls. “You don’t even know what I was going to say…”
“You were going to ask me to help you with something,” you scoff. “I’ve already reached my manual labor limit for the day, but nice try.”
The blond boy sulks his way into the kitchen, just as Jisung comes out after setting down the boxes he had been carrying.
“You’re going already?” Jisung pouts.
You pat him on the cheek sweetly.
“I mean… yeah,” you tell him.
“What, do you expect me to stay for a party dressed like this?”
You motion down to your expertly coordinated ensemble of sweats and a ratty t-shirt that you think might be Hyunjin’s.
“Well,” Jisung says reluctantly. “I mean, I think it’s cute, but…”
“Don’t you dare lie to me,” you threaten as you dig an elbow into his side. “Anyways, I’ll be back by 9, okay?”
“Okay…” He mutters sadly.
“Finally,” Hyunjin says at the same time. “She’s leaving!”
You stick your middle finger up in his direction as you grab your bag and shove your feet back into your shoes.
“Bye, bitches!”
And then you’re out the door.
Your apartment isn’t far from theirs—just around the block, and it only takes a few minutes before you’re climbing the stairs up to the 4th floor, where you live.
When you unlock the door, you’re greeted by a dark room, and you’re a little surprised to find that Yuna isn’t home right now.
You flick the light switch on and kick off your shoes, walking into the kitchen to find a post it note stuck to the fridge.
Out buying Jisung a present, it reads. See u tonight! xoxo Yuna
You crumble the note in your palm before dunking it into the trash, NBA style, and you scowl when you miss.
Yuna’s note reminds you again that Jisung didn’t give you any notice about his birthday, and you can’t help the annoyance that rises inside of you—especially because you didn’t have the chance to do the bare minimum and scrape together a present for him.
With a sigh, you drop your school bag on the floor of your room as you head towards your closet, rummaging through your clothes as yo search for something appropriate.
You’re looking for an outfit that says “it’s my (fake) boyfriend’s birthday today and he totally did not just tell me about it 3 hours ago!”
It’s uncertain whether the cropped top and black jeans combo that you finally settle on gives off that vibe, but you think it looks decent (at least, better than your sweatpants…) and so you go with it.
You spend the next hour and a half around the apartment, cleaning up and taking care of small tasks here and there as you try not to think about the party tonight.
There’s a sort of anxiety weighing down on you about it—you’re not sure why, either. You’ve never really had a problem with partying and letting loose before, but you have a sneaking suspicion that the weight in your gut has something to do with Jisung.
It’s as you finish sweeping the living room that you come to the startling realization that its now nearly 9, and you lost track of time as you were cleaning.
You haven’t even started your makeup—because you didn’t want to sweat it off while stress cleaning—and you practically trip over yourself in your haste to get to your room. In a panic, you quickly swipe some concealer and mascara on, before finishing with a little lip gloss, and although it is the simplest makeup routine you could have come up with, it’s already past 9 when you stumble out of your room, hopping a little as you try to shove your sneakers on.
You take a deep breath as you shove your keys in your pocket, and then—just for good measure—you open a kitchen cabinet and pour yourself a shot of vodka from Yuna’s not-so-secret stash.
You down it quickly and it burns your throat, leaving an acrid taste in your mouth and a weird warm sensation in your chest and your head—most likely because you overestimated the amount when you poured it out, courtesy of the Disney mug you’re using as a shot glass.
Go figure.
You find yourself gripping your keys and pepper spray tightly as you make the short trek to Jisung and Hyunjin’s apartment, and by the time you end up outside their door, it’s well past 9:30pm.
The pounding bass of whatever music is playing inside thrums out into the hallway, and you’re not sure if knocking is the right way to go—frankly, you’re not sure they’ll even hear you if you do.
Not even a moment later, the door swings wide open as a drunk couple comes stumbling out, so entangled in each other that they barely notice you or the door that they leave open behind them.
“O…kay…” You mutter. “Kind of early for that, but…”
Shaking your head, you walk in to find the festivities in full swing. It catches you momentarily off guard just how many people have managed to fit inside the small apartment, and the disco strobe lights are disorienting as you search around for a familiar face.
I mean, you knew it was a party, but honestly, you don’t even know half the people here.
Finally, after what feels like forever, your eyes land on Jisung, and you’re so relieved that you sigh.
And then, you notice the giant grin on his face, and the very attractive girl he’s talking to. You watch as he says something, gesticulating with his hands as his eyebrows raise, and your mood sours instantly. The girl lets out a giggle, smacking his arm lightly before tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear flirtatiously, and your eyes narrow.
Something ugly twists in your gut, particularly when you notice just how close they are standing, and your teeth clench.
You know you have no right to feel jealous—you aren’t actually dating Jisung, after all—and yet the ugly pit of emotionsin the depths of your stomach that blazes despite the fact.
A boy with dark hair walks by you at that moment, obscuring your vision—he’s friends with Hyunjin, you think, his name might be Jeongin?—and you zero in on the solo cup in his hand, filled halfway with a dark liquid.
“hey,” you clear your throat, catching him before he manages to walk away. “Where did you get that?”
“Hmm?” He says, his gaze slightly unfocused and a lopsided grin on his face. “Oh, drinks are in the kitchen.”
“Thanks…” You mutter out, barely waiting for a reply before you are stalking off in that direction.
You waste no time in grabbing a cup from the stack next to the drink station that has been set up, most likely by Changbin based on the color coding. The first bottle you see is a giant thing of rum, and you don’t even hesitate before pouring a generous amount into your cup and then topping it off with some Coke.
You take a large swig, still a little astounding by the amount of people here that you don’t know.
Honestly though, you are content hovering in the kitchen and avoiding human interaction for the rest of the night—until you spot Felix a few feet away, heading towards you.
Your eyes widen, and without a second thought, you’re ducking out of the kitchen and back into the crowded living room, pushing through sweaty bodies to get away from him.
The thing is—you don’t have a problem with Felix. Really, you don’t. In fact, he can be kind of funny to be around, most of the time. Except for when he’s drunk—he goes absolutely nuts when intoxicated, and you do not want to be the one taking care of that tonight.
The last time you did… Well, let’s just say you’ll never look at limes or white bedsheets the same again.
Unfortunately for you, it seems you can only avoid one person at a time tonight, because when you finally manage to shake Felix off of your tail by hiding in a back corner where you’re obscured from the view of most people, you find yourself with the perfect view of Jisung.
You find that he’s now surrounded by a gaggle of girls and a couple of guys, and he seems to be telling a very animated story based on his facial expressions.
He looks good tonight, you realize—with his hair slicked back like that, and those dumb black vinyl pants you bought him as a joke because they make his ass look fantastic.
You never thought he would wear them out in public, because he was so embarrassed when you made him try them on, but now—well, you definitely regret that purchase.
It’s almost depressing, watching him from across the room like a lovestruck girl, when it seems just about every other girl in the room is ten times more attractive than you and checking him out too.
It’s unfair, because—really? Jisung, the dork who can barely look a girl in the eye without saying something stupid is the center of attention at this party? You think he must be at least a little tipsy, from the way he seems to actually be able to hold a normal conversation with those girls, and you’re kind of mad that it’s not you over there flirting with him.
Which is stupid. You’re his girlfriend after all—well, fake girlfriend. Whatever, same thing. You’re not sure why you are over here, pouting in the corner, instead of over there by his side. In fact, you’re not even sure why you didn’t just go up to him when you first got here, like a normal person.
Because no, of course you had to be weird and overthink things way more than you should.
“He’s hot,” a voice interrupts your trail of thoughts, and your gaze snaps from Jisung to your right, where you find an attractive guy standing and observing.
“Why don’t you go talk to him?”
He looks vaguely familiar, and it’s only after a few more seconds of staring that you realize who he is—Minho, the guy that Jisung occasionally cat sits for.
“I’m—huh?” You splutter, coughing slightly.
He leans against the wall casually, a smirk dancing across his lips, and he nods towards Jisung.
“Well, I just don’t understand why you’re moping here in the corner instead of just going over there. He won’t bite… Probably.”
“I-I’m not moping!” You protest.
“A-And besides,” you continue, your voice still lacking conviction. “He’s actually—well, you know—we’re… dating.”
Minho raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip from his cup.
“So you’re Y/N?”
“…Yes?” You say back hesitantly.
“You don’t sound very sure about that.”
“W-Well, I am!” You say indignantly.
He tsks you. “Okay… Well, all I’m saying is, that is not the face of someone dating the man of their dreams.”
You turn to look at Jisung, for only a second.
“How… How do you know he’s the man of my dreams?”
He scoffs. “Honey, he’s the man of everyone’s dreams.”
You tilt your head to the side, thinking about it.
“Okay, fair.” You admit.
He grins wickedly, before extending his hand.
“I’m Minho,” he introduces himself finally.
“I know,” you reply back, taking a sip of your now almost empty drink instead of shaking his hand.
He retracts it back with a smirk, not even slightly offended.
Your still watching Jisung intently, and it’s only when one of the girls he’s talking to wraps her hand around his arm and pulls him closer to her that it gets too much for you.
Abruptly, you turn to Minho.
“You want to do shots with me?” You ask, suddenly.
“Shots?” Minho perks up, interest piqued. “Hell yeah.”
“Great.” You down the remaining contents of your cup before setting it down on a side table. Then, you grab him by his wrist and all but drag him with you to the kitchen.
You waste no time in setting up tiny red plastic cups the size of shot glasses—2 for Minho, and 2 for you—and then you’re grabbing the tequila and pouring it into them.
“Tequila?” he asks, surprised. “So you really want to feel something, huh?”
You glare at him. “Shut up and drink.”
He grins at you but complies, and the two of you throw back the shots together.
“Oh, that is absolutely foul,” you say, barely able to stop yourself from gagging. Belatedly, you grab a quarter of a lime and suck on it.
“Want to do more?”
“You’re kind of crazy,” Minho winces as he swallows. “…I like it.”
You shrug, already feeling tipsy, and you waste no time in refilling the cups.
You lose count of how many shots the two of you have taken—five? maybe six?—but it doesn’t matter, because after the 3rd one, your head is already fuzzy and any thoughts of Jisung have successfully been pushed to the back of your mind.
The two of you have been arguing about various things (most of which you forget by the time you move on to the next topic), and you find that you are actually enjoying yourself.
And then, whoever is in charge of the music decides to change things up, and suddenly 3racha is blaring through the apartment and you find yourself thinking about Jisung once again.
You frown, taking a sip from a cup—just Sprite, now, because Minho decided to cut you off a few minutes ago while you could still speak in full sentences.
“Do you like 3racha?” You yell at him over the music, and he nods eagerly.
“Oh, definitely! Their stuff is really good, and it’s so cool that they go to school with us!”
Minho takes a swig from his cup, which likewise, is Sprite.
“Okay, I have a question,” you shout into his ear to be heard over all the noise. “This could make or break our friendship, so you better answer correctly!”
Minho nods solemnly.
“Who’s your favorite?”
“From 3racha?” Minho asks, pondering.
You nod, and his brow furrows as he thinks.
“Hmm… I think they’re all great, but I would probably have to go with CB97.”
“CB97?” You exclaim, aghast.
“I’m sorry, I think…” You say slowly. “I think this is the end of our friendship.”
“What?” Minho pouts. “No! Who’s your favorite, then?”
“Uh, J.One, of course,” you say it like it’s obvious. “That’s the only correct answer.”
He shrugs. “I mean, yeah J.One is pretty cool, but CB97 is just unbeatable.”
You scoff.
“Sure, CB97 is fine, but J.One is obviously the best!”
The two of you continue to bicker back and forth—you’re so heated, you aren’t even sure how long the two of you have been arguing.
And that’s how Jisung finds you: drunk and angry and defending his honor.
“J.One carries the group!” You shout as he enters the kitchen. “I think you should get your hearing re-evaluated. You might be in danger of going deaf.”
Minho opens his mouth, his response ready, but before he can bite back, Jisung has already interrupted.
“Y/N!” He exclaims, barely able to hold back his laugh as he sees you, red in the face with your brow drawn taut as you glare at Minho.
“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
At the sound of his voice, you come up short, and a confused look comes over your face as you turn to look at him.
“Jisung?” You ask, bewildered.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he grins. “How much have you had to drink? And how long have you been here?”
“I had 5… 5 shots?” You tell him, holding up 8 fingers, and he narrows his eyes. “And also some rum and coke!”
You pick up your cup of Sprite to take a sip, but Jisung takes it from you gently.
“I don’t think you should drink anymore,” he tells you. “Otherwise, you’ll wake up with a killer hangover tomorrow.”
“Huh?” You say, staring at the cup. “Oh! It’s just Sprite.”
Jisung takes a sniff to confirm, before handing it back to you, embarrassed.
“Oh, sorry…” He mutters.
“It’s okay!” You grin cheesily. “Minho told me I should stop drinking, too…”
You point to where Minho is standing, and he gives Jisung a little wave.
“Did you know tequila is kind of gross?” You whisper, leaning in close to his ear.
“Yeah,” he tells you with a laugh.
“Now,” you declare. “Can you please settle this and tell Minho that J.One is obviously the best in 3racha?”
He raises an eyebrow, amused.
“You think J.One is the best?”
You frown. “Yeah, obviously. I have to stay loyal, after all. I can’t just change my mind mid argument, can I?”
Jisung lets out a laugh, and Minho’s eyes flit between the two of you.
“Well—I’m just going to get something else to drink from, um, over there,” he motions vaguely off to the right, before giving you a long meaningful look that you don’t quite understand.
“See you later!” And then he’s gone, leaving the two of you in the kitchen alone.
“So I’m guessing you’ve been here for a while,” Jisung says a second later, and your gaze snaps to his face.
“Hmm?” You hum distractedly. “Oh. Yeah, probably? I think so…”
“Why didn’t you come find me?” He says, his brow furrowed as he looks you in the eye.
The music is thrumming, the lights are dim, and all you can think about is how hot you feel. Why is it so hot in here?
“What?” You ask, still a little disoriented.
Jisung runs a hand through his hair, and you find yourself staring at him. The top to buttons of his shirt are undone, and you can see his collarbones peeking out as he pushes his hair back. You find yourself mesmerized.
“I-I mean,” Jisung says, a blush rising to his cheeks. “I was waiting for you…”
You’re so blatantly checking him out that you don’t notice how embarrassed he looks at the confession, and you barely manage to catch what he says.
“Oh,” you murmur, your eyes now focused on his hand. “Well, I mean, you looked busy when I got here and I didn’t want to be a bother.”
“What do you mean?” He asks, confused.
You stare, thinking it’s obvious enough.
“Well, first it was that really tall girl, with the highlights,” you begin listing, counting on your fingers as you go. “Then it was that guy in the muscle tee… And then it was the other girl, in your econ class. I just didn’t want to interrupt…”
“You wouldn’t have been interrupting,” Jisung mutters. “I mean, you’re my girlfriend.”
“Fake girlfriend,” you chime helpfully.
His expression falls, almost imperceptibly.
“Right. Of course…”
You’re oblivious to it all, too intoxicated to notice the slight shift in his mood.
“So, how has your party been so far, birthday boy?” You grin, nudging him slightly with your shoulder.
“It’s been nice,” He responds distractedly.
“Did Hyunjin make you do shots with him?” You ask curiously. “He was, like, really excited about making you do that.”
Jisung wrinkles his nose.
“Ugh, yeah,” he groans. “That was not fun. My liver is going to be gone before I even graduate.”
“Boo, don’t be such a wimp!” You exclaim. “Shots are fun.”
Jisung opens his mouth, about to bite back a response, but before he can—someone comes barreling in your direction, tackling him in a hug that leaves him stumbling a few steps back.
“Jisung!” It takes him a moment to realize the person who’s hugging the life out of him is Yuna.
“Yuna,” he chokes out, startled with his hands hanging by his side awkwardly.
“So?” She says, grinning as she pulls back. “How’s your day been? Excited to finally turn five?”
Jisung rolls his eyes. “If I’m five, that must mean you’re four, huh?”
“Touché.” She throws back. “But seriously, happy birthday!”
“Thanks,” he says back, almost shyly.
“Yuna!” You exclaim belatedly, finally realizing who she is.
She turns to look at you, and Jisung swears her eyes light up as she launches herself at you.
“Y/N! I’ve been looking for you! I missed you,” she says as she wraps her arms lovingly around you—very unlike the anaconda chokehold she had held Jisung in only a few moments before.
“I missed you too,” you pout as you return the hug.
Jisung’s face scrunches up in confusion.
“Don’t you guys live together?”
Yuna waves him off. “Yeah. Your point is?”
“…Nevermind,” he mutters wisely after a few moments.
“So,” Yuna says, raising an eyebrow. “how have the two of you been?”
“Good!” You say cheerfully, your voice pitching up a little bit higher than you mean for it to.
Yuna’s gaze is one that can kill, and the way she’s looking at the two of you—a mischievous smirk on her face… It makes Jisung uncomfortable.
“Y-Yeah,” Jisung stutters, his hand finding yours and gripping it tightly. “You know… Doing couples stuff, being a couple… All of that.”
Your roommate raises an eyebrow, amused.
“Really?”
“Oh, definitely,” you nod seriously, and she lets out a short laugh.
“You two really are perfect for each other,” Yuna says, shaking her head. “I just can’t believe it took you both this long to realize it.”
You frown at the implication of her words, focusing so hard on the part where she says the two of you are perfect for each other, that you miss the way Jisung clears his throat awkwardly and stares daggers at Yuna.
“I guess…” you say slowly, your brows knit together.
“Well!” Yuna exclaims, clasping her hands together. “I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, but there’s a dance floor that is calling my name. Hyunjin bet me that I couldn’t out dance him, and you know I never back down. I’ll see you guys later!”
She waves as she goes, and the two of you watch even as she disappears into the crowd.
“So…” Jisung begins jokingly a few moments later.
“I guess we’re just perfect for each other, huh?”
You’re drunk enough that you can’t tell whether he meant for his words to come out sounding so bitter, and if you had been more sober, you probably would have questioned it.
But you’re not, and so your mind passes over it onto the next thought: namely, the one that has been running through your mind the entire night—how attractive Jisung looks right now.
You don’t know why, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop yourself from staring. Granted, you aren’t really trying all that hard.
And, if you’re being honest, it’s his fault for looking so good…
“Y/N?” Jisung waves his hand in front of your face when you don’t answer.
And then, against your will, your mind flashes to all the pretty girls he was talking to tonight—first, the one he was talking to when you walked in at the beginning, who he was grinning at like she was the funniest girl in the world. And then, later, when he was surrounded by a whole harem of them, all flirting with him.
At those thoughts, something ugly rears its head inside your heart. You didn’t really think you were the type to get jealous before tonight. Frankly, you don’t even have a reason to be jealous.
He’s not actually your boyfriend, what right do you have to care about who he talks to and flirts with?
“Are you okay?” Jisung asks, concerned as you stare off into space.
And then another thought occurs to you—why is he so dense? For two years, you’ve had the biggest crush on him, and not once has Jisung noticed. You’ve been pining after him hopelessly, and when he finally makes a romantic advance—it’s to fake a relationship for his convenience?
“Y/N?” He repeats your name once more, and this time, your gaze snaps to his face.
You’re not sure what it is that spurs you into action. Jealousy, exasperation, maybe even just plain anger at him and the circumstances he’s put you in.
Although, if you’re being honest, it’s probably mostly the alcohol that’s rushing through your blood that makes you do it, but before you can second guess yourself, your hands go to cup Jisung’s face, and then you’re yanking him down to your height and pressing your lips firmly against him.
At first, you meant for it to be chaste and short. Just a simple and impulsive peck that is meant for—closure, maybe? You aren’t really sure. It’s not supposed to be anything more than a small playground peck, mostly because he’s so infuriating and you can’t focus on anything but his lips, and you just need to get it out of your system.
But then, you’re close enough to feel his breath, hot and light against your lips. He smells like cotton and lemon with a hint of vodka, and his eyes—when you look into them, they are dark and confused and even a little concerned too, and before you know it, you’re throwing all caution to the wind and kissing him.
You’re really, truly kissing him, the way you’ve dreamt of so many times.
It’s frenzied and sloppy, and really not that great because you are both too drunk to focus on accuracy, but your hands snake around the nape of his neck and you find yourself lacing your fingers through his hair as your eyes slide shut. You hate yourself a little bit, because you enjoy it so much.
But the worst part of it?
The worst part is that Jisung kisses you back. It takes him a few seconds to react, but then his hands are on your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you closer and melts into your lips. You don’t even know how long the two of you stand there, completely absorbed in each other.
Even as you break the kiss, your hands stay wrapped around his neck, just as his hands stay firmly on your waist. Your foreheads are pressed together, and there is this dumb little grin stretched across his face.
It takes you both a moment to process. But then, Jisung is whispering to you, almost breathless, “what was that for?”
You look up into his eyes to find them wide and curious, anticipating your response.
It’s then that you realize what you’ve just done.
“Um,” you breathe other a moment later, your voice thick and your head swimming with confusion. “Happy birthday?”
“Thanks,” he grins a little, but then his expression drops when he sees the panic in your eyes.
“Yeah,” you say awkwardly, stepping back from him even as your throat closes up.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, you just kissed him.
“I’m—I have to go pee,” you say dumbly.
“Okay,” Jisung tells you softly.
And then you walk out of the kitchen, to the bathroom—where you pause for a moment, before continuing past it, to the door and out of the apartment.
You don’t stop until you get home.
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You spend the next week avoiding Jisung.
It’s not easy, mind you—but you still manage to do it. In between the texts and phone calls from not only him but various members of your friend group, you somehow are able to hide, almost as if you don’t exist at all.
That’s not the hard part though. No, the hard part is avoiding Yuna. You leave for your classes early in the morning and come home late at night in a desperate grab at not running into her. The ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting on your phone is permanently set to on, and you go out of your way to study only in the archaeology library, despite how far away it is from your apartment.
You’re like a ghost in the wind, the way that you make yourself scarce, and the only person you speak to is Hyunjin—mostly because he’s the one person you can’t seem to avoid.
He is your best friend, after all, and when the two of you share almost every class, it makes it impossible to avoid him.
But, to your surprise, you find that he doesn’t press you at all. Over the course of the week, not once does he bring up Jisung or the party on Friday, and you would think that he hasn’t noticed anything out of the blue if it wasn’t for the way he strategically avoids mentioning any of your friends.
You can’t help but love him for it. He doesn’t ask for answers, even once, and you are reminded once again why he’s your best friend.
You are a wreck for so many reasons that you can’t help but wrap your head around, and the only thing that keeps you together is that Hyunjin continues to joke about the stupidest things as if you both don’t know that you are seconds away from falling apart.
But, come Friday, it seems your luck has run out.
When you arrive home in the early evening, you find Yuna sitting in the living room, her arms crossed as if she’s waiting. Well, obviously you know that logically, she’s waiting for you. But hey… It could be something else, right?
Wrong, if the pointed glare she pins you with is anything to go off of.
“Sit,” she says shortly.
Timidly, you listen. Really, all you want to do is run back into your room and lock the door but—well, she’s scary and you think she might bust down your door right off its hinges if you do that.
“S-So…” You stammer awkwardly. “What’s up?”
You wince right as the words leave your mouth. Why are you like this? It’s like recently, you can’t do anything right. With school, with your friends… With Jisung.
She stares at you pointedly.
“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”
“There’s nothing up with me,” you say, trying to keep your face blank as your head turns downward and you pick at the loose thread hanging from the hem of your shirt.
“Really?” Yuna asks, an eyebrow raised. She doesn’t sound convinced at all, but you pretend you don’t notice.
“Nope,” you respond again. “Why? Is there something wrong?”
“Yeah, actually,” she says calmly. “It’s just that there is this girl I know who seems to be avoiding all her friends and her boyfriend without any explanation, and nobody can figure out what’s wrong.”
“Oh? Well, maybe she’s fine and doesn’t need anyone to worry about her. She could be just a little tired after a long week, don’t you think?”
“Tired doesn’t mean ignoring everyone she knows,” Yuna points out.
You look down, examining your fingernails. They are short, bitten stubs—a product of your recent spike in anxiety. You pick at a hangnail on your thumb before you answer.
“Maybe tired to her means socializing less to conserve energy.”
A moment passes, and you can feel her glare burning into the side of your head, but you don’t look up.
“Y/N.” She says finally, breaking the silence. “Please. Talk to me.”
“I am talking,” you say shortly.
“That’s not what I mean,” Yuna emphasizes firmly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is,” you repeat. “Everything is fine and dandy. I’m doing great. Couldn’t be better, in fact.”
She sighs heavily.
“What happened with you and Jisung?”
You still.
“Jisung?” Your voice wobbles—barely, but you know it’s enough for Yuna to notice. “Why would you think something happened with Jisung?”
“Because he’s been a wreck since his birthday, and you’ve been avoiding everyone, and there is something weird about it all.”
Your breath catches in your throat when she says that. The first thought that pops into your head is, is he okay?
It’s followed quickly by why is he a wreck? and did I fuck up so badly that I broke him?
“Hasn’t he said what’s wrong with him?” You ask, trying to be nonchalant even as you can feel the panic rising in your throat. “Because I think he’s the only one with an issue right now. Not me. Definitely not me.”
“Y/N,” Yuna sighs again. “He’s your boyfriend, and there’s something up with both of you. Did he do something? Please, tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”
Boyfriend. The word echoes in your head, bouncing around until it threatens to engulf you completely. It’s parasitic, the way it burns through you.
A moment passes, and you’re frozen.
Then,
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
Your voice is heartbreakingly soft, and Yuna is surprised to find that when you look up and your eyes finally meet hers, they are glassy with unshed tears.
“What?”
“I said,” you choke out. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
And then you’re crying.
“Oh, Y/N,” Yuna says soothingly, pulling you closer and wrapping her arms around you.
You turn, burying your face into her shoulder as hot, scalding tears run down your face. She runs a hand down your head, smoothing your hair in a calming and repetitive movement, and you let go of the emotions you have been holding back for the past 7 days.
You cry and you cry and you cry until you feel like you have nothing left to give, and then you just let Yuna hold you for a moment.
And then, you pull back after what seems like forever, and tell her about everything.
Okay, so—not everything. You definitely don’t tell her about Jisung and 3racha, but you tell her everything else. How you’ve had a crush on him for forever, and how you both ended up somehow faking a relationship, and how you’re feelings for him only continued to grow throughout it, and then you tell her about the party, and how you kissed him and fucked everything up, because there is no way he feels anything for you—especially because he’s been avoiding you the same way you have been avoiding him.
Yuna listens attentively and doesn’t interrupt once, and when you finish speaking finally, your tears have mostly dried.
“You don’t hate me… Do you?” Your voice is small and vulnerable.
“No,” she says decidedly. “I could never hate you for something like this.”
“Thank you,” you whisper, a watery smile barely present on your face as she hugs you again.
“Do you… Do you think I fucked it all up?”
Yuna shakes her head firmly. “No. I know you didn’t.”
You aren’t too sure if you believe her, but the words are comforting either way.
“You know what?” Yuna says determinedly after a moment. “I think you need something to get your mind off of this all. To clear your head, you know? It’ll make you feel better.”
You look at her skeptically, your eyes already beginning to puff up.
“Yes,” she nods excitedly to herself. “Tomorrow, I’m taking you on a date so you can stop thinking about him!”
“Oh, Yuna, I don’t—“ You sniffle but she cuts you off.
“Nope! I’ve decided already! You’re heartsick, and this is just what the doctor ordered.”
“…Okay?”
“Great!” She grins at you. “Now, why don’t you take a shower and go to sleep? You look like you’re about to pass out any minute.”
“Yeah,” you say faintly as she drags you up from the couch and pushes you in the direction of your bedroom. “Okay.”
After a quick, scalding shower, you lay in bed and fall asleep quickly. You sleep fitfully and contently the entire night through, and when you wake up the next morning, it is to Yuna packing up a wicker basket in the kitchen.
“You’re awake!” She exclaims when she notices you come out of your room.
“Get dressed,” Yuna singsongs, folding a giant gingham sheet. “We’re going on a picnic! I put a lot of effort into this so you better put on something cute or I’ll murder you.”
You find that, against all odds, you somehow feel better than you did last night, even if only marginally.
Crying it out of your system will do that to you, you suppose as you head back into your room to pick out an outfit that will pass Yuna’s inspection.
It doesn’t take long for you to settle in a simple white cotton dress. You tie your hair back with a matching ribbon, and put on a bit of concealer under your eyes to hide any evidence of what happened last night.
When you emerge from your room, you find Yuna waiting eagerly at the door, a giant floppy straw hat on her head.
“Let’s go!” She says excitedly. Despite yourself, you find a small smile creeping onto your face. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea, after all.
You don’t really know where you are going, because Yuna has planned it all out to the tee, but she chats the whole bus ride there, and for the first time all week, you feel like you can breathe.
30 minutes later, the two of you find yourselves on the banks of the Han river, spreading out a blanket to sit upon.
Then, you’re reaching into the wicker basket Yuna has brought along, pulling out small boxes full of comfort food—rice cakes, fried rice, noodles… Your heart warms as you think of her in the kitchen, cooking all of this food for you.
You really love your friends.
“Rice, japchae, beef…” Yuna mutters to herself, doing a tally of everything that has been laid out.
“Is there nothing else in the basket?” She turns to you, hopeful. You look inside, and then shake your head.
“No, it’s empty.”
“Fuck, I forgot water…”
Then, her eyes light up.
“I’ll be right back, okay? I’m just going to the convenience store to get something to drink.”
“Okay,” you nod to her.
And then she’s running off, her hat wobbling in a hilarious way as she goes.
You pull your knees into your chest and observe around you as you wait for her to come back. A small toddler runs past you, with his mother close behind, begging him to slow down. A few feet away, 3 middle school boys are riding their bikes and eating ice pops as they go. An elderly couple are resting on a bench that overlooks the river.
Then, your eyes fall onto the ducks. You light up immediately, searching the wide picnic spread until you find what you were looking for—bread.
You’re overly excited as you grab the bag of bread and practically skip over to the ducks. They watch you curiously as you bend down a few feet away from them. You start to break off small pieces of the bread and throw them down in between you and the ducks, and they happily swarm the food you offer.
You giggle as you watch a mother duck push her chick towards a small piece of bread that you have thrown out. The baby ducks are always the cutest, you can’t help but think.
“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” A familiar voice says from behind you, and you freeze. Your blood turns ice cold, and your head snaps around.
And there he is, in the flesh—Han Jisung, standing awkwardly only a few feet away from you.
You stare. He’s dressed casually, in a loose white shirt and black jeans, and it’s crazy how he looks the same as you’ve always seem him, and yet so different at the same time. His hair is brushed back, and to your surprise—a deep, berry blue, but what shocks you the most is the timid, almost unsure expression on his face.
A moment passes, and then—you’re pushing yourself up and briskly walking past him without a word, trying to get as far away as possible.
“Wait, Y/N—wait!” He calls out, but you ignore him.
“Y/N,” he jogs, and it doesn’t take long before he’s in front of you, effectively cutting off your escape route.
You stop in your tracks, but continue to stare off behind his head, as if you can’t see him at all.
“Can we talk?” He asks.
“We don’t have anything to talk about,” you say stiffly.
“Um, I think we have a lot to talk about,” he disagrees, his brow furrowing.
You think it’s cute—at least, you would, if you were looking at him. But you’re not, and so you don’t.
“Well I don’t have anything to talk to you about,” you say, tone short and sharp.
“That’s fine,” Jisung sighs. “That’s fine, because I can do the talking. But will you listen?”
You stare off in the direction Yuna had run off in, desperately hoping for her to appear. Predictably, she doesn’t, and so instead of answering, you continue to stare pointedly at anything but the boy in front of you.
He takes that as a yes.
“Look,” he looks a little exasperated as he runs a hand through his hair. “I know that we started this whole thing so we could, I dunno, keep up a lie that I got us wrapped up into. And I know you got all freaked out last week when—well, when that thing happened, which is why I’ve been giving you space…”
You still refuse to look at him, but your eyes trail from a giant light pole behind him to where a family of four are sitting under the shade of a giant tree.
“I mean,” Jisung continues on. “I thought space is what you needed, for a bit. But you’re still ignoring me and freaking out, which is why I’m here to tell you that—well, to tell you that I like you.”
He says it so sincerely that it’s enough for you to finally look at him.
“Ha, ha,” you say sarcastically, finally speaking. “That’s funny. Now, are you done? I’m kind of busy right now.”
“What?” His nose scrunches in confusion, and your heart skips a beat, which you promptly ignore.
“No, Y/N. I like you. A lot.”
The familiar feeling of panic starts to well up in your stomach, and your gaze hardens.
“You like me?” You say, your face twisting cruelly as you look at his earnest, pleading eyes.
“Yes,” he says solemnly. “I do. I have for a long time, actually…”
Your throat burns. “Jisung, stop it.”
“Why?” He asks, bewildered.
“Because!” You hiss. “I know you’re doing this for 3racha and to keep it a secret, which is fine, I know you are. It’s what we’ve been doing since the beginning, of course I know you are, but… But you’re being mean right now.”
“How?” His frustration bleeds into his words. “Y/N, I’m telling you that I like you! This has nothing to do with 3racha.”
You scoff.
“You don’t believe me?” Jisung demands. “I’m serious. I’ve already told Yuna everything! I literally have nothing to lose,” he laughs, and it borders on maniacal.
“Except you, of course, because my feelings for you are so real it’s kind of starting to hurt!”
“What did you say?” You whisper faintly.
He sighs. “On Monday, when it became obvious you were avoiding me, I went to Yuna, and—well I told her about 3racha, and what you were doing to help me keep that secret, because I wanted her advice on how to…”
He trails off, suddenly nervous. You stare foggily at him, half unsure if you’re breathing still.
“How to what?” You ask after a moment.
“How to ask you out, for real.”
“You told Yuna?”
He nods. “That’s why I’m here... I asked her to set this up.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he echoes. “Oh.”
A moment passes. You feel warm all over. He told Yuna the truth… Does that mean…? He’s telling the truth?
“So,” you start. “Let me get this straight. You told Yuna the truth about your biggest secret, and… You like me?”
“I do, like you. A lot. A lot a lot.”
His eyes bore into yours.
“Okay,” you say weakly.
“Okay?” He asks. “I was… Kind of hoping for something more than okay.”
Instead of responding to that, you find yourself staring at his hair.
“It’s very blue,” you tell him, reaching out to touch it.
“What?” Jisung says, as if he’s forgotten. “Oh, yeah. It is.”
“You look like a blueberry,” you murmur, still entranced by how soft his hair is. “Why did you dye it?”
A blush rises to his cheeks, and he looks away quickly as he murmurs something inaudibly.
“What? I didn’t hear what you said.”
“Well,” he begins bashfully, his entire face red at this point. “You had said… The day you date me is the day I dye my hair blue, so…”
You retract your hand, your mind going back to that Thursday in the closet, when the two of you had been hiding from Yuna.
“I did say that, didn’t I?” You muse.
He nods.
“So?” You ask, expectantly.
“What?” Jisung is quick to get defensive.
“Aren’t you going to ask me out?”
“B-But,” he begins cluelessly. “You don’t… Like me back, do you?”
It takes a moment to process the words, and your jaw drops open slightly. You don’t know how to react to that—you don’t know what to do, or what to say. A flurry of emotions overcome you, but it’s easiest to pick out anger, and so you do the first thing that comes to mind.
You punch him.
“Ow!” Jisung yelps, pouting as he rubs his shoulder.
“You absolute buffoon!” You explode in anger. “Who initiated that kiss on your birthday? Was it you? No, I don’t think it was. Of course I like you! I’ve liked you since I met you, you fucking idiot! Why would you think I don’t like you? You are quite possibly the stupidest person to exist. It takes a special kind of person to be so oblivious you don't notice someone crushing on you for two years! I was so obvious too!”
He stares at you, flabbergasted.
Now it’s his turn to parrot you. “You like… me?”
You glare at him.
“Ask me,” you demand.
“Do you like me?” He repeats, and your eyes narrow.
“Wrong question,” you grit out.
His eyes widen as his mouth forms a silent ‘o.’’
“Do you…” He begins.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” Jisung asks finally, voice soft as he stares at you in wonder.
“Yes, you dummy!” You yell.
You want to smack him for being stupid, but you decide to kiss him instead—and this time, you find it’s everything you remember it to be and so much more.
“For the record,” Jisung says when the two of you break away, a stupid grin on his face as he slips his hand into yours. “I’ve liked you since I met you, too.”
“Really?” You look at him weirdly. “I threatened you with a frying pan.”
“Yeah, you looked kind of crazy,” he nods. “But it was hot, like, in a psycho kind of way.”
A look of disgust passes over your face, and you push him away.
“You’re disturbed,” you tell him. “I don’t think I want to date you anymore.”
“Hey!” He protests. “It hasn’t even been five minutes!”
“I didn’t know you were so weird, though,” you mimic vomiting, but don’t resist when he grabs your hand again.
The two of you head back to the picnic blanket you had been at before, only to find Yuna sitting there with at least ten water bottles surrounding her.
Her eyes flit to your linked hands as the two of you approach.
“So,” she says mischievously. “What did I miss?”
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“Jisung,” you sigh. “Just show me the picture. I’ll see it sooner or later!”
He pouts as he holds his phone away from you. “No, I look bad.”
It’s currently a Saturday afternoon, with winter break just around the corner, and you and your friends are hanging out at Jisung and Hyunjin’s apartment.
“Babe,” you soothe him. “I promise, you don’t look bad.”
“Yes I do.”
“Han Jisung, give me the phone.” You frown.
“No,” he says stubbornly, shaking his head, and you grab his ear.
“Ow, ow!” He yelps, but you just twist ruthlessly.
“You’ve seen my ugly baby pictures,” you tell him, “so show me yours.”
“Okay, okay, fine!” He relents, and you let go of his ear, satisfied.
“But… You have to promise not to laugh.”
“I promise,” you say solemnly, and a moment later, he’s handing his phone to you hesitantly.
Excited, you snatch it from his hand, and he buries his face in your shoulder, embarrassed.
You’ve barely even glanced at the photo before you have to resist the urge to snort, but Jisung feels the vibration in your chest, and he lifts his head up to glare at you.
“You promised you wouldn’t laugh!”
“And I didn’t,” you clear your throat, pressing your lips together to suppress the smile from creeping onto your face.
“I told you I look bad, I shouldn’t have even let you see,” he whines and tries to snatch his phone back from you, but you hold it away from him.
“No!” You tell him. “I think it’s… cute.”
“You’re lying,” he accuses, and you can’t resist cupping his cheek with your free hand. He always looks so cute when he pouts.
“Well…” You say slyly. “I’ve always had a think for you in glasses.”
He groans, flopping backwards onto the couch, and you finally let out a laugh.
“It’s not that bad, Jisung, I promise!” You coo. “I think you’re adorable, even as an awkward preteen with a really bad haircut.”
“Don’t talk to me,” he grumbles, his words muffled as a result of being smushed face-first into the couch, and you continue to fawn over him.
Opposite to the two of you, Hyunjin and Yuna watch on in a sort of disgusted fascination, absolutely appalled by the romantic display and yet wholly unable to look away as you give Jisung a smooch on the cheek.
“This is so gross…” Hyunjin whispers to Yuna.
“Maybe it was better when they weren’t dating…” Yuna mutters back.
You’re now scrolling through Jisung’s camera roll as he tries to take his phone back from you, and Hyunjin can’t help but nod in agreement.
“You know… If you think about it, this is all kind of thanks to you,” he says to Yuna, and she snorts.
“Kind of?” She raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m definitely taking credit for this.”
“What?”
“You think all of this just happened by chance?” She gestures to you and Jisung. “I mean, I didn’t think Jisung would take it this far, but… Well, let’s just say he’s never been good at hiding things.”
She smirks. “His feelings for Y/N… Or his identity as J.One.”
Hyunjin gapes.
“Jisung has a habit of leaving his SoundCloud logged in when he lends me his laptop,” she explains.
“…Please, remind me to never keep secrets from you,” Hyunjin mutters under his breath, only slightly terrified.
On the couch across from them,  Jisung has finally managed to take his phone back from you. You wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest as you let out a sigh.
Lazily, his arm wraps around you and he pulls you closer, his nose in your hair.
“What?” He mumbles, the words muffled by your head.
“Mm, s’nothing,” you say.
A moment of silence passes, and muted voices from the TV echo. Your face warms, and impulsively, your arms tighten around his torso as if trying to snuggle further into him.
“What is it?” He asks again, his tone playful.
There’s a beat of silence. You turn your face away from his so he can’t see you, and then:
“You’re so skinny.”
“Yeah,” he says sarcastically back. “I know. You’re always calling me a noodle boy, after all.”
You grin.
“Yeah, but you’re my noodle boy,” you say affectionately, and Yuna almost gags.
“Okay,” Hyunjin announces, horrified. “That’s enough PDA for one day!”
You stick out your tongue at him, and Jisung shows him his middle finger.
“You’re just jealous,” you tease.
“It’s okay, Hyunjin,” Jisung says solemnly. “Maybe one day someone will get past your annoying personality and catch feelings for you, too.”
Hyunjin lets out a strangled groan.
“Can we leave? Please?” He begs Yuna.
“Already two steps ahead of you,” she mutters, slinging her bag over her shoulder before waving to you and Jisung.
“Bye!”
And then she’s walking out the door.
“Yuna!” Hyunjin scrambles after her desperately. “Wait for me!”
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(in case you were wondering what the picture of jisung looks like: see below)
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2K notes · View notes
poutylino · 3 years
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[ an hour before the wedding ] — l. minho
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wc: 0.9k
content/genre: non-idol au, angst, fluff
warning(s): cold feet, swearing, let me know if i missed something
note: i’ve been rewatching himym so- lmao,,, barney and robin shouldnt have divorced,,, eeeek
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it was a natural thing to freak out an hour before the wedding. but it’s honestly something else when the bride has her shoes on her hands, running off. until you run into someone causing you two to knock down on the floor. you both groan and you shake your head, standing up as you help the girl up. she stands up and you smile apologetically. “hi, i’m so sorry.” you say.
“no, no, no. the bride is always right.” she says and you sigh, smiling. the smile falls off her lips, looking at you. “this is not good.” she says and you sigh, looking down. “cold feet?”
“i don’t know.” you confess. “i just think i’m marrying the wrong man.”
she nods, not saying anything. “that’s it? you’re not going to say that i’m just freaking out? that i’m crazy?” you ask and she lightly laughs, smiling at you.
“we don’t really know each other.” she says, smiling. “but let’s face it, you love him. you didn’t run off when i didn’t say anything. you stayed here, asking me if i’m not going to stop you. deep down, you’re looking for a sign to tell you that you should just go and marry him.” she says and you look at her. “close your eyes, take three deep breaths. it can change a lot.”
she smiles, walking off and you nod, smiling back at her. you sigh, closing your eyes.
first breath.
everyone knows it’s in minho’s nature to lie. he never really opened up that much—if he isn’t able to turn the tables around, he lies. he wasn’t there from the very start. he could make a big gesture for you but it’s the smallest things that you want him to do which he almost never does.
second breath.
hyunjin is the one who always comes through. he found the locket you have buried years ago that you lost. tracked down ex-girlfriends in hopes that they have it. he gave it to minho, saying that minho shouldn’t say that it was hyunjin who found it. minho did it without blinking. hyunjin was the one who was always there for you—the one who always loved you.
third breath.
you never wanted to get married but when minho asked, you never hesitated to say yes.
you open your eyes, feeling yourself more calm. you turn, eyes widening lightly as you see minho on the side with a bunch of papers. “minho,” you mumble and minho looks at you.
“hi.” he says. “i, um, been looking all over for you.”
you nod, sighing. “well, here i am.”
minho nods, “what you doing?” he asks but he knows what you were going to do. he could see it. he always knew when you’re at the most vulnerable state. heels on your hands, tear stains on your cheeks, panting lightly.
“just, um,” you pointed at the stage where the instruments and equipments of the band are as you look down. “talking to someone in the band about some.. band stuff.” you lied, looking up as you smiled at him.
minho nods, not forcing you to tell him the truth.
“what’s that?” you ask, gesturing to the bunch of paper he’s holding.
“my wedding vows. i couldn’t get it quite right, so..” he says, gesturing at the paper as he toses it lightly to the side. “um, i know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, but i need to talk to you.”
“yeah? what is it?” you ask.
minho takes in a deep breath, sighing it out as he nods to encourage himself. “i know i have been a pain in the ass. we went through a rough path, but we were great, too and i hope we can stil be great together.” minho says. he definitely knows. “and i think, i know why we almost didn’t make it. i know i barely open up and it’s hard for you.
“so, through writing a lot of drafts, i realized there is only one vow i should make to you to let you know that i am ready to fully commit to you, y/n.” minho says and you look at him. “y/n, from this day forward, i vow to you that i will never lie to you ever again. because that’s what’s important and.. you never lied to me. i will try to be the best man that you deserve to have,”
you fiddle with your fingers, pushing your lips into a thin line as you look at him.
minho lets out a breath, looking at you with a small smile. “i’ll see you at the ceremony.” he says as he turns around to walk to his room but he stops, turning back to you. “also, hyunjin found the locket. so, you should thank him.”
minho turns around, walking.
“wait, minho.” you call as you walk to him and he turns around. your hand cups his cheek as your hand that holds your heels goes around his shoulders and you press your lips against his. minho kisses back, putting his hand on your hip as he makes you feel the burning passion of love that he feels for you.
you pull away, minho resting his forehead against yours as he doesn’t open his eyes. he fully pulls you to him, wrapping his arms around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. you lean your cheek against his as you wrap your own arms around his shoulders.
now, you’re sure it’s minho. it’s minho from the beginning, it will be minho until the end.
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cotccotc · 3 years
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💻 FASCINATING — LMH
genre/s: fluff, university au, crushes au, minho x gn reader
wc: 636
warning/s: none ! (is “mentions of math” a warning? it should be ... anyways)
a/n: this was literally a daydream i had whilst trudging through some math work for school ... let’s manifest something similar happening to me when i go to uni !!! yes thank u <333 (also !! feedback is much appreciated :)) i’m kinda rusty but i really like this one & i’d love to know what u think <3)
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there is one thing you hate most in the world. if you had to chose a singular person, object, or idea to completely ban from the face of existence, it would be the subject of mathematics in its entirety. specifically, university level algebra has to be the object of your upmost distaste. you’ve been at it for hours now in the school library, working tirelessly on a set of digital practice problems in preparation for midterms next week. you’ve gotten it down to a precise system in which you read each problem, make a mental note of key phrases and instructions, do the work on your now heavily scribbled-on scrap paper, and enter the final solution as meticulously as you can for fear of mistyping (which you have done now several times, much to your chagrin).
however, aside from the obvious benefit of preparation for your exam, you also receive a different type of reward from your intense study routine: alone time with your study buddy — and long time crush — lee minho.
the two of you met in freshman seminar last year. you needed a geometry tutor and he was falling behind in philosophy, so you decided to meet in the middle. more specifically, you began meeting up at this exact table on the second floor of the library every week, and you haven’t stopped since. today, as you scribble and tap away at your painstakingly tiresome arithmetic, he’s reviewing the ins and outs of comparative politics. you can never seem to understand what possessed him to become a political science major. he can’t either. yet, slightly distracted, he persists.
you see, minho hasn’t been able to focus all afternoon.
knee-deep in polynomials, radicals, and rational equations — though you’d much prefer to call any part of it completely and utterly irrational — you barely hear him as minho discloses, “you’re kind of fascinating. did you know that?”
your head shoots up. you meet his gaze with the sudden realization that he’s been looking at you this whole time. seated under the dingy, buzzing light of the second floor, his chestnut brown hair looks somehow wind-swept. it always does. when you study alongside him, you’re often distracted yourself. “hm?” you question.
he chuckles at your reaction to his sweet, albeit peculiar assertion. he glances back down at his textbook, rubbing the cap of his yellow highlighter with his thumb. with a smirk forming on his face, he simply mutters, “nothing.”
you sit back in your seat, crossing your arms in protest. “you can’t just say things like that and not elaborate,” you finally reply.
he lets out a sigh. reluctantly, he looks back up at you. “you’re just… fun to watch.” you furrow your brow in confusion. he rolls his eyes, putting down his highlighter and leaning his elbows on the table. he then goes on to explain, “i can tell whether or not you’ve gotten a question right by the look on your face. when you get it wrong, you bite the inside of your lip. and you do that thing with your eyebrows that you’re doing right now.” you giggle, relaxing your facial expression. “but when you get one right, you sort of... smile.” his voice is softer now, reminiscent of the feeling in his chest as he watches you. “it’s subtle. like you don’t even know you’re doing it. it’s the same every time.”
“...so i’m predictable?” you ask, matter-of-factly. though you try, a sarcastic edge can never quite conceal the tenderness he creates in you. he can see it in the smile beginning to spread across your face.
“not predictable. observable.” he pauses, his stare and smirk unwavering. “cute.”
your grin widens. slightly embarrassed, you look back down at your work. after a beat, minho does the same, his heart racing and face aglow.
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tags: @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @speckled-sunshine​, @kisskissbanggang, @mr-jisung-main, @childofthecosmos, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @sunshine-skz, @koishua, @thatrandomoneinthecorner, @seungminsaidsta, @somethingrandomworld, @ethan806, @eajone, @hwajin​, @geniejunn​ ( join my tag list !! )
©️ cotccotc 2021 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.
190 notes · View notes
hanibalistic · 2 years
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#9D00FF | HWANG HYUNJIN.
genre | fluff
word count | 1193
warning | none
note | having a hard time typing with this cold weather. and i want to eat my memories so i never think about them again. i want to be reborn. i miss my mom. 
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hyunjin doesn't think drawing was his greatest asset, and you agreed.
"well, damn, you can leave then!" hyunjin scoffed as he smashed the wooden end of his paintbrush against the leg of the easel. your agreement obviously displeased him and he spent no effort to hide it.
you remained somewhat tense and rigid, much like how hyunjin wanted you to be for the past hours, even though there had been times when you simply couldn't take it and had to take a short breather before resuming your amateur art modeling career. a giggle still escaped your gently parted lips, though, because seeing how agitated and disappointment hyunjin acted was hilarious, and that was because he didn't have the face to be angry.
he was too pretty, he has always been; growing up with perfectly parted hair and the most symmetrical features. it was a privilege with a small but very annoying side effect—nobody ever took him seriously even if it served in his favor and when he always got what he wanted.
"i was just kidding–uh, no, actually, i wasn't kidding," you rolled your eyes and slurred your words, unmoving, "your drawing is definitely not your greatest asset."
"thanks! i was already insecure about it, and now i am double doubting my career path," he announced boldly despite still painting human-colored strokes on his canvas. "it really makes me wonder why you decided to waste your time modeling for me if you don't think this," he gestured toward his canvas, "is going to work."
you made a strangled noise with your throat and turned your head just an inch to the side, trying to search for your best friend's serious face behind the big canvas. he knowingly poked his head out from the rectangle, one brow raised in anticipation with bored eyes—emphasized by his sleepless eye bags—that warned you to choose your next words very carefully.
"i never said you won't succeed down the art path. i just said i don't think art is your best asset," you replied honestly, the shrug in your shoulders a pointed signal that you hid nothing unspoken up your sleeves.
hyunjin squinted at you, which you mistook as him throwing his doubts and suspicion at your face, so you flashed him an alarming violent expression—eyes widened, but aggressively, violently, as if your next choice of action was any form of hurt toward him. he ignored you completely as he nodded to himself, his eyes scanning your seated figure once and twice, then he returned to the canvas and switched a brush to draw something.
you blinked at him, having shrunken into yourself and pathetically hiding your heated face against one raised shoulder. the blood that rushed it your cheek, the blush you created, visible or invisible to the human eye, existed involuntarily and without your control, and you were desperately trying to get rid of the shyness you were feeling.
your frown stayed permanent as you stared at the floor, and you were poorly trying to wipe away the exposure from your body—hyunjin, within these past three days of you modeling for his final project, has not once stared or looked at you with such intensity.
"you have this weird thing on your face, i never noticed," he said.
"oh, great, is it ugliness?" you exclaimed in exasperation, the air knocking out of your lungs into the form of a low, annoyed growl.
"no, just a little something here," he replied, popping out of the canvas to clumsily gestured at his face. then he grimaced, almost as if he was disappointed. "and you're not ugly."
"it was a joke," you muttered.
"that's insulting. it's not my kind of joke so don't assume i'm making them," he chuckled, arms moving to paint the canvas with a person, a refreshing breeze, a feeling he couldn't describe. "i never noticed you started doing your makeup like that."
"i didn't. i just thought i would do it because you were drawing me–thought i could make myself more presentable to the divine arts," you said, faked an accent, did a pose. after that, you slumped with a quick change of mood. "are you even drawing me, though? you barely glanced at me all this time, honestly."
you were not the only person who noticed. hyunjin spent more time chatting and joking with you behind his canvas than analyzing you for his painting, but he also noted that not once has he stopped thinking about you whenever he picked up a paintbrush. even though you sat before him, alive and real, his hands lacked the capability to paint your face the way his eyes captured you, and only in the recollection of his memories of you did his art skills found their muse.
but he wasn't thinking of you, per se. you were never still in his memories, which was unbearable if he was trying to draw you in detail. yet, every stroke he made went smoothly because his brain knew what he was doing, trying his best to recall his memories of you with watercolors and soft brushes, because he knew you, because his memories knew you well.
all of you, at any time of the day, at any point in life, at any standing—hyunjin knew you well, and he was drawing you from every moment he knew you, even the present where your voice guided his imagery.
"i am drawing you," he hummed gently, thinking about you in the past, present, and future. wherever your soul stood, as a child, a teenager, or an adult—he knew you well, he has known you well. "and i think you look pretty."
you froze, and you bit back a wide smile. "thanks. can i see?"
he stepped back and nodded. "sure."
you got off the chair and headed over to his side. the giddiness in your eyes overwhelmed you with a smile, your eyes gazed up and down the painting fondly despite not really understanding which part of you he really drew. you looked different than the way hyunjin saw you, and for a miraculous reason, you didn't hate how you appeared in the painting.
"this is amazing, hyunjin," you said. "i hope you pass the finals with my face on it."
"that sounds mildly disturbing," he added first and foremost, his pinky carefully scratching the end of his brow as he shifted his weight. "i sure hope i pass, though. i am going to need that luck since you just said art is not my greatest asset!"
you rolled your eyes in exasperation. he really took your words and ran a useless mile with it. whipping around, you glared up at him and clarified, "just because i said it's not the greatest, doesn't mean it's not at all!"
"and, for the record, your greatest asset–" you stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest. you calmed down with his beating heart, and you felt a wave of solitude as you counted them in your head. a beat passed, and you pressed your palm harder against his body. "right here, hyunjin. this is your greatest asset."
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yolkyeomie · 3 years
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[blurb] — pairing: felix x reader, word count: 975, genre: fluff/high school au, warning: none
note: oh my god this is based on a real experience I had the audacity to do two years ago
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[2:15 pm]: “what are you doing?” Seungmin questioned, leaning over to your desk to invade your privacy.
His peeping only made you more defensive, using your shoulder to block his view of the object in your hands and your embarrassed expression. “Nothing, can you just mind your own business?” You snap at him, hoping your attitude would scare him away.
Though you knew Seungmin had no shame and your demeanor only made him even more curious. He was practically right on your shoulder, his hands clamoring to reveal what you were hiding. “Oh come on Y/N!” The boy complained, struggling against your opposing strength. “You can’t just say something like that and expect me to leave you alone! Let me see, let me see!”
“No, you’ll open your mouth and start talking to everyone if I do,” you retaliated, getting ready to slip out of your seat to run to safety. In the time you took to reply however, Seungmin saw an opening you had yet to protect. Like a snake he snatched the object out of your grasp, a wide grin stretching across his face as you spoke, “hey! Give that back, I told you no!”
“Calm down, Y/N,” he argued, leaning back as far as his body would let him get out of your range. “I’m only going to look for like… two seconds.” The boy kept you at arms length as he finally took a look at what you had in your hands.
It wasn’t anything special, it was a piece of notebook paper folded into a rectangle. But the paper wasn’t what was interesting about it, it was written— or maybe drawn was the right word— on it.
“Woah… is this a drawing of Felix? It looks just like him!” Seungmin grinned, his eyes wide with awe as he admired your work. “Jeez, sometimes I forget you can really draw Y/N. This is so good!”
“Hush! Keep your voice down or I’ll get caught in the act,” you complained, snatching the drawing out of his hands in a hurry. “You’re so nice to everyone but me, you know that? What if… what if Felix heard you?”
“Hear what?” Speak of the devil, you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Felix’s voice behind you. For someone who usually kept their voice to a good minimum when he was alone, it didn’t stop the harsh booming tone his deep voice from echoing in your ears. Though, he made up for the sudden scare by flashing you his sweet smile that always made your heart run marathons in your chest.
You try your best to not embarrass yourself, a strained grin plastered onto your face as your chest tightening while your heart began running marathons around your body. “Nothing!” You lie, hiding the artwork away from the freckled boy’s line of sight, “I mean, there was nothing to hear! You must have misheard me. Or uh… imagined you heard me.”
“Did you know Y/N can draw, Felix?” Seungmin questioned, practically stabbing you in the back as he began to expose you. “Y/N can draw well! Like really, really well! Her drawings are so good!”
“Seungmin,” you hissed, almost losing your cool as you tried to whisper to him, “what the hell are you doing?”
“You can draw?” Felix asked, his voice cracking slightly but still adding a hint of endearment to his words. Without thinking you nod your head, feeling your ears begin to burn the same heat of the sun. Oh, curse Felix and his captivating self. Did he even know he had this type of effect on you? “Can I see some of your drawings? If you don’t mind, of course. I don’t think I’ve ever known someone who was an artist.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call myself an artist, no way!” You deny immediately before quickly adding, “I mean, you can definitely see some of the drawings I’ve done. I just don’t think I’m like… good enough to be labeled an artist.”
“Don’t say that,” the freckled boy encouraged, his smile beaming down on you like the morning rays. “I’m sure, you’re plenty talented!”
You glance back at Seungmin who wore a grin similar to that of Cheshire Cat as he watched the two of you. He silently urged you to take the next step, making eye contact with the drawing you were trying to hide from Felix in the first place. “Now’s your chance.”
You bite your lip anxiously, hesitantly taking the drawing out of hiding and holding it close to you. “Well actually…” you began, unsure of how exactly to go about this. You weren’t even planning on showing him in the first place. “Here, you can have this. I kinda… uh… used you as my muse…? I drew you, basically, yeah.”
“You drew me?” He gasped, his eyes shining like a full moon as you handed the drawing to him. Felix gently took it in his hands like it was the most valuable thing in the world, his eyes beginning to sparkle as he took in the art you had created. “Oh, wow… you drew me! This is so cool Y/N! It looks just like me, I’m not even joking! Are you sure I can keep this?”
“Of course!” You answer a little too fast, clearing your throat before continuing, “I mean… It is a drawing of you after all. It would be just a little weird if I kept it to myself.”
“I’ve never had a drawing done of me before,” he commented, unable to take his eyes off of your artwork. Felix stared at with with such glee and adoration that it almost knocked you off of your feet and he wasn’t even looking at you! “Thank you, Y/N, really. Ah… I’m never gonna to forget about this!”
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blueprint-han · 2 years
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floating through space (and a pile of junk) — lee felix.
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𝗚𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗣: STRAY KIDS; husband!felix x fem!reader
𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘: fluff.
𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧: 1.3 k
𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: nothing except bad writing and bad title, no proofreading, also there’s one mention of the reader being shorter than Felix ♡
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“You’re supposed to be cleaning!”
“In my defense, who cleans during the night?”
You huff, trying to snatch the polaroid camera Felix found in one of the cupboards away from him. “And in my defense, you’re busy all day. You know how much I hate cleaning the cupboards.”
Felix laughs, setting the camera aside he helps you get the remaining stuff out, then proceeds to grab a cloth to dust the shelves. Quite frankly, you feel like a terrible wife for making Felix work more after he’s already busy with tour preparations, but you’ve got no choice — you start sneezing up a storm at the slightest contact with dust, and you aren’t really gifted in the height department either. Neither is Felix, but he can, at least, reach the top shelves better than you could.
While Felix dusts, you sort through the stuff randomly thrown on your bed into two piles — throw or keep. You’re quite shocked with how much junk you’ve managed to accumulate in just a year, especially when most of the time it’s you who’s around the house, not Felix.
“I’m taking the day off tomorrow.”
Felix says it like it’s something so casual, and not his first day off in literal weeks. The selfish part of your brain freezes at that statement and wishes you aren’t just hearing things — you’ve been pretty silent about your wishes for Felix to stay longer than just one night, since you know it’s not his fault whatsoever, and if he could control it, he would.
“Y-you are?” You ask, hoping he doesn’t notice the very intent surprise behind your statement.
By the time you can turn around to face him, he’s behind you. You feel gentle arms wrap around your waist and Felix’s chin rest on your shoulder. The feeling of his breath on your neck stirs up butterflies in your stomach. Surprisingly, it’s more romantic than sensual in any way. You’ve gone without such soft moments for so long, you’ve learnt to cherish them.
“Mhm. I’m barely able to help you out or spend time with you, and I feel bad about it.” You can feel Felix pout, and you let a smile tug at your lips. Pretending as though you’re not affected by his ministrations, you keep sorting through the myriad of items on the bed. That’s not fully wrong, if you’re being honest. If you don’t finish this in the next two hours, then you’d both go to bed late. And you’re tired enough as is, and so is Felix.
“You don’t have to.” You mumble, voice trailing down even more when he tightens his grip on your waist. His warmth seeps into you, and suddenly, you can feel your heart beating oh-so-fast, like it’s the first time all over again. “You and I both know it’s not your fault you don’t have time.”
Felix doesn’t seem to have an answer for that. Instead, he grabs hold of your hands, stopping your motions. He then turns you around, and god, those eyes could kill you. It seemed like the deities of the universe themselves laid every single star in his eyes, such that one look at them and you felt at peace — like you were the only one who existed in his universe, that the whole world was yours and you were with him.
You shyly bring your hand to his cheek, and feel your heart flutter when he leans into your touch, and you’re basically in shambles when he pouts.
“Come on now. Give me attention.”
“I am.” You try to look anywhere but at him. The heat creeping up to your cheeks is bound to be noticeable soon, and he’s too close for you to pull the hood of your sweatshirt over your head. Not that that’d help, but it does make you feel less noticed.
At that, Felix pulls you closer. “Not quite. Look at me.” He whines. It’s so like Felix to outright demand for attention, even though he’s always been a sweet, shy man, ever since you started dating. You internally smile at the image of a fluffy Felix, bushing furiously as he stuttered out a “Will you go on a date with me?”, and then hid his face into the pillows to avoid your answer.
“What are you thinking about?”
“The first time you asked me out on a date.” You admit, and his smile only widens at that, his eyes disappearing into tiny crescents. “You’ve gotten more confident since then, gotta admit.”  Kissing his cheek, you pry yourself our of his arms, giving him another peck on his lips when he whines more. He’s so adorable, you could cry.
You pick up some of your clothes to sort into the cupboards, and stack them one by one.
“I haven’t gotten more confident, it’s just that you’ve gotten less.” Felix snickers, positioning himself behind you to hold you again. You giggle, placing the items on one of the shelves before turning around yourself this time.
“Felix, we have to get these things inside, else we’ll both be up late. And I know you’re tired.” Felix matches your laughter, and then in the one moment you let yourself get caught off guard listening to the delightful noise, he lifts you into the air and sways you around.
“What- Ah! Felix, let me down!” You yelp and chortle, smiling to yourself like a giddy schoolgirl.
“I’m not tired at all, love. All I want right now is to spend time with my wife, which she’s not letting me do.”
Well, it’s not that you don’t want to spend time with him. It’s just such a new thing, which it shouldn’t be. You’ve always found yourself not bother Felix when he comes home and let him get his rest. It was hard enough to ask him for help one time, let alone ask him to stay up until later because your heart fluttered too much at his actions.
“Well, someone’s gotta—” Your sentence is cut off with a heartly giggle when Felix nuzzles into your stomach, causing a ticklish feeling to rise up your nerves. “Felix, stop! You’re— oh gosh—” He doesn’t have the intention to stop, for whether you find it hard to believe or not, Felix feels such a unique sense of contentment when he listens to the very echo of your pure joy. He could play it on repeat for his whole life, and never pause it or be bored even once.
“Mm, I don’t think I will. You’re warm.”
Eventually, you have to resort to tickling him to get him to let you down, after which you grab the nearest pillow and throw it at him, both of you thoroughly laughing and enjoying the impromptu pillow fight. The both of you fall flat on the bed (albeit you bonk your head on a vase that’s supposed to go on the table), your laughter eventually fading out as you turn to face him.
“One year of marriage and seven years of our relationship, and you’re still in the honeymoon phase.” You say as Felix takes your hand with the curiosity of a toddler, playing with your fingers and running his thumb along the back of your hand.
“Well, in my defense, I did choose to love the single most perfect woman in the world.” You let Felix pull you into his embrace, and Felix really tries to keep his heartbeat from rising when you place a tiny kiss over his chest.
“And I chose to love the single most kind soul in the whole world.”
Felix smiles, so do you. He leans to kiss you, and you let him, drowning yourself of your inhibitions, and of his too.
“I love you.” Felix’s eyes sparkle when he says that. Like he wishes upon the stars in his eyes that you can understand just how much weight he holds on those three words, and lucky for him, his wish always comes true.
“I love you too.”
And at that moment, even though you’re cramped together on a bed full of junk, his arms feel like home.
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𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘: It's exam season and I want comfort. That's all the explanation i can give for this. Well, besides husband Felix of course. Anywho please leave feedback if you like it. ♡
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missinghan · 2 years
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you came into my life (just like another season) ⤖ han jisung
❖ genre : fluff; angst; hurt/comfort
❖ word count : 4,4k.
❖ warning : swearing, mentions of death, killing, implied suicide. 
❖ summary : one scarf. two hearts. three confessions. four seasons. or alternatively, jisung will love you throughout every season until you learn to love yourself. 
❖ author’s note : i’m busy preparing for finals but here’s a small piece for the new year so no one forgets me...i hope y’all didn’t, at least not yet. anywho, take this as my token of gratitude for 2021, i appreciate you all so much ♡
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i. winter —
The school bell chimes. Five minutes later, you’re pushing yourself through the hall to get to the student council’s office. Plenty of ‘see you’ are echoing back and forth, some in your direction so you struggle as hard as you can to reply. 
Chaos settles once the school empties out. Someone catches your eyes, then. A boy with a red scarf around his neck. 
“Yo, Jisung,” you inquire with a slight jerk of your body because you can’t physically wave with the bulky box in your arms. It’s full of papers about upcoming Christmas events—you’re not dropping any of that. 
Jisung waves back and you’re half-expecting a cheeky smile from him—there’s none. Something restrains you from frowning. He just woke up so the fever might still be there, you don’t want to push him. His hair is a disbelieved mess, his blazer crooked on his shoulders. His face is redder than usual, too; it’s more noticeable with that red scarf. 
“Thanks for bringing me to the nurse’s office...and eating lunch with me.“ Jisung scratches his nape as if your existence alone causes him distress. “Do you uh- President, do you remember what I told you in there?”
“You don’t need to call me that,” you sigh, not certain what kind of face you should be making. “And I do remember. I mean...I can’t say that I’m not flattered to hear that as your friend—“
The rest of your own sentence fades into the background and whatever remains is ‘friend’. You just let it slip out unconsciously, without knowing. It doesn’t taste wrong on the tip of your tongue. Yet you’re becoming as flustered as when he said it in the nurse’s office. 
You’re not one of those people who usually stand awkwardly by a corner during breaks, watching students trail in and out of class with their group of friends. It’s actually the contrary; there are hordes of students crowding your personal bubble most of the time. A favor, a request, a complaint—the list goes on. You do know people, you just don’t associate yourself with them. 
Hence, you’ve never experienced any domestic things that a group of friends would do, let alone being told that. 
“I didn’t mean it as a friend,” Jisung interrupts your thoughts. 
“...Huh?”
He freezes for a moment, breath hitching as if trying to collect himself. His dark bangs fall over his eyes when his gaze traces the floor. “Of course, I like you as a friend. But what I was trying to say is that I’m in love with you,” he exhales. “In a romantic sense.” 
You blink. “For real?” Even you feel offended by your own response. For real? Is that all you can say? What the hell?
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“I’m sorry, Jisung. I just don’t feel the same.” You put on the mask of nonchalance that’s used to deal with people. Usually, it feels all too natural but somehow, guilt is nipping at your throat. 
Jisung breathes out. Then he shudders like something has just iced his spine. His shoulders quiver and his hands spasm. He lifts his head to face you with eyes that are bright with tears and a smile worthy of its own sun. 
“Well, I can’t accept that.”
Winter has gotten colder than last year. You find yourself staring across the street at night, looking at Jisung’s window. No yearly obnoxious holiday decorations, no light, no family dinner invitations. Nothing. 
Right before the stars leave the skies, you catch yourself not falling asleep at all. 
You might not meet him again. 
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ii. spring —
“I’m in love with you.”
“Jisung, we’ve talked about this already.”
Never mind that. Han Jisung is way too persistent. Or terribly stubborn. Either way, you’re a bit concerned about him. 
There comes Jisung around the corner, again. The same exact spot from one month ago with the same confession, bed head uncombed and a red scarf around his neck. This time around though, he pouts, “I already told you. I can’t accept that!”
A stiff finger rests on your temple. “You’re making this dif- I mean, it’s not like I can help it.” 
His features soften as he notices how you rephrased yourself midway—you can’t bring yourself to hurt him no matter how nonchalant you appear to be. “And I can’t help being in love with you, even if it makes things difficult.” 
“Hey,” you deadpan. “I’m trying not to hurt your feelings here.” 
Jisung takes a step toward you. “Why are you so hell-bent on the fact that someone is in love with you?” He looks tired, you notice. Face too wan, cheeks too gaunt. Still a smile worthy of its own sun. You almost find yourself squinting. 
“It’s-well.” You halt, pressing a hand against your forehead. This shouldn’t go on any longer. You won’t let him. It shouldn’t have happened to begin with. “Do you wanna go and sit somewhere?”
You lead him to the school’s backyard where there’s a cage of bunnies. A trail of footprints leads up to the metal gate and then stops. There’s a warm outline left behind as if someone has sat in place and stared at the furry bunch for hours. 
“Sit, sit,” you clear your throat. “Please.”
Dumbly, Jisung sits on the second step of the porch with you. The two of you fit yourselves into the outline, shoulders pressing against each other. He’s cold, you notice again. 
Winter has been frost-locked. Leaves, blades, and sheaths of tender green come forth, dripping with the soaking rain and cooling breeze. Yet it shouldn’t be cool enough for him to catch a cold. 
“So?” A soft laugh. “Your answer?”
You clasp your fingers together tightly when your back straightens. Then, you lower your head to your hands, exhaling, “That’s a loaded question. Can’t we do small talk first?” 
Jisung stares at you, his chest numb and his breaths oddly inaudible. Here you are, the one he loved, loves, and will love always. Sitting under the soft sun like you’re both going on a fucking picnic, all nonchalance, and unbothered looseness. Something about this indignity makes him sick. 
He’s missed you. 
“We can’t,” he says, voice too loud for his own ears. His brain barely registers a hand reaching out until his fingers touch yours, pulling them away from your face. 
You startle away like it’s an instinct, eyes wide. “Right, right. Sorry, I’ll just-“ A sharp inhale. “It’s...I think- I still can’t believe it.”
“Come again?” He tilts his head, confused. 
Your lips move stutteringly, a chuckle creeping up your throat without any real humor. “About the fact that you said you’re in love with me. Come on now, really? As if anyone could fall for me.”
“Wow, that’s cruel.” Jisung narrows his eyes at you, features distorted with faint anger. Rather than unconvinced, he looks more...insulted as though you have rejected his existence altogether. Before you can blurt out another apology, he continues, “...you hate yourself a lot more than I thought you did. That’s a bit of a shock if I’m being honest.”
He knows that you never apologize wholeheartedly anyway. 
You look at him then, simply staring. His voice reverberates all around the walls that confine the tangled mess called your mind. Something seeps in deeper, sparks, flickers, and burns. Fury, Jisung can see it clearly. 
You are absolutely furious with him, in a way that you know he’s right and that he didn’t need to state the fucking obvious aloud. “This is so stupid. What do you even like about me?” You turn away, not being able to bear your own reflection in his glassy eyes. 
Jisung inhales but you interrupt him. 
“One after another...you’re all just the same. People are always flattering me with all sorts of different words. I never know who they’re speaking to, really, because I’m not like that at all. Even though they don’t see me as anything more than the title ‘student’s council president’, they just naturally convince themselves that I’m a good person.”
Jisung can’t help but recoil. Yeah, he’s heard worse, seen worse, done worse, but this is you. The one that he loved, loves, and will love always.  
“Making things up about me. Approaching me as you please. Becoming disappointed in me. And then leaving me all alone like I’m a fucking joke.” You face him with a smile—it feels stiff on your face. “You’re just like that too, aren’t you, Han Jisung?” 
Silence falls again and for a while, you both sit unmovingly. You catch a glimpse of yourself in his gaze—what you’re afraid of the most is right there. I’m...really hideous. 
“Fine, you gave me no choice,” he deadpans, the single word hitting against your eardrums. 
A resounding ‘thud’ and your head thrashes against cement. You gasp, the ache throbbing, “What are you—!”
Jisung grips at your collar with fire dust swirling in his eyes as his knuckles turn into an exasperating shade of white. He slams you against the wall again. It hurts. He closes in on you, “You want to know so badly?” 
Rather than a wince, a confused noise leaves your lips. 
“Truth is, I have always hated you.”
You don’t know what kind of face you’re making anymore. 
“Surprised? You should have known,” he jerks the grip and yanks you toward him. “We’ve been with each other since we were kids. Who do you take me for? A fool?”
“That’s not-“
“True? Then tell me, why can’t I get close to you for the past ten fucking years?” Jisung gropes the uniform even more tightly, not giving in no matter how much you’re struggling and kicking him. 
“You use people’s fake kindness to your advantage. You look down on others. You’re unbelievably arrogant. Yet you have no regard for yourself whatsoever. Can’t you see, you have a really nasty personality! The only reason why nobody ever cares about you for who you are is that you have never tried to see people for who they are, idiot!!”
For the first time in over a decade, you falter. “Shut up.” 
“No, I’m not finished-“
“Shut the fuck up and let me go.”
“I can’t.” 
You scream, the sound strangled in your throat, “Why?!”
“Y/N, you might not realize this but you’ve always seemed so fragile. I...I’m afraid if I let you go, you’ll shatter forever and I won’t be able to see you again. 
The time you wordlessly hold each other’s gaze is only a second or two but it feels like minutes. Hours. A whole goddamn lifetime playing behind your mind where you’re too powerless to do anything but gawk, reeling in shock. 
Fuck, you want to let the hurtful sound slip. 
“I can’t believe you just said something so corny with a straight face.” You shove his shoulders yet he stays unmoving. 
Jisung missed this, so much that he nearly cries when he finally gets to touch you. Yet he chalks it up because the sensation of your trembling form is so overwhelming, so real and raw. He hasn’t truly felt someone else’s touch in—in—
“You know, you’re making a really pathetic face right now,” he breaks into a smile. With a pull, you collapse completely into his arms. It’s an awkward hug, with your arms hanging on the sides and your knees knocking against his. 
You take back a choke. “You—you.” 
What’s wrong with you? You can’t even speak. 
Suddenly, a small sniffle broadcasts itself right into your ear. “I’m not crying, just so you know, I’m fine,” Jisung draws a shaky breath. 
“You should have just said it if you wanted a hug.” 
Another sniffle. “Are you sure it’s not you who wanted a hug?”
“Right,” you breathe a warm chuckle into his neck. “So what if I wanted a hug?”
“I’d say, tough luck,” he says and immediately contradicts himself by embracing you closer to his heart. 
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iii. summer —
The heat makes you want to scream. 
You want to scream and sprint to the sea, flinging off your shoes without care because you realistically can’t do that to your responsibilities. You want to run towards the heaving waves and jump with each tiny trickle with the excitement of a five-year-old. 
Instead, there’s something else that makes you jump. 
“I’m in love with you.” 
The sight of him alone pains you. “Go away.” 
Jisung shows up again, this time at the student’s council office, where hardly anyone comes and leaves beside you during summer, by the way. With the same winter uniform, his stupid red scarf, and a smile worthy of its own sun. He closes the door briskly. “You know I can’t accept that.”
“Get out. Now.” 
“Sorry, no can do,” he decides cheerfully and takes a seat without asking for your permission. 
You snap, “Get out of my fucking sight!!!”
“My my, the president is cursing and acting indecently.” 
The binder in your hand zooms across the room. It aims for the target—Han Jisung’s pretty visage—and is ready to land on the mark to earn a satisfying scream from the victim. 
“Ack—!!!” He dodges it by a strand of hair, however, every color possible drained from his face. “G-God. That was- that was close.”
“I told you to leave,” you sigh, still irritated but somehow not able to bring out the anger anymore. “By the way, aren’t you hot wearing that?”
“I can’t really get rid of them even if I want to,” he replies carefully, tugs his nose under the red fabric of his scarf, and bends down to pick up the poor binder. His expression falls crooked when he sees to it—the spine is warped and broken—that could have been his nose. 
So in real Han Jisung’s fashion, he blurts aloud without any care for his life, “You know, you’re plenty scary, Y/N.”
You’ve already walked over to where he is by the time he realizes what he’s got himself into. “Do you want a beating or something?”
“But you’re also really kind,” he asserts with a cough, handing you the binder obediently while tracing random shapes on the tiled floor. 
It sets off a weird switch inside you but you’re not sure how sturdy his skull is. “Jisung, I’m just faking it. I’m the student’s council president, that’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Jisung hugs his legs and lifts his head; soft black locks, gentle eyes, chubby cheeks—it’s been a while that you’ve noticed anything other than his pale complexion or the blood-red scarf. 
“That’s not it. I really cherish every moment I get to spend with you. The way you listen to whatever I have to say, the way you rearrange your schedule so we can eat together when I’m sick in the nurse’s office. The way you laugh at my awful jokes, the way you worry about me not just because my mom told you to, the way you treat my parents like they’re your own. Even the way you get angry at me or on my behalf.”
 “I like the way you take care of me like you mean it. That’s why I’m in love with you. You have no idea how happy I am just to be with you like this. I want us to be family. I won’t tolerate the idea of you being someone else’s.”
You make a sound that’s similar to a cough because the impact of his words simply knocks you breathless. “Didn’t you tell me that you hated me?”
Jisung is trying not to laugh. You can hear it in his voice. “Sorry, that was a lie,” he grins ear to ear. “Did you let my words get to you? Is that why you’re crying?”
Of course, he doesn’t hate you. He’s too dizzy with adoration and stricken with boundless love to hate you. 
Something flutters in your chest strangely. “Don’t look, damn it.”
Embarrassed, you attempt to shove him to the floor but he catches your foot right on time. “I love you, okay? I will love you always.” 
Your eyes are hot and leaking liquid, just like he said. “Just...fuck you.”
“That’s fair.”
You jerk your leg hard this time, almost bashing it against his head. “Fuck you.” 
“Okay, okay.” Jisung lets go, slightly petrified but even the mortification can’t make him avert his gaze. 
“I said, don’t look.”
Something cool grabs your hand—it’s wet with tears but he doesn’t mind. Instead, Jisung presses his lips against your palm, lets it cradle his coldness, and breathes in the tenderness. 
“Dumbass, you’re just crying,” he tells you quietly. “I don’t care what your tears look like.”
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iv. fall —
The time you fear most has arrived; fall is here. 
Meaning, a new school year is bound to begin. Meaning, adults can continue to test you and prove that you’re nothing less than a complete fool. Meaning, students may step into your personal bubble as they please, whisking you around until you give them what they want. 
Yet people gush over the colors of the dying leaves, how crisp they are as one foot after another trampled over them, how perfect the weather is for reading poems. Meanwhile, your soul becomes so small and shrivels up inside, rattles around, only taking a cowardly peak when responsibilities come waving. 
Due to that fact, you have soon concluded that you cannot survive another ten months of sheer torture alone. 
So where the hell is the student council when you need them?
You’ve been looking for them all day—during lunch, in the backyard, on the balcony, in the members’ respective classrooms—and your efforts are to no avail. Suspicious. Weirdly suspicious. Of all places, where can they—
Oh.
Therefore as you realize how dense you are, you rush to the council’s office. Your hand shoves the door open. 
To your dismay, darkness pitches from the room. There isn’t much that surprises you anymore when it comes to any of their pranks. Which is why when you glimpse the first flicker of someone, your heart doesn’t jolt once. It continues to beat steadily as light floods the room, a few figures pop up, and confetti blows up in your face. 
“Everyone, on my count.” Minho gestures with his index finger. “Three, two, one…!”
“PRESIDENT, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”
Your eardrums explode as a scowl traces your lips, “What the heck? It’s not my birthday.” 
“You’re right. It’s not,” Jeongin takes back a cough and holds up a cake with two hands. 
Felix offers you a thumbs up. “We decided to use that phrase because it’s concise and convenient.” 
“Uh...okay?” You blink, leaving the topic there or you might never hear the end of it, averting your attention to Minho. “And what are you doing here? You graduated months ago.” 
“Doesn’t mean I can’t come back for free food,” he smiles meekly. 
“I expect nothing less from you.” A dismissive wave; the shock still has yet to settle in. “So what’s the fuss?”
“Since this year is your last, we wanted to do something nice for you! As your fellow members and underlings, we could see your effort the most clearly all this time. Thank you for your hard work, we mean it. Truly.” A cheerful Lia creeps up from behind and throws her entire weight over your shoulder. “Felix baked the cake, by the way.” You’re going to crash, you’re going to crash—
Yeji comes to the rescue, peeling Lia’s hands away from you before tilting her head curiously. “Whose idea was it again? I can’t recall it.”
“Not me,” everybody else choruses. 
Ryujin whips out her phone and starts scrolling. “I’m sure there was a message in our group chat, no? There’s nothing? It literally was just here yesterday.”
“Can we just ignore it? You’re making things creepy,” Chaeryeong frowns, rubbing her arms unconsciously. 
“Maybe a ghost texted us?” Hyunjin says and gets pulled into an instant headlock because Seungmin isn’t tolerating any of that paranormal shit. “Let—go—what is—wrong with you!! You’re supposed to be the vice president!”
“Keep it up and I’ll bust your head open,” Seungmin deadpans, an ugly shadow looming over his face. Nothing should interfere with his beauty sleep. 
“Seriously, you’re ten thousand times scarier than the ghost itself!!!”
Minh rolls his eyes—this is power abuse, he thinks to himself. Your mouth twitches, exhaustion mixing with amusement. You lift a slow hand, curl your fingers, and jab it straight into the side of his stomach. Your friend chokes at the impact, stumbling back a few steps as the room winces in empathy. 
“What—“ he wheezes, “—the fuck?” 
“Oh, it’s nothing,” you grin and twist your hand. “Just making sure that I’m not dreaming.” 
“That’s not how it works!!”
You ignore his cowering form on the floor. “A ghost, you say?” Something clicks. 
Oh, you’re kidding, you think stutteringly, You’re kidding me. 
“Uh, Prez?” Felix waves a hand in front of your face. “Cake? Let’s eat?”
You snap out of it and back away, starting for the door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back!!”
“Wait! Cake?!” The poor freckled boy yells after you. 
“Right, cake! Thanks for the cake! I’ll be right back, I promise!! Don't eat the entire thing, you hear me?!”
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Something chokes up inside you as you run. You’re not entirely sure where you’re heading to despite being able to see everything and knowing every corner of the school like the back of your hand. 
“Looking for me?”
“Jisung?” You stop, letting out labored breaths. 
“I’m here, Y/N.” 
“What?”
“Up here, silly.”
Your gaze snaps upward as a sound rustles above the tree. Jisung mouths a small ‘careful’ before stomping on the branch to jump off, his red scarf flying back as he does so. As you’re about to ask what business he has with a tree, Jisung puts a kitten on the ground, waving it off. A smile worthy of its own sun and the winter uniform—he never changes. 
“Yo, Jisung,” you say, an echo of an old greeting, heart pounding rapidly. 
His hands slide into his pockets. “Missed me?”
“Sure did,” you humor him for a second there but clear your throat right after. “Did you do that? The surprise party?”
“Take a guess?” He tilts his head, a glint of mischief in his eyes. 
You hold up a fist. “Take a punch then.”
“Does it really matter, though?” Jisung drags his words, clasps his hands to the back of his head, eyes returning to the blue sky. The sunlight warms him up a little, dusting some colors back on his cheeks. 
For a moment long, only the autumn leaves rattle against each other quietly. “Does it not?” You blink, your brain slowly rebooting backward. 
He, too, blinks and lets an obnoxious chuckle leave his lips as if he finally understands the punchline to the joke that is your life. “Of course not,” he confirms. “They did it for you. They did it because they love you, because they cherish you as a friend, because you are important to them. Isn’t that enough of a reason?” 
Warmth recoils in your chest, pricks your eyes, and forces a calm exhale from your lungs. 
Well, you indeed are an absolute idiot. You’re not alone, you don’t have to be so alone, you shouldn’t conclude that you are alone. That will mean neglecting those who truly care for you because they know you’re not all that difficult to love. They can share your burdens, accept your flaws so you may do the same. 
Who cares about the ones who left? You have no need for them anymore. Even if the ones by your side now may abandon you someday, you think you won’t be half as miserable because no matter what, you’ll always carry the love they used to harbor for you. 
It’s okay to grieve, to be angry, to be hurtful sometimes. You know that you’ll be just fine because those who wish to stay, will stay. 
“You should come back to them, you know.” 
There's a hand on your shoulder, tentative. You simply stand there and draw in a shaky breath, feeling the fingers slide higher until it brushes across your cheekbone. You catch his hand and hold onto it tightly. 
Jisung startles, almost stumbling away but you’re already dragging him along. He can do nothing except let his feet bring him to follow you. The steps are steady, slow; one, two, three. One, two, three. He stops counting in his head when you give his hand a squeeze. 
“You should come, too,” a cheerful decision. “Felix baked a cake. You like cakes, don’t you?” 
A scoff, “That’s a very obvious fact. You’ve insulted me.” 
Your chest heaves with genuine chuckles. “What else do you like then?”
“Well, I also like giraffes,” he admits. 
That’s so random. You try not to laugh again. “Do you want to go see one?” 
“I don’t really like crowded places,” he starts mumbling under his breath—his throat is tight like he has this sudden urge to cry. 
“Fine by me. What else?”
“Let’s see…music?”
You purse your lips. “I was going to say I could take you to a concert but you don’t like crowded places.” 
Jisung clings onto your hand with more force—a helpless gesture. “I like video games, too.” 
“Oh, that’s easy. Just this once, I’ll stay up late to play with you.” 
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes, it’s a promise,” you sigh like you’re completely done with him. 
Jisung asserts hurriedly, “What do you like? I want to know what you like-well, I should know what you like but still-“
“Me? I like you, Han Jisung.” 
He flinches at how easy you make it sound. “For real?” 
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” you say, voice gentle and light as you turn around. “So what’s with the long face?”
“That’s my line,” Jisung tries to laugh but his features stay crumpled, stricken with agony. “You’re thinking about that time too, aren’t you?”
You press your lips into a straight line, trying not to mirror his expression. Yet it shatters when he speaks again, “That time when you killed me.” 
“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Something like guilts settles into your smile—fuck, you can’t cry. It would be absurd if you did because you didn’t even cry when you ended his life. How are you going to cry now when he is right beside you, holding your hand so tenderly?
“Sorry for killing you.” 
With a shudder, he shakes his head and pulls away. His hands unravel the scarf around his neck to put it over yours instead, each movement careful and attentive. 
“I’m sorry, too.” Jisung can finally laugh like he’s been freed from a chokehold. He opens his arms, crashing himself against you to breathe in the taste of the sky one last time. 
“Sorry for loving you so much.”
You return the hug, arms coming empty. 
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❖ note (again) : an explanation for those who are confused; jisung died in winter. another thing is that he’s weirdly attached to his scarf because that is what he used to kill himself. so if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading!
153 notes · View notes
chaninfused · 2 years
Text
DIAMOND KITES • KSM • fluff; established relationship; mc has the corniest humor; 529 words.
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The click of the camera shutter was what pulled you out of the comforts of a daydream and back into the humdrum of reality.
You tilted your head at Seungmin, who lowered his camera to check the picture he’d sneakily snapped. A smile had begun forming on your lips. “When did you bring that out?”
“Just now,” he answered with his typical nonchalance, lifting the device again to resume his spontaneous photoshoot.
It was tranquil by the shimmering river—the kind of peace that felt unreal and faraway, like a scenery out of a painting. A fracture of frozen time. The distant laughter of children, the sonorous chirping of sparrows, it was as if the timid breeze knew to carry those sounds across the expanse of lush green and share them with your keen ears. The busy city beyond the stretch of crystal water was but a haze, a shadow unable to disturb this dreamlike haven.
Seungmin’s camera clicked again, and you found yourself smiling at the solemn care with which he treated every photo. Only pressing the shutter button when the moment was right, as if doing otherwise would be blasphemy toward his craft.
“Don’t you get bored? There’s a lot more to photograph around here,” you remarked, turning your gaze to the river and meeting the calm breeze.
“I’m yet to find a more beautiful subject.”
He said it so seriously, but you saw the cheeky grin that lifted the corners of his mouth. It made you burst into laughter.
The truth was that, for as long as you knew Seungmin, you’d never seen him pull out his camera to photograph anything or anyone but you. The world may have been filled to the brim with sights to see and people to meet, but it all seemed to pale when compared to your sole being. You were the subject of his pictures as you were the subject of his pouring love.
He simply knew no better way to express that devotion.
You shook your head as your laughter died out, “I’m pretty sure you’ve got pictures of me in some embarrassing state on there.”
“And what state would that be?” he made a poor act of feigning ignorance. A teasing quip was practically painted all over his face.
There were some photos you’d deemed embarrassing while slapping his arm repeatedly to bully him into deleting, but they were cherished tokens to Seungmin’s doting heart. Eventually, and much to his joy, you’d allowed him to keep them.
You smiled that silly smile that Seungmin knew too well. “California.”
“You have the worst jokes.”
It was difficult to rein in his smile at the sound of your laughter, pure and melodic and so carefree. He felt as though he could reach out and grab that string of musical giggles, chase the kites of light that made your ethereal sky into another dream.
But until he could reach so, Seungmin could only do what he knew best to encapsulate that magical feeling. After all, the first time he’d ever picked up a camera was to capture your radiant smile.
By that tranquil river, the shutter clicked for the third time.
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104 notes · View notes
stardustskz · 3 years
Text
Lean On Me
[ Prompt 24 ] Never was it ever you— until it was all there was
prompt list: Ode to Sorrow
word count: 4.1k
genre: slight angst? (very minimal though), fluff!!!
warnings: cursing, jumping of timelines (frequent flashbacks), unhealthy coping mechanisms, grammar and typo errors (lmk if I missed some!)
member: minho x gn! reader
notes: hey! it’s ian!! it’s been reaaaally long since my last writing and i’m trying my best to get back so here’s something for u all!! i was aiming for a shorter drabble (and ig this isn’t a drabble anymore lmao) idk what went wrong gffghfjf forgive me. and ofc,, this is me projecting again so :]]
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"Why are you fucking crying?"
You fixed your gaze on the table in front of you as you ignored Hyunjin's voice. He just came through your apartment’s door carrying a costume— actually you can’t figure it out but it looks like a prop for his classes.
"I… I thought I already submitted the plate, but it turned out that I only saved it on the site." You managed to say in between sobs.
"That's so dumb, y/n" Hwang Hyunjin as your best friend can either praise you or make you throw yourself on a cliff just by his words out of frustration, and this is just an example.
"Thanks a lot, it was a major fucking plate by the way— and it's been five days since the submission." You answered, still ugly crying with your loud sobbing.
"That long?! Well, did you send an e-mail to your professor?" He asked, now holding a bowl of fruit loops as he set a glass of iced water in front of you, which he both just grabbed from your fridge like he owned the place.
"He said it's fine and reminded me to avoid making the same mistake again." Thank god your professor in Graphics class was not as strict as your Technology prof who’s like the female version of satan.
"Then tell me why are you still moping about it? I'm the drama major in this friendship Y/N, you can't just steal my title." Hyunjin replied, and yes with a roll of his eyes.
"I was frustrated okay! And maybe a bit stressed for three weeks now." It has been three full weeks of deadlines over deadlines. Your chosen course is already proving to you that you're both dumb and talentless, yet you still try to pursue it for the sake of what? a rolled paper? then another two years before the most important test that you'll take in your entire forsaken life?
"Tell me about it," Hyunjin grunted,
"Everyone's rushing us for finals week. And you!" He pointed at you, in his own dramatic way that matches his accusing and widening eyes.
"What?"
"Where's your lovely boyfriend?" Hyunjin asked, his eyes suggesting that your boyfriend should’ve been the one who is tolerating your ass instead of him, who just ditched his lunch with Jisung, after hearing you cry in a phone call earlier. He loves you like that anyway.
"Minho’s out today, told me he's meeting up with an old friend." You said, disappointment unconsciously seeping through your tone.
"Oooo, which friend?"
You don't really know so you just shrugged your shoulders in response.
"Don't look at me like that." You warned him. He's currently eyeing you like he usually does when something controversial is about to happen. Because in all honesty, Hwang Hyunjin hates Lee Minho's guts. When you first introduced your boyfriend to him, who is not yet your boyfriend at that time, there's like visible lasers whenever Hyunjin talks with Minho. And on the same day, as you were both heading home, he warned you about your current suitor being a 'walking-fucking-red-flag' but hey, you've been together for two years now, and never had Minho ever, made you doubt him— aside from the fact that he has been acting weird for a week now. Specially yesterday when he told you about his plans for today.
"Fine. he did not tell me who he will be with. Which is unusual because he used to tell me all the time even if I don't know the person." You rambled, making your best friend stare off to a blank space— his thinking face.
"What?" You asked him, because he's thinking… that's a miracle to happen because Hwang Hyunjin never thinks.
"Uh, I heard his ex is back in town." He said, quite unsure if it's right to tell you this with the current situation.
"Which one?" You asked, completely unbothered and taking a sip from your water. Minho had told you everything about his past relationships. He made sure to do so when he decided to tell you everything about his life when you started dating. Heck, you even know how Soonie, Doongie and Dori have different shampoos because they’re sensitive like that. And he spoils them too much.
"The childhood friend one."
Oh. Ohh…
"I'll just hear him out later." You said, trying to not overthink things as this is just an assumption. And you weren’t really bothered about it… well, you convince yourself you’re not.
"He's coming over later?” Hyunjin asked.
"Yeah… can we watch a crime documentary on Netflix so you, ditching Jisung won't be put into waste?" You asked, not even being subtle about changing the topic. You could definitely use a distraction right now.
"A crime docu? Really? At 12:53 in the afternoon? Are you a fucking psycho?" You just laughed at him and headed to the kitchen to grab some snacks before you and your best friend settled down in front of the couch for some entertainment.
Of course, you fell asleep halfway into the last episode of Night Stalker and Hyunjin had let you take the couch as he waited for your boyfriend to come. He won’t leave without making sure you’re fine, or you’ll be fine. So, he wanted to talk to Minho, even though he never liked the guy. Everything about him screams danger, according to Hyunjin. He heard a lot of rumors about the boy, and by a lot, he means in every college department, Minho was being talked about. The most of it was how the boy likes to benefit from people, to gain his own desires. And it's not the kind where he sleeps with almost half of the university's population. He just manipulates people to get his own part of a bargain that he created on his mind— at least that's what the rumors says.
Your best friend’s concerns about him faltered when you started dating though. Because he knows that you literally glow with bliss whenever you talk or be with Minho. Yet he still looks out for you. So here he is, standing up from his slouching position from your carpet as soon as he heard the door's lock click, signaling someone, probably Minho, came in.
"Oh, hey." Minho greeted, not really surprised that Hyunjin's here, but that doesn't change the fact that he still gets a bit nervous around the other.
"Y/N's asleep." Hyunjin said, gathering his stuffs from the single seater couch.
"I see..." Minho made his way to your sleeping figure and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before whispering, "Bub, I'm home." As if you’d hear him.
"Minho," He turned his head to where Hyunjin was standing.
"Please tell them who you were with, they cried to me about their academics, but you know too well that they're strong enough not to do so." Of course, Hyunjin won't buy your excuse earlier, he knows too damn well that you can do better than that.
"I will... so, uh... you knew?" Minho asked.
"I had a hunch. And you know Y/N well enough right?" Hyunjin replied, glancing at how you sleep on the couch, your hair already unruly because of how often you twist and turn on your sleep. It’s a miracle you’re not on the floor yet. God, Y/N you're even drooling.
"Yeah, I was planning to, anyway." Minho answered, lifting you up to get you to your bedroom, where you can sleep more comfortably.
"You better be. I'm going!" Hyunjin waved, already making his way towards the door.
"Thanks! Hwang!" Minho said, loud enough for the latter to hear.
You were never the type to depend and rely on someone. It comes from being the eldest child of a middle-class family. Everyone is instead expected to depend on you. So, it became a bit of a problem whenever you enter a relationship with someone. Almost all the previous ones that you had ended up with them not being enough for you— their words not yours. You've been too matured and independent that they would always doubt if you even cared for them.
For one, you don't get jealous easily. Isn't that normal though? Because you have a different life from your significant other and you both are individual beings before entering a relationship. So, you don't really get them either. Second, you decide on your own. Okay… maybe that would really irk someone but aren't you old enough to do that? Like that one time— maybe most of the times, that you wanted to stay home instead of going out on a date. But when they really want to go out, of course, you'll compromise. Then again, your honest self won't get too excited seeing fireworks with a huge crowd or the slides and rides from the waterpark; and it won't show that much in your expressions which apparently, hurts their feelings. In your defense, you were genuinely happy! But not as much as staying in your bed, wrapped in blankets with a crime documentary playing on the tv. You only had three romantic relationships, that you would consider, anyways, before you met Minho.
It was three years after your previous relationship ended when you met this second-year student who asked for a pen during your elective class on your first year of college. He's also your partner for an entire semester because you took pity on him who isn't friends with anyone in your class. Apparently, everyone avoids irregular students for conflicting schedule issues. 
Minho also happened to be one of Seungmin, your cousin's, friends; and they were total opposites, might you say. Nothing really sparked between the two of you at first, but because Seungmin's an ass and he really loves playing matchmaker between his friends, you and Minho ended up being at the same place every time Seungmin's name is involved. Every party you went to, he happened to be there. On Hyunjin's theatrical performances, which you don't know where Seungmin got the tickets from, he's also there, sitting prettily beside you. Oh, also that children's baseball game that Seungmin had organized for his volunteer project? He's also there, accompanying you as you’ve been an assistance to Seungmin, and turns out Minho asked your cousin if he could help too.
So, when you both first started dating, Seungmin was delighted that his cupid role was efficient. Seriously though, you and Minho owes him a lot. It was two months into your relationship when Minho told you that he purposely asked Seungmin to do all of that because he finds you pretty interesting and of course, you were elated to hear that.
You steered in your sleep as you felt yourself on a soft mattress. You're in your bed and Hyunjin never carries you to bed, because he doesn't want to waste his ‘precious energy’. You slowly rose as you try to shake away the still-sleepy feeling.
"You up?" You jolt in surprise hearing your boyfriend’s voice, your eyes widening in shock because he appeared on your bedroom's door, with his cute cat apron on. You bought it for him so that whenever he stays over, he can cook— he’s the better cook.
"You scared me." You glared at him, but you only heard his chuckle in response.
"Come on, I cooked dinner."
Your relationship with Minho did not come with only sunshine and rainbows. Of course, there’s no such thing as a perfect relationship. And your previous problems with how self-reliant you are resurfaced about half a year into dating Minho.
Finals’ week always brings chaos to every student, but it was very evident for architecture students. Because besides the fact that you have about a hundred pages of lectures to review, you also must deal with loads of drawing plates from almost all your subject courses.
It has been your tradition ever since high school to start studying a week and a half before a major exam, and it includes completely cutting off any kind of distraction from doing so. You have been organizing your class notes for two days now when you realized that something feels wrong, the same anxiety whenever you leave your apartment and thinking about whether you turned off every appliance before heading out. Oh shit. You forgot to notify your boyfriend about it. Not to mention that you can’t remember where you hid your phone two days ago.
Please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad. You repeated in your head as you made your way to Minho’s apartment.
“Hey…” You greeted the moment his door opened. And he’s definitely frowning after looking a bit shocked to see you with his blue hoodie, in front of his apartment door.
“So, you finally decided to show up?” He said, trying to sound intimidating yet there’s a small pout forming on his lips.
“About that…” You fiddled with your sweater paws.
“I misplaced my phone… and I forgot to tell you that I’ll be working in my studio until next week…?” You told him, avoiding his eyes because you still don’t know if he’s mad or how he looked when he’s mad He has never been mad, at least not because of you.
“I can’t believe you never dared to tell me.” Oh, now he really sounded mad.
“I said I forgot, okay? I’m sorry.” You replied, glancing up at him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. You feel really guilty about it but if he’s going to make a huge deal out of this— you heard him release a deep sigh.
“You still have lots to do right?” He asked, and your exhaustion got the better of you as you just nodded in response.
“I’ll take you home.”
You know yourself that this argument did not finish that night. You never asked him if he’s upset, even though he clearly is, and he never asked you anymore questions. He also avoided talking to you that night, but he did help you find your phone.
When the most dreaded finals week started, you both got extremely busy. Your exams will finish on Friday, including the drawing ones and the drafting final plates. And Minho’s will finish on Wednesday, as he only has objective type exams and a practical exam on the last day. So, he decided to visit you when Thursday came.
You were currently working on your last major plate for the entire term when your boyfriend walked in. Your apartment was a mess, usually, you’ll only have papers and drafts on one side, which you claim as your studio, but Minho noticed that even the living area has papers loitering around the couch, and there are cups of instant noodles and used mugs on your kitchen counter.
“Bub, when have you last eaten a proper meal?” he asked after placing a kiss on your forehead as a greeting.
You groaned, “Save it for later love, please.” You only heard Minho sigh in response as he glanced at your work. It’s the ground floor plan of a two-story house with symbols that he doesn’t seem to understand, but he do know that you’re only rendering your work now with an ink— he also knows that this is the most crucial part whenever you do your manual rendering so he backed a few steps away from you, deciding to tidy your apartment instead.
“Love, I can do that later, just watch something from the tv.” You said as you heard the water from your faucet running.
"No, no, it's fine. Focus on your plate bub" You heard him say, and you just sigh at this, still not used to him doing things for you.
“Bub, are you done with these papers? Should I throw them in the bin now?” Minho asked a few minutes later.
“Love I told you I’ll take care of them later; you don’t have to—”
“And when will that be? You still have to study after that, and I know that you won’t be sleeping again tonight because you still have an exam tomorrow.” He cut you off. You know that; you know it too well that you still have a lot to do. You’re also clearly stressed out about not being able to stress eat— it’s unhealthy you know but it’s how you cope.
“I can manage.” You answered, placing your attention back to your drafting table.
“Y/N, you’re not even eating properly, how can you still have everything in your control?” He said with his stern and serious tone.
“Minho, just!” You realized that your voice raised a little out of normal so, you took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, okay? But I still have a lot on my plate right now.” Literally speaking. Minho looked surprised at you losing your chill. You’ve been stressed out and he can see that. You also haven’t been sleeping because your stock of coffee beans is running out and it’s your lifeline. He should’ve been checking out on you more than he already does. Because no matter how independent you seem from others, you still need someone to take care of you at times like this— and that person should be him.
“Bub, why don’t you take a break?” He told you, pulling your hands and making you stand up from your chair and face him.
“I can’t I still—”
“Please?” He pleaded, resting his forehead on yours before placing a gentle kiss on the space between your eyes.
“Fine.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him before following suit to your bedroom, because it’s the only place where you can comfortably lie down right now.
“Rest.” Minho commanded as he pulled you to bed beside him. You closed your eyes and snuggled closer to your boyfriend’s neck inhaling his scent, and sighing contentedly,
“I missed you,” you whispered,
“And I’m really sorry I feel like an ass for always taking my stress out on you these days.”
“It’s fine, bub— I understand. Don’t worry now.” Minho said, playing with your raven locks, a gesture which never failed to make you fall asleep.
“Are you mad at me?” You asked.
“What for?”
“When I did not text or call you for two days and for being always so—”
“Independent?” he continued what you were about to say,
“I’m not. Because that makes up my strong s/o. And I think I can never be mad at you,” He said, and you were about to apologize again when he cupped your cheeks, instantly making you look up at him.
“I understand how you’ve never relied on someone else. But… but can you please let me?” He added, eyes now locked with your confused ones.
“Y/N, please let me take care of you. You can’t always do this whenever you’re busy. It’s not healthy to live off coffee and instant foods and don’t you know how worried I was when you did not reply to me for two days last week?” Your eyes began to water. It’s the burnout stress you convince yourself. But really, you’re so lucky to have him.
“Hey, I’m not mad at you, ‘kay? I’m just worried.” Minho rushed to your aid and hugged you closer, rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder with his thumb.
“I’m sorry… I just— I’m really not— used to it,” you managed to say in between your sobs.
“Love, I can’t promise, can you let me try?”
No one has ever reached out to you like how Minho did. It's not like understanding each other in a relationship is a hard thing to do but yes, it is harder than calculus, in your opinion. After that argument, you really made an effort to lean on him more, which brings you back to how he's currently washing the dishes after you both ate dinner. You told him you’ll do it since he already cooked for you but he’s persistent and even bribed you about the pudding that he bought home—which you’re munching on as you watched his back from the two-person dining table.
“How’s your day love?” You asked, savoring the sweet treat that he bought for you.
“Oh, about that,” He started,
“Can you go with me this Saturday?”
“Huh? Where to?” You asked, taking your second cup of pudding for the night from the paper bag that he gave you. Minho dried off the last of the utensils that he washed before taking your hand. You both reached the living room with Minho pulling you in tow with him.
"I told you I was meeting up with an old friend today, right?" You nodded in response, taking a spoonful of the pudding that you're still eating as you both sat on the couch.
"Well, uhh… it was Rin, do you remember her?" Uhuh. So Hyunjin's right.
"She's a great friend but she suddenly migrated to another country without even talking to me." Of course, you knew. You never once forget each of the things Minho had told you.
"Yup." You answered, the pudding that you held seemingly more interesting than your gorgeous boyfriend sitting beside you.
"She came back today from New York, and my mom asked me to pick her up yesterday." He explained, being cautious of what your reaction would be.
"Well, we also had the closure that we never had due to her sudden disappearance." It's done, breathe Minho, breathe he calmed himself. Scared that you'll take this in the wrong way, even though he knows you won’t. Half of him is still worried.
"Why didn't you tell me that it's her that you'll be meeting?" you asked, taking another bite from your pudding, and glancing up at him with your doe eyes.
"I thought it would make you feel uncomfortable." Minho said, trying to reach for the third cup of pudding to give to you, which in a normal situation, he would probably stuff it into your fridge because it's not healthy to eat three cups in one sitting. But he can visibly see you frowning and trying to stab the poor pudding in your hand, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll accept his offering.
"It already did, though." You whispered, but Minho seemed to have caught that.
"I'm sorry, bub. But we just talked, I swear. You can take Soonie and Doongie for a whole week otherwise." He said, pulling you in for a hug and placing a kiss on the top of your head after.
"What about Dori?" You asked, escaping from his arms, and reaching for the last cup of pudding on his right hand.
"You know I can't sleep well without my cats, bub" Minho said, opening the seal of the pudding for you.
"Why are you offering Soonie and Doongie then?" You asked, amused by how childlike this man can be.
"Because that's how much I love you." He answered, cupping your cheeks, and leaning in for a kiss but you stopped him.
"So, I'm worthy of two cats?" You said, frowning playfully, and trying to suppress a smile from forming.
"You know what I mean bub!" He whined as he tried his second attempt at kissing you and this time, you let him.
"The pudding tastes sweet bub" Minho said, after leaning back a little, a smirk evident on his lips.
"Shut up!" Your cheeks are definitely flushed right now.
"So, what are we doing on Saturday?" You said, leaning your head on his shoulder as you cuddled with him on your couch. Besides, you’re not really mad, you’re just sulking. Yes, you can also act petty sometimes.
"Oh, Rin asked for us to come visit her once she's settled down." Minho said.
"Sure! Sounds great!" You beamed, already excited about meeting one of Minho's closest friend.
"Y/N, bub" You glanced up from looking at your pudding— which is almost empty by now, as you asked with your eyes why.
"I love you." Minho said, his orbs piercing through your soul. Taking in every detail of your gorgeous boyfriend, you answered,
"I love you more."
You have always been alone for the most of your life, and you were navigating it quite perfectly well without anyone's assistance. In fact, you've been too comfortable with solitude that when someone offers to be of aid, you falter and malfunction. But even the strongest ships needed an anchor for their lives to sail well. And you were glad, really glad that it so happened to be Lee Minho.
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hongssami · 3 years
Text
let’s not fall in love
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no comment, just best friend seo changbin || chan ver, minho ver, hyunjin ver
// kiss kiss fall in love with changbin
fluff, mutual pining, best friends-to-lovers, i swear it’s not as angsty as the title seems
description: Changbin could always trust you to over analyse a heartbreak song and make it hopeful. He’s entirely to blame for that though, all his playlists for you are full of sappy love songs.
w.c.: ~1.6k
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What is the standard for someone to be considered selfish when it comes to love? And when do you know to step in and make a move to pursue someone you love? What does it mean when people say they are “in love”? More importantly, how do you know you are “in love” with someone?
You’ve always been curious about it, never fully understanding how people could romanticize a feeling so much that they’d turn it to a whole trope in multiple industries. It's both absurd and so vulnerable when you think about it.
Yes, a heart has always been a heavy burden. Oftentimes, people take the risk to entrust it to others in order to ease some of the burden, ultimately baring it to the jarring reality that is the world we live in.
But you guess that's the beauty of it; to blindly trust someone with something so fragile in hopes of the other party to return that trust, hoping that they'll nurture and protect your heart as you would theirs. It's an experience that you would deem quite peculiar as a witness, but know it would be even more complex when it would happen to you.
You wonder if he knows what it's like.
***
It all started on the bus.
The last trip to your place, the same desolate one you always took right after your 10 pm shift at the local coffee shop. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, really. The streets were still bustling with relatively dense traffic in the middle of it all, no clouds roamed the starless city sky, nor had there been an unwanted buffering of the Spotify playlist (courtesy of you actually remembering to download it offline for once) Changbin put together for the campus radio show. It was just you and him casually leaning against each other seated in the middle of the bus to your apartment, desperately trying to keep awake in fear of missing your stop.
And then that song played on your shared earphones.
Let's not fall in love
We don’t know each other very well yet
Actually, I’m a little scared,
I’m sorry
At first you thought nothing of it as your best friend wordlessly tilted your head to finally succumb onto his shoulder, granting you a bit of time and comfort to fall asleep. Your mind skipped over the gentle caress of his lips on your head and chose to focus on the rumble of his chest when he began quietly singing along the words, humming the lines he didn't know the lyrics to. The entire moment felt natural, like everything had just fallen in place.
With tired smiles, you bade each other good night as you parted ways in front of your apartment door. Changbin found himself humming that same song all the way to his dorms.
Soon enough (about a couple of days later), it began to linger at the back of your head. Sometimes it would come to light right after you met eyes with Changbin, a feat that normally wouldn’t make you as flustered and confused as you had then.
But still, you tried not to think much of it.
15:32
[bin🐷🐰]: you still up for dinner with the boys?
[you]: if you pick me up at the library
[bin🐷🐰]: be there in 5
"Falling in love" is a concept you’re still unfamiliar with. The whole falling action made it seem like it would always be a painful experience, especially if both parties would be falling for who was to catch them then?
15:33
[you]: i was kidding!
[bin🐷🐰]: too bad, i'm already on my way
Is it important that you were falling when you ended up "in love"? Or is that just simply part of the saying and, therefore, had no contribution to the feeling of being "in love" whatsoever?
You're sure you have things that you love wholeheartedly – like going on walks under the moon, or resting your head on your favorite pillow after a long day. But is that the same as "being in love"?
***
Changbin shot you a small smile across the room when he found you in your regular spot in the library. You're pretty sure you love Changbin's smile, although you're not sure if that counts as a part of falling in love with him.
If you were falling in love with him.
"Philosophy again?"
You shook your head, smiling and meeting his gaze as he sat down across you. "Organic chem."
If someone were to ask you how you came to befriend Changbin, you’d probably tell them that you two just clicked. You didn’t really bother to come up with some deeper explanation because you never needed it; you just clicked ─ as simple as that.
He hummed, burrowing his head between his arms. "Will you be for a while?"
"A couple more questions and I'm done."
Now if someone asked you to list what you liked about Changbin, you’d most likely hold back saying some things. “He’s a good listener” or “he's very dedicated to his craft" were ones you often threw out because he genuinely was. What you really really liked about him though was that he wasn't afraid to be vulnerable in front of you and admit his flaws; some of the most truly admirable traits of his that you're not certain he shows to others, so you don't tell anyone about them.
Was that selfish? Perhaps. Or maybe just very normal and you’re over analyzing things again.
The next time you raised your head to look at him, you’re met with his figure slumped over and lightly napping. Sighing, you reached over to push a piece of his newly dyed hair away from his closed eyes. Leaving a feather-light kiss on his forehead, you smiled.
“You really didn’t have to come, buddy.”
And he shifted his head to smile meekly against the underside of his elbow, eyes still shut and just pleasantly melting under your hand that was slowly stroking his hair. "I wanted to."
As you packed up to leave you decided that maybe you could fall in love with Changbin's smile even if he hid it from you. Whatever that meant.
***
Changbin is surprisingly and unexpectedly more romantic than you gave him credit for.
Once, he tells you after a really late night snack run that he loved the feeling of love, but he's yet to fall in love. "Ah, that sounds something like a hopeless romantic would say, right?"
You only shrug, disagreeing. "It sounds logical to me."
Yet you still wonder what it meant to fall in love and at this point you’re convinced Changbin is still wondering too. You welcome that thought easily, just like you welcomed his unexpected kiss on your temple when he bade you goodbye that early morning.
Whoever coined the term “falling in love” must have felt something so intense that they had to encapsulate it to such a vulnerable action. Much like you and Changbin, you note, whenever you come back to the other like they’re home.
***
Let’s not make promises,
You never know when tomorrow comes
But I really mean it when I say
I like you
The realization hit with that very song blasting through your phone’s speakers one awfully pink late afternoon on your bedroom floor, Changbin’s head lay beside yours as you two killed time by slowly becoming one with the carpet. You had set it as your ringtone for him a few days back, without him knowing of course. He plays it right after the last chorus of Jisung’s new song, asking if you still listened to it until now.
“You know, this song is so painfully wrong about falling in love.” You point out and he turns his head to look directly at your forehead.
“How so?”
“I’m not saying I have any experience with falling in love, but I don’t think that’s how it works.” Sitting up, you move to sit closer to him. He stares up at you in question and you reach for his hand, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “It’s more like this.”
Shifting his attention from your face to your hand in his, he lets his fingers slip to twine with yours. “Like this?”
“Like this.” Leaning down, you press your lips against his almost experimentally before you feel his free hand rest atop your head. It’s gentle and warm and fulfilling and so Changbin.
He parts from the kiss first, eyes still closed when he asks, “Have you been thinking about that all this time?”
You hum against his lips before lightly shaking your head, “Not as much as I’ve been thinking about you, no.”
He smiles and leans in once more.
***
What is the standard for someone to be considered selfish when it comes to love? You can’t be selfish when you love because, then, it wouldn’t be love. Just wanting.
And when do you know to step in and make a move to pursue someone you love? Loving someone will always come unexpectedly, so whichever way you choose to love them or whatever circumstances led you to love them now, do it with all of your heart. Even if it takes forever and a day for them to see that.
What does it mean when people say they are “in love”? More importantly, how do you know you are “in love” with someone? Who knows honestly? It’s different for everyone and you can never speak for someone else’s love.
Maybe in some alternate universe things didn’t go the way it was supposed to go. Maybe in another lifetime there was no you and him. Or maybe there was such a thing as fate and destiny, and maybe you were really meant to fall in love.
Then again, you should never overthink matters concerning the heart, it just comes and goes as it pleases. Plus, you’re pretty sure you were already in love with him when you met Seo Changbin, just as he was in love with you now.
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