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jisungsdaydreamer · 9 months

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Love Playlist #3: Make It Right (Lee Know)

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

"It hurts to love you."

Pairing: Lee Know x Fem!reader Genre: college au, angst, exes to lovers Warnings: swearing, messy break-up, mc has a fear of the dark, mild haunted house/Halloween descriptions Word Count: 18.3k

*Written for @skzwritingcafe's July/August event: Summertime Confessions ☀️

Special thanks to @baekhyyun & @simpforyongbokk for beta-reading!! 💘

“I love you.”

You roll your eyes and shove Minho away, trying to suppress the giggles that threaten to spill out. “Stop that. We need to concentrate, or we’ll never find an apartment.”

“I’m definitely concentrating.” Minho grins mischievously. “On you.”

Laughing at his antics, you shake your head, shutting your computer for a brief intermission to tend to Minho’s insatiable appetite for your attention. Your boyfriend never fails to make you smile, no matter what.

“I love you too, you menace.”

Minho wakes up with a start. He groggily glances over at the clock hanging on the wall in front of him. Nearly 3 a.m. Slinging his legs over the side of the couch, Minho just sits in that position for a good twenty minutes, marinating in the pitiful mixture of his sweat and tears.

The night before, he’d attempted to drown away his sorrows at some bar he stumbled upon while aimlessly wandering the city streets. It hadn’t worked, obviously, because his wallet wasn’t bottomless, and the pain was too great. But in true character, Minho had tried anyway, until his savior found him slumped over the counter and led him back to a safe place to sober up.

“Stay here as long as you need to,” Chan had said, tucking Minho’s drowsy form into a bundle of blankets on the couch, like he was a little kid.

Minho had tried to resist, mumbling complaints towards his friend’s retreating back, but fell into a troubled slumber before Chan even reached his own bedroom. Now he’s wide awake and unwilling to be so, praying he can just fall back asleep and forget about everything that had transpired in the previous twenty-four hours. But even sleep can’t save him from the memories of what you both once were: happy.

It’s not like he didn’t notice the rift growing between you two in the past few weeks. You didn’t have as much time for each other anymore, reducing your interactions to quick dinners and text messages. But you both have been together for nearly three years, and Minho had assumed that it was just the stress of senior year taking a toll on you both, nothing more. You both had been browsing apartments together just one month ago, finally planning to take the next big step in your relationship. He loves you more than anything in the world, and he so believed that you felt the same about him.

So when you sat him down yesterday at your favorite café, Morningstar Coffee House, and told him that you had doubts about your future together, he was shocked. Too fearful of what you were going to say next, Minho decided to take an abrupt exit out of the conversation, rushing out of the door by using class as an excuse. And now, he will be forced to confront a brutal reality, wishing he could have just gotten this over with yesterday.

A small chime alerts Minho to a new text message, and before he even reaches over to the coffee table to pick up his phone, he knows it’s you.

bobaluvrr: we need to finish talking catservant98: do we really need to? bobaluvrr: morningstar at 8. i have class, pls don’t be late.

With an exasperated groan, Minho stands up, tossing his phone onto the couch. At the very least, he could use the coffee.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little extreme?” Soyeon scrapes the bottom of the pint of ice cream in her hands, frowning when her spoon doesn’t recover as much as she’d like.

“Maybe,” Sunoo answers for you from where he’s sprawled out on the floor, lying on his stomach while scrolling through his cellphone. Soyeon chucks a pillow at him, making him yelp and lift his hands up in defeat.

“This is for the best, Soyeon,” you reply firmly, stabbing your spoon into your own pint of rocky road and digging out a generous chunk. As you lick the spoon, you note that you barely notice the creamy goodness that always succeeds in cheering you up. Not today.

Sunoo sits up and sets his phone aside. “Literally last month, you said you wanted to marry Minho as soon as you graduated.”

You swallow harshly, remembering the exact moment Sunoo is referencing. It’s true that you wanted to marry your boyfriend— no, you still want to marry him, even now. But you meant what you said; breaking up with Minho is necessary to prevent any more heartache. You’ve been feeling this indescribable longing seeping into your heart for weeks now, silently pressing through all of your warning bells. It was a whisper in the wind beneath your lofty wings, telling you that one day, Minho was going to leave you. The last few days had been the final straw, forcing you to grasp your courage and do what had to be done.

“I know.” You hold your tears back. “But the situation has obviously changed.”

Soyeon takes your hand in her own, softly rubbing your palm with her thumb to comfort you, while Sunoo just rolls his eyes. “I still blame that bitch Minju. It’s her fault you’re feeling like this, if anyone’s.”

At the mention of Minju, your expression hardens. After all, you don’t exactly have warm regards for a backstabber like her, especially when she had pretended to be your friend just to get close to Minho. When you found out about her ulterior motive, it made the betrayal hurt ten times worse.

You had befriended Minju nearing the end of the previous year, after she sat next to you at lunch when you were alone in the dining hall. All along your short-lived friendship, you had noticed that she would only ask you questions about Minho or your relationship with him, but you brushed it off as an attempt to just get along with your boyfriend. You had no idea that she wanted to do more than that.

At the beginning of the next semester, Minho mentioned that he had one class with Minju. Ever the optimist, you were pleasantly surprised, thinking that Minju could become friends with Minho as well. After all, it always took Minho forever to really bond with new people, and this would make everything easier. But the little things you kept overlooking built upon each other, forming a whole dam of distrust.

First, there were all of the times you hung out with both Minju and Minho. While Minho always engaged in conversation with the both of you, if not more with you, Minju would actively ignore you just to talk to Minho. Once, you three visited an arcade together, and there was a game that involved picking teams. Minju immediately declared that she would partner up with Minho, so you had no option but to team with a stranger. But maybe she just wanted to get to know him.

And then you ran into Heeseung, one of Minju’s old classmates. Heeseung had no malicious intentions; he used to have photography class with Minju before she switched out, and needed Minju’s number to ask her for the pen he had lent her. It looked like Minju had changed her course schedule to share a class with Minho. But maybe that was just a coincidence.

The final piece that made you put together Minju’s puzzle was when Minho was dropping you after a date one night. He had kissed you goodbye, and you went inside, wondering if you should invite Minju over to watch some movies. You called Minju and asked her if she wanted to come over, but she claimed that she was very sick and couldn’t even leave her house, down with a high fever in her bed. Feeling sorry for your friend, you decided to whip up a quick batch of soup for Minju and walk over to her loft. However, you saw two people standing right outside the building. Upon closer look, you realized it was Minju and Minho, talking about something you couldn’t hear. But the sight itself was enough— Minju looked perfectly healthy and fresh. You could give the benefit of doubt to your boyfriend, but Minju had obviously lied to you. You ran away before either of them spotted you.

You shake your head, knowing in your heart that even someone like Minju couldn’t really end one of the most important relationships in your life. “It’s not just her. I’m tired of watching every other couple on campus, wishing Minho and I were like that. Everyone calls us perfect, but really, we’re not. I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one who cares. I’m just tired of everything, Sunoo.”

And it’s true. You’ve had enough of wondering about whether you love him too much, if you were being naive about everything. You have always been a very bubbly, social person, wearing your heart on your sleeve. You know that Minho is more of an introvert, and that it’s hard for him to express himself to others. However, you believed that with time, he would open up, at least to you. You found it as easy to confide your fears within Minho as it was to laugh when he tickled you. But communicating with Minho about his own feelings remained a difficulty. He still seems like such a mystery to you, and even if he wasn’t entertaining Minju’s whole plot, you feel like he isn’t as interested in you as you are in him. You hadn’t even bothered telling Minho the truth about Minju, because in the end, you doubt Minju would have troubled you so much if your relationship really was so unbreakable.

Sunoo’s face softens, as he gets up to envelope you in one of his hugs. “I’m sorry if I came off too strong. I just want the best for you.”

Soyeon joins your little huddle, wrapping her arms around the both of you. “You are our best friend, after all. We can’t have our favorite girl being sad.”

A tiny flicker of hope ignites in your stomach. Whatever happens, you know you’ll have Soyeon and Sunoo by your side. You tell yourself over and over again that you don’t need anyone else but them, until you start to believe it.

It hurts Minho’s heart to see that you look more beautiful than ever as you step into Morningstar, even with your downturned lips and the reddened sheen of your sleepless eyes. He busies himself with the menu as you approach the table he’s sitting at, as if he wasn’t just watching you a moment earlier.

“Thank you for seeing me.” Your words feel oddly formal, especially taking into account your usual greeting for Minho was an excited hug and an avalanche of kisses.

Minho shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant and not as scared as he really is. “Yeah, of course.”

You scoot your chair closer to the table, clearing your throat. “Did you sleep okay last night?”

Unable to help himself, Minho rolls his eyes. “How do you think I slept, Y/N?”

You immediately flush, realizing how obvious the answer must be. “I was just—”

“Checking on me,” Minho interrupts you, sounding more wounded than angry. “Right after you tell me that you think maybe we shouldn’t move-in together and that you aren’t feeling the same about us.”

You reach across the table to take Minho’s hands in yours. He can’t bring himself to wrench them free from your hold. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“You did.”

“That wasn’t my intention. I just…” You trail off, gazing out the window. The campus is alive with the buzz of students waking up and going on about their days. It’s a gorgeous day for October, with bright sunshine and a cloudless sky— Minho hates it.

He looks away, not wanting to showcase how truly vulnerable he feels right now. “Why? Why this all of a sudden? Did I do something wrong?”

You start. “No!”

“Are you still upset about yesterday? I know everything is stressful right now, but I promise—”

You take a deep breath. “I can no longer trust you. I don't know if I’ll always be the only one. But it’s not you, it’s me.”

“Of course you’re my only one, what are you talking about?” Minho shakes his head, the desperation creeping in. “No. I promise I’ll try. I’ll be better. Whatever it is, we’ll get through this together.”

You slam your palms down on the table, making it shake. It shocks both you and Minho into a moment of charged silence. “We’ll only grow to hate each other at this rate. I need to end things with you now.”

“Y/N, please. I- I don’t want to break-up.”

You flash Minho a broken smile. “I don’t want it either. But I need to do this, for both our sakes.”

You stand up from your chair, and Minho finally breaks. Minho, who didn’t cry even when he fell into a ravine while hiking and broke his arm. Minho, who didn’t cry even when he was cut from the line-up for his dream internship in New York City. Minho, who never cries, sits in front of you now, the tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto his sweatshirt.

“Don’t go, please.” He makes one last attempt at getting you to stay, grabbing onto the arm of your jacket.

You gently shake him free, taking your purse. You’re crying now too. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Min.”

Minho lets his arm fall limply to his side as he hopelessly watches you leave as quickly as you came. He always hated saying goodbye after every time you went out, but the thought of being able to see you the next day helped a little bit. Now, there wasn’t even that.

“One… two… three.”

Minho grunts in effort, sweat slowly dripping down his neck at the arduous pace of each repetition.

“Keep going, Minho. You’re almost there,” Changbin says, leaning over Minho and supporting him on the bench press.

Minho barely hears him, flexing his biceps up and down, exhausted, yet determined to finish a set. He’s done nothing at all for the past few days, strangled with the inevitable grief of being broken up with. Minho sullenly welcomed trudging back and forth to classes. He went to bed early and slept in for as long as possible, and barely ate anything during the meals Chan forced him to have.

However, Chan finally became fed up with Minho’s mopiness, employing Changbin to drag him out to the gym and make him work out his feelings. And so, as he struggles under the backbreaking weight of the barbell, he yearns to feel a sense of accomplishment about something— anything.

“Ten! You’re done.” Changbin gently places a hand on Minho’s arm, willing him to stop, but Minho keeps going without toning down his pace.

Minho feels the excruciating ache burning in his muscles, the slow agony of pain rippling through him. Is this how you feel? Is this how much it hurts to love him? If so, he wants to live it over and over again, atoning for the reason you left him. He blames himself for letting you go, of course, but mostly for making you feel like you had to leave in the first place. He should have been a better man for you.

“Minho, stop!” Changbin lifts up the weight in his own hands, racking it and staring down accusingly at his charge. “Are you crazy? You could have hurt yourself.”

“You lift more than that, and you’re fine. Give me that.” Minho reaches for the barbell once more, but Changbin places it on an even higher hook, forcing Minho to get off the bench.

“I’ve been doing this for years. You started after your girlfriend dumped you, four days ago.”

Minho rolls his eyes, picking up his towel and dabbing at his dampened skin. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“You were already thinking about her anyway.” Changbin pats Minho’s shoulder, grabbing his bottle of green juice and walking over to the rowing machine to start his own workout.

Without further protest, Minho retreats to the locker rooms, wondering if he’s being that obvious. Minho gazes into the clouded mirror, inspecting himself for any signs of sadness, but all he receives is an eyeful of his general look, a guarded expression that reserves smiles only for those who deserve it. Weird. Maybe Changbin is just telepathic.

Minho shoves his belongings into his gym bag and heads out of the gym, back to nowhere else but Chan’s apartment, his temporary home until he finds a better place to stay. After all, he thought you both would be moving in together, but plans change.

As Minho makes his way down the sidewalk that leads to the university off-campus housing complex, someone throws a soccer ball into his path. Great.

“Hey, can you pass that over here?”

Clenching his jaw in annoyance, Minho kicks at the ball as hard as he can, not caring about where it lands. He ignores the person’s confused shouts and keeps walking until he reaches his destination, not acknowledging any of the strangers he passed by. What does it matter, anyway?

“Gym go well?” Chan looks up from the cutting board, setting down his knife and wiping his hands on a dishrag.

Minho sighs, neatly fixing his bag next to his current post, the sofa. “It was fine. I’ll go clean up and be right back.”

“Hurry! Dinner’s almost ready,” Chan calls as Minho heads inside the bathroom, locking the door and cranking on the shower.

Minho feels his body relax as he steps under the steady stream of water, but his mind remains tense. He’d gone to the gym with Changbin today because he thought he’d be able to get some peace of mind and forget about everything, but evidently, that hadn’t worked. All he can think about is you, you, you. He’ll deny it to his friends for as long as he can, but he isn’t sure how long he can keep lying to himself.

As he finishes, Minho steps out of the steamy bathroom and into the bedroom, drying off and quickly changing into his clothes. He walks into the dining area, where Chan has set up two bowls and is ladling pasta into each of them. When he was younger, Minho’s mother used to tell them that a good meal could ease a troubled heart. For her sake and Chan’s, he decides to eat well today, just for living.

Enveloped in a comfortable silence, Minho and Chan dig in, enjoying the spicy, cheesy penne that serves as an instant comfort food.

“Thanks, Chan,” Minho says, looking up from his bowl.

Chan swallows his bite and pauses, placing down his fork. “For what?”

Minho shrugs awkwardly, trying to find the right words. By now, he knows he’s no good at speaking his heart. “For being there for me. For feeding me. Everything, I guess.”

“And for making Changbin haul your ass to the gym.” Chan grins at Minho, nothing but warmth in his kind eyes. “What are friends for, brother?”

Even though he feels kind of crappy, Minho smiles. “Yeah, man.”

Chan reaches over and smacks Minho’s back, laughing the sentiment off. But deep inside, Minho knows that Chan understands him. Whatever happens, his brother will be by his side. He tells that to himself over and over again, through dinner and the TV show that Chan turns on, until he starts to believe it.

The next morning, Minho wakes up after finally getting a good night’s sleep. The much needed rest spurs him on to message you, something he’s been putting off for a while now.

catservant98: did you wake up? catservant98: how are you doing? catservant98: ??

You don’t reply to any of his texts. Minho knows that you’re not much of a morning person, but you would never miss class, so you have to be up. Every Thursday and Friday, both of you have Writing Seminar together, a course that is mandatory for every senior student at the university you both attend. When he first received his schedule, he had been elated that he shared a class with his girlfriend. Well now you are his ex-girlfriend, and he doesn’t know that being in the same room and unable to speak with you is a great option.

Nevertheless, Minho tucks his phone into his pocket, opening the door to the lecture hall. The moment he enters, his eyes find yours. You’re sitting in your favorite spot in the middle of the fifth row, but the seat next to you that Minho usually takes is already occupied by some other girl who’s busy reading a book. You didn’t bother saving him a seat, for the very first time.

You tear your eyes away from Minho’s piercing gaze, looking at the grassy lawn beyond the window behind you, leaving Minho to find a new seat. He sets his backpack down in the very back row, where no one else is, and sits alone, a sad new reality setting in. Thankfully, the professor enters and starts talking about some upcoming project, leaving Minho ample leeway to observe you.

Your head is tilted down and you're focused on the open notebook in front of you. Although he can’t see your hand properly, he knows it’s moving as you sketch a little doodle onto the paper. It’s a habit that he always found enormously endearing, and as you tuck your hair behind your ear, Minho feels another pang in his chest. He will never be able to brush back your hair for you, ever again.

The moment class is over, Minho quits pretending he’s actually paying attention and hurries over to you before you can leave. You’re midway through stuffing your books bag in your bag when you notice Minho hovering over you. With a resigned sigh, you look up at him expectantly.

“I- I just wanted to check on you,” Minho says quietly, looking down at his hands like he’s a kid again, guilty of stealing a candy instead of impinging on your time. “And see how you’re doing.”

“I’ve been better.” You look away and stand up, gesturing towards the door. “I should go. Soyeon’s probably waiting.”

“Okay then.” Minho steps aside, letting you pass. You both had a lot of mutual friends; surely every interaction between you both will not be this awkward, right?

Before you leave, however, you turn and look at him. “Let’s try to be civil and move on, okay? We’ll still be seeing each other a lot, so.”

Minho just stares at you, for a moment, before remembering himself. “Yeah, okay. Let’s try.”

You curtly nod and walk out the door. Minho isn’t so sure that moving on is what he wants. Of course he wants to get along with you, because having you in his life and not being romantically involved is better than not being involved with you at all. But he wishes the world— time, you, and even himself— would understand that moving on meant this loss in his life. Shaking his head, Minho heads out of the classroom and towards a hopefully better day.

“Are you sure this isn’t a bad idea?” You worriedly scan the increasing mass of partygoers. Usually, you love a good party; spending time with friends and making new ones is one of your favorite things to do. Tonight, however, you can’t help the bad feeling building inside of you.

Sunoo loops your arm through yours, leading the way for you through the swanky flat, searching for a place to sit. “No, it isn’t. You deserve to have some fun.”

“What if I see Minho?” You ask him, but you already know the answer. Of course Minho is coming to Jihyo’s birthday party; unfortunately, both of you were in the same large friend group, an aspect of your relationship that you used to cherish. Now, not so much.

He looks over at you, a challenge in his eyes. “And so what if you do? You told him you wanted to be civil. So be civil.”

“Right.”

You both find a place by the food tables, where boxes of pizza have already been opened to entice guests and bottles of beer chill in the cooler. After congratulating Jihyo and helping yourself to a few slices, you sit down on the couch next to Sunoo, trying to enjoy your dinner. After boba, pizza is your most favorite food on the whole planet, but even that can’t seem to soothe your nerves. You wish Soyeon were here too, but she’s stuck studying for an exam.

Noticing your restlessness, Sunoo whistles to a few people mingling nearby. “Hey, who wants to play Truth or Dare!”

Although outdated, Truth or Dare is a certified party hit for stressed college students like you all, especially if there’s alcohol involved. You’re just thankful for the distraction. Everyone quickly huddles around, buzzing in anticipation of either a comedy show or secrets being revealed.

“I’ll go first.” Chan says, stepping forward. If he’s here, so must be Minho. “Truth.”

Sunoo rubs his hands together in thought before piping up. “What’s your beef with your Student Council co-president?”

Chan immediately tenses, his cheeks turning red. “Shit. I’ll drink on that.”

Everyone whoops with laughter and cheers as Chan downs his beer, setting the cup down with a sour expression on his face due to the bitterness of the drink. He must really hate his co-president. The game continues, before you’re the only person playing who hasn’t gone yet. Unfortunately, your questioner is Mark Lee, a junior that’s notorious for his nosiness. You brace yourself for whatever invasive question he’ll come up with, but you aren’t as quite prepared as you think.

“Why did you and Y/N break up?”

“Huh?” You follow Mark’s gaze to see him looking at Minho, who joined the game without you realizing. The question was meant for him, not you.

Minho says nothing, giving Mark the opportunity to keep talking. “I mean, weren’t you guys the golden couple of campus or something?”

Everyone quiets down, zeroing in on you and Minho for all of the wrong reasons. Minho’s eyes dart over to where you sit, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. You feel your skin prickle and your body heat up, the stress clouding your senses once more.

“This is stupid. Game’s over,” Minho declares while getting up, and everyone disperses, not willing to argue with him.

You stare down at your lap as Sunoo places an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to him. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I had no idea Mark would ask that. What an asshole.”

“I’m fine.” You stand up, brushing off your skirt. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

“I’ll come with you,” Sunoo offers.

You shake your head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll come back.”

After getting some water, you wind through the impromptu dance floor that has now taken over the living space, everyone jamming to the raging music that thumps through the loud bass speakers that Jihyo had installed into her flat. You dodge a couple grinding up against each other and a pair of best friends swinging to the beat. Before you head back to Sunoo, you’re about to find temporary reprieve out on the balcony, but like a cruel universal joke, you see exactly what you fear most.

Minho leans against the railing, the evening breeze ruffling the chestnut hair that frames his handsome face. And next to him stands Minju, twirling her hair around her fingers while listening to what Minho is murmuring to her. Yours and Minju’s eyes meet, and she gives you the faintest hint of a satisfied smirk. Your heart drops and your feet want to give out right then and there, but you would rather die than fall apart in front of both of them. You turn on your heel and blindly march to wherever will rid you of the sight of the person you love the most speaking to the person you hate the most.

That destination turns out to be the kitchen, as you march in and huff out loud as your body hits the kitchen island. There’s no one else there except for one other person with his upper body hidden by the refrigerator, obviously raiding it. At the sound of someone else entering, he shuts the fridge door and looks over at you. Taking in his faded pink hair and beat-up converse sneakers, you vaguely recognize him from somewhere.

“I was just looking for some carrot juice, that’s all.” The guy shoots you a sheepish smile. “I don’t do booze past 9 p.m.”

“Carrot juice? Don’t tell me you’re a fitness freak.”

He raises his hands in faux surrender. “Guilty. But outside of the gym, I’m Kang Taehyun. Or Terry, if we’re acquainted, and hopefully you and I will be by the end of the night. So call me Terry.”

You’re intrigued by this carrot-loving stranger. “I’m—”

“Y/N, I know. We have Writing Seminar together.” Terry smiles as the recognition hits you.

You slap your palm against your forehead, wondering how you could have missed him. “I’m so sorry. I guess I was always too distracted in that class.”

He waves your apology off with a twist of his wrist. “No worries. Besides, you’re a lot more memorable than me.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Thank you.”

In the brief silence that follows, you gaze up at the pattern of the tiling on the countertops, toying with the hem of your skirt. Once again, your thoughts flit over to Minho, wondering if he’s still talking to Minju. Terry notices you spacing out and speaks up. “Hey, are you okay?”

You look up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Suddenly, everything feels like too much, and you’re overwhelmed with your own emotions. You feel yourself tear up, and you’re immediately mortified for breaking down in front of someone you just met.

Unfazed, Terry crosses over to you in three quick strides and gently touches your arm, concerned. “Hey, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

You swipe at your eyes, trying to collect yourself. “No, it’s not you. I broke up with my boyfriend recently. And it’s been… bad. God, this is embarrassing.”

Terry dips his head in understanding. “I noticed you weren’t sitting next to him as usual in class earlier today. Minho— that's him, right?”

You let out a mirthless chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Well…” Terry trails off, and you fear you’ve ruined the mood with your depressive recollection, but he smiles at you. “I’ll tell you something embarrassing about me. I have a fear of mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

A giggle escapes your mouth at the absurdity of his confession. “What?”

Terry nods solemnly. “Yes. Technically, I have a fear of visiting the dentist, but mint choco is close enough to the taste of toothpaste to give me the chills.”

You grin at Terry, the down atmosphere slowly fading away. “What do you like, then?”

“Water slides. Pleasure reading. And caramel popcorn with extra caramel.” Terry flexes his bicep. “Even a fitness freak needs his sugar fix.”

You roll your eyes in good humor. “You’re really something, aren’t you, Kang Taehyun?”

“I’m hoping that’s a compliment.” Terry runs his hand through his bubblegum hair, carelessly mussing it up. You find the messiness of his bangs absolutely adorable.

“It is.” You tap your nails against your cup, trying to think of something to say next. Generally, you have no difficulty in keeping a conversation going, but Terry seems to be content with that role in this one.

“Are you an Apple or Android kind of person?” Terry inquires.

You take a sip of your water, raising your eyebrow at him. “Where did that come from?”

“I was trying to think of a good way to ask you for your number.” Terry shrugs, that playful smile that you’ve now become familiar with coming back.

You return it. “You just did.”

Both of you exchange cell phones and type in each other’s contact information. When finished, Terry slides your phone back into your palm, and you don’t miss the light touch of his fingers against your own.

“I have to go find my friend now, Terry. But I’m glad I met you. Don’t forget to spam me with more weird facts about yourself.”

Terry laughs. “I won’t. Like I said, Y/N, you’re not easily forgettable.”

You hide your smile and leave the kitchen, lost in your own world, even as you run straight into Sunoo, who asks you what took you so long. When you finally get back to the warmth of your own room after the party, you sit down to get some homework done before bed. You notice your favorite keychain, a little cat charm, hanging off your ID card lanyard that’s strewn across your desk. Minho gifted it to you last year, stating that you needed something to remind you of him when he wasn’t there. After a moment’s hesitation, you unclip the charm from the lanyard and tuck it away inside your desk. You don’t need the reminder right now.

terrypotter: hey, good morning!! this is terry from yday btw bobaluvrr: hii! bobaluvrr: omg ur user <3 i love harry potter too! terrypotter: this friendship was meant to be.

You throw off your covers, hopping out of bed. Last night was proof that things could start out horrible and end well. You meant what you said to Terry; you’re happy you were able to meet someone like him. Even though you both only hung out for a few minutes, talking to him felt relaxing and uncomplicated, less of a puzzle and more like a game, unlike how it felt with Minho. You were tired of always guessing Minho’s thoughts, and so Terry’s habit of speaking his mind feels incredibly refreshing.

terrypotter: here’s a thought- coffee @ morningstar? terrypotter: they make a mean breakfast bagel too, if ur up for it

You frown down at your phone, the lighthearted feeling fading into uncertainty. You are glad that Terry named this new acquaintance as a friendship, but still, he’s a boy— and a good looking one at that, too. You aren’t sure if getting coffee entails something potentially romantic down the lane, and if it does, it feels wrong, especially so soon after Minho. You definitely haven’t moved on, yet. After all, you once believed that Minho would be the man you would marry one day, and a tiny part of you still dreams of what could be.

bobaluvrr: i can’t :( promised my roommates breakfast terrypotter: aw that’s too bad

After a moment of thought, however, you text him again.

bobaluvrr: but i’ll save you a seat in class today! terrypotter: see u then :)

Strangely buzzed, you make your bed and get ready for the day, trying not to think of the fact that Minho is also in Writing Seminar with you and Terry. You don’t want him to give him the wrong idea, but then again, you both weren’t together anymore, so what does it matter?

After showering and getting dressed, you stand in the kitchen so that the excuse you gave Terry won’t be a lie, scrambling a few eggs in the frying pan that Minho bought you last year. As the designated chef in your relationship, Minho used to cook for you all the time, whenever you came over to the apartment he shared with Chan and Jisung. Whenever he visited you, however, he complained that there weren’t enough proper cooking supplies for him to create a “proper culinary experience” for you, so he insisted on buying you some.

When you nearly fainted, looking at the receipts for everything he bought you, he promised that you could make it up to him by bringing everything with you when you moved in with him. That’s how he very smoothly asked you to move in with him, and you accepted by attacking him with kisses. You both planned to find an apartment as soon as possible, since Jisung wanted to move-in with his best friend, and Chan was looking for his own place. The reminiscing smile on your face fades away when you remember that everyone’s plans came to fruition except for yours and Minho’s.

You don’t know if it’s the universe looping Minho into your life again and again, or if your treacherous heart just misses him so much that you can’t help but subconsciously cling to every last remnant you have of him. The sensible side of you knows it’s the latter scenario.

“I smell food.” Sunoo ambles out of his room, looking like a lovable yet scruffy teddy bear.

He tries to sneak a piece of fried egg from the pan, but you quickly push his hands away, wrinkling your nose. “Go brush your teeth first. I’m going to throw up.”

Sunoo rolls his eyes sleepily, but obeys, before Soyeon also comes out of her bedroom. Unlike Sunoo, however, she’s all dressed and ready for business, clad in her uniform of baggy jeans and a badass leather jacket that you adore. Soyeon pulls out three glasses and starts juicing a couple oranges to complete your meal, as you start plating the food.

“Thank you, my angel,” Soyeon blows you a kiss as you set the eggs and some slices of buttered toast on the table. You wink back at her as you both take your seats and Sunoo comes out to join you, still wearing his pajamas.

“And you, lazy ass? Wake up earlier so you can help out more. You never do anything.” Soyeon smacks Sunoo’s arm, hard, eliciting a cry out of him.

“Hey! I take on the emotional support role in this house,” Sunoo replies, aggressively biting into his toast.

“This is an apartment.”

Your two roommates trade their usual insults back and forth as you tune them out, picking at your own plate. Maybe it had been a bad idea, asking Terry to sit next to you. And it wasn’t even about how you could already envision your ex-boyfriend’s beautiful eyes full of betrayal, but more of how you’re coming off to Terry. What if he got the wrong idea, that you both were heading into something more than a friendship?

When you’ve escaped Sunoo and Soyeon’s bickering, you plug in your earbuds and walk to the lecture hall. The sound of your morning mix fills your ears as you enter your own world. While you cherish the people in your life more than anything, you treasure the times when you can slow down and just appreciate the fact that you’re alive and healthy. Gratitude isn’t something you feel a lot, especially taking into account recent happenings, but maybe you’ll start now. A new friend is always something to be thankful for—

You hear someone calling out and immediately pull out your headphones to see Terry next to you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Terry falls into a synchronized step with you. “Did I interrupt any deep contemplation? The look on your face was pretty intense.”

You shake your head, accepting the coffee that Terry hands to you. “Thank you. And no, you didn’t. It’s nice to see you again, Terry.”

Terry smiles, sipping from his own cup. “Likewise. Ready for class?”

You’re about to naturally give him an affirmative answer, before you halt, remembering yet another moment with Minho.

“Who the hell is he?” Minho glowers threateningly at the guy next to you, pulling the sleeves of his button-down up to his elbows. The man quickly rushes out of the bar and into the rain, without even bothering to open the umbrella in his hands.

You sigh loudly while Minho sits down on the stool the man was just perched on. “Was that necessary, Min? Poor guy just wanted to ask me about the book I’m reading.”

“That’s the pretense that all guys put up when they’re trying to hit on a girl.” Minho slides his arm around your shoulders, and despite your mild annoyance, you melt into his touch. He smells like a mix of cologne, rain, and fresh cotton sheets.

You look up at Minho through your eyelashes. “Is that what you did when you asked me out?”

Minho smiles lovingly at you. “I didn’t have to. You were down bad for me already.”

You shove him away in mock offense. “You were the down bad one! I remember your whole cheesy speech.”

“I don’t recall anything like that.” The smirk on Minho’s face fades in favor of a deep blush.

Laughing, you press a kiss to your boyfriend’s lips, and he quickly reciprocates. The truth is, you both were impossibly down bad for each other. And to be even more honest, you enjoyed it when Minho got like this; the feeling of being Lee Minho’s girl will never not excite you, especially when he was the one keen on enforcing it.

You sigh to yourself. While that was a pleasant memory without the context, you aren’t so sure it’ll be cute this time, when Minho reacts to you and Terry.

Terry holds the door open to the lecture hall, letting you go in first before shutting the door behind him. Most of the class is already assembled there, setting up their desks before the professor starts. You see that Minho’s also sitting, perched in the back again, but he seems busy rifling through his bag, looking for something. As you take your own seat, you don’t know if you feel relief at Minho not saying anything, or disappointment that he didn’t notice you at all.

Throughout the duration of class, you and Terry giggle together over the professor’s infamous random rants, but your mind keeps flitting over to Minho. You can feel his gaze on you and Terry, but when you turn, you see him immersed in his notes like he wasn’t looking at you in the first place, and you end up feeling stupid. Fearful of what Minho— or really, you— might do, as soon as class ends, you grab Terry’s wrist and practically pull him out of the door, ready to get out of there. Terry doesn’t question it, understanding the rationale for your actions. You appreciate that about him.

To make it up to Terry, you take him out to lunch, choosing a restaurant downtown. You love the views of the riverfront there, as well as their renowned spicy food. You block out the memory of all of the times you and Minho walked over here, hand in hand. You are entitled to lunch at your favorite restaurant, you remind yourself. Once you’re seated, the waiter comes over to your table.

“Chef’s special soup, please. Level-three spice,” you tell the waiter.

The waiter writes down your orders and walks away, leaving Terry to look at you with an amused expression. “Level-three? The food here is already spicy.”

You cross your arms. “I have a very high spice tolerance.”

“Alright.”

In no time at all, your waiter is back, setting down the food in front of you both. Terry immediately digs in, shoveling liberal spoonfuls of his mild fried rice into his mouth, leaving you to stare at your soup. You can practically smell the red pepper in the steam rising out of the bowl.

“Here’s my last warning before destruction,” Terry says, squeezing a lemon onto his rice. “Try some rice.”

You sit up, trying to look self-assured. “Nonsense. I can do this.”

Of course, you wish you hadn’t bragged so much, barely a few seconds after your first sip of the spicy broth. Your eyes start to tear up involuntarily, and Terry fills a glass of water from the iced pitcher and hands it over to you. You accept it, clumsily tipping the cool water into your mouth, as Terry gives you a knowing smile.

“Aren’t you overdoing it?”

The spoon in your hands nearly falls onto the floor in your shock at Terry’s words. “What did you just say?”

Terry gives you an odd look. “Um, I said, ‘aren’t you overdoing it?’”

You take a deep breath, the tears now flowing down your cheeks. But you know that they’re not completely due to the soup. “Wow.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Terry hands you a napkin, worry written on his face. He signals for the waiter to refill the water pitcher.

You smile ruefully. “Yeah, I will be.”

“I can handle it, Minho.” You give him a glare, placing the napkin on your lap and scooting closer to the table. It’s your first date with Minho, and you want to impress him so bad.

Minho nudges your leg with his own, and you try not to look flustered. “It’s okay if you want to order something else.”

You stubbornly dig your spoon into the bowl, gathering a large helping of broth and noodles onto it. “You like the soup here. So I want to eat it too.”

He just laughs, watching intently as the clear signs of regret manifest on your face. “Told you so.”

"What are you talking about?” You narrow your eyes, unwilling to admit defeat, even though you really, really want to. You drink the soup in careful spoonfuls, pretending it’s too hot, but you struggle to speak even in between tiny sips. “This… is.. so… delicious.”

Minho is now hysterical, losing his mind laughing at the look on your face when you bite straight into a whole jalapeno. “Aren’t you overdoing it?”

“Minho, you’re so mean!” You can’t bear it any longer, the tears gushing down your cheeks while you also laugh in both pain and genuine happiness at being here with Minho, at making him laugh.

“Alright, alright.” Minho quickly goes and gets a large glass of chilled apple juice from the bar, handing it to you.

When you’re finally calmed down, you wipe your mouth with your napkin and set the spoon down, metaphorically waving a white flag. You skip straight to dessert, opting to soothe your taste buds with cold ice cream, all while watching Minho in awe as he easily finishes his own bowl of soup. After paying for dinner, Minho takes you to a secluded section of the rocky beach bordering the river that runs straight through the city. You both walk in a comfortable silence, still at that point where your hands slightly touch as you walk, unsure of just holding each other like you so want them to.

You look over at Minho, suddenly self-conscious. At this point, you see no point in faking anything; he’s seen you literally sob over a bowl of soup. “About the soup… I promise I’m not a braggy show-off. Honestly, I just wanted to impress you. Guess I did the opposite, though.”

“What are you talking about?” Minho shakes his head, all laughter from before gone. “I’ve never met someone who ate a bowl of soup here just because I like it. Not even Chan would try it, and he’s my best friend.”

You blush, illuminated by the combination of the moonlight and the glittering city surrounding. “Thank you.”

Minho stops walking, turning around to face you. “I know I told you this when I asked you to go out with me, but I suck at using my words, so I’m sorry.”

You copy his movement so you’re looking him directly in the eye. “I understand you, words or not.”

Minho looks down at the rocky ground, secretly fighting his own insecurities. “I’m trying, but I… I admit I’m not great at this.”

You try not to show how utterly charmed you are by his bashfulness. “To be honest, neither am I. You’re actually the first person I’ve ever gone out with. Nobody’s really been into me before.”

“Seriously?” Minho looks shocked.

You now wonder if divulging that information in him was wise. Definitely not. “Yeah.”

Minho kicks a pebble into the river, watching it sink into the water. “Idiots.”

You blink. “Sorry?”

He scoffs, looking back at you. “I don’t know what kind of idiots you were hanging around before. How could no one be into you?”

You shrug, embarrassed. Your heart feels heavy, thinking of the things people used to say to you, thinking they were being funny but not realizing how much mere words were hurting you. “I’m kind of undateable, I guess. People tend to gravitate towards Soyeon. They say I’m more of the comedic relief. I don’t blame them, though. She’s perfect.”

Minho gives you an unreadable expression. “You have no idea.”

“Of what?”

He crosses that miniscule space between you both, answering you in a different way than you expect. His lips are full and sweet, and he tastes like your coffee ice cream that he stole a few bites from. The surprise you harbor quickly melts away when you shut your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck as he circles his around your waist. If it took this long to find the right person, then so be it. And you don’t know if you can say that this— your first kiss ever— is like the movies; it feels even better.

“I may not be good with words, but I can say this: you are perfect.”

“You look kind of stupid,” Hyunjin says, cackling at Minho’s struggle to look over the top of the box in his hands while coordinating his movements.

Minho gives Hyunjin a sharp look in response. “And you look ready to go into the air fryer.”

Hyunjin immediately tosses his phone aside and scurries over to where Minho is, taking the box out of his hands and transporting it into Minho’s designated bedroom with ease, looking over his shoulder fearfully as he goes. Minho smiles to himself, satisfied.

He follows Hyunjin into the room, finding the latter boy dramatically smoothing out the bedsheets and straightening the pillows. Hyunjin side-eyes Minho’s entrance, earning him a smack on the backside and a great reason to get out of the room, leaving Minho in peace.

Minho quickly unpacks, neatly folding his clothes and stacking them in the closet, before organizing the rest of his belongings around the room. When he finishes, he falls back onto his new bed, staring up at the ceiling fan and observing it whir. Out of everything that’s happened, he knows he should be thankful; although Hyunjin is the designated comedian of their friend group— along with Jisung, of course— he values his privacy incredibly. So when Hyunjin offered to rent out a room in his apartment to Minho, he couldn’t believe his luck. Then again, he wishes he wasn’t in this position to begin with.

Earlier today, Chan insisted on going out to catch the football game that their university hosted. Minho had agreed, with nothing better to do— besides, he noticed that Chan was also having a rough start to his day, after being locked in the campus library all night with his co-president that he always conflicted with. Chan had stayed quiet for the entire time, staring out the window on the ride to the home game, but at least he had a happy ending. By the end of the game, things had changed for Chan, and for the better: he’d amended things with his co-president, and of everything that could have happened, they even emerged from the stadium as a couple. For Minho, however, things had been quite different.

Namely, there’s a new replacement for Minho. He saw you walk into class with Kang Taehyun yesterday, and he’d been so anxious to not let you see his reaction that he immediately busied himself with his backpack. The entire time, however, he was watching you both whisper to each other during class. He darkly observed Taehyun scribble something onto the corner of your notebook, and it had made you laugh. That was what Minho used to do all the time. By the end of class, Minho considered confronting you right then and there, without caring about anyone else, but you ran out of class with Taehyun before he could even move.

And to make things even worse, he saw you and Taehyun together at the game. Minho had to resist the urge to march down to your section and slap the flirtatious smile off of Taehyun’s face. But more than anything, he wanted to ask you if it was true. Did you really already start to move on with a new man? Is Minho really that replaceable to you?

“Hey, what are you up to?” Hyunjin cautiously sticks his head into the room, snapping Minho out of his reverie.

“Nothing much. What’s up?”

Hyunjin steps into the room, his silky shirt and pressed trousers a stark contrast to Minho’s soft blue t-shirt and gym shorts. “Wanna go to the convenience store with me? I ran out of snacks.”

“You and your snacks,” Minho teases, chasing after Hyunjin when he sticks his tongue in retaliation.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin successfully drags Minho into the convenience store, disappearing into the junk food aisles to get his fix and leaving Minho to wander around the store. Following the twisting row of frozen foodstuffs, Minho turns and crashes straight into you.

“Minho?” Your eyes widen.

Minho clears your throat, trying not to gaze at you like you’re a returned long-lost love. You are indeed lost to him, but he had class with you merely the day before. He needs to get a grip on himself. “You dropped this.”

He kneels down, picking up the tub of ice cream, and hands it to you after inspecting the flavor label. “Strawberry? You hate strawberry.”

You take it back hastily. “Yeah. You always loved it, though.”

That doesn’t satisfy Minho’s rampant irritation. “You wouldn’t even touch strawberry ice cream with a ten-foot pole before. What changed?”

“I just wanted to try something new,” you say, with what Minho observes as guilt.

Before Minho can respond, the person he wants to see the least rounds the corner and interrupts you both.

“I promise, the strawberry ice cream here is amazing and— oh.” Taehyun walks up to where you are, standing slightly between you and Minho, before he looks down at you, ignoring Minho. “Am I interrupting something? I can go away.”

You shake your head, flaring the rage in Minho. “It’s fine. You can stay.”

“So you’ll eat strawberry ice cream with him, but not me.” Minho rolls his eyes, the humiliation inside him swelling like a balloon.

“Hey man, it’s nothing like that. I know she doesn’t like strawberry ice cream that much, but I practically threatened her to try it. J'adore strawberries,” Taehyun says in a joking tone, but Minho doesn’t miss the protective glint in his eye.

Minho has never been a violent person, but he balls his fists. The nerve. “Who the fuck even are you? You don’t know anything about—”

“What is your problem, Minho?” You cut in angrily. “If you’re mad at me, then be mad at me. Don’t take your frustrations out on Terry.”

What you said is perfectly sensible, Minho knows that. He doesn’t have anything against Taehyun at all; he doesn’t even know the guy. But all logic is thrown out of the window when it comes to you.

“Terry?” Minho scoffs at the nickname. “You know what, I am mad at you. Because seriously? Kang Taehyun? He isn’t even your type.”

Before Taehyun can say anything else, you respond to Minho’s jab, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Right, because you were so perfect for me.”

The words hit him like a sledgehammer, and Minho starts in surprise— you’ve never talked to him like that before, ever. And neither has he. The regret is evident on your face as you shake your head, frustrated, like that came out wrong.

“I got the snacks!” Hyunjin announces suddenly, waltzing into the aisle, before he notices you standing there with Taehyun. “What’s going on here?”

You and Taehyun stay quiet, adding onto Minho’s misery. He wants you to say something, anything. He doesn’t even want an apology; he knows he absolutely deserved that insult. Still, Minho can’t help that horrible feeling rising inside of him.

“Let’s just go.” Minho turns on his heel and walks out of the store, before waiting to finish the conversation, Hyunjin following closely behind. He doesn’t bother looking back.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything to Minho, falling silent in the rapidly approaching night. At times like this, Minho prefers to be left alone. But he isn’t, really. Not with the truth leaning over his shoulder, like an angelic superego. He tries not to think of it, however, or the fact that his heart is falling apart so violently in his chest. Although you and Minho are not together anymore, you’ve both now fulfilled a milestone: hurt each other beyond repair.

The convenience store encounter with Minho left you feeling guiltier than ever, even more than when you actually broke up with him. You should have been more understanding towards Minho; after suddenly ending things, you appear out with Terry. Even though you don’t see Terry like that, you are well aware of how it can look to Minho. After all, you’d react similarly if you found out that Minho and Minju are dating. But you hadn’t, because you know that Minho would never do that to you.

You sigh, shutting the door to your room and collapsing onto your bed. After the whole incident, the air between you and Terry had been pretty awkward. While you still don’t know much about Terry, including his intentions, the topic of a romance had never been broached until Minho did it for you. He’d walked you back to your apartment, before wishing you a goodnight.

Your phone sounds with a text, and you pick it up, curling into your pillow. It’s Terry.

terrypotter: just checking up on you terrypotter: how are you doing? bobaluvrr: better, thanks for asking terrypotter: glad to hear terrypotter: and i also want to say that i’m sorry for any role i might have played in what happened today bobaluvrr: you’re good, terry. it wasn’t about you. i’m sorry for bringing you in

There is truth to this. No matter how much it feels like third parties have an avenue in furthering the split between you and Minho, the problem has always been internal. It’s truly between you both, hence, you’re not a couple anymore.

bobaluvrr: let’s change the subject? terrypotter: ofc terrypotter: wanna play would you rather?

You laugh in spite of yourself. It feels good to laugh, to distract yourself, but Minho stays like a stubborn mirage in your mind. Nevertheless—

bobaluvrr: game on. terrypotter: beaches or mountains? bobaluvrr: beaches terrypotter: sweet or salty? bobaluvrr: are u kidding? my username? boba?? terrypotter: LOL sweet then bobaluvrr: yes. terrypotter: spring or autumn? bobaluvrr: spring, duh terrypotter: and lastly, dogs or cats? bobaluvrr: DOGS terrypotter: u are 100% correct terrypotter: all of our answers are the exact same LMFAO

You think back to your first date with Minho. Before the whole soup fiasco, the atmosphere had been so awkward while waiting for the soup to arrive. This was months of tension and pining between you both, and now that the apex had arrived, neither of you were sure of what to say. Without thinking, Minho broke the silence by randomly asking you if you liked dogs or cats better. You were automatically enchanted by the bashful look on his face. From there on, for every single question he asked you, both of you had the exact opposite answers. For the longest time, your differences had felt charming, before they weren’t.

Terry, on the other hand, shares so many similarities with you, beyond the strawberry ice cream betrayal. Both of you are outgoing, have a similar sense of humor, and like to be unabashedly yourselves. If a romance did ever blossom between you and Terry, if your friendship lasts your current heartbreak, you could be happy with him, maybe. You would never be insecure, worrying about what’s going on in his mind, because he would talk to you directly. You appreciate that so much about him. But whenever you look into his eyes, or whenever your hand accidentally brushes his, you don’t feel that electricity that had always coursed through you when you were with Minho. You’ve been searching for it everywhere since, but that spark just isn’t there; Taehyun’s just not Minho. Your heart calls out to Minho, no matter how much you wish it wouldn’t, and you can’t deny it any longer.

If there’s one thing that Minho has learned in the duration of his college years, it’s that work has no tolerance for those special ailments of the heart. His professors don’t give a crap about the fact that his girlfriend dumped him, or that his girlfriend has now apparently moved on with some pink-haired stud. No matter how much he wants to slam his laptop screen down and fall asleep to the rhythm of his shattered heart, he knows he can’t. His term paper will not write itself, and it matters, especially since he’ll be graduating this year.

“What will you do when we graduate?” You set down your iPad, flexing your fingers.

“A job at a good company. And then one day, my own business.” That familiar, dreamy look mists Minho’s eyes.

You smile at him. “My handsome CEO.”

Minho tapped your nose with his finger, following it with a soft kiss there. “You are so cute.”

“I know.” You peek down at his notebook that’s full of graphs and lengthy strings of numbers. “This looks complicated.”

“Welcome to the life of a business and economics double major,” Minho laughs. “But you’re literally a pre-med student. I’m not going to complain when you have to memorize human anatomy and random proteins.”

“Don’t remind me.” You dramatically shudder, giggling at Minho. “But I don’t care, as long as one day, you’re CEO Lee, and I’m Dr. Lee.”

Your words shock both you and Minho, invoking a moment of charged silence. You both have never talked about getting married before. But before you can backtrack, a slow smile spreads across Minho’s face. “Dr. Lee… has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

You turn a bright red, but lean into Minho, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “Definitely.”

Minho clears his throat and shakes yet another memory of you away, trying to concentrate on the email open in front of him. Just minutes ago, he’d received notice that he’d been chosen for a position at Google, following graduation. Fucking Google. Every business major would kill for a job at Google. And not only that, but his employer noted in the message that they usually don’t even extend offers this early in the year, but made an exception for him because they wanted him so much.

For a moment, he forgot all about the angst of the previous day, giddily jumping off his bed in a rare display of emotion, even if nobody else was around. And then he reached for his phone, opening up your contact and preparing to type in a text to you; for months, you knew Minho was anxious about his application to Google. But then he remembers himself; he’s now someone in your past.

Minho swallows roughly, staring at the blank space where his response accepting the offer should be. A moment later, he decides he’ll respond to the email later. But he doesn’t even have any time to chide himself before he notices someone standing in front of him.

“Minju?”

She looks down at him, either oblivious to his confusion or choosing to ignore it. “Hey. Am I interrupting something?”

Minho nods, waiting for Minju to sit down and get settled into her chair, trying not to let his bewilderment show.

At Jihyo’s party, he had needed some air after that stupid game of Truth or Dare, and even worse, your reaction to the question asked of him. Minho had escaped to the balcony, hoping for a moment alone, when Minju approached him. When she launched into a conversation with him about school, Minho realized that you probably never told Minju about the break-up. So he excused himself as politely as he could, explaining that you and him both broke up. He never really considered Minju as his own friend, and did not expect Minju to pursue a relationship with him any further.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Minho.” Minju exhales, looking him directly in the eye. “I like you.”

Minho sits up immediately, shocked. “What did you just say?”

Minju purses her lips. “I like you, and I always have. Go out with me.”

Minho shakes his head in disbelief, the confusion fading into anger. “You’re Y/N’s friend. How could you do this to her? How can you even look at yourself?”

“You’re not together anymore, it doesn’t matter,” Minju says, her voice wavering.

He scoffs, packing up his belongings and shoving them carelessly into his bag. “Don’t talk to me again.”

Minju grabs the sleeve of Minho’s jacket as he turns to leave, desperation in her eyes. “Be with me instead. I’ll make you forget her.”

Minho shakes her free, giving her a look of both pity and disgust. “I still love her, and I always will.”

And with that, Minho leaves without looking back, walking slowly and deliberately in thought. Was this what you meant when you told him that you weren’t sure if you were the only one? Was Minju the reason for the love of his life leaving him? A strange mix of both fury and hope washes over Minho as he exits the library and breaks into a run, barely eight out of his eight-thousand word essay written.

After you broke up with Minho, you forgot one very crucial detail: you didn’t unlink him from your Google calendar. One of the few things you both share in common is your organization, and when you were together, you both loved to plan things together and very ceremoniously add them to your shared online calendar. It became a game, trying to guess where the other was at random times, judging by their schedule. More often than not, the calendar proved to be a very useful tool in pinpointing each other’s locations. It’s why the brief surprise of seeing Minho standing outside your apartment door in the middle of the day on a weekday fades away quickly. You don’t have any classes scheduled today.

“Y/N,” he pants, leaning against the doorframe.

“Minho. What are you doing here?” You cross your arms, resisting the urge to rush forward and hug him in all of his puffer coat glory. You used to make fun of him for that coat, all the time.

“I needed to see you. Minju told me,” Minho lowers his eyes, as if he’s nervous. “I need you to know that there was nothing going on with her. You have always been my only one. I promise. No one else. I miss you.”

Your heart wrenches in desire and nostalgia at the sincerity of his eyes. Of course you knew that he never cheated on you; this is Minho. But that’s not the reason why you have to remind yourself, once more, that you aren’t right for each other. Not in the long run. “I miss you too. And I know you didn’t cheat on me.”

Minho’s eyes fill with what you recognize as a mix of despair and tears, because after all, you’ve felt it in you too, before. “Then why? Why end it?”

“I feel like you don’t love me as much as I love you.”

The wheels turning inside of Minho’s mind and searching for possible reasons, immediately crash to a stop. “What?”

You shrug, drawing back your hands to tuck them into your lap, a habit that Minho has observed whenever you are nervous. “Remember when we were at that picnic with all of your friends? And Jisung and his girlfriend were also there? We were playing a question game.”

Minho nods slowly, still confused. “I do.”

“Felix had asked all the guys to think of why they love their girlfriends.” You look down at your hands, embarrassed. “Changbin had a whole list of reasons. But when it was your turn to speak, you had no answer.”

The recollection comes back to Minho like a tsunami. He hadn’t really ever thought much of that day; he always had trouble talking about personal things in front of other people, and he thought you already knew why he loved you. He didn’t know his inability to share something like that could hurt you so much, especially when he can write a whole book of reasons for why he loves you. Your smile. Your endless generosity. Your never ending patience for Minho’s antics. The way you always see the best in people, and how you light up the whole room when you walk in.

“Baby,” Minho starts, before realizing that he doesn’t have the right to call you that anymore. Reluctantly, he continues, using your name instead. “Y/N, I have trouble talking in front of other people. I love you so much, and if you know that, it’s all that really matters. A stupid game doesn’t change that.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “But see, Minho, I don’t know. I don’t know how you’re feeling half the time. Felix’s question was just the icing on the cake. I’m exhausted from wondering. Wondering if you love me. Wondering if I really know you. Just wondering all the time. I shouldn’t feel that way.”

I’ll try harder to be more open. I’ll work on myself. I just— please believe me.”

“I do believe that you’ll try, Min. It’s who you are. But I can’t force you to be someone you’re not, and you can’t force me to want different things. We’ll only end up hurting each other more.” Your eyes fill with tears. “It hurts to love you.”

Minho flinches at your words, and he sees the sorrow in your eyes, but you say nothing to soothe the burn. Nevertheless, he keeps trying, as if he didn’t notice the determination written in your gaze as well. “I know I was senseless. But please— I’m begging you. Don’t do this. Don’t leave, not again.”

You look away from him, a single tear sliding down your cheek, as Minho tries to hold back his own. The whole scene feels disturbingly like a few days ago, when you broke up with him in Morningstar. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

“I tried to understand you. I did. But don’t you think that being senseless about everything that was going on also means that you were that indifferent towards me?” You scrub at your face to keep from crying even more.

Minho cringes, hearing the truth in your words. Once upon a time, he cherished the silence you both could share comfortably, working independently in the happy company of each other. Now the quiet hangs in the air like smog, a heavy uneasiness that he never imagined around you. “I really thought I could change. I swear.”

You nod, a brisk movement that doesn’t match the tears glistening on your face. “You should go now. Please.”

And you turn your head, as if you can’t bear to watch him any longer. Minho turns, his head hanging down like he’s a sinner. A small, ugly voice in Minho whispers that he truly is one, for hurting you and letting you go. It implores him to fall at your feet and stay, insisting, breaking at you until you crumble into his arms, taking him back. But the part of him that carries the resolve is stronger by a thread, the one that fuels his despondent retreat from your heart.

Later, holed away in the place he would now have to call his home, Minho is left alone in the bed that he’d once believed to belong to you as much as it did to him. The nights cuddled together and the mornings after, when you woke up to each other in a halo of sunlight, all fade away into the prickling solitude that now constitutes his new reality. There is nothing left for him to do now, except looking out at the sky through his tiny bedroom window, wondering if you were both gazing at the same moon in the separate worlds you both now are in. He’d left you one last message before promising himself that he’d never text you again, and thankfully, you never responded. He didn’t think you would.

catservant98: I’ll always love you.

“The festival will end by the time we get there.” Jeongin lets out an exaggerated sigh, making a show of checking the watch on his wrist.

“Shut up. I need to lock this place up properly or my parents will kill me,” Seungmin mutters grumpily, as he carefully turns the key in the lock to Morningstar, taking his time. “It’s not my fault that I’m the owner’s son.”

Jeongin, donned in a Harley Quinn outfit, bounces on his toes in uncontained anticipation. “Hurry up!”

Seungmin tugs at the lock for good measure, before turning and swatting at Jeongin, who yelps and jumps out of the way. His detective hat, which he wore as a part of his Sherlock Holmes costume, falls off, and Jeongin grabs it. Usually, Minho would have laughed at the way Seungmin has started to chase Jeongin around, but he just glumly stares down at his sneakers, having no energy to join in.

“You okay?” Chan notices Minho’s downcast gaze, slinging his arm around his shoulders. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Minho shrugs with one shoulder, out of options. “I’m fine. I have nothing else to do anyway.”

Today is Halloween, your favorite holiday of the entire year. It seems especially cruel to him, to have to confront this day without you by his side. It was never much of his scene, and he’d always been reluctant to dress up, but one look from your pleading eyes and he’d fold, decking himself in a cheesy costume and feeding you all the candy you desired. The night would always end in you both binging horror movies together because you were too scared to watch alone. The memory of Minho getting distracted, just watching you hide behind your hands the entire time, used to bring a fond smile to his face. Today, it makes him want to smash something into bits.

“Let me know if you want to leave the festival early, though. Changbin can drive you home later.” Chan juts his chin out at Jeongin and Seungmin, who are now smacking at each other, while Changbin responsibly tries to pull them apart. “I have to make sure those two idiots don’t get in trouble.”

“Thanks. But you don’t have to worry about me.” Minho gives Chan a half-hearted smile. Chan looks hesitant, like he wants to keep talking with him, but he nods, focusing on the moonlit path in front of them.

The roar of the annual Halloween festival that the university throws resonates throughout campus, drawing stressed students ready to throw aside their homework and party. But Minho is in anything but a celebratory mood; the last few weeks have been absolute agony. Ever since things fell apart. He just wants to go home and curl up into a ball under his covers, ready for this stupid night to be over. He didn’t even bother with a costume, choosing to stuff himself into his hoodie and make himself seem as small as possible. But he’s too tired to tell anyone, so he opts to stay quiet and gloomy on his own.

The gravel of the walkway crunches under their little group’s shoes, barely heard over the deafening sound of “Thriller” blasting on the DJ’s stereo. The entire main lawn of campus has been converted into a party space, crammed with different tents full of attractions, games, and souvenirs for students to indulge themselves in. There’s even a converted frat house that’s now a haunted house, as well as tables of snacks and lightsticks for people to wave around. Jeongin, Seungmin, and Changbin immediately zero in on the haunted house, running off to get tickets for it, leaving Minho and Chan alone. Two boys swaying together at the edge of the dance floor catch Minho’s eyes. He looks closer and notices that they both are dressed in an obvious couples costume, and it makes him think of you again— last year, he was Chucky and you were Tiffany Valentine, and you both won “Best Look” together, at the festival’s costume contest. Minho feels sick to his stomach.

“Oh my god, she’s stunning.” Chan’s eyes are wide, and Minho follows his gaze to a very pretty girl dressed in a white gown that seemed to float above her knees, two trailing pieces of fabric sticking out daintily from the back of her dress. An angel.

She approaches him with a shy smile on her face, as she not-so-subtly checks out Chan’s own dracula costume. “You look good.”

“I— you’re pretty,” Chan stutters, and they both blush.

Seriously?

“Thanks, Chris.”

Chan smiles lovingly at her. “You don’t have to call me Chris, you know. My friends call me Chan.”

“Chan,” the girl tests with a beam, before quirking her brow at him. “So I’m just a friend now? Not your girlfriend?”

“You drive me crazy, you know that?”

And then they both start kissing right then and there, which doesn’t seem to faze anyone else around them, considering the fact that they are surrounded by other couples. Minho, however, has to look away, his stomach turning. Is this how everyone else felt when he used to kiss you, whenever and wherever he wanted?

“Hey guys, I’m going to go find a place to sit,” Minho calls out to Chan, who barely notices in the midst of his make-out session. “You know what? Never mind.”

Cringing to himself, Minho makes his way over to the food tables, dodging at least five witches, seven ghouls, and six zombies on his way. He collapses onto the bench of an empty table with a groan, letting his head rest on the table before lifting it up like he’s been stung; the thump of the DJ’s bass seems to vibrate through the wooden tabletop, worsening his already horrible headache. What was he thinking, coming here?

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Minho looks up, ready to lash out at the intruder, before he notices it’s Hyunjin. He is so out of it that he hadn’t even recognized his voice. “I thought you were staying home and painting tonight?”

“Thought about it, but I kept getting distracted by all of the noise outside, and thought I’d take a snack break.” Hyunjin plops down on the seat across from him, setting a plate loaded with brownies, potato chips, and cookies cut into pumpkin shapes. He’s dressed in plaid pajama pants and a baggy sweatshirt to fight the October chill, the only one besides Minho who hasn’t dressed up. “Want some?”

Minho shakes his head, watching Hyunjin dig in. “Can I ask you a question?”

Hyunjin nods, his cheeks stuffed with food. “Sure.”

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Minho fiddles with the strings of his hoodie, feeling his face heat up. He was never one for sentiments like this, but even though he and Hyunjin have more of a seemingly lighthearted relationship, they’re more alike than they think in how deeply they care about each other. “I mean, you’ve never even had a serious relationship before, but you’re like the most hopeless romantic I’ve ever met. How does that even work?”

Hyunjin looks surprised, at first, but quickly smooths it away in understanding. “I do get lonely sometimes. But I just occupy myself with the things I love. Painting, reading. Just because I’m a hopeless romantic doesn’t mean I can’t be realistic. And I have been in a serious relationship before, remember?”

Minho frowns. “Oh. Right. What happened?”

He notices Hyunjin’s eyes flicker with something— grief, maybe. But the emotion is quickly replaced with indifference. Hyunjin shrugs. “Let’s just say it didn’t work out. I love a good romance novel, but is it real life? No. I don’t do relationships. Not anymore.”

Minho stays quiet, unknowing of what to say. He never thought of himself as a huge relationship person either, but then again, that was before he met you. You changed his perspective on a lot of things, and most of the time, he thought it was for the better. Now, he feels empty, alone. He wants to match costumes with someone, and go bobbing for apples together. And he wants that someone to be you, only you.

Hyunjin must have noticed Minho’s melancholic contemplation, because he gives him a sympathetic look. “Is this about Y/N?”

Minho’s chest tightens at the mention of your name. “I don’t know, honestly. I just want to go home.”

“Same. I just came for the free food.” Hyunjin chews on a brownie, before swallowing. “Let’s go after I finish eating.”

Minho hums in response, pulling his hood over his head, as the rest of their group comes to join the table. Chan and his girlfriend, unsurprisingly, are discussing plans about some upcoming event for the Student Council. Jeongin and Seungmin, on the other hand, are immersed in a gleeful recollection about the haunted house with Changbin, who is dressed up as Woody from Toy Story. Everyone seems to have a role except him.

“That was actually wild,” Jeongin says. “If Jisung was with us, he would have fainted when he saw the chainsaw guy!”

Seungmin shudders, while Changbin glances around their table. “Hey, where is Jisung, anyway? And Felix?”

Chan breaks away from his own conversation as his girlfriend pauses to eat her slice of cake. “He’s handing out candy to kids at home. Meanwhile, Felix is Trick-or-Treating.”

Jeongin snickers. “Trick-or-Treating? What is he, ten?”

Seungmin grins evilly at Changbin. “At least he doesn’t have the height of a ten year old.”

Changbin rolls his eyes, but chooses to ignore Seungmin and Jeongin’s high-five at his expense, instead turning to Hyunjin. “Can I have a cookie? There are no more left.”

Hyunjin gives him a judgemental glare, but passes a cookie over anyway. “Where’s your girlfriend, by the way?”

Changbin stuffs half of the entire cookie into his mouth, licking the frosting on his lip. “She has work. But we’re going to meet up later tonight and watch movies. Wanna come?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “I’m good. Minho and I are headed home soon anyway. Right, Minho?”

But Minho isn’t paying attention. His gaze is locked on none other than you and Taehyun, dressed in Hogwarts robes— you in Gryffindor, and Taehyun in Slytherin. He’s seen multiple people tonight sporting similar getups, and so both of you wearing Hogwarts robes doesn’t exactly entail a couples costume, but it makes his heart clench either way. Both of you are standing near the apple bobbing station, laughing and talking animatedly together. It hurts to see you enjoying yourself, while Minho has to struggle to keep himself together, to keep from breaking down on the spot. It hurts that he’s not the one matching with you right now, the one to be making you laugh, holding you on one of your favorite days of the year.

He watches as you and Taehyun walk closer to the haunted house. Your smile has now faded into an unsure expression, skeptical and tinged with fear. Taehyun puts his arm around your shoulders, evidently trying to assure you, before he leads you inside the house. Minho immediately springs up from the bench, fists balled up at his sides. You love everything about Halloween, except for one thing. You hate being in the dark, and so you had always avoided the haunted houses at every Halloween festival or any other event that you and Minho went to. Obviously, Taehyun doesn’t have a clue about your boundaries, and as always, you’re too kind to point them out.

Ignoring Hyunjin’s confused protests, Minho stalks after you and Taehyun, even though he knows that he should sit right back down. He told himself that he’d stay away from you if you didn’t want him, but if he even gets the slight sense that you are afraid, he’ll throw all reason out the window. He won’t let you go inside, not without him.

“Excuse me— you can’t go in right now. The haunted house is at full capacity.” The ticket collector stops Minho even though he shows her the ticket that Jeongin had passed out to everyone before. “Just wait for a few minutes for someone to come out.”

But he can’t. Not if you’re already inside. Minho steps back for a moment, and the collector glances back down at her phone. Before the collector can react, he rushes past her, running inside. She calls after him angrily, but he barely hears her. All he can register is the racing beat of his heart, and the faint screams deeper inside, wondering if one of them could be you.

He whips past the ax-wielding maniacs and the corpse brides in tattered dresses, pushing past their horrible acting and all of the other props in his way to you. Minho feels his hoodie snagged against a cloud of fake cobwebs, and the fake blood on the walls is enough to make him gag, but he goes on. A desperate search in nearly every nook and corner yields nothing, and Minho curses the haphazard quality of the setup, nearly tripping over a loose wire. As he passes through a room decorated like a murderous hospital room, he hears a small whimper from behind the fake operating table.

His senses perk up and there you are, sitting down with your knees drawn to your chest. With how his eyes have now adjusted to the dark, he can faintly make out your crouched body and the shine of your flowing tears. Immediately, he gets onto his knees, and envelopes you with his arms, firmly pulling you against his chest.

“Y/N, it’s me,” he murmurs, the scent of your coconut shampoo blocking out the stench of ammonia.

“Terry and I got chased by one of the ghosts and then got separated,” you mumble as you cry, shivering in his arms as he begins to rock you slowly. “I’m so scared, Minho.”

Minho looks at the tears still leaking down the sides of your face, and has to restrain himself from the instinct to kiss them away. Instead, he puts a steady hand to your skin, gently wiping them away. In this moment, you aren’t broken up. He isn’t your ex-boyfriend, and you aren’t his ex-girlfriend. You are the girl he loves, and him the very soul that has so vehemently devoted himself to even at such a ripe age, an inspiration and a shame to the vengeful spirits that govern your favorite holiday.

“I’m here now. I’m not going to leave you.” Minho gazes down at you. “Are you still frightened?”

You shake your head no, wide eyes clinging to his comforting presence. Minho gives you a small smile, rubbing your jaw softly with his thumb, a movement that doesn’t feel as inherently romantic as it generally would be. “See? You’re not afraid of the dark. You’re just scared of being alone in it. And that goes away when you realize something. You’re never really alone.”

Both of you just gaze at each other in the dark for a few minutes, saying both nothing and yet everything to each other. He carefully rests his palm against your heart, gaging the beat until it slows down to its usual calm. Wordlessly, he helps you onto your feet, his arms still wrapped around you as you both navigate the maze of the haunted house. You don’t encounter any other of the actors, but at one point, you jump in Minho’s hold, spooked by the amplified horror sound when passing by a speaker. Steadily, you both make your way out together.

The first thing Minho sees as he steps out of the exit is the array of blinding lights that shine on his face, in addition to the glow of the raging bonfire that has now been set up for students to roast marshmallows. Then he catches that shock of pink hair in the small crowd gathered outside of the haunted house; Taehyun, distress written all over his features as he speaks to the security guards.

You and Minho, however, stay frozen on the spot, just staring at each other with a fresh uncertainty. Realizing himself, Minho lets go of you. Contrary to how you felt, Minho could always read you like a book. He practically memorized all of your expressions, able to tell how you were feeling in an instant. But the indecipherable look you give him is baffling, but before you can open your mouth and say something, Taehyun notices your arrival.

“Y/N!” Taehyun immediately rushes over, his breathing labored from sprinting the distance to you. “I’m so, so sorry; I lost you and tried to come back inside to find you, but they wouldn’t let me!”

Minho steps to the side awkwardly as Taehyun hugs you tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. Your tears are long gone, and you pat his back softly, giving him the comfort of your safety. “I’m alright, Terry. It’s all good.”

Taehyun pulls back to look at you, before turning to Minho, surprise and confusion on his features as if just registering Minho’s presence. You clear your throat, placing a hand on Taehyun’s arm. “Hey, could you give us a minute?”

“Sure. Of course,” Terry says, the stress on his face softening as he looks down at you. Minho recognizes it— it’s how he always imagined himself to look whenever he saw you.

You turn back to Minho as Terry walks away to a food stand, presumably to get you a warm drink. “Minho, I—”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Minho interrupts, unable to bear any more. He chokes back a sob, his eyes trained on your pained expression. “I need to go.”

“Minho, wait!” You grab his arm, and it places you both in the uncomfortable déjà vu of when everything ended.

He looks back at you, swallowing his dread and pushing away the angsty alert of his brain, the command to let everything go and just take you back, then and there. But he wouldn’t be the man you had always loved, then. Not if he takes advantage of you when you’re like this, vulnerable and exhausted. Not when there’s a perfectly good man standing at a distance, hesitantly holding a cup of hot chocolate for you. Not when he knows that he’s lost his chance of ever getting you back from the moment he gave up on you both. Minho realizes that he doesn’t have the right to call you his anymore, when you’ve finally found a man who prioritizes you over his pride and his insecurities— a man who will treat you right, and will never make you wonder if you’re his only one. All he’s ever wanted is for you to be happy. That has to be enough for him. It will be.

Minho leans down before you can protest, kissing you on your forehead softly. You stay silent, looking up at him with those wide, inquisitive eyes, the very ones he fell in love with. “Stay smiling, always.”

And with that, Minho finally walks away, willing himself not to cry as he tries not to think of his heart breaking.

You watch Minho, dazed, as he walks away for the second and last time. It feels worse, somehow, than when he left your apartment, weeks ago. Minho had spoken to you so gently, inside the haunted house, calming you down in spite of the fact that you had so cruelly broken up with him, and then he proceeded to wish you his best, before leaving. You didn’t miss that note of finality in his voice, the one that told you that he wasn’t going to go back on his word. He had let you go.

You barely notice Terry approaching you, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

He hands you a cup of hot chocolate, as you stare at Minho’s retreating back before it finally disappears within the crowd of partygoers. “Everything’s fine. Thanks for this, Terry.”

Terry blinks at you, slightly unfocused. “Yeah of course. But… can I ask you something?”

You nod, sipping the hot chocolate. It’s so warm and sweet, and it feels wrong to be drinking it. It feels like you don’t deserve it.

He hesitates for a moment, before speaking up. “What happened in there? In the haunted house?”

You bite your lip, still distracted by the thought of Minho; Terry’s question doesn’t pull at you as much as it probably should. “He just found me and helped me back. That’s all.”

Terry looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t, and you don’t question it. The rest of the night is clouded by an awkward rut that has originated from nowhere at all, one that you never guessed you’d experience with Terry. He walks you back to your apartment early, and waits next to you as you fumble with your keys.

“Good night, Y/N,” he says softly, as you finally wrestle your door open.

“Thanks,” you whisper back, too drained of energy to make one of the usual jokes traded when you both say goodbye. He tips his head at you like he always does, albeit in a less jaunty way, and steps into the apartment elevator at the end of the hall, flashing you one last little wave before the doors close.

You turn back to your apartment, walking inside and locking the door behind you once again. This time, you don’t go straight to your bedroom and drop onto your bed, like you always do after a horrible day. Instead, you stalk over to the kitchen, which is illuminated by a single, flickering lightbulb. You tug open the freezer, fishing out a box from your emergency stash of ice cream, the one thing bound to be on stock at all times. When you went grocery shopping some time ago, you didn’t think that a crisis would hit so soon.

Cracking open the lid of the chocolate ice cream, you take your scooper and place a bowl on the counter. After a second thought, you take out your blender as well, and scrape the ice cream into there instead, throwing in some milk and peanut butter as well. Tonight is a milkshake kind of night, you think, the kind that necessitates butterscotch chips and whipped cream as well, you note, opening the cupboard to get said ingredients. When you finish blending, you pour your icy salvation into a large tumbler and collapse onto the living room couch. You turn on the television, blankly staring at the screen while barely registering the dialogue playing.

“That’s not a milkshake— that’s diabetes in a glass.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it.” You shoot Minho a pointed look as you chug down your shake, savoring the sound of Minho’s laughter even more than a hefty peanut butter and chocolate combo.

It isn’t until you taste saltiness instead of the sweet milkshake that you realize you’re crying.

callmeterry: can we meet? bobaluvrr: yes. see u @ morningstar

You stare into the bathroom mirror, checking your face one last time, inspecting it for bloodshot eyes and dry skin, the telltale signs of the tears that have now become a habit over the past few days. Ever since Halloween, things haven’t been the same since you and Terry. Although a fairly new friendship, you both spent a significant amount of time together after meeting at Jihyo’s birthday party. However, you haven’t seen each other at all outside of Writing Seminar nowadays— probably because during class, you’re too busy staring at Minho, who won’t even spare you a single glance. You’re determined to at least save your friendship with Terry, which is why you are so quick to agree to meet him.

“Catch you two later,” you call out to Sunoo and Soyeon, who both are slumped on the couch, watching One Piece over boxes of takeout butter chicken.

The journey to Morningstar doesn’t take long, especially since the vastly approaching night has gotten you nearly jogging, regardless of how safe your college campus is. Although it’s been nearly a month and a half, you still can’t get used to not having the security and comfort of your boyfriend. Serves you right, you think.

You enter through the glass doorway of Morningstar, the door chime ringing and announcing your entrance to Terry. He stands up from the table he’s sitting at, walking over to you with the genuine smile that you were fearful of not being able to see again. Terry looks heartbreakingly handsome, dressed in a long brown coat and wool scarf, an ode to the plaid shirt days and hot chocolate nights that you know you could have with him.

“Hi,” he says, pausing his gait when he’s a few feet away from you. Tentative, but still Terry. The bouquet of assorted flowers in his hands, however, isn’t.

You can literally feel your face fall, as you stare at the certainly expensive arranged red roses and lilies. “I—”

“Don’t.” Terry’s smile doesn’t fade, but the slight sheen of moisture to his eyes is new. “ I know. I’d rather not hear you say it. Please.”

You’re speechless as he hands you the flowers, the refreshingly floral scent wafting up and screaming at you to wake up. You had a feeling, you knew how Terry felt about you. But you didn’t think he’d act on those feelings so soon.

“You know, I’ve been in love with you since August. You walked into the very first day of class late, wearing this gorgeous pink dress— and God, I was so whipped. I even dyed my hair the same color.” Terry laughs lightly, but you can see the heaviness in his eyes, the same thing that you feel in your chest. “I didn’t approach you, though, because I saw the way you were looking at Minho.”

You shake your head, still in disbelief. “Terry…”

“And then you walked into the kitchen at that party; it felt like a sign. But that can’t have been true, because the way you looked at him didn’t change. It never will.” He stops for a moment, taking in a shaky breath. “When you both broke up, I ignored my heart telling me not to dig myself deeper into this, to leave you alone. But I couldn’t, Y/N, because I thought that the risk would be worth it. And it was, you know. You are worth it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, at a loss for words. You don’t know what else to say, whether it’s a reaction to how your friend is pouring out his heart to you, or the fact that he’s always known that you’d never be his.

The smile on Terry’s face is now a sharp contrast to the strings of tears that mar it. “Don’t be. It’s Minho. It’s always been Minho for you.”

He turns, but you rush forward and block him. You can’t lose someone else. Not again. “Terry, wait! Can’t we be friends?”

“Of course we can be. I’d rather have you as a friend than not in my life at all. I’ll move on, eventually. But you have to go fix things with him now.” He flashes you another one of his signature beams. It doesn’t have the same joyful effect on you as it usually does, now that it’s tainted with sadness. “I’ll see you next class. Hold onto him, okay?”

Terry leaves, and you stare after him at the door, dumbfounded, haunting the entryway of the coffee shop nearing closing hours. You never saw this confrontation coming, not today. And you didn’t want it to happen any time soon, not like this. But no matter how much you want to deny Terry’s words, you know they are the truth. You know what you have to do. Because love works in strange ways, you realize, and now yours needs to be made right.

“We shouldn’t be here.” You say, shaking your head. “It’s dangerous.”

Minho just stares at you, his eyebrow skeptically quirked in a way that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. “It’s literally just a bridge.”

You glare at him, before looking out at the arched walkway that connects the wooded expanse of the university library to the rest of campus. According to university lore, any pair of lovers that walks over Forsaken Bridge together is doomed to suffer an untimely separation; hence, its ominous name. And you would rather look stupid for believing in superstition rather than risk losing Minho.

“It can’t be.” You cross your arms stubbornly. “I know so many couples that came here, and they ended up breaking up.”

Minho says nothing for a moment, just pondering your words, and you think he’s about to step back, allowing you to cross the bridge first, before following on his own. But then he grabs your hand, pulling you towards the bridge.

Your immediate reaction is to let out a small scream that cuts through the quiet night, and it’s quickly muffled by Minho’s hand gently closing over your mouth. “Trust me on this. Nothing bad will happen.”

You really want to remind Minho of what happened to Hyunjin and his girlfriend— well, ex-girlfriend— but you let him lead you towards your dreaded destination. Because you do trust him, more than anything.

The balmy summer night sticks to your skin, a feeling that will soon give away to the crisp bite of autumn. You’ve already moved back onto campus to get a headstart on the teaching assistant position for your biology professor, but for the first time ever, you don’t feel sad or apprehensive at the thought of going back to college again. This was the gap in time that you once despised because it signaled the unfortunate trudge of school life: textbooks, homework, and stress. But nowadays, you think it to be a reminder of something better: Minho, Minho, and Minho.

Your boyfriend takes an easy step onto the bridge, his hand tightly clasped in yours. You trail after him more cautiously, hiding behind his broad frame like the bridge will come alive and attack you. “You better not ever break up with me, Lee Minho.”

He turns back to look at you as you both near the center of the supposedly cursed bridge, his lips pressed together in a way that suggests concealed laughter; knowing him, it probably is. “Never. Now close your eyes.”

With a grumpy sigh, you oblige him, shutting your eyes. “For what, Minho?”

“I need to tell you something.” His voice is soft, almost vulnerable. It’s a new color to him, compared to how assured and confident he always seems to be.

You crack open one eye, looking at him curiously. “What is it?”

He frowns, letting go of your hand. “No peeking!”

“Okayy.”

Minho takes a deep breath, right before he turns your world upside down. “I love you.”

Your eyes fly open, and Minho doesn’t complain this time, only gazing at you nervously, clutching his right arm with his left hand like he’s a little kid again. “What did you just say?”

Regardless of his uncertain body language, he looks you directly in the eye. “I love you, Y/N. And I know it’s too soon to say it, but it’s true. I love you, and you don’t have to tell me back, but—”

“I love you too,” you blurt out, and you both just stare at each other for a moment, in mutual shyness and surprise. You can’t believe how good it feels to finally say the words that were hanging off the tip of your tongue for the past few months since you started dating.

Minho’s beautiful face breaks out into a dazzling smile as he steps closer to you. “Then let’s make our own story for this bridge. Two people crossing the bridge together will be lifelong friends. And if they kiss, lifelong lovers.”

Your poor, racing heart can’t take anymore of this; what a man that you have found. “Kiss me, then.”

Minho gives you a tender look, and in that moment, you wish you had a camera to capture it. You can’t seem to remember your initial fear of coming onto this bridge, not when you have a beautiful boy who gazes at you with nothing short of absolute adoration. You’ll follow him anywhere, if it means you’ll stay together. Always and forever.

From when you were a little girl, your parents painted fairy tales for you in your childhood bedroom, of handsome princes mounted on midnight stallions and towering castles set against sunsets. For the longest time, you thought them to be true, because by the time you might have grown up, you found your own handsome prince, who rode a secondhand bike instead of a horse, and his castle was the sweatshirt-strewn dorm room he shared with two other boys. Nevertheless, you so strongly believed you would get your own happily-ever-after, that it took you a long time to accept the thorns in the rosy brush that constituted your outlook on life. You had a hard time understanding your prince, sometimes, and ended up spinning your own stories to fill in the gaps you thought he created. It never once occurred to you that life would never be perfect, and that your prince could not be exactly who you dreamed him to be.

It’s why you stroll the length of Forsaken Bridge alone, materializing its dreary name with your head bent and hands tucked in your pockets. But you’re not surprised either, when you see your prince, standing on the very place where he made you a promise that you broke yourself. His crown is misplaced and his armor has lost its luster, but he’s your beautiful prince, still beautiful while heartbroken over you.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” you say softly.

“I shouldn’t have.” Minho stares at the deteriorating timber planks beneath your feet. “But I can’t say no when it comes to you.”

You shake your head, sniffling lightly. You both hate and love him for being so understanding, so kind, even now. You hate yourself for it, too. “I broke your heart.”

Minho blinks, clasping his hands in front of himself. “There are so many things that I’m sorry and thankful to you for, but you know I’m not good at expressing myself.”

“That’s my line, Min.” You scoff through your tears. “I tried to force you to be someone you're not. And you respond by taking care of me, like you always have. And you listened to me instead of fighting. You walked away.”

“I wanted you to be happy. That’s all I have ever wanted. With or without me in the picture.” Minho shoots you a watery smile. “I love you, you know. I always will.”

You inhale shakily. “And I love you too. I was scared of being hurt because I love you so much. I shouldn’t have been so afraid of what I didn’t know. I should have tried to ask you instead of coming to assumptions on my own.”

“We’re in this together, okay?” Minho steps forward towards you, reaching up to hold your face in his hands. “Remember what I said? You never have to be alone. I’m right here, always.”

Minho rubs his thumbs over your tears, nothing but devotion in his eyes. You touch his arms, pulling him into a hug. “I know I ruined everything, but please come back to me? I’m so, so sorry.”

“Me too. And you ruined nothing.” He squeezes you. “We still have our whole lives ahead of us.”

You draw back from the embrace, smiling through your tears— for once, they’re the good kind. “I love you, Lee Minho. Let’s start over?”

“I love you too, Y/N.” Minho whispers, a grin slowly spreading on his face. “And I don’t want to ruin the moment, but can we begin by finding an apartment, please? If I accidentally drink Hyunjin’s paint water one more time I think I will literally die.”

You laugh, raising your eyebrows at him teasingly. “Only because you want to escape Hyunjin? Not because you love me?”

He rolls his eyes playfully, a light blush tinting his pale skin. “You know what I mean.”

“You should show me what you mean.”

“I should.”

Minho obeys your command, leaning down to meet your lips in a chaste kiss, before you grasp his waist, pulling him closer and deepening the movement. God, you missed this so much. You missed him, so much. Minho’s hands reach up to cup your neck as you trace endless love letters on each other’s lips, campus curses and bad faith banished from your lovestruck young minds.

“See? Looks like our story came true.” he whispers as you come up for air, nudging your nose sweetly with his own. “Lifelong lovers, we’ll be.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Minho kisses you once more and pulls back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “This means forever.”

Check out the rest of boys' stories on Love Playlist!

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

It feels so good to get back to Love Playlist <3 This whole series itself was inspired by the cute, college au vibes of the K-drama Love Playlist and its spinoff, Dear M. (starring NCT's Jaehyun, a must-see), but this story especially was heavily based on Dear M.'s second leads. Brownie points if you've noticed which hit superhero TV series I took a piece of dialogue from! I just adore that quote so much. Anyway, I'm a sucker for Minho and this story has a special place in my heart. Can you guess who is next?! And thank you for supporting me, always! -Dreamy

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

TAGLIST @chansburgah @hamburgers101@ajxreads @hash2013 @pixigreen @ana-marais98@ohish@chizumiyoshi@lilydaisyyy@jetblackbelle @143hyunes @yeahhspider

Network: @kflixnet

©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

367 notes · View notes

changbunnies · 9 months

Text

White Lines and Red Lights (18+)

♡ Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

♡ Genre: college au, idiots in love (they are so oblivious), best friends to lovers, mutual pining, basically pure fluff, a smidge of angst? (it's barely there, mostly due to perceived one-sided pining that is in reality not at all one-sided lmao)

♡ Word Count: 13.4k (i may have gotten carried away)

♡ Summary: The spring semester is over, and summer break is sure to be full of fun and good memories for Y/N and her best friend, Jisung. The only problem being, they are both hopelessly in love with each other, and completely oblivious to how the other one feels.

♡ Warnings: reader's major isn't specified but is implied to be creative, jisung's major is also not specified but is in music, alcohol consumption, mentions of food and eating, many uses of the word "fuck" lol, lmk if i missed anything you think should be listed here !

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): slightly inexperienced sex (neither reader or jisung are virgins, but they don't have tons of experience either), lighthearted but also romantic sex?, petnames (baby), a lot of kissing. like so much kissing, nipple play, handjob, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected piv, creampie (reader is on birth control)

♡ Notes: this was written for the @skzwritingcafe prompt "summertime confessions" ! i hope you like it and as usual, if you’re interested you can check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Hell is finally over! That’s what you’ve been happily telling yourself since 2:30 pm, when the last of your final exams were complete and all assignment deadlines were met. Did you reach the end of all your trials and tribulations with a passing grade? That you weren’t entirely sure of, but the instant relief when the clock met the fated hour expelled any worries instantly from your mind. It’s a problem for future you, your brain decided, because now there was room for one thing and one thing only: fun!

You were beyond ready to turn your brain off, to indulge in some much needed fun to clear the fog in your head, and to then settle into comfort and relaxation. You hadn’t had a moment of joy or peace in weeks, and you were most definitely due for it; the thin line that was your sanity could only handle so much more stress before it snapped.

And that’s what you’ve spent the last hour getting ready for- an end of semester celebration with friends, a small reward after the grueling study efforts intended to revitalize those that turned into zombies over the course of finals week. Parties aren’t typically your thing, being much too loud and chaotic for your tastes, but how could you say no when said party was being held by your best friend and his 2 roommates? And after the literal hell you endured during the last semester, and especially during this last week, you needed a night with your friends more than you needed oxygen.

“You’re here!” Chan greets you with a smile after he opens the door, happy to see you after weeks of being stuck in the confines of your bedroom, having turned into an effective study machine. “Hi Channie,” you return his smile as you step fully inside, giving him a quick hug after the door shuts behind you. “Where’s Jisung?” you waste no time in asking, eager to see the person you cared about most (no offense intended to your other friends.)

It felt awful not having time to see him the last few weeks; the only thing that gave you comfort during that time was knowing that he was equally as busy meeting assignment deadlines and studying for his finals as you were. You wished you could’ve studied together, like you did when you were kids, but different majors meant there wasn’t as much crossover in what you were learning as there once was. But still, you took solace in knowing you weren’t alone during the struggle; at least, metaphorically you weren’t.

Chan points you to the kitchen, and you thank him before you make the short walk there, a bounce in your step as happiness settles over you for the first time in what feels like ages. It doesn’t take you long to spot him, standing near the counter with his other roommate Changbin, as well as with a handful of other friends he’s made in his major.

“Sungie, I missed you!” you call as you jump him for a hug, which very nearly knocks him over. He yells out in surprise, just barely managing to keep his hand steady to save his drink as he shifts his weight to maintain his balance, stabilizing himself on his heel. “Y/N!” Jisung yelps when your arms squeeze him tightly, and he lets Changbin take his drink from his hand to safely secure it elsewhere.

He returns your hug as soon as he’s able, and you close your eyes before you smile at him, already feeling your drained battery recharging. “Jeez, I know you missed me, but warn me next time! You almost gave me a heart attack,” Jisung mumbles his complaint in your ear, but you can tell by the smile he has on his face and squeeze in his arms that he’s missed you just as much, this hug being as healing for him as it is for you.

However, he meant it when he said you almost gave him a heart attack, though it’s not for the reasons you might think. First: it’s true he was totally unprepared for you to launch at him with the intent to squeeze him into a hug, but that wasn’t the problem. The real problem was that you looked so pretty, and after weeks without seeing your face, his heart was left with no defense against your charms.

He’d been reset to zero, it seemed- his built up resistance and tolerance reduced to nothing. And that went hand in hand with the second problem: his heart was beating out of control! You’re holding him so tightly, smiling at him so brightly, eyes sparkling under the fluorescence of the mundane kitchen light. He didn’t understand how something as small and trivial as the lighting in the room seemed to add to your appeal, but it did.

Jisung steals a glance at his roommates, who are looking with a knowing smile that makes him want to sink into himself and hide. Why is this so embarrassing? You however seem as oblivious to how he feels about you as ever, much to his relief. His impossibly large crush on you will assuredly be getting the way tonight, but he can definitely play this off the rest of the evening, right? …right?

Jisung ended up not drinking for the rest of the night, much too afraid of how flippant his mouth would become if he had too much alcohol in his system- the last thing he needed was to do something as cliche and embarrassing as drunkenly confessing all his feelings to his best friend. Though, even without the drink in his system, this night was killing him.

Why did you have to smile at him so prettily while pulling him to dance with you? Why did you have to giggle at him so sweetly when he made a joke? And why did you have to lean so close every time you spoke to him? He cursed his past self for deciding to play the music so loudly, because the close proximity and feeling your breath against his ear every time you wanted to tell him something was making his heart feel like it was going to explode.

You were wearing the perfume that he once accidentally let slip was his favorite of yours- he couldn’t remember the exact name of it, but the sweet, citrusy smell filled his nostrils and reminded him of all the times in the past he was close enough to you to inhale it. Tight hugs, cuddling on his sofa on the weekends, laying in your bed watching anime until it was time for him to go home- all memories he cherished, because they were spent with you.

And the moment he unintentionally admitted how much he loved the smell of your perfume, it seemed like you were always wearing it, and it drove him crazy. It lingered on everything- or maybe he just found it easy to recognize given how attuned to you he was; and now with the distance you’d had, and how much he’d missed you the last few weeks, it was like your perfume was taking over his senses.

Jisung almost couldn’t think straight- it was like he was drunk, but on something entirely different from everyone else inside his apartment. To calm himself down, and reset his senses, he stepped out on the balcony for some time, willing his heart to calm by using the fresh air as a conduit.

By the time Jisung enters the apartment again following his latest balcony outing, most of his friends have gone home with their respective designated drivers, with Chan offering to call the stragglers an uber or a spot to crash somewhere in the apartment. Chan was always like that during parties- the self appointed dad of sorts, always making sure everyone was well taken care of.

He looks past his friends to see you alone on the sofa, chugging a water bottle that he assumes Chan gave to you. “Trying to sober up?” Jisung asks as he takes a seat next to you, and you nod, making an affirming noise as you continue to take large sips from the bottle. “Gotta stay hydrated too if I don’t want to feel all this tomorrow,” you finally respond when you’ve swallowed down the last of the water, though you're sure you didn’t drink enough alcohol to get a hangover; your legs will likely be killing you more than anything, given all the dancing and jumping around you did.

“Right, wouldn’t want you to end up like Changbin,” Jisung replies and you laugh as you recall the memory of a very intoxicated Changbin, who had way too much to drink in a short span of time but insisted he wasn't drunk. He was incredibly affectionate, coming up to everyone to squeeze them into hugs and tell them he loves them, and dancing to girl group songs with so much passion that you’d think he was in some sort of idol audition.

Changbin passed out first, to no one's surprise, and he had to be carried to his bed by an exasperated Chan while you and Jisung giggled to yourselves at the display, deciding you would both definitely be teasing him about it tomorrow. “I’ve never seen him like that- he was still himself but like. Times a million,” you laugh, thinking about when a newjeans song came on and it made him effectively lose his mind.

“Oh it’s late,” you say absentmindedly after some time spent talking passes, checking your phone for the first time all night. Jisung peeks over, eyes widening when he sees the “02:37” displayed brightly on your screen. It was the latest he’d (voluntarily) stayed up in months; where did the time even go? “Guess we should sleep, huh? I can give you my bed, I’ll sleep here so-”

“No way, we’ve talked about this before! I don’t wanna kick you out of your own room- just share your bed with me,” you said, almost sternly. It was true- you both had countless sleepovers over the course of your friendship, both planned and accidental, and every time he offered to sleep on the sofa, you vehemently refused. However, those times you weren’t inebriated, and this time you definitely were (even if it was only mildly.) And besides that, with how weak he’s been over you all night, he’s not sure if his heart will even let him fall asleep if you’re next to him.

“I-I mean- are you sure? You’ve been drinking so.. I dunno, I just like- didn't want it to be weird.. I guess?” Jisung stumbles over his words way more than he wishes, and the way you giggle at him makes him want to crawl into a hole and never come out. Way to play it cool, Jisung! If you weren’t being obvious about your feelings before, you definitely are now, idiot!

“C’mon Ji, you know I trust you with like, my entire life. It won’t be weird,” you answer with a smile meant to assure him, but all it does is make his heart pound even harder. It’s unfair how effortlessly flustered you make him. “As long as you’re sure then- yeah, let’s go to bed,” he says as he helps you to your feet, and while you definitely didn’t drink enough for your legs to be unstable, you appreciate the sweet gesture.

The minute you’re in his room, you flop right in the middle of his bed, a large sigh leaving you- you didn’t realize how actually exhausted you are until now. “Don’t fall asleep like that please, I don’t wanna sleep on the couch now that you’ve promised I can have my bed,” Jisung says as he walks over to his dresser, and you laugh in response. “I won’t, promise!” You sit up quickly, wrapping yourself up in his comforter as you do- you won’t fall asleep, but you can at least still be cozy.

“You really should’ve brought a change of clothes if you were going to crash here,” Jisung jokingly complains you as he scrounges through his drawers for something that will fit you comfortably (and that he won’t mind parting with, because he knows he won’t be getting back whatever he gives you; which would be fine if it didn’t fill his head with thoughts about you being his girlfriend.)

“Not my fault! It’s yours for creating the atmosphere,” you argue, arms folding over your chest in a rather mild display of opposition. “What atmosphere?” he laughs as he finally settles on one of his oversized shirts and tosses it over to you. Comfortable. Secure. Safe. Happy. Loved. Cared for. You could only let loose so much because you were with him, could only have such a good time because he was there doing it with you.

“..Fun,” you finally answer, clutching the shirt he gave you in your hands, deciding not to say anything further than that. Better to avoid that line of thought while you’re recovering from being tipsy, you think- it’d be bad if you suddenly made an admission you weren’t ready to. An accidental confession at this point would risk ruining an otherwise perfect night with your friends.

It doesn’t take long for Jisung to find what he wants to wear to bed, and he leaves the room to allow the two of you to change separately. You put your prior outfit on top of his dresser before returning to his bed, settling underneath the blankets as you wait for him to come back. You’re lying there for only a few minutes when he returns, turning off the light and carefully crawling in next to you, and finally settling in with his back pressed against yours. You both whisper quiet “good nights” to each other, willing your equally fast hearts to calm enough to sleep.

This isn’t the first time you’ve shared a bed with Jisung, and during the early years of your childhood friendship it never made your heart race the way it does now. You’d usually say something along the lines of “what’s wrong with best friends sharing a bed?”, the act always completely innocent. You needed to sleep, and you didn’t want Jisung to sacrifice his bed when you could easily share it- it was always as simple as that.

But in recent months, you’ve noticed that it stopped being simple; with your back pressed to his, the sound of his gentle breathing behind you, you realized it had started to make your heart race unbelievably fast. You had begun to notice that same sensation in other moments too- like when he smiled at you after you helped him decide on a concept for one of his assignments, or when he’d call you after a hard day just to hear your voice, with his reason being that “talking to you makes me feel better!”

It was the same for you, of course. Talking to him always made you feel better, a single smile enough to lift the heavy weight off your heart. He always listened, he always cared, and he was always there for you. That’s another reason these last few weeks were so hard for you; you didn’t have Jisung’s support, and not because of any fault of either of you, but because adult life and responsibilities got in the way.

You wanted to make time for him, and you knew he wanted to as well; you still texted each other often, facetimed during the moments you allowed yourselves to rest, and it helped immensely, but also resolidified something you’d thought once before; that without Jisung, your life is impossibly dark. And that without his support, you weren’t sure how you’d get through the difficulty that life brings you.

You sigh and roll over, looking straight at Jisung’s back. You came today to escape grim thoughts, stress, and self doubt, hoping that fun with your friends would shove them all away, but it seems they’ve found their way back to you regardless. It was bound to happen, you suppose, but you hoped they wouldn’t be back for a while at least. But, if there’s any solace to be had, you have Jisung next to you, and he always comforts you even with just his presence alone.

You roll over a lot in your sleep, so when you first do it, Jisung doesn’t react. He figures you’ve just fallen asleep quickly after all the drinking and dancing, and now he can finally truly relax and begin to fall asleep himself. He’s always tense at first, the close proximity making him nervous and unable to sleep, even if you aren’t face to face- because even though you’re his best friend, it’s an undeniable fact that you’re also a girl. A pretty girl at that, one that he’s silently been crushing on for years.

So when he hears your voice call to him, it’s unexpected, and it makes his heart pick back up in speed as his body tenses once again. “Ji, can you turn around?” you ask, and he freezes a moment, wondering if the remnants of alcohol in your system is what is causing you to ask something so bold.

But no, you’re nowhere near drunk, and he’s probably the only one on earth who thinks the prospect of turning around to face his best friend during a sleepover is “bold.” This is an ordinary request, and it’s not your fault that he finds the action so nerve wracking. He really needs to get over it so he can go back to being normal around you. “S-Sure,” you hear him stutter quietly, carefully turning to face you.

Even in the relative darkness, he can see your features clearly enough to make his breath uneven. Your pretty eyes, your cute nose, your lips that look so soft and kissable and- “Fuck, stop thinking about it. Get it together, Han Jisung,” he internally scolds himself. He hopes that you can’t hear the sound of his heart beating, or see the blush forming on his cheeks as he stares at you.

“Can I ask you something?” your voice is quiet, almost a whisper. He can tell you’re serious, and he has no idea what you intend to ask, but the possibilities are sending him reeling. Did he stare at you too much today? Did you notice the way his face reddened every time you smiled at him? You were just so pretty that he couldn’t help it and-

Were you going to ask him if he had feelings for you? Were you? Should he be honest if you do? Admit that he’s thought you were pretty for the longest time, has wanted you to look at him romantically for years, had wondered what your lips would feel like on his? God, he really needs his heart and mind to calm down, or he’ll never survive the rest of the night.

“Do you ever wonder.. If you’re doing the right thing?” your question finally breaks him from his whirring thoughts, your voice still quiet and with an unsure hesitance to it. Jisung’s expression immediately changes to one of care and concern, a bit taken aback by your question but entirely ready to listen to you talk about whatever is on your mind now that he can think clearly. “What do you mean?”

“Like.. with college, I guess. Do you ever think maybe you should be doing something different?” You look him directly in the eyes as you ask, clearly searching for some sort of comfort, an answer that will help you come to terms with whatever complicated emotion you’re dealing with.

“Yeah, sometimes. I mean, I love music, but I’m not guaranteed to go far with it even if I’m good at it. I know that sometimes passion and talent aren’t enough. The people who succeed are usually lucky,” he answers honestly; he’s not sure if that’s what you want to hear, but he knows you value his insight and opinions, even when they differ from yours.

“What makes you keep going then?” You had such a hard time this last semester, and there were more than a few times where you reached a low point and wanted to quit. You were lonely, exhausted, broke, creativity entirely spent.. You questioned whether all that hardship was worth it, and if you’d be better off pursuing something more practical and mundane.

“Well.. It makes me happy. And I know that even if things don’t turn out how I wished, I think it would be more regrettable if I didn’t try, you know? Even when it’s really hard it’s also rewarding, and every day I learn so many things I would’ve never learned alone in my room, or at least, it would’ve taken me forever to get there by myself. I made a lot of new friends too, I have you and other good people to support me, and-”

You nod along to his words, taking them in and humming every once in a while to let him know you're still listening. He’s talking a lot, but you don’t mind that- you’re happy to know what he thinks and feels, his voice is soothing, and you feel less alone knowing he understands you to at least some degree, and is willing to help you through your hardships. That’s all you really needed; for Jisung to hear you, and reply in the thoughtful way he always does.

“And you know I’ll always be there for you, right? If you ever feel like this again, just tell me. I’ll be right there, the minute you call I’ll-” Oh, wait. Your eyes are closed, breath slow and gentle, now completely unresponsive to his words. You fell asleep while he was talking? How long was he going before he even realized you were no longer listening? His other friends are right- he really does talk way too much sometimes.

He observes you quietly for a moment, giggling to himself when he hears the soft snores leaving you as he takes in your serene expression. He also realizes that the sky has gotten brighter, the sound of birds chirping becoming more prominent with each passing moment. How had the night come and gone so quickly?

That’s what always happens when he’s with you, though- time seems to accelerate, while at the same time feeling like it’s at a stand still. The happy moments pass in the blink of an eye, but simultaneously seems to freeze whenever he stares at you. When you smile and laugh with him, it makes his heart burst, your shining eyes always taking his breath away.

Reaching his hand up carefully, he tucks the hair that has fallen over your face behind your ear, smiling to himself when you unconsciously lean into his light touch. It’s so cute, how even in your sleep you seem to recognize it’s him, indulging in the comfort he offers you. At least, that’s what you’ve told him once before- that one of the reasons you like having sleepovers with him is because his presence makes you feel safe and relaxed.

He's not sure if you even remember saying it, but he was so happy when you told him, and even now it’s something on his mind every time you two share a bed. He just wishes he wasn’t always so tense and nervous whenever you laid next to him, and he wishes he had more courage to always lay face to face and talk like you did tonight. Maybe one day he can hold you closer, wrap his arms around you and let his head rest atop yours.

Maybe he’ll kiss you, too- your lips, your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, anywhere you’ll let him. He can picture the way you’ll giggle at him, how you’ll playfully push him away while complaining that it tickles, and how he’ll wrap his arms around you tighter to keep you trapped in his affection. And when it’s all over he’ll tell you he loves you and-

Wait.

He loves you?

Well, of course he does. You’re his best friend, so of course he loves you! Totally platonically, of course. The fact that he’s had a major crush on you for the past few years doesn’t matter. Nope. Not at all. Surely he’s not literally in love with you, right? Because you’re his best friend and falling in love with your best friend is not only the most cliche thing ever, but definitely a recipe for heartbreak.

So he’s not in love with you- he can’t be. It’s just a simple crush! It doesn’t matter that he constantly thinks about kissing you, or holding your hand while walking together, or how it’d feel for you to lay your head against him while he holds you during movie night. It doesn’t matter that he envisions what going on dates with you would be like, or what life would be like if you moved in together, or what your body would look like bare underneath his, or-

Fuck, he’s so in denial. He’s definitely in love with you, hopelessly so. His cute, endearing best friend, who he can’t seem to ever get out of his head. Do you ever think about him the way he thinks about you? Are you always on his mind, lingering in every thought the way you are for him? He desperately wants to know, but there’s a part of him that is afraid to find out, because what will he do if you don’t feel the same way?

He forces himself to roll back over and close his eyes, because if he doesn’t stop looking at you, he’s never going to be able to stop thinking about it long enough to get some sleep. But even with his back now turned to you, hearing your soft breathing and feeling the dip in his bed from your presence is enough to plague his thoughts and keep the sleep he desperately needs out of reach for what little remains of the night.

It’s been a few weeks since the night that Jisung finally admitted to himself that he’s in love with you, and whoever said being honest with yourself makes things better has definitely never been in love with their best friend, because actually what the fuck. This is the closest to hell he’s ever been, he thinks. Because he can’t seem to go a single moment without thinking about wanting to be romantic with you, and it’s driving him crazy.

Holding your hand and cuddling during movie night, staying up all night on the phone talking about anything and everything, giving you sweet kisses after he tells you how much he loves you- he’s begging his brain to let him think about literally anything else, but it simply refuses. And now, sitting in his car together at a red light, is another such time where wanting to kiss you encompasses all his thoughts.

You had spent time together almost every day since the night of the party now that your schedules were free, but all those times included the additions of your roommates or his. It’s only now, after a day spent at the beach, that the two of you are alone together again (thanks to the combined, scheming efforts of your mutual friends.)

Chan loves the beach, and he goes whenever he can, but today he didn’t want to hangout there alone. He invited you, as well as his roomies and other friends, to come meet him there. And of course, you said yes, and of course, you had the most breathtaking swimsuit on underneath your clothes. It was almost embarrassing, the way it stole Jisung’s breath away and made his cheeks burn red. He prayed he could blame it on the harsh sun, but there’d be no fooling Changbin, who was snickering behind him.

“When are you going to finally confess?” Changbin asked when you were out of ear shot, and Jisung pouted, both because he was being called out about his feelings, and because he had no fucking idea when, if ever, he’d tell you how he feels. “I.. don’t know,” he ended up answering honestly, continuing to look in your direction even as he spoke. You were splashing in the water with your mutual friends, your laugh ringing loud in his ears even with the distance between you.

“C’mon, Ji. Summer breaks are practically built for romance. You gotta make a move,” he’d said, and Jisung once again pouted. “Easier said than done,” he mumbled in response, something akin to dread settling in him whenever he thought about the possibility of you rejecting him. “Jisung,” Changbin started, all sense of joking or teasing having left him, “I’ve been watching you pine over her since the day I met the two of you. You need to tell her, because I don’t know how much more of those looks of yours I can handle.”

“What look?” Jisung asks with a frown, turning his gaze away from where you are. “Like a lost puppy begging for attention,” Changbin answers nonchalantly, and the appalled reaction he gets from Jisung makes him laugh. “But seriously. I’ll ride home with Chan, so why don’t you take her home later? Get some alone time before you drop her off or something?”

“But she came with her roommates. Why wouldn’t she leave with them?” Jisung asked, and Changbin laughed as he shook his head. “You’re so clueless, dude.” It’s common knowledge to everyone who came today that the two of you are so hopelessly in love with each other, but seemingly too oblivious to notice how the other one feels. And if Jisung asked you to spend some alone time with him, you’d say yes in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

Maybe what the two of you needed was a little push- a reason to be alone together, a romantic setting to set the tone and finally get the two of you to move beyond the bounds of friendship. And if Jisung won’t act on his own, Changbin will take it into his own hands; mission “get these two pining idiots together” starts today.

Changbin told Chan, who then told one of your roommates, who then told another. By the time the sun is setting, everyone knows the plan. You would be left alone with Jisung, by any excuse necessary. Thankfully, Chan came in his own car due to his tendency to hit the beach before anyone else, so he and Changbin wouldn’t be leaving Jisung stranded by leaving early.

The two of them left first, with the excuse that they’d be ending their day by hitting the gym- they’d actually just be relaxing on the sofa the rest of the day, but you and Jisung didn’t need to know that. Your roommates took that as their cue to prepare to leave as well, and the group of you helped one another towel dry enough to throw your clothes back on over your swimsuits.

Jisung approached you as soon as he was done himself, waiting for you to finish packing your things in your tote bag before saying anything. “Hey, d-do you want to go get some ice cream?” he asked, mentally cursing himself for stuttering. Since when did asking your best friend if they want to get ice cream become so nerve wracking?

“Of course!” you smiled, turning to your roommates next to see if they wanted to join. They all said no, of course, citing being tired or wanting to shower asap as their reasons, but urged you to enjoy your time with Jisung. You don’t find it weird at all, much too excited about eating ice cream to even begin to realize this was a planned set up.

The sun was just beginning to sink when you arrived at your favorite parlor, excitedly bouncing up to the counter as Jisung trailed behind you with a smile. You decided to be adventurous, picking out a new flavor suited for the summer, while Jisung went with a classic choice of cookie dough.

“Can I have a bite of yours?” it didn’t take long for you to inevitably ask him, and Jisung gave you an overdramatic sigh as he passed it over to you. Trading bites somehow always ended with you eating more of Jisung’s ice cream than he did, but that was okay with him. He always ordered your favorite flavor, knowing that you can’t resist the temptation of trying the new one, but would end up wanting cookie dough more than whatever new flavor initially enticed you.

It’s a bit of a ritual for him at this point; ordering your favorite while pretending it’s his favorite as well, acting like he's annoyed when you beg him for a bite and eventually end up taking half the bowl while offering him whatever flavor you ordered instead as compensation for his loss. Do you notice the way he smiles after you take his ice cream from him? The adoration that lingers in his eyes as he watches you happily devour the sweet treat?

You skipped to the car when you were finished, evidently very pleased with your ice cream endeavors and not at all apologetic for stealing all of the cookie dough for yourself, once again oblivious to the way he does it all for you. That would probably never change, and for the first time, Jisung wondered if that was okay. Did he want it to change? Did he want you to notice? He wasn’t sure what was best anymore.

And now here you both were, sitting at a red light while the sun sinks ever lower in the horizon, blue beginning to spread over the sky and little specks of stars finally becoming visible. Instead of looking at the street as he waits for the light to turn, he looks at you. You just looked so pretty, and all he could think of once again was how badly he wanted to kiss you.

Jisung wished he had words to put what he thought of you other than a simple “pretty” but that’s all that ever came to mind. So, so pretty, impossibly so. Pretty in a way that sunsets and oceans couldn’t ever compare, at least not in his mind- he would always find you better, no comparison ever being good enough to describe what he thought of you.

You’re in your own little world, humming along to the song playing through the speakers and tapping your fingers to the beat. However, it doesn’t take long for you to feel his eyes on you, your body alerting you to his lingering gaze and instructing you to look back at him. The sight you're met with when you turn your head makes your face immediately burn; Jisung isn’t simply glancing over at you, or trying to check in with you after a tiring day out. He’s blatantly staring at you.

“..Ji..?” his name barely leaves you, an unspoken question lingering in the air between you. Why is he looking at you like that? What was going through his head right now? Your face heats up exponentially, watching as his eyes travel over your features, seeming to take them in deeply. You instinctively hold in a breath when his eyes reach your lips, staring at them with an overt yearning.

Your surroundings fade, music no longer audible, the light of the sinking sun illuminating him beautifully and drawing you even further into his gaze. All there was in this moment was Jisung; he was all you could see, all you could focus on, and it was the same for him with you. You were always his first thought, always there at the forefront of his mind, but he always tried to push the deeper feelings away, because you’re his best friend and he shouldn’t think of you as anything more than that.

But right now, he can’t help it. His urge to kiss you is so strong, and he knows he can’t resist it the way he usually can. Your eyes that hold the entire world- no, the entire galaxy, his galaxy, in them makes his self control shatter. Maybe Changbin had a point when he said that summer was perfect for romance. Because the way you look at him, with eyes shining under the twinkling lights that blink on one by one with the fading sun- he loves you, he wants to be with you, and that desire is consuming him.

Your heart races as he leans closer to you, inch by inch. You lose all concept of time passing, a moment that in reality lasts mere seconds instead feeling like an eternity. You close your eyes, waiting; waiting for the moment you’ve craved for ages, for his lips to touch yours for the first time. How long had you pined for him?

It’s hard to say exactly; In high school, when he got his first love confession and accepted it, it broke your heart. But at the time, you thought it was just because it meant he would have less time for you, and with time you moved on, deciding it was important to be happy for your best friend even if it crushed you for reasons you didn’t entirely understand. And eventually you entered your first relationship as well, and for a time you could forget about how lonely you felt from not having Jisung always near you.

Neither of your respective first relationships lasted all that long; high school romances tend to dwindle as college draws near, after all. Life has a tendency to take people to different places, and some realize their ambitions faster than others. It saddened you at the time, but you weren’t going to alter your life for someone else and you didn’t expect anyone to do that for you either. After all, 20 is awfully early to decide not to follow your dreams for the sake of someone else.

But you and Jisung were still on the same path, and that had to mean something, right? It was like the days where you were distant never even occurred, the both of you picking up where you left off like no time had ever passed. You were as close as you’d ever been, still seeing each other at every opportunity, even when you were drowning in assignment deadlines and exhaustive study efforts. He made time for you, and you made time for him, even when it was hard. Didn’t that mean something?

Yes, it meant everything- at least it did to you. And so did he; Jisung meant everything to you. He always had, and you think he always will. You can feel his breath on you now, the warmth tickling your skin and your heart feeling like it’s going to burst from out of your chest as the gap between you closes. He’s so close to you, the closest he’s ever been. His lips drawn to yours, closer, closer, and then-

The shrill honk of a car from behind snaps you both from the moment. Jisung opens his eyes quickly, blinking for just a moment as reality settles back over him and he processes what was just about to happen. You do the same, turning your attention back towards the front and seeing that the traffic light had turned green while the two of you were lost in the moment you were sharing.

He swallows, mentally offering an apology to the cars behind him as he continues to drive you home. Fuck, he really got carried away. Was he really about to risk everything you had together by kissing you? What would happen to your friendship? He’s not supposed to like you, and you definitely don’t like him- at least, not romantically. He’s at least 60% sure of that; maybe even 70%. Get it through your head Jisung- you're just friends. Just. Friends.

You meanwhile are stuck in thought as well, though not in the same way. You feel light, almost? Buzzing with what could only be described as pure excitement, unfiltered joy seeping out of every pore. He was going to kiss you!! He was really going to! That meant he liked you, didn’t it? Or maybe he even loved you? Loved you in the same you loved him, wanted to be with you in the same way you wanted to be with him?

You take a peek in his direction, noticing his stiff hold on the steering wheel and the rigid way his body sits. He keeps his gaze straight forward, not daring to look at you, afraid of what expression he’ll be met with. He’d never forgive himself if he looked over to see you were upset with him, forever feeling like an idiot if it was his fault your friendship came to an end.

Maybe he’s just nervous, you think. That would make sense! He gathered his courage for a moment, and now he needed time to gather it again- it's not easy to overcome hesitation and let someone know how you feel about them, but this minor setback won't be the end of it. He’d definitely kiss you before the night was over! You’re sure of it!

Okay, maybe you weren’t entirely sure of it. Because he’s still stiff and nervous when he drops you off at your apartment building, offering a strained goodbye and eyes not quite meeting yours. That’s still okay! Jisung is just shy- that has to be it! It won’t be long before he kisses you, you’re sure of it- for real this time! …right? right!

Maybe you should stop saying you’re sure of things, because you’re never right. It’s been a week since Jisung almost kissed you, and he’s been avoiding you the entire time! You didn’t understand- surely he was over his shyness by now, right? How much longer was he going to make you wait? It was agony.

“Ji. Movie night at my place tonight. And I swear if you cancel again I’ll never forgive you !!!” you texted him dramatically, spamming various angry emojis for added effect. To your relief, Jisung agrees to come over and bring snacks as an apology for being busy. You don’t believe he was actually busy of course, but you’ll let him off the hook on that for now.

It's mid afternoon when he finally arrives, multiple bags full of snacks and sweet treats in hand. You smile and hug him tightly, noting that he’s still stiff but deciding not to dwell on that just yet- he’s finally here, after all! And if this plethora of snacks told you anything, it was that he genuinely was sorry for avoiding you.

He tosses the bags on the coffee table, and you throw on a random movie you’ve already seen before, because the movie ultimately doesn’t matter- it’s just an excuse to see Jisung again. Unlike his usual self, he sits on the complete opposite end of the sofa from you, putting an invisible wall between you. Well, that’s fine! You’ll just move closer!

You hear his breath hitch when you sit right next to him, glancing over just long enough to see you smiling at him. He’s so fucked- his feelings definitely aren’t under control enough for this; you're positively torturing him. How is he supposed to get over his feelings for you if you’re looking at him like that while sitting so close to him?

You purposely leave your hand close to his, waiting to see if he’ll hold it, but he doesn’t. He keeps his eyes straight ahead at the tv, evidently still scared to meet your gaze or be too close to you. Why? Why does he keep avoiding your eyes when you look at him? Why won’t he bring himself closer to you? Is he trying to forget it happened?

Does he not realize how badly you wanted him to kiss you? Maybe.. Maybe he’s scared to bring it up. Maybe he’s afraid of rejection, or of your friendship deteriorating from his outward admission. Maybe he’d rather bottle it back up, pretend he was never on the brink of kissing you, because losing you would be the worst thing that would ever happen to him.

Is he scared that you don’t have feelings for him? Is that why even now, when his feelings have all but been laid out, he’s avoiding the confrontation? But he doesn’t have to be afraid of that- you love him. If he’s unsure, then you need him to know, and you’ll tell him yourself.

"Jisung, look at me," you suddenly call to him, tone so serious that he can’t possibly ignore it. He swallows, forcing himself to finally meet your gaze head on, palms sweating as he anticipates what he’s most afraid of. "The other day, in your car… were you going to kiss me?" Fuck. He knew you were going to ask.

You watch his expression change as his face heats up, a not at all subtle red encroaching over his features. "O-Oh, I-" he starts to speak, but immediately stops, words dying in his throat. Fuck. God Dammit. Even though he knew this would happen, none of the scenarios he crafted in his head seemed to be of any assistance.

The excuses he conjured, the apologies that he knew he should utter, the words he thought he should say that were practiced over and over again.. All of that preparation failed him now, a sort of panic settling over him as his body tensed and hands clammed up further.

Honestly, watching him flounder for an excuse or explanation that would allow him to pretend he doesn’t have feelings for you is kind of funny, (and oddly cute), but now really isn’t the time to let it continue. Now, after years and years of secret pining, it’s time for both of you to lay out your feelings clearly, verbally.

"It would've been fine.. I wanted you to do it," you say with complete honesty, pushing away your own nerves and hesitation as far as you could. You couldn’t let your anxieties get the better of you now; you needed to say what you feel, and encourage Jisung to do the same, otherwise the two of you will always be stuck in the boundaries of friendship. You both need to swallow down the part of you that is scared and shy, or you’ll never move beyond what you are.

His eyes widened, mouth falling slightly agape in shock. What? Huh? You wanted him to kiss you? But that would mean even if you don’t love him like he loves you, you at the very least like him, and surely you didn’t. There is no way you like him like that, because that would mean his friends are right, and he’s a clueless idiot.

Fuck. Is he a clueless idiot?

"I'm in love with you, Ji," you finally admit for the first time aloud, and while it’s nerve wracking to say the least, it’s also a relief. Your feelings have been a secret for so long (at least to Jisung they were, cause lord knows you’re an open book otherwise), and it felt good to say it, to tell him right to his face that you love him. Even if you read into the situation completely wrong somehow, and he wasn’t trying to kiss you that day and didn’t like you, at least you no longer had to hide how you feel.

"Since.. since when?" he asks, still a bit stunned and entirely in disbelief. He can’t believe this is even happening, and there’s part of him that thinks this must be some elaborate dream; he must’ve fallen asleep during the movie, or maybe he never woke up this morning and this entire day has been part of a long dream. But no, he knows it isn’t a dream; because you are much too tangible, and no dream, no matter how vivid, compares to the reality of you.

"I-I don't know, since.. always?" you answer, a slight blush of your own crawling over your skin. You don’t remember the exact moment you realized you liked him as more than a friend anymore, as you were still just a kid then. But you know that by the time high school came, your seemingly small crush had developed into much more, and in recent months, you finally realized the true depth of that feeling.

Even when you were too young to understand what love is and what it felt like, even when you convinced yourself that everything you felt for him was purely platonic in nature, your feelings for Jisung were there. So.. since always. You’ve always wanted him close to you, always wanted your life to be spent with him by your side, always, always loved him above anyone else.

He groans loudly, throwing his arms up and covering his face in a display of anguish. "You're telling me you could've been my girlfriend this whole time?" You can’t help but giggle at his reaction, finding him impossibly cute and funny. “It’s not too late for me to be your girlfriend now,” you say, and he immediately peels his arms away from his face, looking at you as if you’ve said something that he only could’ve imagined in his wildest dreams.

“Do you mean that?” he asks, hope palpable in his tone, eyes pleading for this to not be something you’re saying just to tease him. “Of course I mean that, silly,” you giggle a little, reaching out for his hands and squeezing them in yours, “I meant everything I said.”

“Oh my god, thank god- I mean, you’re really going to be my girlfriend? You’re not just saying it, right? I don’t have to like. Pretend I don’t have feelings for you anymore? Because it’s been driving me insane, and I don't think I can do it anymore, you're way too pretty and-” “Jisung-! Shut up and kiss me already,” you interrupt his rambling, and he blinks once, twice, obliging your request as soon as the reality of your words settles over him.

When your lips finally touch his, it feels so right- like everything you’ve ever felt or experienced in your entire life was all to lead to this very moment. It’s sweet, addictive, intoxicating- everything you have ever wanted, ever hoped for, and more. His hands are hesitant, unsure of where they should rest and if it’s okay to touch you, but when you reach out to him and pull yourself closer, it’s all the permission he needs to let his hands wander.

Years worth of suppressed emotions bubble to the surface all at once, both of you caught in the tidal wave of repressed feelings and urges. Soft, slow timid kisses eventually turn into full ones, deep and impassioned, with all the weight of your feelings pressed into them. Your hands rest on his chest while his move down your waist, fingers lingering on your hips for just a moment before bringing them back up.

His tongue licks against your lip, tentative and almost shy, a silent hope lingering, an unspoken beg for your permission. You open your mouth, granting him what he desires with no restraint, your own tongue meeting his eagerly, coming together in a salacious dance. One of his hands reaches for the nape of your neck to keep you close, and you can feel him smile against your lips when it causes a noise of approval to involuntarily escape from your throat.

Both of your lips become red and swollen from their constant use, any sense of rhythm having completely degraded now that your open mouth kisses have turned into sloppy messes of tongue. It’s embarrassing how worked up he’s getting just from kissing you, and he desperately hopes you haven’t noticed how hard he’s gotten from it. But of course, you have noticed, and you definitely intend on doing something about it.

“Ji.. do you want to touch me?” you pull away from him to ask, and the reaction you get from him is immediate. “God, yes, can I?” The eagerness in his voice makes you giggle as you nod. “Just, uhm.. Get comfortable?” you suggest, shifting your position so that you’re on your heels, hands just slightly in front of you, making your intent clear to him- you want to be in his lap, and obviously he’s going to let you.

Jisung leans back on the sofa, watching you crawl in his lap with bated breath before you pull your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor beside you. You reach for one of his hands, guiding it to your chest, and he swallows thickly, the sight before him making him throb in his shorts. The fact that he gets to kiss you now, gets to touch you- it’s a dream come true. Though, the reality is much better than any of his many, many dreams of being with you.

He lifts his other hand to you as well, completely forgetting he's using it to support himself, making him fall completely back against the sofa, head thunking on the arm rest. You laugh as he lets out a small “ow!”, his clumsy nature always endearing to you, and especially so during this moment; it’s the sweet, goofy side of Jisung that made you fall in love with him, after all.

Jisung laughs with you once the sting fades, fully indulging in the sound of your laugh and the cute way your face scrunches, even if it is at his expense. You reach your hand to his head, rubbing it in soft, soothing gesture as you lean down, kissing him once more as he cups your breasts in his hands. The mewl you let out against his lips when he squeezes is enough to send him straight to heaven.

No, he already is in heaven, because nothing could be better than this; you on him, against him, kissing him, letting him touch and squeeze you to his heart's content. He lets out a hiss when you settle your full weight into his lap, his erection pressing directly against you. He gasps when you grind against him, and you use that as an opportunity to let your tongue back into his mouth.

You stay like that for some time, making out with each other while your fingers are tangled in his hair and his hands squeeze at your flesh, but you’re beginning to desire more, and you can tell Jisung is too, from the way his body reacts with every subtle move you make. You separate from him, sitting up and bringing your hands behind your back to unhook your bra and finally remove it.

“W-Wait, your roommates-” Jisung’s voice comes out urgently, abruptly propping himself up on his elbows as a realization hits him, “what if they come home? While you’re.. we’re..?” Oh. You were still in the living room, huh? That fact entirely left your mind, much too absorbed in the man underneath you to think about who could end up seeing the both of you like this.

Well, they knew you were inviting him over today, and knowing them, they’d likely stay out for a while to allow you to have alone time.. But still, it’d be better to not risk having them walk in on the sight of you half naked in your boyfriend’s lap. “My room, then?” you ask, carefully removing yourself from atop him, and Jisung nods eagerly, quickly rising to his feet the moment he is able.

You grab your shirt from the floor, ensuring you leave no evidence of your actions behind before leading Jisung to your room with quick, eager steps. He’s been in your room a million times, but it feels so different now, given the context of everything that happened moments before. You both stand there a moment, not hesitant, but rather shy, deciding how best you should proceed from here.

You eventually decide to sit on your bed first, shooting Jisung a soft smile afterwards that lets him know he’s welcome to come join you. So he does; he carefully sits next to you, the newfound shyness fully settling over the two of you. You were acting in the heat of the moment earlier, your bodies reacting before your minds could catch up, but now that you’ve both had a moment to process your actions, it fills you with butterflies.

There’s a moment where you stay like that, subtle blushes on your faces as you look at each other, before you speak up again, “Do you want to keep going..?” “Yes!” Jisung answers without even thinking, immediately clearing his throat after and trying to play off how eager he just sounded, “I mean, uhm- yes. Do you want to?”

The blush on his face flares when you giggle at him; he knows you aren’t laughing at him necessarily, but he can’t help the tinge of embarrassment that crawls up his spine. “Yes, I do,” you smile at him, and it’s so pretty and bright that he can’t even be flustered anymore; because more importantly than that, you want to keep going too- you want more, just like he does.

So he smiles too, reaching out to you and pulling you into a kiss, both of you giggling into it softly. The giggles fade out as the kiss becomes more heated, you gently pushing him back and crawling back on top of him when his head hits your pillows, returning to the position you were in previously.

Jisung’s hands are the ones that reach behind you this time, fumbling with the hooks of your bra while you kiss him with his face in your hands. Thankfully, he gets it undone on the third try, and you sit back up, letting it fall down your arms and subsequently tossing it aside. “..so beautiful,” he mumbles mostly to himself, but you still hear it, and it makes the blush on your face flare.

You grab at the hem of his shirt, wanting to see his body as well. He lifts himself off his back, helping you pull his shirt off, neither of you paying any mind to where it lands once it’s discarded. You trace your hands over him when he lays back again, from his broad chest to his slim waist, eyes drinking him in while your hands familiarize themselves with the feeling of his bare skin.

You’ve seen him shirtless countless times in recent years, so you’re no stranger to how attractive he is, but it’s different now; different because now you can openly admire him, and don't have to pretend to not notice that he’s built like a greek god. Even Adonis himself doesn’t hold a candle to the beauty of Han Jisung.

“You’re so pretty, Ji,” you tell him sincerely. The compliment makes the blush on his face darken, but he returns your smile, reaching his hands back up to you. “I should be saying that to you,” he responds, one of his hands resting on your waist, “you’re the prettiest thing in the world.” He brings his other hand to the nape of your neck just as before, gently pulling you back to him before you can reply, his tongue grazing your lips when they touch again.

He brings your hands to breasts now, cupping them in his hands as he did before. He can feel your breath shudder when his thumbs brush over your nipples, a soft mewl pouring into his mouth when he rubs them between his fingers. The stimulation makes your entire body shiver, your hips grind down in search of some sort of relief, soft groans leaving Jisung every time you press your body down on his cock.

You separate from the kiss, one your hands reaching between your bodies, settling on the waistband of his shorts. “Is this okay?” you ask, watching him for any sign of hesitation or apprehension, but there’s none to be found. Instead, you’re met with eager, twinkling eyes, anticipation written all over him as he nods, a soft “yes, please,” leaving him in a quick breath.

You shove his waistband down just enough to free his cock from its confines, a hiss escaping him when your fingers begin to trace him up and down. Your fingers gather the pre-cum leaking from his tip, spreading it over his length easily, and turning him into a wet, sticky mess. He watches in breathless awe when your hand wraps around him, entranced by the visual before him.

You, so beautiful and lovely, with your pretty hands on and around him, watching him and the way his body reacts to you with sweet salacity. He lets out a breathy groan when you begin to pump him earnestly, his eyes closing despite how badly he wants to keep watching. Your hand just feels so much better than his, so much softer and perfectly warm.

You watch his face, committing to memory the way it contorts, the way his brows furrow and teeth sink into his bottom lip. You memorize the way his chest rises and falls with each quick breath, the way his thighs tremble, the way his stomach contracts as you drive him closer and closer to release.

“Sungie,” you call to him, slowing your pace down just enough for him to be able to easily open his eyes and look at you, “want you in my mouth- is that okay? Can I?” “Oh my god, yes, please, you don’t even have to ask,” he says between shallow breaths, far too excited to have your mouth on him to be embarrassed by the desperate display he’s putting on.

He props himself on his elbows, watching you scoot yourself down his legs and bringing your face right up to his cock. Your tongue comes out first, collecting the pre-cum with long, drawn out licks, and fuck, the sight alone is enough to have his eyes rolling back. You kiss the tip before you wrap your lips around him, his head falling back and curses leaving his lips as you sink your head down on him.

His hands grip at your sheets, desperately trying to hold himself back from bucking his hips up and choking you, because the last thing he wants is to accidentally hurt you. But fuck, your mouth feels so amazing, he almost can’t breathe. “God, fuck-” he gasps when his cock touches the back of your throat, your tongue rubbing the underside so perfectly.

He’s trying to hold it back, desperate to feel your tongue on him longer, to have your lips wrapped around him for just another moment, but he can’t. He releases with a strained cry, his cum filling your mouth in quick spurts. The unfamiliar feeling causes you to gag at first, but you recover quickly, swallowing all he has to give you happily.

You release him from your mouth when you feel him begin to soften, laying next to him with a soft, satisfied smile on your face. “Was it good?” you ask him and he lets out a breathless laugh before he answers. “So good, seriously, you’re amazing,” he says, turning his head to look at you with a small smile of his own to match yours, “but you already knew that, didn’t you? You just wanted me to say it.”

“Maybe,” you giggle, and Jisung does as well, shifting to his side and pulling your body closer to his. He kisses you once more, tasting himself on your lips, but not at all minding it- in fact, he finds that he actually really likes it. It’s fucking hot, if he’s being honest. But there’s one thing that would make it even hotter- if your taste was on his tongue too.

“I want to make you feel good too,” he says, fingers resting on your hips, just above your own waistband, “is that okay with you? Can I?” The question makes your stomach flip, thighs pressing together at the idea of Jisung between your legs- you really want it. “Yes, I- I want you to.”

With your affirmation, he lifts himself off the bed and lets you lay back, deciding to remove the last of his clothing before settling between your legs once you’re comfortable. His fingers hook in your waistband now, ready to take your shorts and underwear off together in one motion. He looks at you before he does, taking in your expression that is filled with shy anticipation, eyes traveling down your body next, stopping where his hands rest on your hips.

God, he feels like a virgin again with the way his hands tremble, the thought of you seeing you bare leaving him as nervous as it does excited. Why does his heart feel like it’s going to burst out of his chest? He’s eager, he knows that, and shyness still lingers, but there’s something else there that’s making his heart race out of control.

It’s because he loves you, if he had to guess. You turn him to putty, one look from you enough to reduce him to a mere puddle. He doubts you know the effect you have on him, as he’s spent so much time trying to hide it, but he doesn’t have to anymore. Jisung can love you fully now- no need to hold back, to push it aside, to try and disguise it as the platonic love between friends.

He can hold you in his arms, can feel your lips on his, can touch your bare skin, can put his all into making you as happy as you make him. He looks back at your face again, your expression is similar to his own. Eager trepidation written in your eyes, love and adoration lingering underneath.

Your eyes meet his once more, shy but certain, and you smile at him, the way you always have. A smile that makes his brain go fuzzy, that fills him with a sweet desire, that makes him whole. You, the brightest star in his galaxy, so beautiful and perfect, whom he once thought was out of reach but now sits in hands, radiating love and warmth.

If he is your Adonis, then you’re his Aphrodite; when you are together, the sun shines brighter, the world more vibrant, more beautiful, all because you’re there with him. He’ll love you until his last breath, and he knows you’ll do the same, a promise unspoken for now, but will one day leave him earnestly, down on one knee with a ring in hand.

“I love you,” he tells you as he leans down, kissing you before you can utter a reply, slowly pulling your clothing down your legs as he does. Jisung’s earnest admission, paired with his actions, makes the heat on your face flare and body tremble, hands coming up to cover your face once the kiss is over as an even more intense shyness settles over you.

“Love you too,” you mutter, face feeling impossibly hot. Sure, you already admitted it earlier, but it’s your first time hearing it from Jisung, and the fact that he’s saying it during an intimate moment while looking at you like that? Your heart simply can’t handle it. Peeking through your fingers, you can see him smiling as he carefully pushes your legs apart and it makes a whine unconsciously leave you.

“Baby,” his voice calls to you, and the use of the petname from him definitely does your heart no favors, “why are you covering your face? It’s just me.” “That’s the problem- it’s you,” you mumble, just barely managing to peel your hands away from your face to give him a pout. Doesn’t he know that the way you’re acting now is entirely his fault? It was much easier to push past your shyness when the focus was on him instead of you.

Jisung isn’t used to seeing this bashful side of you and God, it’s so cute that he might have fallen for you even harder than before (if that’s even possible.) He smiles again, and you swear this surge of confidence from him has to be illegal- because the effect it has on you is positively lethal. Han Jisung is going to be the death of you.

“You’re so wet,” he speaks softly in your ear, fingers rubbing through your folds and coating them in the proof of your excitement. “Jisung-” you whine once more, but before you can cover your face again, his other hand comes up to stop you. “Please let me see you. I need to know how you feel when I’m touching you. Okay, baby? Please.”

Fuck. How can you say no after hearing that? You concede with a nod, lowering your hands in a silent promise to do your best to look at him, to let him see you no matter how shy or overwhelmed you may get; because if it’s what Jisung wants, you’ll do your best to ensure he has it.

“Thank you,” he smiles as he gives you a quick peck on the lips, “in return I’ll make sure you feel so good. Are you ready?” You nod again, but quickly realize he wants you to actually say it, so you swallow down your nerves the best you can to allow yourself to speak. “Yes, I- I’m ready. Make me feel good, please.”

His two middle fingers press against your hole, using the tips of his fingers to check for any resistance before carefully pushing fully inside. His first motions are slow, making sure you’re well adjusted to the feeling of his fingers and observing you for any changes in expression. Your body jolts when he finds the spot inside you that makes you see stars, head falling back as an unintentionally loud moan escapes you.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut, whimpers and moans unable to be held back with the way his fingers repeatedly prod at your spot. “Does it feel good? You like how my fingers feel inside you?” He asks, and even though you can’t see the smile anymore, you can hear it. You nod repeatedly, mouth opening to try to tell him, though all that escapes you are embarrassingly loud sounds of pleasure.

“Can’t say it? That’s okay, your pussy is telling me everything I need to know. You’re squeezing my fingers so tight,” he says in your ear, pressing a kiss to your skin after. Oh, you liked that a lot- he can tell by the way you clench around his fingers, legs trembling and hands twisting the sheets beneath you. Maybe the fact that he talks a lot will be a good thing for once.

“You gonna cum soon? Want to cum all over my fingers? Go ahead baby, I want to see it, show me how good you feel.” “Oh my god, Ji-” you gasp; you’re so, so close- you just need one thing to finally push you over the edge. “K-Kiss, please, need a kiss,” you practically beg, looking at him with watery eyes and pouty lips.

Holy fuck, does that make him crumble. How could anything be simultaneously so cute and fucking hot? He leans down to meet your request, free hand moving to cup your face while his fingers continue their ministrations, and that’s all you need to finally come undone. Your entire body shakes, eyes rolling back as your release soaks his fingers. He keeps kissing you even as you come down from your high, letting you pull back for air as you please but always capturing your lips again as soon as he is able.

You whine when he finally slips his fingers out of you, watching shyly as he brings them to his mouth to lick clean. His eyes stay on yours the entire time, and it makes the heat on your face intensify beyond what you thought was possible. He kisses you once more when he’s finished, tongue coaxing you to open your mouth, both your tastes melding together on your tongues, just as he wanted.

He’s hard again too- you can feel his cock pressing against you, begging for more stimulation that you’re more than happy to give. “Ji-” you pull away from his lips to long enough to speak, “please fuck me.” He groans at your words, opening his eyes to look at you before he continues, “I will, I promise I’ll make you feel so good. But, I- I, uhm, I don’t have anything, I didn’t expect anything to happen, so..”

“That’s okay. I trust you Ji,” you reply, pressing a soft kiss to his lips as you reach your hand to his face, “love you so much, just want you inside me.” He groans again, kissing you sweetly as he aligns himself with your entrance. “You’re sure?” he pulls away to ask first, “It’s okay to change your mind, I can run out and grab condoms and-”

You smile, shutting him up with a kiss before he can continue to ramble. You appreciate the offer, and the sweet consideration he has for you, but.. “I’m so sure, I promise. I want this.” He returns your smile when you pull away, reaching one of his hands to grab yours, squeezing it before intertwining your fingers together. “As long as you’re sure, I’ll give you everything you want,” he says, a promise that extends beyond just this moment- anything and everything he has to give, it’s yours for as long as you want it.

Jisung can’t help but let out a moan as he sinks inside you, eyes closing and head falling forward at the immediate overwhelming pleasure your body brings him. You squeeze his hand, your other one coming up to hold his face; you can feel the heat radiating off his cheek, can see the sweat that lingers on his brow and makes his hair stick to his forehead.

When he opens his eyes to look at you again, his stomach erupts in butterflies, heart squeezing in his chest. You’re just as sweaty as him, face flushed and hair disheveled, and yet it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever been- and you’re smiling; the pretty smile that always turns his brain to mush and snatches his breath away.

God, he can’t take it- he needs to calm down before the sight of you, paired with the mind-numbing pleasure that’s encompassing him, gives him a heart attack. "Sungie, are you okay?" you ask after a moment passes, concern growing on your face as you continue to hold his face in your hand.

"Fuck, y-yeah, I'm fine, I- I just.. this is so embarrassing, but I just like- need a minute," he admits almost breathlessly, as if even the act speaking to you is a struggle- and in a way it is, because all his concentration is being poured into not cumming just from seeing your pretty face, or your beautiful body underneath him while being squeezed by your walls.

"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere," you tell him sincerely, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you lean up to kiss him. You understand why he’s embarrassed, but you hope he knows that when he’s with you, he doesn’t have to be; you love him no matter what. Besides, you have to admit you like that you have such a profound effect on him. And while the kiss doesn’t help calm his heart by any means, he appreciates your sweetness endlessly, meeting your lips eagerly despite himself.

When his hips finally move, the sweet sound that pours from your lips sends a shiver through his entire body. He wants, needs, to hear it again, more and more, until his name is the only thing lingering on your tongue, the only thing you are capable of uttering between your pleasured moans. “So pretty, everything about you, your body, the sounds you make, so pretty,” he tells you, though his lips barely leave yours long enough to say it.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a whine from him, and he knows he’s done for. Every sound, every touch, every glance, no matter how soft or how subtle drives him further into overwhelming bliss. He’s drowning in you, in the love and relief you offer him, lost in the abyss that is your care. He brings his hands to your legs, lifting them up and effectively folding you in half, aiming to find the spot that’ll have you crying out for him.

It only takes a few experimental thrusts to find it, and the way clench around him, voice ringing loudly in his ears as your legs tremble in his hold, it’s enough to make him want to cum right then and there. His pace quickens, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches your body react to him, desperate to hold back his need to cum for as long as he can manage, just so he can have this view of you for a while longer.

But when you start to whine his name, when you breathlessly tell him you can feel him twitching inside you, can feel him so deep and how you feel so good- his restraint crumbles in an instant, falling apart for you far too easily. His hips stutter as he drills into you, thrusts becoming sloppy as he chases his high. You bring your fingers to your clit, rubbing in quick circles, wanting nothing more than to cum with the person you’ve loved your entire life.

"Oh my fucking god, feels so good, you feel so good, I- f-fuck, I can't-" he babbles against your skin, his high so dangerously close, but doing his best to hold it back just for you, so that you can cum together. “Baby, ‘m so close, gonna cum, want you to cum with me, please, please cum with me,” he begs, voice easily the most whiny and desperate you’ve ever heard it, and your body reacts almost instantly, as if his word was the command you needed to finally let go.

You use your free hand to pull him into a messy, open mouthed kiss, eyes rolling back as you finally cum on his cock and let him swallow every noise you make. Your entire body tenses and shudders, his cock twitching as you squeeze him tighter, pleasured groans and curses tumbling from his lips as cum shoots into you, fucking you through your shared highs. He continues to fuck you until overstimulation and sensitivity takes hold, his body trembling as he pulls out of you.

He promptly lies next to you, arms wasting no time in wrapping around you, hugging you closely to himself as the two of you collect your breath. You can’t help but smile as you look at him, and he does the same, his unwavering love and joy meeting your own. You recognize that you should probably get up, should clean up and get dressed now before your roommates get home, but you simply don’t want to.

You wiggle closer, pressing yourself against him, letting out a content sigh when his arms squeeze you tighter. You close your eyes for a moment, indulging in the security Jisung brings you, the love, the support, the safety of his touch, of his presence. He kisses the top of your head, meeting your cute, gentle smile with one of his own.

When he looks at you, and sees the pure, obvious love written in your eyes, he's not sure how he always missed it. You look at him the way he looks at you- like he holds your entire world in his hands, the sincerest form of love shining in every glance, bleeding into every touch. Your smile, sweet and content, eyes soft and full of adoration; they tell him everything. Even without words, he knows- you love him, now and always. A promise, unspoken but understood, that you'll always be together, that you'll always have each other.

Jisung takes his time now, to do all the things he imagined he would do if he was ever granted this moment; he holds you close, he plants kisses all over you, he tells you how pretty you are, how perfect and beautiful, until you're giggling, a cute pink blush spreading on your cheeks as you playfully tell him to stop. And when he does, and you look at him with your gleaming eyes and adorable smile, he tells you he loves you, just as he's always wanted to.

hello ! if you're here then thank you for reading ! the inspo for the events of this fic come from 2 love songs i used to listen to all the time when i was in middle school- white lines and red lights + darlin' by between the trees ! they're quite old now, so i wouldn't be surprised if these songs are obscure to people fdghdfg but if you look up the lyrics you'll definitely see where the inspo plays into the fic lol it's honestly not at all subtle :')

i had wanted to write a fic with those songs as a basis for YEARS but i never did cause other ideas i had took my priority. but this prompt felt like the perfect time to finally write the fic i had been envisioning for years so i'd like to say thank you to the people behind skzwritingcafe for giving me the inspo i needed to see this idea thru <3

#skzwritingcafe #skzsummertimeconfessions #skz x reader #jisung x reader #han x reader #skz smut #jisung smut #han smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #literally uploading this at 4am i am going straight to bed after this :')#mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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astralis-is-typing · 10 months

Text

"... and they were camp-mates." (더 가까이~)

⚝fic type: romance, young love

⚝genre/contains: han jisung x fem reader, summer camp!au, fluff, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pinning, both reader and jisung are over 18

⚝warnings: slightly suggestive

⚝word count: 5.8k

⚝inspo: mixtape:oh by stray kids

⚝A/N: this is my entry for the may/june blossoming love event (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠) happy pride month & an even happier 2 year anniversary of mixtape oh!! (the korean title is from han's verse in the song's bridge)

“너와 두 눈을 맞추고서, 한 걸음 더 네게로...

계획을 세워봐도, 여전히 네 앞에 서면 나는 애야”

The great oak doors opened with a familiar creak as you stepped into the reception of your long-time summer camp. Nothing had changed. Nothing really ever changed here. Year in, year out and this lodge remained tried and true. You had attended this camp almost every summer for the past six years. Both your parents had incredibly demanding jobs. Since they couldn’t keep you entertained for your entire holiday themselves, they had figured camp was a good alternative to leaving you at home to your own devices all day. You hadn’t liked the idea at first, but this place gradually grew on you… its carefree and youthful aura was something you’d always reminisce on. It was out of the city, away from all the noise and rush. The camp was bordered by a forest on one side and a lake on the other; the fresh air was always so soothing to your lungs, particularly on the first week back here. Whether a kid liked being outdoors or not, this place had a way of expanding one’s perspective on what fun could look like.

You ran a finger along the smooth brown reception desk as you took in your surroundings. The familiarity of the place made you sigh; the tension you didn’t know you were holding slowly easing off your shoulders. Cheesy motivational quotes and colourful posters about camp activities were tacked onto the notice board beside the desk.

On the counter, a jar of sweets glinted invitingly in the soft sunlight seeping through the room’s large open windows. They came in handy especially in the first few weeks of camp, when the receptionist needed to calm down the kids who ran in demanding to phone their parents and have them pick them up. It was a regular occurrence with the younger campers, you had behaved that way too on your first summer. Some of the best– and worst– moments of your childhood had happened at this camp. You’d broken limbs, learned how to swim, cycle and bake here… As well as more unconventional feats, such as learning how to pick a lock with a hair pin.

The reception had received a fresh coat of paint since you were last here, the beige tint no longer chipping to reveal the dulling white beneath it. You dinged the tiny bell on the table top and took a seat at the orange couch beside the door as you waited for the receptionist to come in. You came back this summer as a junior Counsellor to earn a little extra cash before you joined college. Familiar as the place was, you were sure this summer would be a relatively different experience considering your new position and the fact that you wouldn’t be spending it with the friends you had made here. It would be rather boring without them all, you thought, as you knew most of the other junior Counsellors would be unfamiliar faces.

The receptionist walked in through a side door after a few minutes and beckoned you forward with a warm greeting so you could register your name in the counter book and receive your pass. You can’t help but smile as you take in the photographs still stuck to the wall behind the desk. They were from three years ago, when your camp’s rowing team had competed in a tournament and won. Under the generic congratulatory banner, you could see your own toothy grin (and pimpled forehead) staring back at you. Right next to it was one particular chubby cheeked boy who was smiling triumphantly as he held his hand up in a peace sign. You let out a small laugh at the memory of the cheesecake-loving boy who’d simultaneously annoyed the hell out of you and elevated your stays here to astronomical levels of fun.

“Hey baby!” Came his unmistakable voice from behind you. It made you spin around in shock. The Han Jisung was leaning against the door frame, a crossbody bag slung across his broad chest and a large box cradled in his arms.

The nickname 'baby' had always fallen so easily from his lips, in the same manner one would casually use ‘bro’ or ‘mate’. He hadn’t changed all that much… still had those insanely chubby cheeks and annoyingly perfect waist. His sense of fashion had improved tremendously, yet still looked very Jisung-esque; comfort had always been the most important element to his dressing.

“Jisung? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he countered with a wink, walking in and setting the box down on the counter. “Can’t deny I’m not happy to see you, though.”

He turned to the receptionist then. “These are books I’d, uhm, borrowed from the camp’s library… over the years… and forgotten to return.” He explained with his signature grin, hoping to charm the older man into letting him off the hook. Soon enough he'd check the 'return by' dates and realize that some of the box��s contents had been under Han Jisung's bed at home for about four years now. If it wasn’t for his pestering mother they’d still be there, honestly.

You scoffed, trying to ignore the swell of his bicep as he leaned an arm on the counter. “You read?”

Jisung stuck his tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes when the receptionist opened the box to reveal dozens of comics. “These don’t count as books, Jisung.”

“They do, too.” He challenged back indignantly.

“You don’t read.” You stated with finality as the receptionist went back through the side door he came in from.

“Yes I do.” Jisung countered adamantly as he leaned towards you and tapped your nose with his finger. You groaned and leaned back, stifling the laugh that was climbing up your throat.

“So what’s your deal?” he asked, changing the subject with a teasing pout of his lips as he poked your side. “Missed this place that much?”

“I’m here as a Counsellor.” You explained shortly, paying no mind to his antics. Jisung had a habit of trying to rile you up for no apparent reason. He seemed to find great fun in it.

“Well look at that, baby!” He said with exaggerated glee, showing you his pearly white teeth as he smiled wide. You narrowed your eyes at him, fighting back the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“We’ll be spending one last summer together,” he gushed, emphasizing each word with an affectionate pat on your shoulder.

—

You watched Jisung scribble his name just below yours in the worn out counter book. You couldn’t believe your luck, this had to be some kind of joke.

The two of you had a history.

You remember the summer Han Jisung had serenaded you by the campfire, all in the name of having you lend an ear for his new song. The dark haired boy had sung his heart out while dutifully strumming his guitar. You recall the way he hadn't broken eye contact for a second, the crackling fire illuminating his determined face. The performance had ended with him shyly confessing that you had inspired the ballad.

That had also been the summer you’d had to untangle him from his mosquito net. Yeah, not Jisung’s finest moment.

None of his roommates had managed to free him and you had for some reason been deemed an expert in such cabin room catastrophes. He’d snuck a kiss to your cheek as you finally freed his fragile legs from the net. (A kiss you’d immediately wiped off as the other campers began to holler and croon sickly sweet love songs.)

—

When he’d walked in, Jisung’s stomach had done a funny flip at the sight of you. After all this time…

The effect you had on him was as strong as when he’d last seen you. He started teasing you out of habit, the urge near instinctual after all these years. What else was he supposed to do? That was his only way of masking the true nature of his feelings. You absolutely captivated Han Jisung, in just about every way possible. Unknown to you, he had been under your spell for years now. Sure, you’d probably caught on at one point or another that he had a crush on you, but it ran deeper than that. Jisung was enthralled by the way your brain worked, and the unique solutions you found to problems. Though a bit of a genius in his own right– especially musically– Jisung was rather scatter-brained and your efficiency and structure was something he’d always admire. In addition to that you had the prettiest eyes he’d ever had the pleasure of looking into.

As you walked side by side, Jisung grappled with how he was going to keep things light and friendly between you two. Internally, he knew that he was fighting a losing battle.

—

The two of you made your way to the centre of the camp where the senior Counsellors were dividing duties. Nayeon, your favourite Counsellor from your time at camp, handed you your own schedule. It turns out you would be working with the younger kids. Not a bad deal considering you’d been on babysitting duty for most of your life, being the oldest sibling and all.

Jisung, who was seated next to you on the sturdy log, grinned as he read his own sheet and nudged you with his elbow when he reached the end of the slip.

“Looks like we’ll be cabin-mates, baby.” He declared. Your eyes widened at that, scanning through your own paper to confirm his statement. Indeed, you would be holed up with Han Jisung for a whole month.

You sputtered, blaming the sudden heat creeping up your face on the sun overhead, and looked up at Nayeon with your mouth slightly agape.

“You’re the same age,” she pointed out, shrugging. “And you know each other. I figured it would be more comfortable than rooming you with strangers.”

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your mind ran a mile a minute, providing you with scenarios of how this could possibly turn out. You struggled not to give any outward indication of the thoughts clouding your brain.

“Unless you want me to change it…” Nayeon offered kindly, noticing the panic dancing in your eyes despite your efforts to conceal it.

You looked over at Jisung, who’s heart-shaped mouth had formed a slight pout at Nayeon’s suggestion. He quickly dropped it when he noticed your gaze.

“Uh… no, no. This will be fine.”

“Are you sure, sweetie?” She double-checked.

“Yeah, sure. Positive.” You cleared your throat that suddenly felt very dry. You quickly racked your brain for a reason to excuse how flustered you were. “I was just- Jisung’s really messy so I was a little-”

“Am not.” He countered childishly, looking slightly offended. Unfortunately for him, the slight upwards quirk of his mouth betrayed the charade.

“I’ve heard the horror stories.” You teased with a raised brow, referring to the tales you’d heard from his previous cabin-mates.

“Well,” Nayeon cut in, shaking her head in amusement. “If the arrangement is alright with the both of you then I’ll leave you to it.”

She smiled good-naturedly before moving on to her other colleagues who had queries.

—

Rooming with Jisung wasn’t all that bad. Both of you were shy at first and kept to your respective sides of the small cabin. The room had two bunk beds and Jisung kept his mess to his top bunk. Sleep had evaded you on the first night and he’d actually offered to sing you to sleep. It had worked wonders and over the next two weeks it became somewhat of a routine.

The only time you got in each other’s way was rushed mornings when you needed the bathroom at the same time. You didn’t spend much time in there anyways, already swept up in the flurry of activities that camp provided. In truth, you just wanted to avoid the blush that graced your cheeks whenever he walked in all sleepy to brush his teeth, muttering a ‘hey, baby’ with his gravely morning voice. The domesticity of going about your morning routines together got to your head faster than you expected it to. Perhaps what made it worse was when he had to lean over or behind you to grab something on your end of the sink.

One morning he’d full-on wrapped an arm around your waist as he reached over and snagged your scented lotion. Jisung thought he was being all slick but the proximity ended up flustering him even more than it did you. You’d feigned annoyance at his seemingly endless antics, scolding him and trying to pry the bottle from his hand. Jisung, stubborn as ever, wasn’t giving it up that easily and cheekily brought his face closer to yours with puckered lips. You’d recoiled immediately with wide eyes and he laughed in delight, savouring his victory as you narrowed your eyes at him and stormed out of the bathroom before he got to see the smile you couldn’t seem to fight off.

—

It felt like the kids wanted to try out everything at once. On days you seriously needed some down time, you’d get one of them to start up a game of hide and seek. That kept them busy for a good hour, sometimes more depending on the number of participants.

Hide and seek had always been a popular game at camp. The game’s rules were different here– and a seeker finding you didn’t automatically mean you had lost. Once found, you and the seeker had to race to where they’d been counting; whoever got there first won. If you lost, you had to join the seeker in their quest to find the rest of the campers.

Three summers ago, you’d hidden in one of the camp’s two treehouses with Jisung during a game. When it began you had quickly dashed up there, expecting to find the space empty. You had nearly tripped over Jisung who was crouched near the door. He’d managed to steady you and put a finger to his lips conspiratorially. You wanted to whine and tell him to find another spot but at that moment the seeker announced they were done counting.

Jisung had clamped a hand over your mouth and pulled you in before you could protest… adrenaline running high as you both pressed against the wooden inner wall. He was closer to the door, so you curled around him– placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you peeped at the scene below you two. The sky was quickly darkening outside, darker shades of blue streaked with hues of violet creating a beautiful background to complement the moon's faint glow that cast tall shadows behind the scurrying campers. The moonlight slipped past half-drawn blinds through the window above you, a sliver of light dancing across Jisung’s soft cheeks. He had them puffed out as he held his breath, looking over the door’s landing. You could make out half his face, the other half silhouetted in the dark tree house. He looked rather beautiful this way, the sharp line of his nose against the light and soft curve of his round eyes making him look like a painting. The realization momentarily stole your breath away.

When he turned around suddenly, your noses almost bumped together. It occurred to you with a start how close you were to him. He didn’t move away though, eyes gleaming with mischief in typical Jisung fashion as he took note of the proximity. You didn’t pull back either, transfixed and still a little dazed by everything. It took you way too long to notice you were staring at his lips. It wasn’t until he let out a soft chuckle that you slightly moved back, the breath of it fanning against your own lips. Your heart had fluttered annoyingly when you returned your gaze to his brown eyes.

“Have you ever kissed someone?” You asked quietly. The dark of the evening was working like liquid courage and brazenness uncharacteristically came easily to you. Jisung looked taken aback by your question, eyes widened as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip nervously and picked at his dark blue nail polish. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, hoping against hope that you were suggesting what he thought you were. He nodded his head, adding as he looked away, “Never a girl, though.”

“Oh,” was the only reply you could come up with, unsure of how to continue the conversation.

He faced you again, now grinning. You knew that look and groaned, already being able to tell the boy was about to say something stupid.

“You could change that.” He suggested with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, mumbling something under your breath about how you ‘didn’t mean it that way’– yet you still brought his face closer to yours with slightly shaky hands.

“Your insufferable.” You said as menacingly as you could, but the twinkle on your eyes betrayed you.

Jisung’s breath caught in his throat when you held his face in both your palms, cold from the air outside. He hesitantly brought one of his own hands to your cheek before closing the space between you two.

The kiss was soft, just a slow brush of your lips– neither of you confident enough go beyond that. In any case, you didn’t have the time to, hearing someone– undoubtedly the seeker– climbing up to the treehouse. You quickly broke apart and stood up, preparing yourselves for the impending race.

Your lips still tingled faintly as he looked at you and sharply nodded his head once. You nodded back, mouthing, “On three…”

—

As the days stretched on, hanging out with Jisung in between your duties proved to be a fun past time. Sure, he still teased you a lot, but more than made up for it by making you laugh hysterically. He’d been the mood maker during your time as a camper. Jisung always managed to rally the other kids’ spirits and always had a great story for the nights spent around the campfire.

On your second Saturday back at camp, you two were seated outside your cabin as you usually did when you were both off duty. It was the onset of summer the small room felt too stuffy at times. You’d helped him make sure the older campers he was in charge of weren’t getting into any trouble before retiring for the night. For those rascals, truth or dare had become riskier and ‘7 minutes in heaven’ was now the go-to game for a night spent indoors.

You and Jisung recalled one such occasion during your own teen years when he had lied you were his girlfriend to get out of kissing Felix in a game of spin the bottle. You didn’t understand why he’d done it; Jisung had kissed virtually all his friends at least once– and Felix was no exception. You’d now found yourself in the middle of the drama, your other campmates still demanding a kiss between you two to keep the game going.

Felix had eyed you sceptically as you fumbled for a way to back out. That boy had been Jisung’s bunkmate that summer and the previous one as well. Felix would surely have known if the two of you had something going on; the campers had a habit of sneaking into each other’s cabins when they dated.

The freckled boy’s voice was so low in the morning that it had scared the shit out of Jisung every day for the first two weeks spent as his bunkmate. The two of you burst out laughing at the memory of him spraining his ankle on the first week of that summer, having fallen out of bed at the sound of Felix’s rumbling morning voice. It had resulted in Jisung having to trade in the much coveted top bunk to prevent any chance of breaking a limb in his spooked frenzy.

“Hey! You wouldn’t have fared any better!” he managed between laughs, trying to save some face. “It’s hard to convince your brain at six in the morning that no, there isn’t any demon under you plotting to drag you into the underworld.”

The conversation then shifted to your future plans. Every new thing Jisung discovered about you left him yearning to know you at a greater depth. Jisung was going to study music and producing, naturally. He was still nervous about it, stomach churning from the thought of the calibre of classmates he’d have at the college he was accepted to.

“You’ve got the talent and the drive for it,” you reassured him with an earnest smile. You leaned your hand on your palm as you gave him your full attention, genuinely interested in his aspirations. You knew Jisung didn’t open up to many people about these things, afraid that they’d find his ranting tiresome. You wanted to make sure he knew you enjoyed listening.

Jisung couldn’t hold eye contact for long- eyes straying from yours every now and then. You were sat there looking at him with that look you had cast on him so many times before; one that made his stomach do backflips. It was a look of trust… of belief that his thoughts were not only valid but mattered. There weren’t that many people out there who took their time to just listen in the way you did. Not only to him; Jisung admired the caring nature you extended to everyone around you. It’s one of the things that made you a great Counsellor; the kids felt not only safe, but also heard when with you.

“Don’t look at me like that!” He whined, subconsciously hiding his flushed face behind his hand.

“Like what?” You chuckled. You fought back the flustered panic rising in your chest. Had your eyes let on too much? You were usually good at schooling your smitten expression in front of Jisung (or so you thought) but it seems the comfort of the moment had made you drop your guard.

“Like that,” He explained unhelpfully, wiggling his fingers in your direction. It really wasn’t like Jisung at all… the way he talked to you, treated you and behaved towards you made him seem so immature. Everything he said ended up sounding childish. It was rapidly getting worse the closer you two grew.

“Anyways,” he said, shaking his head and trying to regain his wits. “I’ve been working on something. Would you like to hear it?”

“If you’re going to try serenading me I swear-”

“No, no,” he laughed, getting shy again at the memory of that night so many years ago. “It’s…”

He trailed off, not wanting to give too much away. “I don’t want to give any spoilers!” He stood up and gestured for you to do the same. “Just come inside.”

Jisung turned on his laptop– his only possession separated from the heap of clothes and his other belongings sprawled on his top bunk– and pulled up a file labelled ‘Close’. He kept his eyes trained on the floor as he played you a snippet. The song had an upbeat and floaty vibe to it, the kind you loved. It eased the weight of the lyrics that carried such unaffected depth, typical of Jisung’s song-writing. He blushed as you praised him when the track-in-progress came to an end, attempting to downplay how good the song really was, but you didn’t let him. He cleared his throat, struggling to explain the meaning behind the song when yet again faced with your undivided attention. Around you all the bright ideas in his head came out messy and uncoordinated, even when he’d thought about what he wanted to say beforehand.

You held out your hand as you hit the replay button on his laptop and pulled him up.

“Dance with me?” you asked simply. It wasn’t really optional, considering you’d already brought him to his feet, but Jisung wouldn’t have declined anyways. You put your hands on his shoulders as you danced in the small space between your two beds. He tentatively brought his hands up to your waist with a small grin.

“Better not crush my toes with your great big feet,” he teased, taking one step closer to you and laughing as you swatted his chest with a grumble. Holding you in this way shouldn’t be having the effect that it is on him. But what did he expect? Every time he so much as looked at you for too long his breath caught in his throat. As always, the only distraction Jisung could find from the feelings blossoming within was to poke fun at you.

The song came to an end as the two of you were swaying silently, simply enjoying the moment. In any case, you both lacked the courage to do much else. Without realizing it, you had gotten closer– way closer then when you’d begun… but neither of you could find the will to pull away.

He should honestly just go for it.

Jisung was honestly one of the suavest guys he knew. It shouldn’t be this difficult. Why was it, anyways? He was a grown man, he reasoned to himself. Kissing his crush didn’t have to be like pulling teeth. Jisung shook his fears away as he held your chin in between his fingers, eyes imploring your own. You slipped your arms around his neck and he shut his eyes, letting you close the gap between you two.

The kiss felt different from anything he’d experienced previously. Your lips pressed against his with so much care, conveying everything you couldn’t put into words. When you pulled away your pretty eyes remained focused on his lips in a way that made him want to dip back in for more. Everything about you did.

He held you close to him by the waist, loosely enough in case you wanted to step back. You placed a hand over his chest, eyes telling him all he needed to know as you felt his heartbeat pick up under your palm.

“Hey…” he chanced, rocking you slowly to a rhythm no one else but the two of you could seem to hear. You appeared to be waltzing… lost in each other’s gazes as you both slowly shed the layers of pretence keeping you apart.

“Hmm?” You replied softly, careful not to break the comfortable silence.

“Be my girl,” he pleaded. Jisung drew you into a hug and leaned his cheek against yours, sighing at his lack of tact. You pulled back and smiled coyly at him before you playfully danced out of his reach. You plopped down on your bed, not anticipating the way he followed you and kneeled at your side so you were somewhat at eye level.

“Why should I?” You asked with your eyebrow raised and hands crossed over your chest. You’d expected a clever quip in return but he merely pouted at your answer.

“Haven’t I proven myself enough?” he whined. In spite of yourself, you reached out a hand and threaded your fingers through his hair. It had grown longer in the time he’d been here, brown strands tickling his neck. He sighed at the feeling, weighing his next words before he spoke again.

“Have you ever had sex before?”

The question stumbled out ungracefully. Its randomness made you raise your eyebrows and laugh. If it were anyone else, he’d have probably been able to say that smoother, maybe slip a warm palm up your thigh. But no, around you Han Jisung was an idiot.

You nodded your head, then– as if you’d suddenly recalled something funny– grinned and added, “Never with a boy, though.”

The reference had him chuckling in spite of his nerves, helping him relax a little. Of course, this peace was disrupted by what you said next.

“You could change that…” You suggested, trailing off in your slight uncertainty. You cleared your throat when Jisung looked at you blankly, examining your hands like they were suddenly the most interesting thing in earth as you tried to look anywhere in the room but him. He laughed quietly and brought your face back round to face him.

“You’re insufferable,” he said softly, teasing glint still dancing in his eyes. Jisung brought up his hand to your face and leaned in for the second time that night. The kiss was firmer this time round. His lips moved against yours with a newfound determination, tongue sliding against your lips and seeking entrance beyond them. His other hand trailed up you your arm to gently tug at your elbow, moving you closer to him.

You pulled him up onto the bed and he hit his head on the top bunk in the process. He groaned as he sunk down and you couldn’t help but break the kiss to laugh at him.

“See what I go through for you?” he joked, rubbing his forehead with a grimace.

“Okay,” you conceded. “I’ll give you a shot.”

“Really?” He exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement and reddening forehead forgotten.

“Just for the summer…” You negotiated. “You’re on probation.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” he shrugged before laying down on your bed and pulling you on top of him. You straddled him as your head lowered to his once again, closing your eyes as the feeling of his lips against your own and hands roaming your body engulfed you.

—

You woke up to the soft morning light slipping under your curtains and the feeling of Jisung’s breath against your neck. He’d nuzzled himself there and was borderline laying on top of you. He looked so peaceful like this, his toned back rising and falling with each breath he took. His leg was thrown over your own and you gently pried him off so you could go to the bathroom.

You gazed at your reflection in the sink’s mirror, noticing a very conspicuous mark on your neck that you’d have to cover up later. You ran your fingertips over it, smiling like an idiot. Why was it so hard for you to admit your feelings for this guy? Everyone could see there was something deeper between you two. Even one of the kids had pryingly asked if he was your boyfriend.

Every summer, all the relationships the two of you might have had over the school year dissipated into thin air the second camp began. Jisung seemed to forget the relevance of them all when you were in question. On your end, you struggled to mask your smile when someone brought his name up. Both his goofy and serious side were so special to you. His serious expression as he jotted down lyrics used to make your stomach flutter– you realized it still did when he was talking about his song to you last night.

You gazed at your reflection again, searching your own eyes for an answer you already held within you… could you be falling in love?

—

The weeks flew by and before you knew it, your final time at this camp was coming to an end. You and Jisung had been… busy, in between your Counselling duties. There were several times over the course of the past few weeks when you’d woken up in his bed instead of yours.

Nevertheless, you’d surprisingly enjoyed your duties. The kids this summer where a nice lot, especially considering you hadn’t been assigned to deal with the older ones. It was harder for them to take your instructions as they could see you weren’t much older than them. You didn’t know how Jisung managed.

On the last week you and Jisung were yet again sat outside your cabin, sharing a pack of gummy bears.

“So… am I off probation now?” he asked teasingly.

“Still thinking about it.” You deadpanned, resolutely staring ahead into the darkness.

“C’mon don’t be difficult,” He whined. “Admit it, I’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“Nope,” you said, giggling. “You’re the only boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“So that automatically makes me the best!” He argued with a grin. “No competition… you’d just be comparing me to me.”

“I said you’re my first boyfriend, not first relationship,” you corrected him. “Don’t get to cocky,” you said throwing him a wink.

It was comical, really, the way he pouted at your answer. His eyes suddenly lit up as he dragged you up from your seat.

“Where are we going?”

“Just follow me.” He said with faux exhaustion, mumbling about how stubborn you were.

The stars twinkled above you and you could hear that distant hooting of owls from the nearby forest. The moon proudly lit your path as you recognized it as the route to the camp’s old well. It had no use really, and hadn’t in about 15 years.

You remember your third summer at camp when Jisung had jumped into it after you’d rejected him.

He’d stayed down that well until a Counsellor had to grudgingly get him out. Jisung had been a menace at the time. The only Counsellor who’d managed to tame him was a junior named Minho. Jisung didn’t seem to care about how much grief he caused them during activities- always stirring up some kind of mischief. You’d frequently catch him looking your way, as if he was specifically waiting for your reaction to his antics. Jisung liked to see you laugh at his jokes, beyond giddy to know he’d contributed to that beautiful smile of yours. He always strived to make his mark, he didn’t want to just hang or linger around you… a brief distraction that you’d forget by the end of the day. For reasons unknown to him, Jisung had wanted to be more than that to you.

Just like back then, he sat on the well’s edge.

“Be my baby,” he asked, already struggling to bite back a laugh. He threw in a ‘please’ for good measure. “I swear I’ll jump in if you say no again.”

The well’s depth wasn’t as deep or intimidating now considering you were both full adults, but the thought of having to haul him out in the dead of night did not sound appealing, so you agreed immediately. You chuckled as he stood up and made his way to you with a visible spring in his step.

“You’re so stubborn.” You scolded him as he gallantly took your hands in his.

“Annoying, childish, a thorough idiot...” He confirmed, taking another step closer to you. “Who's low-key in love with you.”

“Completely insufferable...” was the last thing you managed to stutter out before he crashed his lips into yours, cradling your face in both his hands. He titled his head and deepened the kiss after a short while, nearly tumbling you both over in the process. You snorted into the kiss and the two of you broke apart in peals of laughter.

It seemed that no matter how many times he did this, he was still messy, still uncoordinated and not much unlike the young campers you watched over.

In front of you, his love, Han Jisung was still a kid.

⚝A/N: Thank you for reading (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆ This concept has been in my mind since May aah I'm happy to finally have it completed. If you enjoyed the story kindly reblog!

204 notes · View notes

143hyunes · 10 months

Text

Cacoethes

pairing: hyunjin x fem reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut (Minors DNI !!)

summary: So in conclusion: Hyunjin was not a creep. He just had a weird obsession with the stranger in the train. Hyunjin was an inquisitive person, which is why his favourite past time was observing people in the train. He would spend his way back home observing people and forgetting about them as soon as he left the train. So why couldn't he forget you?

playlist. ao3.

warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, non-idol au, childpsychologist!hyunjin, alternating POVs, extreme pining (hyunjin is a simp), y/n is afraid of the dark, descriptions of a panic attack, hand holding (this is not the victorian era i swear), mutual pining, clubbing, mentions of puking, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), cum eating, fingering, nipple play, marking, protected sex, shower sex, dirty talk, faking an orgasm, mentions of a car accident, mentions of death (none of the MCs), ghosting

wordcount: 10k

a/n: my entry for the skzwritingcafe event for May-June. i hope you guys like it <33 this oneshot is kind of inspired by 500 Days of Summer (very loosely). pls leave feedback & reblog and lmk if there are any mistskes, enjoy!

cacoethes

noun RARE

an urge to do something inadvisable

an insatiable desire : mania

Day 1

There was a small but certain happiness in travelling by a train, though it is an inconvenience for many daily commuters during rush hours, Hyunjin loved it maybe because he travelled during the late hours, when there weren’t many people on the train but enough. He liked listening to music and daydreaming or observing people on the train from different walks of life. He always came to the conclusion that at the end of the day, even though everyone was different, the situations and problems they went through were similar which made them like-minded individuals.

It was just another ordinary day, Hyunjin was listening to one of his favourite ballads that day. Whenever one song ended and the silence that ensued till another song played, brought him back to the real world, giving him a reprieve from his mind, reminding him that a world existed outside of his mind. This silence was a kind of faux silence, not loud but definitely enough to arouse him of his surroundings. Today however, there was a different sound that entranced him.

Your laughter that was like a siren song on treacherous waters, demanding his attention. Whatever song played next seemed to ebb away as he looked for the source of the sound that was like music to his ears.

You were reading a book that was in your lap, he assumed that it must have been the reason for your laughter. He couldn’t look away from you, how your hair fell on your shoulders, encasing your face that was concentrated on the book, the furrow of your brows, all this making you look adorable.

That night when he went home, after freshening up, Hyunjin sat in front of the TV, the TV was on but the voices faded into the background as he thought of the stranger in the train, seemingly so oblivious of the world around her. No sound or movement was enough to break you away from the imaginary world you were seemingly in.

Hyunjin never understood people who would cry, laugh or get angry over books or tv shows and movies alike, because for him no form of media had ever evoked such emotions in him. Hyunjin reasoned that the only reason you wouldn’t escape his mind was due this empathy that he seemed to lack, there’s always envy in the absence of something. Yes, that’s all it was jealousy in the wake of humane curiosity, at least that’s what he told himself when he woke up dreaming about you.

»»———-　　———-««

Day 8

Hyunjin was not a creep, he was just an observer, it was kind of his job to observe and help people wherever needed. He had always been like this, not much of a speaker, quietly listening. His big eyes always curious and absorbing everything around him, like a natural instinct. Him studying you was no different than the other times he would observe strangers in the train, putting them in categories that he had made up. That’s what he had deluded himself into believing, reality however was a bit different.

You were different, he didn’t find himself looking for the silhouettes of other strangers on the daily, like he did with you. It had been 8 days since he first saw you and yet he couldn’t look away. It had become second nature, to observe you everyday, reading a book every time.

Your red nose was the first thing he noticed about you today and then the drops of tears on your cheeks that he wanted to wipe away.

What?

Hyunjin had no idea where that stream of thought came from,”Stop thinking about unassuming strangers in inappropriate ways. Seriously, get a grip on yourself man.”, he thought to himself.

The reasoning he gave himself for such thoughts was that it was his nature to want to comfort people in distress as a Psychologist and it’s not like he would act on his thoughts. So in conclusion: Hyunjin was not a creep. He just had a weird obsession with the stranger on the train.

When the internal monologue in his brain had quieted down, Hyunjin noticed the title of the book you were reading,’Before the coffee gets cold’, when you lifted the book to wipe away your tears and he made a mental note to look up the book on the internet later when he reached his house.

He didn’t really read novels but he was curious about what made you cry, especially on public transportation.

He was an emotional person but didn’t cry easily. Maybe this book would evoke emotions in him that he had buried deep down.

»»———-　　———-««

Day 13

You had had a bad day at work today and just wanted to get lost in the world of one of your romance novels to wash away the stress of what was a tedious day of work. You loved your job as the assistant marketing manager and being part of the graphic design team, you really did, but your co-workers were hellbent on testing your patience like no one ever had. But you couldn’t just shun your duties, especially not if they were direct orders from your superior, which was to babysit the new intern and clean up after his mistakes.

You would understand if it was just one mistake but he fucked up three times, posting the wrong ad campaign on the official social media account and consecutively deleting it.

You had to take the fall for it obviously because he was working under you. You had to hold your tongue too because the moron had gotten his internship through nepotism and his relative was a higher up in the company. Office politics really were the bane of your existence and you vowed to dismantle hierarchy in the office (who were you kidding, you can’t even speak up when the waiter messes up your order).

You inwardly cursed yourself for choosing an office job.

You wouldn’t say you were eager to travel from the train everyday, you didn’t care much for public transport. Yes, using it was good for the environment and all that but that’s not why you used it. Driving after a long day of work was stuff out of a nightmare for you. You saved money on gas and didn’t have to buy a car too.

Plus you really liked reading your favourite books on the train, it was very different from your reading nook in your home, a different kind of good. You liked getting lost in a world other than yours, it felt like a reward somehow.

That morning in the train, you had just gotten to the part where things were starting to get interesting in your novel but unfortunately you reached the station for your office.

You couldn’t wait to pick up where you left off that morning.

“Lift your hips for me, love.”, reading that line had single handedly made you lose any shred of sanity you had left, you would scream into a pillow if you could. The book didn't have any explicit scenes in it but the overall sexual tension and buildup was, in your opinion, more satisfying and arousing to read than any explicit scenes. You really loved reading about people falling in love and slow burns.

The giddy smile on your face however faded when the train screeched to a stop and everything went dark. You could feel your throat closing up, like it was closing in on itself.

Making you slowly lose control over your breathing and the small train compartment suddenly felt too hot. Your heart was beating so fast as if you had run a thousand miles a minute.

You felt like you were drowning when you heard someone asking you to focus on their voice, pulling you out of the water.

“I need you to focus on my voice and list 4 things you can feel.”, the deep voice said.

You listed them out: A firm hand under your right palm, your book, the kind stranger’s soft breathe, your clothes.

“Okay, now can you please list 3 things that you can hear?”

“Your voice, something tapping against metal, the sound of my heart.”

“You’re doing great! Now list two things you can smell.”

“My perfume and sweat.”

“You’re okay now. List one thing you can taste.”

“My saliva?”

He chuckled at your answer that actually sounded like a question, the sound of his chuckle was like a hug of comfort in the daunting darkness.

The train was moving again and the light was back in the next five minutes. You realised that you were still holding onto his arm and quickly released your grip on it, profusely apologizing for gripping it so tight that it left marks on his soft skin.

Gosh, just how much could you embarrass yourself in a single day!

He smiled a smile that could rival the brightness of a thousand suns and said that it was okay and asked if you were feeling better now.

He was really pretty and your metaphorical jaw was on the floor and suddenly you forgot how to form a coherent sentence.

The confused look on his face brought you out of your stupor and you knew you had to answer him soon, before you embarrassed yourself further. “I’m okay now all thanks to you. So, thank you.” You managed to somehow make your voice sound both curt and squeaky at the same time.

You could not make yourself look at him, much less have eye contact. So you just decided to look out the window. In the reflection of the window, you saw him putting his head phones back on which you hadn’t even noticed were around his neck.

When it was your turn to get down you thanked the stranger again and slightly bowed to further show your gratitude.

That night you couldn’t fall asleep so you decided to bake. You weren’t stress baking but rather ‘I-have-embarrassed-myself-too many-times-in-a-day’ baking. Though baking definitely didn’t help you forgot about the beautiful stranger.

Three hours of baking too many cookies for one person to consume later, you finally went to bed, exhaustion from the day catching up to you. You had to wake up in 4 hours and you were already dreading it.

»»———-　　———-««

Day 14

Today was turning out to be better than yesterday. Your cookies were a hit at the office, as always. Your superior even forgave you for yesterday’s mishaps. Though he would never admit it, it was mostly because of your cookies.

You even saved a box of them for the kind stranger from yesterday. Hoping that he would board the same train as yesterday and so you could properly thank him.

When you saw the familiar tresses of his soft, long hair that made you want to run your hand through it, you sighed a breathe of relief.

You hadn’t thought far and were sure you wouldn’t get to see him again today and words escaped you again.

You were rehearsing in your mind what you would say to him when you felt a pair of eyes on you and looked up to see him looking at you before he looked away. He seemed very interested in something out the window.

You decided that you would be brave and would stop acting like a shy teenager and just talk to him.

You tapped his knee to get his attention. “Hey I don't know if you remember but you helped me through a panic attack yesterday, I wanted to thank you for it. I baked some cookies and there were some extra so I brought them for you.” You offered him the box with the best smile you could muster.

When a few beats passed and he didn’t take the box from you, your confidence started to wane. The lone box suspended in the air awkwardly by your hands. “Uhm, nevermind.”

Of course, who would take the box of cookies from a strange lady on the train! No sane person that’s for sure.

You cringed as you slowly brought the box back to keep in your lap when he stopped you and took the box from you.

“Thank you for the cookies, I was just really taken aback. Which is why I didn’t take the cookies at first, not because I thought that cookies were poisoned.” He said rubbing the nape of his neck.

You laughed at his attempt at a joke. “It’s really okay, I would be skeptical of taking cookies from a stranger too. Thank you once again for yesterday. I’m really grateful because you were very kind and didn’t make me feel bad for having a phobia that children usually have. Other people haven’t been this kind.”

“You really don’t have to thank me. And I’m sorry other people weren’t as kind. Thank you for the cookies, I’ll enjoy them.” He said smiling, his eyes turning into crescents.

“I’m Y/N by the way.” You said extending an unsure hand for him to shake, did people even shake hands these days?

He laughed and shook your hand. ”I’m Hyunjin.”

»»———-　　———-««

Day 22

It had been 7 days since Hyunjin had last seen you. Now it wasn’t like he was counting down the days or anything, he just wanted to return your tupperware. 3 days of not seeing you and he was worried, he wondered if something happened to you and if you were okay.

On the 5th day he wondered if you were avoiding him, he recalled his last conversation with you for any indication of your behaviour that would suggest you were avoiding him. He came up with nothing and decided to stop assuming things. He didn’t want to admit it but he missed his the beautiful stranger.

After more than a week was when you came back. When he entered the train he could smell your perfume, the scent which was very similar to that of jasmines but not quite the same, it drove him up the wall. He would ask you one day what perfume you used.

When he sat down beside you, he handed you your tupperware. You smiled at him, then slowly shaked the box, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Those are blueberry muffins in the box, my mom has always said that you should never return tupperwares empty.”

“I bought these from a local bakery though, I can’t bake as good as you.”, he replied, giving you a sheepish smile.

“Thank you for the muffins, I really like these ones.”

“Oh, before I forget, why didn’t you use the train these last few days?”

“I got my periods and the first two days are really painful so I usually avoid going to the office on those days. And for rest of the days I don’t use the train because I have really bad backache.”

“Oh ok, I hope you feel better now.” Hyunjin was relieved your absence was not because of him.

“Yeah, I do.” You said smiling, pulling out your book of the day from your bag.

When Hyunjin noticed the book, grinning, he grasped one end of the book in your hand. You gave him a quizzical look and were surprised by his sudden behaviour. “Is this the sequel to Before the coffee gets cold?”

“You’ve read Before the coffee gets cold? And to answer your question, yes it is”

You had an amused smile on your face and he decided he would tease you. “Wow, I’m offended, you don’t think I could read a book just because I’m a pretty face?”

“Your words not mine dude. I just can’t imagine you reading this kind of an emotional book, you look like you only read academic textbooks.” You added with a hint of playfulness in your tone.

“Well I did read this book and I almost cried too, towards the end.”

“What do you mean almost cried? I was bawling my eyes out. In fact I’m pretty sure the pages of this book are covered with my snot.”

“I don’t know, I wanted to cry especially after the last chapter but my tears wouldn’t come out? It’s like I’m emotionally constipated.”

You laughed at his raw candidness, and he concluded that he could part seas to hear the sound again.

That day your conversation over the book lasted till you had to get down. Your voice increasing as you excitedly raved about the book. Hands gesturing around with a twinkle in your eyes, he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

»»———-　　———-««

Day 37

“And then he stuck the gum he was chewing on my desk.” Hyunjin was currently telling you about his terrible work day. He part timed at a Government facility, which was a detention center for troubled teens. Today, he had to counsel a 15 year old who was downright rude and had charges on him for vandalism.

“I’m not saying I love my job but it beats having to deal with angsty teenagers on a day to day basis.”

“I mean, it’s not all bad, the other day this autistic girl made a card for me and it was really cute. Also I really like helping people and as sappy as it sounds, making a difference.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Hyune. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

The use of the nickname didn’t go unnoticed by him, it wasn't the first you had used it but it made his heart flutter all the same.

It had been a little over two weeks since he became closer to you and your friendship blossomed.

You didn’t expect to find a friend in such an unlikely place, you looked forward to the end of every day, talking to Hyune about everything and nothing. Talking to him was as natural as winter turning into spring, the ice melting away so beautiful flowers can blossom.

Just as suddenly as spring had come, he’d slowly warmed his way into your heart.

»»———-　　———-««

Day 61

You always seemed to forget the reason why you hated clubbing, which is why you always let Sakura drag you to one. She was your bestfriend and you loved her more than anything in the world but her habit of getting shitfaced drunk was something you wish you could break.

You were currently two drinks in, enough to break you out of your shell but not quite enough that you could hit the dance floor. You downed three more in order to join Sakura on the dance floor. You don’t know when it happened but you were currently grinding up against a stranger and you could feel the outline of something that was definitely not his phone. If you were lucky, you would get to go home with the handsome stranger.

At least that was the plan, before you got a call from Sakura, “Hello? Kkura?”

The call got disconnected before you could get another word in. A few seconds later, you got a text from her.

kkura ♡ : washroom. NOW.

you : coming

you : are u ok?

When she didn’t reply, you quickly apologised to the stranger and excused yourself. You started looking for the washrooms. When you found them, you entered to find Sakura hunched over the toilet seat, spilling her guts out. You slowly rubbed her back and removed your phone to call Han. He was also one of your bestfriends, he couldn’t come with you guys today because he was busy creating yet another track, life as a musical producer meant that even his Saturdays were spent labouring away.

The phone rang thrice before he picked up,"Hey Y/n. What’s up?"

“Kkura is really sick, can you come pick us up? It’ll be really hard to get a taxi from here.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there, text me the address.”

After texting him the address, you helped Sakura up and made sure she drank water.

Both of you decided that waiting outside was much better, the music was just too loud. The entrance of the club was mostly deserted save for a few people smoking and a strange man that kept glancing in you guys’ direction. You knew you were safe and that the man wouldn’t misbehave with people around but you still messaged Han to hurry up.

you : can you get to the club faster? there’s a really strange man here and i’m pretty sure he’s going to rope us into a pyramid scheme or a cult

You were surprised when not more than five minutes later you got a call from Hyunjin. You wondered why he was up so late. Clearing your throat, you picked up.

“Uhh, Hyunjin?”

“Where are you?” There was an urgency in his voice, tone frantic.

“Club Red Lights?” You meekly replied, unsure of the reason he had called you.

“Stay right there, I’m coming to pick you up.”

“Wha-” Your words died on your tongue when you heard the line end.

You mentally smacked yourself when you saw that you had sent the message meant for Han to Hyunjin.

His concern for you made you feel warm inside or was it the alcohol you had earlier?

Ten minutes later when Han arrived in a taxi, you helped a very dazed Sakura get in the car. You explained the situation to Han and how you were going to wait for Hyunjin.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to wait here with you till he has arrived?”

“Yes, I’m sure Hanji. You don’t need to wait for me, just make sure Kkura gets home safe.”

“Okay if you say so.” He leaned in for a hug, when you were swiftly pulled away from the embrace.

“What the fuck” Han exclaimed, while you let out a gasp.

“Hyunjin!”

“Is this the guy you were talking about?”

“No Hyune, calm down. This is my friend, Jisung. The message I sent you was actually meant for him.”

“What message?” Han inquired, while glaring at Hyunjin.

“We’ll talk about this later Ji, you should take Sakura home.”

“Goodnight! Text me if anything, ok?” Han said finally embracing you, without strong arms pulling you away.

“Yes I will, goodnight Ji.”

When the taxi drove away, Hyunjin turned to you with a sheepish smile,”I’m sorry for my outburst earlier, I was really scared when you messaged me so late.”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, I was kind of buzzed when I sent that message, how did you even get here so fast?”

“I drove.” He replied, shrugging. “Shall we get going? Where do you live?”

After giving him the address, you got in the passenger seat. The whole ride you couldn’t help but keep stealing glances at him, he looked so attractive driving. Seeing him in a striped blue and beige sweater was disconcerting, in a good way. You had only ever seen him in work attire, and he looked so stunning in them but him in casual clothes was somehow even better.

You tried to snap yourself out of it, and were convinced that the only reason you were ogling your friend was because of all the drinking you did earlier.

When you reached your apartment complex, Hyunjin insisted that he would drop you to your doorstep. On seeing how much you were staggering, he helped you to your bed. He even insisted on removing your heels for you. A shiver ran through your body when his big hand touched the straps on your ankle. He takes his time undoing the straps, but even that's not enough. You want to fall asleep in the warmth of his arms.

He’s going to leave soon, you don’t want that. You wish he would stay, even if it’s till you fall asleep. You don’t like saying bye even though you know you will meet him again.

Can’t you stay?

When he stops in his movements and looks up at you with his eyes widened, you realise that you said the sentence out loud. You hoped you it didn't sound as needy as it did in your mind.

“I-uh-Sure.” He stammered. “Where do you keep your aspirin?”

“It should be in the cabinet near the refrigerator.”

Keeping the glass of water and bottle of aspirin on your bedside table he noticed you were fast asleep, softly snoring. He smiled at the sight, pulling up your blanket to cover you.

He was getting ready for bed when he had received your message. To say that he was worried would be an understatement. He drove to your location using the GPS, his speed astonishing even to him. He hadn’t speeded since that incident, and that was two years ago.

When he reached the location and saw you in your silk dress and your cheeks flushed due to the alcohol, he couldn’t help but think about how gorgeous you were. You were about to embrace a man and Hyunjin didn’t know what came over him. Was it Panic? Anger? He wasn’t sure, his only thought was to get you to safety. And he did something irrational.

But now, he was endeared by the sight of you snuggling into your covers. His heart skipped a beat when you had asked him to stay. Your desperation very evident when you uttered the last word. He decided it was best to leave now or he would really end up staying with you.

You woke up the next morning at 11am to the worst hangover you had ever had, the aspirin on your bedside table helped. You had to meet up with Sakura and Han in an hour for brunch, so you had a quick shower and got ready.

“Well well well, if it isn’t Ms. Y/N.” Han began in a voice that was too cheerful for your hungover brain.

“I’m too hungover to have a civil conversation with you right now, Han.”

“That’s too bad because I want to know who that guy was from last night and why you went home with him.”

“You went home with some guy last night?!” Sakura exclaimed.

“I didn’t “go home” with him, he just dropped me off when I sent him a text meant for Han. And he’s not just some guy, he’s the friend I made on the train.”

“You went home with Train Hottie?!?” Both of them exclaimed in unison.

Your friends had dubbed Hyunjin as the ‘Train Hottie’ when you had told them about you having a panic attack on the train.

“Can you guys keep it down? My head is still pounding.” You scolded.

“Wait you never told me what the text was about.” You showed Han the text while shoving avocado toast in your mouth, which they had ordered for you.

“He thinks I’m a cult leader?!” Han replied slightly offended.

“It’s more likely that he thought you were some guy who roped people into pyramid schemes, Sung.” Sakura muttered, both of you bursting into laughter.

Han just shook his head and playfully smacked Sakura’s hand.

»»———-　　———-««

Day 98

Something was off today, Hyunjin noticed that as soon as he entered the train. You were slumped over in your seat, your head in your hands. As he sat down beside you, he nudged your shoulder,”Hey, you okay?”

You looked up, your eyes full of anguish as you figured out how to answer him, your mind at war, if you should be honest or not.

You decided you would go with the half truth.

“I-Just had a bad day at w-work.” You croaked, on the verge of tears.

“Can you take a day off tomorrow?” He asked. You just nodded, not having the strength to reply.

Hyunjin pondered for a minute before grabbing your hand.

“What? Where are you taking me ?”

“I don’t know.” And he really didn’t, he wanted to cheer you up somehow and it wasn’t possible in a moving metal box.

Both of you got down at the next station, his hand never leaving yours. He didn’t know it but you always felt safe in his presence, it brought you comfort in times where everything felt wrong.

His pace quickened and you had to jog to keep up with him. As soon as you guys exited the subway, he looked for a convenience store.

“What flavour of ice cream do you like?”, he inquired.

“Anything that doesn’t have fruit in it.”

He picked two packets of vanilla ice cream that was covered in chocolate and shaped like a chocolate bar.

“These are my favourite.”, he exalted grinning, his eyes turning into crescents. You couldn’t help the smile contorting your features, his childlike joy at buying his favourite ice cream contagious.

He went to the alcohol section to get a pack of 6 beer bottles and proceeded to pay for all the items.

You quirked a brow at his combination of ice cream and beer but didn’t question him.

You guys decided to go to the Namsan Tower, as you had coincidentally got down at Myeongdong Station. You spent the cable ride up in comfortable silence, save for the bouncing of Hyunjin’s leg against the floor of the cable car.

When both of you got down, he looked for a bench with the best view overlooking the city. Once he found it, he set the things down, taking out a beer bottle and opening it against the bench.

“Impressive.”, you said nodding. He made a show of removing his imaginary hat which made you giggle.

“Okay have a sip of this but don’t drink it and then take a bite of the ice cream.”

You did as he instructed and you were taken aback when the chocolate melted into your mouth and the ice cream mixed with the beer. The chocolate paired so well with the malty beer, it left a different kind of burn in your throat which was washed away by the ice cream.

Hyunjin waited with bated breathe for your reaction and let out a sigh of relief when you smiled up at him. He was happy to share his favourite food combination with you and even happier that you seemed to like it.

“It’s like the Mc Donald’s float but less sweet and for adults.”

“Yeah I guess it is, I was really drunk off my ass when I thought of this combination.”

“You’re a genius actually, I was really skeptical of it at first but it goes together so well!”

He just smiled and you guys sat there for a few minutes, soaking up the scenery and drinking together. Until he broke the silence with his questioning,”So..do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

You sighed nodding and taking a sip of your beer,”I fucked up really bad at the office today and was reprimanded in front of the whole office. It was humiliating to say the least.”

“And? Is that all?”

“No.." You sighed again, opening up was always hard but never with Hyunjin.

"I’ve been wondering these days, if it’s all worth it?”

“You mean slaving away in that office every day to just put food on your table, even if it doesn’t make you happy?”

You were shocked at how he was able to articulate your feelings in just a sentence,”Yes..”, you let out a dry chuckle.

His hand found yours, thumb running circles on your hand, urging you to continue,”I just- I don’t know what my purpose is, you know? Like how you know what your purpose is and you’re doing so well too. I didn’t know what I wanted to do in college and I’m still the same, all these years later. Wasting my life away for a job I don’t even like.” You try not to cry and end up pouting.

“Do you want my honest opinion?” You nod.

“First of all, yes I do like helping people but it’s just a bonus. I’ve been obsessed with psychology for as long as I can remember, I’m just one of the lucky ones whose special interest happens to coincide with my “purpose”. The idea that everyone needs to have a purpose to be worthy of being a citizen of the society is such bullshit. Plus your purpose doesn’t always imply something you have to do to give back to the world. It’s all just part of the western capitalistic propaganda. What if I’m here to just have fun? What if this is my last life as a human? I think the pressure of having a “purpose” is too much especially for an 18 year old fresh out of high school. Even for a 23 year old like yourself, it’s too soon. I mean you have your whole life ahead of you to find out what it is. So really, you have nothing to worry about.”

Hearing his words had lifted a weight off your chest, a feeling of catharsis filling you. He was your catharsis. His words comforting you like no one ever had.

He looked so cute under the moonlight, his angry pout on your behalf making him even more endearing. Oh how you wish you could kiss him and feel those plump lips on every inch of your skin. You looked away before you actually gave in and kissed him.

“I-uhm”, you cleared your throat,”Thank you for saying that, you don’t know how much it means to me.”

“Of course, anytime.” He said smiling and taking a big gulp of his beer. Which was consequently followed by a very loud burp, you turned towards him and started laughing clutching your stomach. The look of surprise on his face and dusting of red on his cheek was priceless. “Uhm, that was on purpose, I wanted to make you laugh.”

“Sure whatever you say Hyune.”

“Anyways, is there not anything that makes you genuinely happy?”

You. That’s what you wanted to say but you couldn’t because of everything that it would imply. You weren’t drunk enough for that conversation. So you went for the next best thing.

“Baking. It calms me down.”

“Then you should open a bakery or a cafe.”, he said matter of factly.

“It’s not as easy as that.”

“But it’s not impossible, is it?”

“Well-”

“I think you shouldn’t give up before you even try it.”

You pondered over what he said for a few minutes.

“I mean I could freelance graphic design for a while alongside my job, save up money and lease a small shop.”

"See, I told you it's not impossible ."

You had to leave the Namsan Tower soon, as it was closing, so you decided to sit outside a convenience store.

You spent what felt like hours talking about your plans for your cafe. It was almost 3am when you both decided to return home.

“You can stay the night with me, you know because your home’s far from here. That’s if you want to.”

“Okay.” He says looking away.

You reach home around 3:30am. Hyunjin insists on sleeping on the couch but you are persistent. “It’s fine really, we’re two adults, we can share the bed.”

You give him a blanket of his own and got in the bed.

“Gooodnight.”

"Goodnight, Hyune.”

»»———-　　———-««

Day 99

Hyunjin had been watching you sleep for the past ten minutes, he found everything about you cute, the peaceful look on your face, the drool coming out your mouth. Oh how he wished you had fallen asleep in his arms.

You slowly wake up due to the sunlight that was streaming in through the windows, your eyes getting used to the light. The first thing you noticed was his eyes, watching you intently, he would never hold back, be it his work or even just a simple gaze. The intensity in his eyes makes you blush and you’re hit with a sudden urge to kiss him.

Unbeknownst to you, that’s the same thing going through his mind.

A chant of:

kiss me,

plaguing his mind.

His ragged breathing goads you on and you lean in.

Your lips meet in a desperate kiss, as if you’re lovers meeting after lifetimes apart. He bites your lip, eliciting a moan from you. His tongue enters your mouth, teasing your tongue.

When the both of you come back for air, his eyes are blown wide, lust evident in them. His carnal gaze setting you off more.

The second kiss you share is sensual, slow, while the first one was all teeth and tongues, this one is unhurried, exploring.

He sits up and you straddle him, the kiss becomes intense as your hand travels to his nape, the kiss deepening, while his hands explore your body, stopping to knead your breasts.

You break the kiss to remove your top. When your lips are back on his, he continues his exploration of your body, now free of it’s constraints. He does quick work of your bra, that you don’t even realise he has removed it.

He starts smothering kisses on your neck, leaving a wet trail down the valley of your breasts. His plump lips close around your right nipple while his nimble fingers play with your left one. You feel yourself shiver at the attention but he holds you steady and needy whines spill out of you as you grind on his hard on. His moans getting lost against your curves. His eyes never once leave yours, as your fingers thread through his hair, pushing him further against your chest.

After what feels like hours of desperate moans that come out of your mouth, Hyunjin stops his ministrations on your chest, you would have come just from this if he had continued any longer.

He removes his shirt, while you help him remove his pants. He initiates the kiss this time, as you keep grinding against his bulge. The sound of his husky moans drive you crazy. You pull away to trail kisses down his neck, his lips chase yours when you do so. But soon he gives into the pleasure your lips give him. You take your time sucking and licking consequently on his skin in your downward descent, giving his nipples little bit of the attention he gave yours. You take your time leaving kisses on the hard muscles of his abdomen. When you finally reach the bulge in his boxers, you look up at him, "Can I?"

“Please”, his deeper than usual voice perhaps from the long hours of sleep has heat pooling between your legs, the neediness in his tone sending you further over the edge.

You remove him from his constraints, his big dick was painfully hard. You smear the precum around his tip, giving small licks to the head of his cock. His needy moans are music to your ears, you tease him some more. Then you take almost half of his length at once, the way he stills in shock makes you feel proud of yourself. You start bobbing up and down his length that you can take, your hands stimulating the rest. His pleasure guiding his actions, he thrusts up into your mouth, moaning loudly when you gag around him. Soon after he feels his orgasm coming, he tries to pull out of your mouth, you tap his thigh to let him know it’s ok if he came inside your mouth. He comes down your throat with an intense moan. You wipe your mouth and go back to kiss him.

“You taste even better with my cum.” He breathes out. His husky voice is enough to make you come.

“I want you on all fours for me, angel.” His commanding tone with the use of that nickname has you complying without any complaints.

This position makes you so much more vulnerable to him, his kisses start from the curve of your ass, he massages your venus dimples, leaving chaste kisses on them while he removes your underwear.

You shudder under him as his kisses reach the nape of your neck, he whispers into your ear, "I want to pay you back for all the teasing but maybe next time. Today, I’ll just settle for ruining you."

His large hand cups your cunt, the tips of his fingers so close yet so far from the place you really need him all while he whispers into your ears like the devil he is, all the things he will do to stay true tp his promise. You’re pretty sure you’re dripping down your thighs by now. His fingers finally enter you, scissoring you open, the motions making you weak, you realise you wouldn’t have fallen down if not for the steady hand around you. He adds a third finger all while nipping your right ear, you finally let go, your walls violently convulsing around his fingers. When you come down from your high, his question catches you off guard after all that’s been said and done.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Yes, please. The condoms are in the first drawer of the bedside table.”

Rolling the condom on, he enters you in one swift motion, your body jerking forward but he catches you in time.

When you have adjusted to his length, he starts moving roughly.

“Fuck you’re so tight, even after I fingered you open.”

The force of his thrusts make the headboard slam against the wall. The sound of banging, matching your moans.

“Ahh-Hyune, please, please d-don’t stop”

You reached your high again after a particularly hard thrust, the sound of your moans reaching a volume they had never before. Hyunjin followed right after, his movements slowing down, his seed spilling into the condom.

He pulled out and got up to get a towel to clean you. You hissed at the loss of him. After he cleaned you up, he peppered your face with kisses promising you breakfast and a day in watching movies.

»»———-　　———-««

Day 112

It had become a routine for you and Hyunjin to spend the night at each other’s place. You would have sex, cuddle and then have dinner together. He would leave before you in the morning because work for him started early.

Today was no different, he ate you out on the kitchen counter before the both of you proceeded to the bathroom to wash the day off of each other.

But it wasn’t long before he was in you, your legs wrapped around his waist, back against the bathroom wall. His thrusts were rougher than usual, you wondered if he had had a bad day at work.

That was before he uttered that name again.

“Ahh- Mina..I-”

You stilled when he said that name, yet again, though he was conscious this time. It had made you wonder if he was seeing someone else. Hearing that name brought back all of your insecurities, the thoughts of an orgasm were so far away now. He didn’t seem to notice or if he did he didn’t say anything, still chasing after his own high. When you felt him getting closer and closer, you clenched harder, moaning his name again and again.

You were thankful it was his turn today to cook, you really wouldn’t be able to focus with your mind running a thousand scenarios that caused you nothing but displeasure. You had felt your heart breaking when you heard him call out for that Mina girl in his sleep last Tuesday night. When you had told Sakura about it she had told you to ask him about it and you wished you could, you wished you were a confrontational person. Hearing your dilemma she told you to just ask him on a date and gauge his reaction. And you did, your heart beating, you were the most nervous you had ever been and the most relieved when he said yes. Your movie date was in 2 days on Saturday, you would go to a fancy restaurant after, for dinner.

You also wished you didn’t get attached to people so easily, you had only known Hyunjin for a little over 3 months but that didn’t stop you from falling for him, causing you inevitable heartache. You know you owed it to yourself to ask him about Mina, you decided it would be best to have this conversation after dinner.

“Hyune? Can I ask you something?” You asked while you were washing dishes and he dried them.

“Yes, of course.” He replied, giving you his crescent eyed smile.

“Who is Mina?” You asked, trying to not sound accusatory.

His whole demeanor changed, he stopped wiping the cup in his hand.

He tried to school his features of any emotions but you noticed the sheen in his eyes, as he went back to wiping the cup.

“Uh-She was my ex-fiancé.”

“Oh”, was all you could say, you had more questions but he was clearly very upset, even though he was trying not to show it. It was best to let him tell you in his own time.

“Why- why do you ask?”

“Oh it- you mentioned her in your sleep.” You didn’t have the heart to mention the incident from before, wanting to hide the shame and faked orgasm.

You didn’t know if you were overthinking or if he was actually distancing himself from you. He didn't say goodnight or give you a kiss. You could feel him building up walls around himself, walls you wanted to climb over and just embrace him.

He didn’t hold you that night, you deluded yourself into thinking that maybe it was because physical touch was just too much in that moment.

You just lay there thinking and thinking about what went wrong, maybe you shouldn’t have asked him about her. Was he still in love with her? All your thoughts however ceased when you heard soft sobs from his side of the bed, wanting to hold him close but you knew would do no good. It would only make him distance himself more.

You don’t know when you fell asleep between trying not to let your tears fall and trying not to wipe away his tears. But your worst fears were confirmed when you woke up to the cold sheets beside you and your washroom devoid of his toiletries that he had brought over after spending countless nights at your place.

»»———-　　———-««

Day 114

Anyone would say it was a foolish thing to wait for someone for 2 hours at the movie theater, someone who had left one morning without saying a goodbye, someone who hadn’t replied to any of your calls or texts for the last two days, someone whose silhouette, with his headphones that you longed to see in that train, someone whom you missed a lot.

As you walked away from the theater with heavy feet, you thought to yourself about how now you had the confirmation that he was not coming back.

Your time with him, however short, taught you that you were capable of love, of heartbreak. You came out of your first heartbreak gaining something, at least that is how you consoled yourself.

»»———-　　———-««

Day 127

You were sitting in the same seat as you sat in everyday, everyday praying you could see him again, even if it was just once. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air or maybe your lonely mind just made him up, that’s why he always seemed so other-worldly.

You were staring out the window as was routine for you these days, hoping to find him, always looking for him subconsciously. Your wet umbrella on your lap was soaking your clothes, but it didn’t matter. Your wet hair was stuck to your face but that too, didn’t matter.

From the corner of your eye, you think you saw his long black hair, your heartbeat quickening as you rushed to get out of the train, it felt like hours had passed when the doors opened.

You ran in the direction of the subway as that’s where he was headed, calling out to him but his pace only seemed to quicken. So it really was him.

You finally slowed down when he was on the fifth step.

“Hyunjin, please.”

That made him stop in his tracks, maybe it was the desperation or the pain evident with that last word.

He turned around and you could swear that the world around you stopped, the pain in his eyes mirroring the pain in yours, while his heartache was caused by some stranger you didn’t know and yours was caused by him. He looked pale and his eyes were bloodshot.

You walked towards him, the reasonable part of your mind telling you to just walk away, to save further heartache and humiliation.

Standing a step below him, you looked up, trying not to sound weak while tears were welling up in your eyes,”Can we please talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Really? That’s all you have to say? Did our friendship mean nothing to you? Were the weeks we spent together so insignificant that you didn’t even bother saying goodbye?”, anger from the weeks alone catching up with you.

“Y/N-”, you flinch at his use of your name, your own name sounding so foreign on his tongue.

“I-We can’t be together. I can’t be in a relationship right now.”, he croaked looking away.

“Then why did you lead me on? Why? When you’re in love with someone else?”

He finally looked at you,“God-I, I never meant to lead you on, Y/N. And I’m not in love with someone else, my ex she-she died in a car accident, two years ago. She is dead.” He whispered the last sentence to himself, as if trying to remind himself of that.

Suddenly everything made sense, the look of melancholy that was always present in his eyes. The name he called out to, in his slumber.

He was staring into your eyes, looking for something, you tried to blink back the tears that were starting to build behind your eyes. You turned around then, tears starting to fall down your cheeks, walking away from him was probably one of the hardest things you had to endure.

When you were finally out of his sight, did you let yourself cry, smalls sobs turning into heaving. You cried for him then, his love, his loss, your love and your loss. You finally understood why he couldn’t love you, his grief was too big for his heart and you understood, you did. It still didn’t stop you from cursing the universe for bringing him to you with flowers and sunshine and letting him wash away with the rain.

»»———-　　———-««

Day 113

Hyunjin knew he was hurting you, when he heard you ask him about Mina yesterday, he realised he had called out Mina’s name while making love to you. He had wished hard that he hadn’t said it out loud, he felt guilty for thinking about someone else when he was with you. He felt guilty for loving you, his mind had become a prison he couldn’t get out of.

He wished he could've processed his grief before he met you, he wished he hadn’t fought with Mina, he wished Mina hadn’t run away from him that night, he wished he didn’t feel guilty for holding you, loving you. He wished for the ghosts of his past to leave him alone. But that’s all he could do, all he had been doing his whole life.

He didn’t want to be weak and pathetic but he guessed he had always been that way, passive all his life, looking from afar, never taking action.

He knew he had to distance himself before he hurt you more than he already had. He knew it wasn’t right but sometimes not saying goodbye hurt less than actually saying goodbye.

»»———-　　———-««

Day 127

It had been 15 days since he had last heard that voice, at first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. He tried his hardest not to turn around and just run into your arms.

Your plea was what made him stop and reminded him of the wall he had built up to protect you from himself.

He was devastated, his worst fears confirmed when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes, your face thinner than he last saw you.

He had an epiphany that day, he really wanted to hold you, call you his again. In order to do that, he would have to get over his grief, his past.

For the first time in his life, he decided he wouldn’t let life pass him by, he wouldn’t let you pass by, he would seek help to get to you. He was determined and would do anything to kiss you again.

»»———-　　———-««

Day 335

For a little less than 7 months, you’ve been working hard to open your own café. It was just last month when you had finalised on a shop, paying the deposit for it. The shop was small but it had a homey feel to it, it was everything you were looking for and more.

With help from your friends you had set up all the furniture and equipment, your café, ’Eden’, would be opening in 5 days and to say you weren’t nervous would be a lie. You hoped all the ads that you had put up and the marketing you had done would pay off and that people would actually show up.

You had quit your job last month, starting the new year in your café, surrounded by people you love. It had been satisfying sending in the two week notice. You had been freelancing alongside your job the last few months. You don’t know why it never occurred to you that you could live off the money you made from doing freelance graphic design.

Han and Sakura were bickering out front while you organised your kitchen, there was no way you were letting them near your kitchen, especially so close to opening day.

Their bickering had suddenly stopped, there were only hushed voices now and it made you wonder what had happened. You went out to investigate and overheard their conversation.

“What do we do with this bouquet?”

“Don’t ask me stupid questions, Hanji. Of course we throw it out, we can’t let her know he was here.”

“Who has here?” You asked incredulously.

“Hyunjin, obviously you dummy. Who is the one asking stupid questions now?”

“Jisung!” Sakura scolded hitting him on his back.

“Oww! What the-Oh Y/N”

You took the bouquet of Daffodils from the counter and ran outside.

“Y/N wait-” you heard Sakura call out.

You were glad when you found his retreating figure, his wide back and long hair making him easily recognisable.

“Hyunjin!” You yelled to get his attention. You were out of breathe when you finally caught up to him.

Returning the bouquet to him, you tried to stabilise your breathing.

“Y/N, wha-”

“I don’t take flowers from strangers.” He let out a sigh, running his hand through his hair.

“Your friends told me you were at home.”

“I don’t blame them for lying, they were just protecting me.” He winced at the bite in your tone, but he knew he deserved it.

“Look, can we please just talk?”

“I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”, you said throwing his words from months ago back at him. Only you knew how many times you had replayed that whole conversation.

“Okay I deserve that but please just listen to me, once. I promise I won’t bother you again.”

“You have 30 minutes.”

“But-” You gave him a look that indicated you wouldn’t negotiate on this.

“Fine. But you will have to come with me somewhere first.”

You thought over his words for a minutes before letting out an exasperated sigh,”You better make this worth my time, Hwang.” You texted Han and Sakura in your group chat asking them to close up and letting them know that you would return late. You turned your phone on silent and walked to where his car was parked.

His bouncing leg was the first thing you noticed when you got in the car, the smell of jasmines was the second thing you noticed.

You could cut the tension in the car with a knife.

“Are you kidnapping me? Where are we even going this late at night?”, you joked.

“The Graveyard.”, was all he muttered before turning silent again. You didn’t know how to reply and wondered what was going on through his head. Why now??

The graveyard was grim and gloomy, like one always is. He got down without a word, grabbing a bouquet of jasmines from the backseat. You wordlessly followed his lead.

When he finally reached the grave he was looking for, he bent down to put the bouquet near the grave stone and you heard him sniffle.

“This is my first time visiting her grave. It’s been two years since the accident and this is the first time.” He breathed out, his tone one of disdain. You rubbed his back to comfort him and urging him to continue.

“The night she died, the night of her accident, we had a fight. She just left with her car and I let her. If I had just apologised, just let go of my ego for once…”

“Hey it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known. I know my words might seem empty but you can’t predict the future, it’s not your fault.” , you wanted to comfort him like he had done for you, after all you were friends before everything that went down.

“I-I know.”

“I just never got over my grief, when she died I was just numb and threw myself into work. For the longest time I didn’t process that she had died.”

“Then I met you, I tried to deny my feelings for you so long, even before you had that panic attack. I would silently watch you, doing nothing about my growing feelings for you. When I finally had you, I felt guilty towards Mina, it felt like I was betraying what I had with her. I mean I was literally going to marry her.”

“And when I realised I had hurt you, I was so angry at myself. I knew I had to do something, so I started seeing a therapist. You must think I’m pathetic, I mean what therapist goes to another therapist.”

“Hyune, there’s nothing wrong with seeking out help, you’re human too at the end of the day. Also I’m pretty sure many therapists go to other therapists on the daily.” Relief flooded his body at the familiar nickname and he felt just a bit better.

“I know, I do. I just can’t help but feel pathetic, you know? I lost the best thing that has happened to me in a long time and also probably the love of my life. My therapist said that I should visit her grave and on the same day I saw the ad for your café, I knew then that it was a sign.”

“What do you mean, a sign?” Your lack of a response at his confession didn’t go unnoticed by him but he continued anyway.

“I hadn’t realised that I needed help until I lost you, so when I saw your ad, I just knew I had to at least try to reconcile with you. I’m so sorry for being an asshole and ghosting you, there’s really no excuse. I’m truly sorry.”

“It’s okay I forgive you.” You reply without hesitating and you really had forgiven him and made your peace with the situation. He was wrong to ghost you but you knew him better and decided to not judge him for his temporary lapse of judgment. Plus you were never good at holding grudges for too long.

“Uh-I, thank you.”

“I should drop you home, it’s getting late.”

Both of you walked back to the car in silence, this time it was a comfortable one.

When you got in the car, Hyunjin didn’t immediately start the engine.

“Uhh you don’t have to reply to my confession but I would like it if we could be friends again.”, he said, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“Who said I want to be friends?”

“Oh,, okay.” He said looking down at his hands.

“I love you too, Hyune.”

He looked up at that, his widened eyes searching yours to see if you were telling the truth or not. And then he did the unexpected : he kissed you.

His kiss expressed everything his words couldn’t, his love, his promises, his forever.

{The end}

a/n: tysm if you've reached this far! it's my first time posting such a long fic, i hope you liked it <33 i'm so sorry if there any typos, i didn't have time to proofread, pls lmk if there any mistakes :) also i might write an epilogue for this if enough people are interested

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lavenderhhaze · 1 year

Text

野生の花 - WILDFLOWER

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader, minho x fem!reader

word count: 6.1k

about: where before Minho, it had been Hyunjin — your inconsolable, melancholic, kill-myself sort of best friend. And it could have been love, in another time, another place.

warnings: toxic and manipulative friendships, implications to self harm, underage alcohol consumption, smoking, buildings on fire, mention of blood and injuries, suicidal tendencies, implications to cheating and sex, hickeys, fistfights and swearing, generally flawed characters

written as an entry for @skzwritingcafe's May/June event: blossoming love

Hyunjin likes to pretend he met you in college, burrying the shattered history of all those intricate losses carefully and neatly under his chest. He likes to pretend he isn't aware that you were a wildflower, with a talent of winding yourself around whichever finger is his weakest.

All the days of you and him only become hues pulsing in his chest, a memory too distant to remember. That summer he spent with you, when you had kissed him at fifteen, all a sweet game of pretend — a soft mauve. That evening you had spent, your arm twisted with his, both reluctant and unwilling to let go — a muted gold. And after all, everyday you have spent with him since, where he's yours, wholly and truly, although he'll never admit — a withering peach.

A fortnight ago, when air blew through autumn's teeth, ending the summer that had lasted all of six weeks, you had pointed at the fading sunset.

"Do you remember?" you had said, "Last year? The last day of summer?"

But Hyunjin didn't want to remember. Although he did; the last day of summer you had spent with him at the backroom of Ian's, cracking open warm beer cans and pretending to be regular highschool kids.

He was sick of remembering, he had said. To him, memory was punishment. You had winced, recoiling within yourself, almost ashamed.

And so he had reached across, long fingers easily finding yours, tangling and untangling in an undecided rhythm — that he would choose, always forever. He pulls them closer, his face finding home between your hands, kissing your wrist in spots he had memorized. Although seeming carefree, it's a game he played intently, purposefully.

Eyes on you, so brown and bold — tiger eyes, you had called them, aptly so. Unloved and free.

"What about Felix? He's waiting for you."

How voice is concerned, far from genuine, you know. Although in the way he looks at you, eyebrows drawn together, amber flickering amongst the brown, asking you to cave.

"I should go."

And only then, his grip would tighten; loose enough for you to pull away but just enough for you to know. He only stares, giving everything away but a word. I will get drunk and kiss strangers and dance all night with my friends. I'll cry for you on the kitchen floor but I won't ask you to stay.

And you cave. Again. As you have done all your life.

It has been so since fifteen. Shared earphones and holding hands, naps with his head on your shoulder — fresh coffee on his breath — in the school bus, the glass from the window so cold under your cheek and the occassional splatter of raindrops against your ear. The August air, fresh and ripe, eating you both alive from the inside, with noone noticing.

Hyunjin all but breaks into a smile, scrunched up eyes, wrinkles of happiness — the sort of smile you hoped would stick around forever. Your best friend, your only friend.

That evening is one of many, leaning back and exhaling smoke when his fingers run up and down your scalp, making up the prettiest braids you have seen.

It is hard to tell what you both have, you haven't figured it out yet, despite the last six years of the same ups and downs you shared.

It's hard to tell because of the album he keeps of you, winters and summers and springs, birthdays spent wishing on burning candles and frosting swiped on your cheeks, you folding laundry in a tshirt two sizes too big — his tshirt. You — April's wind in your hair, in the balcony with the sun against your skin, hands sticky with lemonade.

When you say you miss summer; you mean you miss summer, three years ago.

It's hard to tell because he'd kiss your cheeks, your hair, your eyes; smelling of peaches and dewy mornings. Shuffling of footsteps and slamming of doors, he'd drive you fucking wild but not ask you to stay.

Because right then, when you're falling on love again, he'd be gone. With her, flaunting his Cheshire cat smile, tiger eyes glinting with intent — that she caught on to, easy. His smell still lingers, only on her this time. Permanence marked neatly with the heart shaped bruises on her neck.

And Felix had arrived — all apologetic for a mistake you made, patting your head and murmering sweet nothings although he didn't understand.

Where is Hyun? He tests the waters, uncomfortable with the air, so thick and humid.

Gone to smoke, you lie through clenched teeth, hoping if the words were smaller, reality would be too.

And yet you know, if he had gone to smoke, you would be there too. Outside — where it was warm and blue, and still April. Smoke of one cigarette shared with the parts of him that will always remain untamable, messy and reckless. And you'd love him, regardless.

When Hyunjin would return, hours later; you never ask, because you already know.

"So, Felix huh?" he says the name like sandpaper on his tongue, anger unraveling right in front of you; jealousy and anger — both terrible for him. "It's like he's in love with you, or something."

"In love?" You taste the words, rich and sweet, not sounding like the terrible terrible thing Hyunjin made it seem.

"In fucking love."

"When you say it like that, it makes it seem so small."

Hyunjin's face is lit up by a stop sign, bathed in a crimson red — screaming at you to stop and you only wish you could. His fingers entangled neatly with yours, he all but smiles at you, eyes reduced to amber cresents.

You let him guide you to the same old rooftop, a narrow stairway to a wooden deck, underneath two sturdy laundry poles.

The same old rooftop where you had spent an evening smoking and watching an empty building burn, at fifteen — March 3rd, a grim and groggy afternoon.

Huge clouds and awful black smoke following the breeze towards the high street. The sound of sirens and the smell of burning — you were so sure the fire would never touch you.

You had stared at the two fire engines working on the flames and workers pushing back the usual crowd of gawkers. Everyone loved a tragedy, especially so when they knew the end to be appalling.

And you had only leaned back, against the lazy thrum of Hyunjin's heartbeat, his arm winding around your shoulders as he hummed a shifting tune.

"We can get away from there," you had glanced at the narrow lane running along the two story building, just enough for one person to squeeze through. "If the fire gets too close."

"I'm not running away."

"Even if this place burns?"

"You heard me," he had looked at you, brown eyes — rich and deep, "I don't mine dying."

It was thrown away so easily, as if you had always known : your inconsolable, melancholic, kill-myself sort of best friend; ready to end his life in a flash fire.

"Okay," you shrugged, settling back comfortably in his chest. "I'll stay with you."

Dusty cobwebs hang from the laundry rods like heartstring decors, and Hyunjin was vibrant, love dripping from his eyes — just the way he looked at you. Then he had looked down to his feet and turned away to hide in his lie.

"You'll die with me?"

"No way," you had said, smile already reaching your eyes. "I'm getting right the fuck away if the fire gets too close. You can die alone if you want to."

"Cold hearted bastard."

And he had laughed, shoving you away — so full and complete. Another one of the photographs he keeps preserved in the album.

The rest of the evening spent admiring the fire that flared up and died down several times. Glass had shattered twice and the crowd only grew, morphing into awkward shapes when the policeman had screamed at the bystanders to move back. A column of smoke spiralled upwards into the sky, withering at the edges like smudged charcoal.

"Tired, Sunshine?" he had asked, gazing blankly as the fire engines returned to their base, thier red lights spinning ghastly shadows.

"Not really," you had shrugged, catching him looking at you again.

Tired eyes, star-map skin, veins making pretty patterns underneath his porcelain skin. The way he had glanced at you — in a daze, in a dream; the early summer sun casting the shadow of his lashes on his cheeks.

And if it wasn't for that burning building, Hyunjin wouldn't have kissed you that evening. It was soft and gentle, contained within itself with no further intent. Glittering rooftops and flickering flames, smelling of cheap cigarettes and firecrackers.

It was meant to preserve the feel, the scent of burning wood with his hand on her neck and your fingertips sliding up his chest. Only then, you had dared to think — something that might have been love. He was taking up your whole world; all you could see, all you could feel.

And he had been the first to pull away. A mistake, Sunshine. Not again. And you had cried, tears setting in the creases from smiling at your knack for misfortune. He had wiped them away, index finger slotting under your chin and thumbs on your cheeks; accompanied by the unending chant of I love you, I love you. Although he liked to hide it behind his possessiveness and cowardice.

When you were younger, everything seemed so permanent, but as you get older, it drifts away.

It wasn't love, you think. But it wasn't nothing either.

Stolen glances at the schoolbus, visiting his parents' bookstore just to get a glimpse of him, laughing so grandly at his ridiculous jokes, feeling giddy when you're knees touch and pausing before you breathe his name, enjoying the way yours sounds, rolling off of his tongue.

It wasn't love, you decide. It could have been, if you had let it go that far. In another time, another place, it could have been love.

Now, he sits right across from you, peeling a clementine, breaking it into near halves and handing one to you, wordless. You can still see the bruises on his neck, one right below his earlobe — almost a heart, not quite dissapearing, not yet.

"So," he drawls, fingers winding around your elbow to pull you closer, "What about Felix?"

"It's nothing," you say, honestly, although you wish it wasn't true. Jealousy looks good on Hyunjin, albiet eating away at him from the inside. "And that girl? What about her?"

You can feel him smile, almost teasing; he repeats, "It's nothing."

You know it's a lie. Disgustingly sweet. Apple blossoms and pink lemonades. Heart shaped bruises and his scent — the smell of summer. And you laugh.

"What?" He draws closer, his smile only growing, the corners of his lips turned up— stealing your breath and handing it back to you with open palms. "You don't believe me?"

"I don't."

And he's flowers in your stomach, cutting you open and blooming through your ribs. And you decide, love isn't gentle. With Hyunjin, love is gritty and possesive. Love has teeth, biting away at the wounds that do not heal.

"Smart girl."

He doesn't stop you. He doesn't as you to stay. But you do so regardless — because he gives you everything you want. Holding his hands, wearing his sweaters, his head on your shoulder, windows flung wide open when he kisses underneath your ear. And just as easily — he takes it all away.

"I'll be out tonight, Sunshine."

His eyes are a challenge, dirt-brown and cold — gleaming like the slightly damp tiles of a club's bathroom. You have seen this scene before, with a terrible terrible ending.

With her again? Lips stained a lollipop red, a testing quirk asking you to say it.

Ask me to stay and I will. I'll drop the fucking world, and I'll stay.

You swallow the protests that rise up your throat, deep breaths and shallow exhales.

"Have fun."

You shrug, and he fades away. You stare at the sun for too long and it blinds you. Yet you're hypnotised by the light — by his light, terrified to look away, surrounded by pitch-black again.

Even past one, the rain all but a faint drizzle on the cold glass window — you think of him again. The sky a diluted cream, no moon, no stars.

At 3:30, the rain seizes. The door clicks open and the sink runs, punctuated by heavy footsteps.

You see Hyunjin again, and he looks a lot like heartbreak. A little bit unravelled, ivory hair in wisps, yesterday's white shirt in wrinkles, fingertips kissed red in his own blood. His expression is wistful and his eyes warm.

He hears the rustle of the bedsheets to find you sitting up in your single bed — alarmed. Open windows and fluttering curtains, you against the starless night through curtains of thin white lace.

"Sunshine, you awake?"

"Did you walk yourself to a fucking wall, Hyunjin?"

He laughs, a little bit broken in its rhythm but his laugh nonetheless. There is more blood — a smudge of crimson against his bottom lip, a purple vein prominent against the thin skin of his forehead, his skin cracking open under his eye. All bronze and bite. Venom and fistfight.

He sits on the marble counter, back against the cold white tiles. The white lights too bright, but you refused to turn them off. You're scared of the dark. You're scared of who you are in the dark.

The small bathroom of your shared apartment smells a lot like self-hate. Self-hate, old blood and antiseptic — the smell stinging the tip of your tongue.

Hyunjin hisses as the you dab at the cut under his bottom lip.

"Easy there, Sunshine. It stings."

You ignore his protest, hands travelling upwards to clean the cut under his eye. His skin is ash and honey, eyes glazed over as they study you, hands on your hips to keep you steady. His rain-damp hair pressed against the skin of his neck and his silver earings glinting in the excess light.

He's a constellation — with one star missing.

He extends a hand, an invitation, a demand; only to brush away the hair that falls on your face. And you let him because you miss him, although he sits right in front of you — bright eyed and rough edged.

"What are you thinking so hard about?"

You and him — this endless loop. His hand on your waist, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt. The curve of his neck. The stretch of his spine. You and him — a couple of sinners making fun of hell.

"Why do you call me Sunshine?"

He smiles again, eyes reduced to honey -coloured cresents — blurry like the edges of his favourite photograph. He smells of a strange cologne, something older, as his hands wind tight around your waist, drawing you closer. His touch is burning, hands slow and patient.

"Because you love summers."

Because, Sunshine, you are my summer. But you hear the words die in his throat — his gaze still just as fond, laughter spilling from bleeding lips mid sentence.

That night, he sleeps in your bed, talking of every summer you had counted with him. It was Felix's brother — Minho. He punched me in the face because I called him a two-faced cunt. You feel him shift, tangling the sheets even further. I didn't lie, did I?

The wind shifts back and forth, constructing and expanding; and it hurts to breathe. You're scared to swallow your words, afraid of the damage but you know you can't stand still.

"I liked him, Hyun."

Your voice breaks. And you think of the line he drew in the sand you just can't get past. Stupid fucking boy that sucked the fucking life out of you. And you let him.

You hear a weighted exhale. Silence falling off of his tongue and settling between you both. His arm around your midriff as the night swallows you whole. And the diffused light glances off of his shoulders — he's staring right at you. You would have called him an angel; you would have, in another place, another time.

Are we still just friends if it's your breath and mine, late at night with our fingers laced under our covers?

Hyunjin was missing again, and you laugh at how you're obsessed with the smallest things — the feeling of his lips against your cheek when he had kissed you goodnight, you lost in pretend sleep. I'll be back, Sunshine. You sleep coiled around yourself, tightly wound. Hands in fists under your pillows, salt tears drying on your cotton bedsheets.

You think the sun has set for the tenth time that week, days spent avoiding your gaze in the mirror. And was it June? The days growing smaller until the sun could fit in the palm of your hand, like the world has stopped spinning and you're only glad. Summer is your permanent, raging on and on.

Until it rains, mid-June, with no sign of Hyunjin. All you recieve is one text, I'm all good, sweetheart. I'll be right with you. Soon. Take good care. One you don't have the heart to reply to, only laughing at how rushed he makes it seem. Soon. I'll be right with you.

And that's all you remember from June — rain. And him. Slender fingers wrapped around his order of coffee, other hand slipping his reciept in the front pocket of his light wash jeans, silver rings glinting under the little light they can catch. That day when you had talked yourself into wandering off to the campus café, too miserable to mope in your now lonely apartment.

When he had slipped into the seat opposite yours, catching you grumbling about how romantic love hadn't died after all. He had followed your line of sight — couples and couples, stolen glances, shared jackets, fingers interlaced across tables and shared laughter.

"Not quite the romantic, I see," he had laughed, slender fingers rising to cover his mouth and his rings catch your eyes again.

"You can't blame me."

The rain is a constant, beating down at the big glass windows adjacent your shared booth, the sound oddly comforting.

"Minho," he smiles again, looking up from his coffee, so formal that you're afraid he'll extend a hand for you to shake. Ivory hair cropped neatly under his ears, front pieces long and damp, falling on his eyes. Something about him is softer and kinder than anyone you have known — missing that sharp edge Hyunjin was all about.

"I know."

And how could you not? All you remember is Hyunjin's bloodied knuckles and smudged lips, the star shaped scar blooming underneath his eye; all under the fluorescent bathroom light. Minho seems almost too gentle to have fists that hard.

"Of course, you do."

He catches the edge of your voice, eyebrows raised. He smells of something older, seasalt and caramel — you decide. The type to have his coffee with creamer and foam, unlike Hyunjin, an expresso enthusiast and nothing else.

It's still pouring — the trees growing greener before your eyes. And you're worried you have no excuse to be miserable anymore.

It is June and you're tired of being brave. You're weary of counting days as if they never end, nights falling short of your only comfort — your best friend. And still, that evening you allow Lee Felix to drag you to his graduation party because you haven't learnt to refuse him yet.

He's all freckles and sunshine, golden blonde hair and vanilla perfume; opening windows and drawing curtains with all intended dramatics — full, cherry lips and silver teeth.

"You'll fucking love it, yeah?"

You nod meekly, in a weak attempt to mirror his enthusiasm — because that's all you can do.

You had been to this apartment twice before — both with Hyunjin, a hand wrapped around your waist, secure. Giggling at his theatrics, lips stained the red of cranberries, when it we was still summer.

You draw the line past four shots, cringing at the bitter taste lingering in your throat that reminds you of your best friend; because with him you had learnt to drink, and drink more; drawing on concrete with pink chalk and beer cans in hand.

"Not quite into drinking either, huh?"

Salt air and caramel. You remember that voice. Smile lines and cat eyes — in a shirt that was a deep shade of green. Ivory hair falling over his eyes, deep-set and black, staring with intent. Minho reminds you a lot of rain.

"It's okay though," he cracks a grin, lowering the solo cup in his hands — a glimpse of plain orange soda. Quite fitting. And gentle. "Just the same."

You smile. For what seems like the first time in months, and you're scared of what happiness feels like. After weeks of numb, numb and numb. Happiness feels a lot like a trashy graduation party, sharing laughter with the one responsible for the bruises on your best friends chest, standing of sticky floors with spilt beer.

"Don't want to get drunk today."

Happiness is odd, surrounded in grey and shrouded in rain; especially when you're lacking the heavy weight of Hyunjin's palm in yours, your purse slung on his shoulder.

"I know."

It's the same sharp tone you had used in the café, sounding harsher with the flush of your cheeks that those four shots gave you. He knows. His smile a little cryptic when he sips on his orange soda, eyes glimmering like fistfuls of confetti. Splintered blue shadows dance on his face.

"You know," his voice is dry, old, experienced. One hand plays with the silver ring on his delicate, orange stained fingers. "You can't make someone love you back my loving them harder."

You know, you want to say. But did you really? All you know is loving someone isn't supposed to leave you with bruised knees and still you wander off, spending an evening with a boy with an orange soda cup — with an idea of what love looks like, and only a suspicion of what it feels like.

He's animated — all hands and fingers, words and laughter, when he raises his brows and widens his eyes to get his point across, " I told him, right? But no, he had to sneak the dogs in. What a fucking asshole. This is why we can't have nice things."

"You have him shit for it?"

"Of course, I gave him shit for it. I'm a cat guy through and through."

Minho lingers like petrichor after rain, and for once you wish the warm night doens't end. When he lifts his head and smiles with a timid offer to walk you home — the brightest goddamn star you have ever seen. And for a moment you almost believe you could start again.

"Sunshine."

Your heart breaks at his voice, the familiarity of it all no less distressing when you walk in to find him curled weakly at the headboard of his cold bed. He's a wilted flower — your best friend in his beautiful, broken magnificence.

You don't answer — choosing to linger at the door; because really, what could you say? I missed you. And then let him rip your heart out again?

Hyunjin looks tired, patient and awaiting — arms open for you to settle in, daring you to refuse. He's the sun, after all; and you his summer. A tattoo peeks at you from the neck of his collared shirt, a butterfly wrapped neatly around his collarbone.

He catches you looking, raising his hand to thumb at the still unhealed skin with splinters of red, "It's meant to symbolise rebirth, I guess. Kinda fitting, don't you think?"

Rebirth. New beginnings. New love. Because he chose to leave? You want to scream — maybe burning is better than drifting apart.

He's wide awake when you take a seat next to him — bigger and louder than he has ever been. He reminds you a lot of the boy you fell in love with at fifteen.

At fifteen, smiling at porcelain faces only for them to not smile back at you — exept for one. And you were in love. The moonlight sliding off of him and collecting in his arms. His shuddering underneath your fingertips as you had traced his cuts with antiseptic.

A gash running down his neck, a bruise on his collarbone and another where his jaw met his near. And you're only thankful it wasn't bruised ribs this time.

"Doesn't it hurt?" you had whispered, his face still in your hands — he's bleeding sunlight and you're trying to patch up the cuts, "When he treats you like that?"

The neon light had flickered and momentarily, it was just Hyunjin and the moonlight — an angel. He only stared at you and you were afraid you'd cry. You read his words though, spilling from honey-coloured eyes: it's okay, Sunshine, it's not as if I love him anyways.

Thankyou, he had said. His voice too soft to be a teenager's — but again, he had never been as young as you.

He's now twenty, staring at you with the yellow light from the table lamp hitting his jaw just right. He looks like a child again, small and vulnerable — like he's just crawled into his parent's bed after a nightmare, exept he has never known comfort like that.

It's still summer for him, the balcony door slightly ajar. It's summer for as long as he can pretend.

"I got something for you."

An instant coffee jar with airholes on the lid, a few blades of grass and some water and a firefly — competing with the yellow lights with only a feverish glow.

You hadn't seen a firefly in years, and the ones from your memory were far more brighter, brilliant. For you, fireflies were the sickly sweet smell of summer nights, forest spirits, salt air and youth. Stretching in the sun and enjoying the little life offered you with open hands until it grew too loud — swarming and seething, showing you it's teeth.

"It's a firefly," he announces, a little hesitant, a little proud. And it reflects off of his eyes like two tiny chips of gold.

"You visited home?"

Home sounds sour on your tongue, too alien. Just swirls of dust from the street because your hometown was no home — and he notices too.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because it's lonely."

And you know the sort of loneliness he means. The longing of walking aimlessly busy street in the evening, watching the city lights glow from the window — a thousand lives walk right past you and life is really to big to be enjoyed. And it is lonely, it always has been.

"Did you meet anyone?"

He huffs a short breath, close enough to be a laugh, "Saw Chan once, apparently he's getting engaged."

"Really?"

It's bittersweet — watching the people you once loved leave to have a life outside of you. The teenaged Chan, all poised and responsible, overworked to the point of hysteria but not quite and the older Chan — wiser, gentler, softer. You've never gotten rid of him despite three years of no contact. You can grow apart but never break apart. And you're scared it'll be the same for Hyunjin.

"I feel like I'm wasting my time, you know?"

"On what?" He asks, innocent and unblinking, hands clasped between his knees and chin lifted towards the yellow light. The firefly slides down the glass walls.

On you. On us. The words catch in your throat, holding his gaze is if it's a stranger's. And he catches on, because he always did.

"You know I love you right?"

You nod. But really, did you? It's raining, but it's just ache in your ear. A white noise.

He sighs — a deep exhale, a hand reaching for you to pull you close. As if all you both do isn't just messing around and pretending to be whole. The light slides off of his shoulders and he grips your hands, that's what he's always done — setting himself on fire so he can burn the brightest.

"I love you as far as love goes," you inhale, waiting for the catch in his words, hands held tight. "But, Sunshine, some people aren't meant to be together."

Because he's all youth — travelling and moving and flowing. You don't want to be the dark sky for him to be the star.

"You deserve more than that."

He smiles at your silence, hands drawing you even closer, "Maybe in another universe I'd ask you to run away with me."

And you smile too, but it's bitter — because you know, even in another universe, your answer would be yes.

And you're afraid he'll cry for the first time, hiding his face in your shoulder. You cannot bear it because this time it's sadness shared. Your hands run a familiar path up and down his spine.

"You know?" he breathes, drawing back and clearing his throat. His hair is messy, a passing breeze on a still summer day, a little bit unravelled. "I saw you and Minho."

"You did?"

"Yeah," he smiles at you as if it's the beginning of the world, hands holding your face — warm and soft. "I'm so fucking happy for you."

It's June and you're four shots past where you should have stopped. You're lying on the floor, curled up on the edge of you're bed. It's raining against the window, hard. Hyunjin has been missing since the second shot. But Minho is there, drawing circles on your temples because he doesn't drink.

You hold his hand, fingers threading into his. And he smiles — like you're his whole fucking world.

"You're a guy, right?"

He chuckles, still stroking your hair, his silver rings cold to your temple, "I think so."

"Do guys feel sad?"

His hands still and his smile cuts itself in half because he thinks you know. His arms are around you and the air is too thin to breathe. You don't know about the skeletons that would occasionally slip out of his closet to show themselves in the mirror. Or the thin blade in the back of his wallet he had fished out from his father's pencil sharpener at fifteen. Not yet. You don't.

And still, you're there for him when he exhales a shaky breath, offering shelter for as long as he needs it.

Minho shrugs, his smile returning but not quite. His head is heavy next to yours.

"I don't know, sweetheart."

Like an absent father, Hyunjin had never quite been there. Stealing himself from you and returning half-starved. And you kept mothering dying things.

But now, he's here. He's there, although drunk off of his mind, when Minho jokes about asking to marry you at the local McDonald's at midnight — waiting for the lights and cola to sober you and Hyunjin up before you'd cross the road to return home.

He's there, enthusiastic and giddy, clapping hands and deciding roles. He'd be the priest and Felix the flowergirl.

He's there — walking home drunk and giddy to get a suit although Minho only wore a sweater and jeans, sliding a ring pop on your finger and kissing your drunken champagne lips.

He's there, laughing and cheering and drinking even more. Hugging you tight under the neon lights of the McDonald's diner.

"I'll be the godfather," he says. I'm so proud of where you are, you hear.

June ends with the wedding and July starts white — an endless field with white daisies. The first weekend is for Minho and you, climbing up the stairs to his apartment's roof, ducking under laundry poles to stare at the full, white moon.

He's radiant, the moonlight catching on his shoulder. His dark eyes are caught on you and you know what they look like when he's in love. He's warm and familiar, solid and safe.

Car headlights flow in the endless traffic underneath — the traffic thick with the scent of petrol strong enough to taste. This time you know what love feels like. Walking home with a fever of happiness each evening, his name in your mouth.

The firefly jar is heavy in your hands, the firefly bumps against the glass walls, it's dim light flickering. You twist open the jar and tilt it, Minho's hand a welcome weight on your back as you see the firefly climb the edge of the jar.

It walks a few steps, crouching on the lid, unmoving. The wind sweeps past, almost taking the firefly along with it, it's paper thin wings struggling against it.

"It's not moving," you whisper.

"Give it some time, sweetheart."

You wait for ever. The wind rustles in your ear and the firefly makes no move to fly.

Much later, does it take to the air. It's light diming and brightening in a rhythm as it flies past the laundry poles, and traces a swift arc towards the building. It's light lingers for a few seconds only to be scattered by the wind, dissapearing into the slow moving traffic.

You watch Minho as he reaches for the lingering light, smiling when he grasps nothing.

"Tell me a secret."

He pauses, his lips quirking with intrigue, "What kind of secret?"

"Any kind."

"I don't have a secret."

"You're lying, everyone has secrets."

His eyes wander as he pretends to think, and he's golden under the moonlight with the wind running it's fingers through his hair. Silver rings glinting at you as he taps his chin childishly.

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

It's drizzling, raindrops running down his temples — the slant of his brow and the curve of his neck. You remember his shaking hands in you're when he had hugged you for the first time.

"Spiders."

You laugh, without it sounding hollow on the inside, watching as his lips curve into a smile. The night no longer feels like splinters on your skin.

"You're joking."

"No, really. It's the legs, I think. Or the eyes."

"Tell me another one, then."

He leans over, studying you with a smile like rose and satin. The drizzle lingers, dampening the wave of his hair, his eyes brimming with possibility. You know what happiness feels like — finding every lost bone and fitting it in place.

"I love you."

A/N: took like two months to write — it's a sweetheart of mine. so much murakami inspiration. please leave comments bc i really wanna know what you think.

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skzwritingcafe · 1 year

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changbunnies · 10 months

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Purple Hydrangeas (18+)

♡ Pairing: Sunshine!Changbin x Pessimistic!Reader

♡ Genre: angst, fluff, best friends to lovers

♡ Word Count: 7.1k

♡ Summary: Y/N is a pessimistic flower shop owner still suffering from breakup. Changbin is her sunshiney bestfriend who wants to cheer her up any way he can. Sweetness ensues :)

♡ Warnings: reader has depression and it is a focal point of the fic, discussions about readers past relationship, a lot of self doubt and blame, very very brief mention of a family member that has passed away, that's about it i think but let me know if i forgot something!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): i am once again bringing you soft!dom changbin because i cannot resist writing him that way, petnames (love, angel, baby), nipple play, oral (f recieving), fingering (f recieving), multiple orgasms, overstim, body worship ??, protected piv for once (shocking), a sprinkle of cock warming, changbin is rougher at the end (due to reader's request). as usual lmk if i forgot something!

♡ Notes: this fic was written for the @skzwritingcafe prompt “blossoming love” ! it's my first time taking part in a fandom event and i hope you enjoy it! <3

Life is like a flower. The beginning of your life, you are a bud, ready to grow and full of opportunity. Then the bloom, where your life is the most vibrant and beautiful it will ever be, all the time spent nurturing the bud of your youth culminating into the best years of your life. And lastly, the wither, the inevitable end that everyone faces, where your color drains and leaves wilt, until you are nothing. Some reach this stage faster than others, but it will always come, an unavoidable permanence.

Love is like a flower too- beautiful but fleeting, not meant to last forever. You learned all of this as a child, when gloom settled into you before you could even understand it was happening, and again recently, when your boyfriend of over a year decided he was tired of dealing with your gloom, moving on to someone more vibrant, someone in the peak of their bloom. You wanted to be angry, wanted to lash out in a bitter display of vitriol, but how could you when all of his critiques of your character were true?

There was irony, you think, in being so jaded about life while owning and working in such a beautiful place, where every flower held a profoundly positive message. A flower shop inherited from your late grandmother, who taught you everything she knew about gardening and the language of flowers. There were so many messages a flower could hold- love, hope, friendship; all things you didn’t have.

Was it any wonder your boyfriend-turned-ex was tired of you? You always brought down the mood simply by existing. And the saddest part was that, even if he couldn’t see it, you were genuinely happy with him- the happiest you’d been in ages. Maybe your personalities just clashed too much. Maybe your love languages differed too greatly, and the way you showed your care was lost on him. Maybe he couldn’t see who you really were underneath the dark layers, your light too dimmed even in your happiest moments.

All you know is he gave you hope. He gave you love and belonging and connection and then he ripped it from you, stating your ‘constant sadness’ as his reason. He couldn’t stand it anymore- being with someone who was never happy that is. And yes, you were sad often (depression will do that to a person), but could he really not see that you were often happy when he was there? Maybe you weren’t good at expressing what you were feeling, or maybe he found it draining to be around someone who was gloomy more often than they were happy.

And that’s why you found yourself thinking you were never meant to be; he didn’t see the real you underneath the dark cloud that followed you. Or maybe he did, and didn’t like the reality of what he saw when the clouds dissipated. Valid, you suppose; you don’t like what you see either. You’ve tried your hardest to change who you are, but the fabric that holds a person together is permanent. You try and try and try, with nothing to show for it in the end.

But you carry on regardless, hoping one day that someone will love you as you are, flaws and all. You cook yourself dinner, you force yourself into the shower, and you continue running the shop, because the alternative would be withering, and you don't want that to be your fate just yet.

The bell chime that accompanies the opening of the front door breaks you from your grim inner thoughts, bringing your attention to your first customer of the day. You stiffen at first, mentally preparing yourself to put on your best customer service persona, but you soften when you notice it's your best friend, Changbin.

“Y/N~!” he smiles as he practically skips up to you, his unfaltering vibrance immediately lighting you up. He always has that effect on you- cheering you up effortlessly, just from the simple act of existing in the same space as you. And though he could easily call you ahead of time to tell you he plans on coming in the shop, he never does, always leaving it a pleasant surprise instead.

You love when his loud voice rings out in your shop, excited to ask you for some new bouquet he doesn't entirely need but buys anyways just to support your business. He's always been like that- vibrant, positive, supportive and incredibly sweet. It was easy for you to become infatuated with him, even when your friendship first began in high school, but you’ve always done your best to push it aside.

You’ve tried your best over the years to not to think about how much you adore him- The way his nose scrunches when he smiles brightly, the loud exclamations that accompany him when he enters the room, the cute mannerisms he has when talking about something he cares about. You try to ignore his adorable habit of forming his lips into a pout when he speaks, or the way his eyes sparkle when you talk to him about his favorite things.

It was easier to put those feelings aside when you had someone else to focus on. You didn’t have to worry about just the mere existence of your best friend making your heart tremble when you had someone else to give your love to. But with each failed relationship, your heart always found its way back to Changbin.

And maybe it was your own fault for always keeping him a priority in your life while dating, but you couldn’t help it. Because in your darkest moments, while the most depressed and alone you’d ever felt, he brought illumination to your gloom-filled world, always a shining beacon in the darkness that is your heart. He just makes you happy; it’s as simple as that.

“I saw that hydrangeas are in season again,” Changbin smiles, pulling up the spare chair (that you have in the shop specifically for him) to sit in front of your work station. “They are your favorite right? The purple ones? You should make something with them!”

Leave it to Changbin to remember something small you’ve mentioned in passing. He’s always done that- remember even the most trivial of things you tell him, smiling cutely whenever he recites what you’ve told him at a later date. You don’t know how he manages to retain all that useless information, how he can be so attentive and earnest, but it’s easily one of the qualities in him you love most.

“Are you really going to pay for a bouquet of my favorite flower instead of your own?” you ask with a slight giggle as you begin to gather the things you need to get started. “Hey, as long as I’m supporting you, it doesn’t matter! Just make whatever you think is pretty,” he answers with a laugh of his own.

The truth is, he just wants to see you happy. He can tell you’ve been really down since your breakup (even if you don’t want to admit it to him), and this is his way of getting you to do something that you’d enjoy without being too obvious. And he has tried the obvious methods, of course- like binging your favorite movies in his apartment while you eat popcorn, or taking you out shopping with him to get that new pefume you've been eyeing, but every time you realize what he’s doing, you make an excuse for him not to do it.

Variations of “oh, that’s okay, you don’t have to do that for me,” and “I’m fine Binnie, don’t worry about me!” leaving your lips every single time. He doesn’t understand why you don’t accept his care when he can obviously tell that you’re upset, but he figures you’ll accept his affection eventually. And until that day comes, he’ll commit himself to finding creative ways to show you he cares about you.

There’s a comfortable silence that follows as Changbin watches you work. If he’s honest, he could easily sit and watch you for hours. He loves seeing the way your brows knit together and tongue sticks out slightly when you’re focusing on something, and the way your smile beams when something comes together the way you want it to. You’re so cute, even you don’t entirely realize it.

“Hey,” he says, eventually breaking the silence, and you lift your head to look at him, a slight tilt to your head as a “hmm?” leaves you. “I just realized, I don’t think I know why purple hydrangeas are your favorite. Tell me about it?” He asks, genuine curiosity painting his face.

Changbin knows you well- is acutely aware that you know everything there is to know about flowers and their languages and meanings. Every little fact about them is committed to your memory, so if one of them is your favorite, it must be for an explicit reason.

You pause for a moment, debating on how much of your personal feelings you are willing to admit. Changbin is your friend, (a friend you most definitely have a crush on at that) but it’s still hard for you to talk about your feelings with him. And you have tried, but every time you feel like there’s a lump in your throat that prevents you from speaking, no matter how badly you may want to.

“The desire to understand someone. Like.. really understand them. I’ve always wanted that.. To be understood,” you end up answering honestly despite the nerves, using your work to avoid direct eye contact. You’re not often open about things like this, always finding it extremely difficult to be vulnerable, but if there’s anyone you trust in this world it’s Changbin. He��ll never look at you with judgment or discrimination, just genuine care.

You look back at him now, taking notice of how intently he’s listening to you. He’s always done that, too- listen to you like there’s nothing else in the world that could take his attention away from you, like you’re the only one that exists. You suppose that’s just him being polite or a good friend, as it’s only right to listen when talking to someone, but it still makes your heart flutter. And when he looks at you the way he is now, it makes you feel safe.

“I feel.. Alone, oftentimes. And like no one gets me, or wants to even try to get me. Like I’ll always be this way, no matter what I do to try and change it,” you continue with your admission. He’s quieter than usual following your statement, but that’s okay. You didn’t say it expecting any sort of special response, and you can tell by the crinkle in his brow and the pout on his face that he’s reflecting on your words. He’s genuinely thinking about them, what they mean and what they say about you, and that’s all you really need from someone. You can tell he cares about what you said, and that’s enough.

“All done!” You say with a smile not too long after, proudly holding out your completed arrangement for him to take. Maybe you're biased since it consists primarily of your favorite flower, but you truly think it’s one of your best arrangements. Changbin takes it from your hands, commenting on how beautiful it is before looking up at you.

There’s a pause, a much longer one than usual, and you tilt your head, looking at him in slight confusion. “Is there something you need?” “Here,” Changbin says, holding it back out to you.

Huh?

You look at him, the bouquet, and back up to him. His expression is serious, much more than you’ve ever known it to be. “Is there something wrong with it? Do you not like it?” You ask with a frown, genuinely sad and confused by the uncharacteristic reaction he’s giving you.

“N-No, that’s not it, I..” he pauses another moment, red overtaking his face as he looks at you. Is he.. Blushing? “This is how I feel,” Changbin continues, watching you intently for any change in expression as he speaks, “I.. want to understand you, I want to be there for you, I don’t want you to feel alone.”

Time feels like it stops around you, his words slowly repeating in your head as you try to process them. Regardless of platonic or romantic intention, hearing him say those words to you makes a myriad of emotions rush to the surface. You’ve always known Changbin cares about you, but to hear it like this makes your heart race; especially when he’s using your favorite flower as the conduit for his feelings.

You swallow, trying not to let the emotions pour out of you from a gesture so simple. With trembling hands, you accept the flowers from him, your heart jolting from his fingers brushing against yours. You've felt his hands a thousand times at this point, but it’s different in this moment. Everything is different.

"I love you,” he says, making you turn your attention back to his face. This isn’t the way he intended on confessing his feelings to you, but if you really feel as alone as you say you do then.. He needs you to know. He can’t let you think that there's no one in this world that cares about you as deeply as he does, he can’t let you think that there’s no one who will listen to you, accept you, and love you as you are.

Your stomach does full on summersaults now, mind racing impossibly fast. The incredibly handsome and simultaneously extremely cute friend you’ve been silently crushing on this entire time loves you? But he’s so vibrant and bright, and you’re.. You. What does he see in someone as gloomy as you?

“B-But I- I’m not-” you stutter, trying (and failing) to put your thoughts into words. You should be happy, but instead you feel dread, almost. You feel... Like he doesn’t realize what he’s signing up for, like once he realizes the true depth of your sadness he won't want to remain by your side. And even if he does stay with you, you’ll ruin him. You’ll strip him of his vibrance, taint his joy and drag him through the mud with you.

“You’re not what?” Changbin asks, concern written on his face and clear in his voice. “I’m.. not good for you, I- I’m too.. Different,” you answer, nervousness palpable in your tone. “What do you mean?” His expression changes to one of incredulousness, as if you suggesting he could do better than you is ridiculous, as if he would never even consider it a possibility.

“It’s just.. You’re so cheerful and funny and bright and I’m.. the opposite. I’m sad all the time, it feels like it never ends. I was, I still am, trying to be better, like.. Seeing doctors and taking my meds, but.. I don’t want to drag you down, like I did with-” You immediately freeze, stopping yourself mid-sentence.

Shit. You haven’t told Changbin about why things ended with your ex before; obviously as your best friend, he knew you had a boyfriend and that things didn’t work out with him, but you never talked about it openly. You didn’t want to dwell on any of your hurt feelings when you were with Changbin, so you always kept the way things ended to yourself.

His expression changes, a sadness that is simultaneously soft and caring. He doesn’t know whether it's something your ex explicitly said to you, or is an opinion you hold about yourself due to your relationship failing, but he can't accept it. You would never drag him down. He would never view your feelings as a burden, he would never expect you to bottle everything inside for his convenience, he would never look at you and think you should be anything other than what you are.

“Do you remember when we became friends?” Changbin asks and you nod hesitantly before he continues, “That was the hardest time of my life. I had so many thoughts and feelings I didn’t know how to deal with or express and you were there for me. You’ve always been there for me. Even if you didn’t consciously do anything, having you there was enough to make it better.”

“The only reason I’m so happy now, the reason I can be so cheerful is because of you. You've helped me more than you even know. Maybe I can't change what you think about yourself, but whatever bad you think there is, it's not what I see. I see someone incredibly accomplished, intelligent, considerate, beautiful. Worthy of love and kindness. That’s who you are. And I'm on your side, always.”

Any hope you had of holding back your tears crumbled the minute such sweet words left him, the crashing wave of previously pushed down, dormant emotions engulfing you entirely. Reaching out now, you hug him tightly, sniffling into his chest while he wraps an arm around you and brings a hand to your head, holding you closely to him.

You almost never cry in front of others, the vulnerability always making you feel embarrassed and ashamed. In fact, in all the years he's known you, Changbin can count on one hand the amount of times you've cried in front of him. He always noticed the way you held it back when you were upset, how you would put on a brave face or a smile and continue on as if nothing happened. And he had admired that quality in you, but now he understands how lonely that must have been.

All the pain you silently harbored, all the tears you didn't allow to fall, all the thoughts you kept inside your head.. He hopes you know now that you never have to do those things again, that you don't have to be scared to show your authentic feelings to him. Because no matter how "ugly", he's not going anywhere. Because he loves you.

You let yourself stay like that for some time, indulging in Changbin’s comforting touch as months, maybe even years worth of repressed emotions tumble out of you. All you can do now is let the waves of emotion crash into you, until the tide of feelings recede back into the depths they were once stored in.

"Can you help me close the shop?" you ask when you finally pull away, wiping your face clean before you look up at him. "Of course, love," he gives you a sweet smile, giving your hand a comforting squeeze before he continues. "You can just head up now and rest if you want, I know what to do." He's helped you close the shop plenty of times in the past, so he's confident he can do it on his own.

You let out a soft 'thank you', deciding to take Changbin up on his offer and go straight to your apartment above the shop. Honestly, it's probably not the best idea from a profit standpoint to close this early in the afternoon, but that will have to be a problem for future you, because right now all you want to do is flop on your bed and bury yourself in your blankets.

And that's exactly where he finds you when he finishes closing up- wrapped in makeshift blanket burrito and work attire strewn on the floor, close to your hamper but not quite having made it inside. You poke your head out from under the blanket when you hear his voice call your name from the doorway to your bedroom.

“Can I join you?" he asks and you quickly nod, lifting a corner of your blanket up so he can crawl in next to you. He wraps his arms around you once he's under the blanket with you, urging you to rest your head against him. A comforted sigh leaves you when he starts gently rubbing your back, eyes closing as built up tension finally begins to leave your body.

Having emotions is exhausting, but being with Changbin makes it better. You hope this is what your life will look like from now on- wrapped in Changbin’s embrace, words of affirmation and care lingering in your ears, his vibrance bleeding onto you and turning you into someone that can be happy.

"Can I kiss you?" Changbin asks, voice almost a whisper and timid in its request. You give your approval easily, because obviously you want to kiss him. How could you not want to kiss the person you’ve been secretly in love with for ages?

His lips are soft, gentle against yours, hands careful in the way they roam your body. He longed to touch you, to know what it was like to feel your soft skin under his fingertips while he kissed you, to love you the way you deserved to be loved. He’s always viewed you with the utmost reverence, would spend his nights imagining what he would do if he got even the smallest chance to show you, promised himself he would never leave you doubting if the opportunity was granted to be with you.

Your hands rest on his chest, his kisses making you impossibly dizzy despite how soft and slow they are. Because it’s Changbin, you think; because there’s no one else in the world that has held your heart in their hands the way he has. You realize now that there was never going to be any getting over him. No matter who else you entertained, who else you gave your love and care to, you’d always find your way back to him.

“Binnie, can you touch me? Please?” You ask during a brief moment of separation, voice soft and timid but still loud and clear in his ears. Do you even know the effect that question has on him? The way it sends a wave of arousal throughout his entire body? “God, yes, of course, anything you want,” he says before he’s kissing you again, albeit hungrier this time.

You feel his hardening cock twitch against your thigh, the close proximity of your bodies making it impossible to ignore- not that you even want to ignore it. If it were with anyone else, he might be embarrassed over being worked up over so little, but he’s not because it’s you; the only person he’s had eyes for since you entered his life in sophomore year of high school.

Carefully, he reaches a hand inside the sleep shirt you changed into, surprised to find that you’re not wearing a bra, though he supposes he shouldn’t be- of course you wouldn’t keep one on if you intended on being in bed the rest of the day.

He licks your lips as he squeezes one of your breasts in his palm, urging you to open your mouth from him. You oblige easily, letting his tongue lick and swirl around your own, soft moans and gasps leaving you with every gentle squeeze and thumb brush over your nipple. “Can I take it off you?” he asks between breaths, and you hum in approval, separating yourself from him just enough to allow him to pull your shirt up and over your head.

“Bin, take yours off too,” you practically whine when he goes to kiss you again as soon as your shirt lands on the floor. “So sorry, angel,” he says with a low chuckle before he obliges, having no trouble pulling the loose shirt off himself with one hand.

You’ve seen him shirtless before, when swimming together or when he’s preparing to change into pajamas during a sleepover, but it never stops being a breathtaking sight. Large, defined muscles with an equally as defined chest, yet below lies a soft, cute tummy; it’s devastating how attractive it is- how attractive he is, specifically.

You lie flat on your back now, Changbin hovering above you and staring down at your exposed torso. “So pretty,” he says, smiling when it causes you to blush and look away. You have plenty of experience in things like this and don’t consider yourself all that shy but Changbin is.. Well, Changbin. A single look from him can turn you into a puddle, a simple compliment enough to have your heart beating out of your chest.

He takes one of your hands and brings it to his face, planting soft kisses to your fingertips, before having your hand rest against his cheek. He keeps his hand on top of yours for a moment, a silent request for you to hold it there when he takes his own hand away and kisses you again.

And so you do; you hold his face in your hand as his lips touch yours once more. You open your mouth, without any prompting this time, easily allowing him to slide his tongue against yours. He finds your other hand, taking it in one of his own and squeezing for a moment before he places it on his chest. He wants you to keep touching him, wants to feel your hands all over him, and this is his way of showing you, telling you.

He nuzzles his face into your hand when he separates from your lips before moving down to plant open mouthed kisses to your neck. Your hand travels to the back of his head now, fingers tangling in his curly hair and tugging slightly when he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. A soft groan escapes him when you tug on his hair; it’s a feeling that delights him more than he ever anticipated it would.

You continue to touch him with your other hand, letting it run up and down his torso, over his chest, down his stomach, and then back up again, repeating the movements to your heart's content. “Keep touching me,” he says as he travels lower, lips ghosting the top of your chest, “don’t stop.”

His words make your stomach flip, a tingle spreading down your spine due to the request. It’s one you plan to oblige, even if his new position lower down your body makes the task slightly harder. His stomach no longer in your reach, you instead focus on rubbing over his shoulder and down the length of his bicep, a soft gasp of pleasure escaping you when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

He stays there for some time, alternating the attention between your breasts whenever he deems necessary and reveling in the feeling of your hands touching his body. So simple yet so intoxicating, he never wants you to be apart from him ever again, never wants to go without the feeling of your fingers in his hair or your palms on his bare skin. But eventually it becomes clear that you need more, he needs more, and he decides to continue making a path down your body.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your skin as he travels down your stomach and toward your legs, planting more soft kisses on your body along the way. It tickles, but at the same time it feels incredibly good; getting attention from Changbin like this is akin to a dream, something you once believed impossible for you to experience. And he is as attentive and caring now as he has ever been, leaving no part of your body untouched.

His fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts and underwear, pulling them off together in one motion. The way he stares down at your now fully exposed body makes butterflies erupt in your gut, the desire in his eyes palpable. Your legs unconsciously begin to close together, Changbin’s gaze on you making you the most shy you’ve ever felt.

“Please don’t hide from me, I want to see you,” he says, and wow, does that make the butterflies a million times worse. With a breath to try and steady your racing heart, you spread your legs, watching with bated breath as Changbin lowers himself between them. The sight in front of you, of the person you love most drooling in anticipation between your legs, is enough to make your head spin.

God, he wants to taste you so bad- and he will, but not just yet. He kisses your thighs first, in a gesture that is incredibly sweet but also drives you crazy with need. You aren't sure if it is intent to tease you, to make you become impatient with want, but that's certainly the effect it's having on you. "Bin, please, need you so bad, please-"

Fuck, that makes him weak. As if he isn't a slave to you already, willing to do any and every thing to please you, endlessly subservient to your every desire. Your breath catches in your throat when his tongue runs between your folds, the way his eyes lock on yours as he does sending jolts of electricity throughout your body.

He hums as he laps at you, lifting your legs just enough to hook his arms underneath them, hands squeezing at your thighs. “Tastes so good,” he groans into you, tongue alternating between your hole and swollen clit, his hips grinding down into your mattress to give some much needed relief to his aching cock.

No one has ever eaten you out the way he is now- desperate, wet, and messy, a mixture of his saliva and your juices running down his chin. And you want to watch but you can’t- it’s impossible to keep your eyes open when you feel this good. Your sweet, drawn out moans encourage him to keep up the pace he set for himself, wanting nothing more than for you to come undone from his tongue alone before he adds his fingers.

And that's exactly what you do when he focuses all his intention on your clit, the low hum of approval he releases when you tug on his hair again being enough to send you over the edge. Your moans turn into loud whines as he keeps going even past the conclusion of your orgasm, showing no signs of slowing down even the slightest bit.

Your eyes roll back when he pushes two of his fingers easily inside you, overstimulation prickling your skin and jolting your body, yet you don't want him to stop. You'll take all he has to give, for as long as he wants to give it. And it doesn’t take long for him to find the spot inside that sends you reeling, the overwhelming pleasure making your mouth hang open in a silent moan.

Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, tug much harsher than before, but he loves it. Between the sensitivity, the way he hums and groans against you, and the expert use of his tongue and fingers together, you won't last long. One, two more presses into your sweet spot and your second orgasm rips through you much faster than the first one, with an intensity you’ve never felt before.

Your cum soaks his face and fingers, liquid pooling underneath you and drenching your bedsheets. Arched back falling back onto the mattress, your lungs desperately heaving, begging for air as you come down from the explosive high. “B-Binnie, wait, too much-” you whine as he licks you clean, that simple act alone proving much too overwhelming for your sensitive body.

He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand when he pulls away, looking down at you with dark, lust blown eyes. Your eyes travel from his face down to his painfully hard, leaking cock. “Do you want to fuck me?” you ask, the words leaving you before you can even hope to try and formulate that question less vulgarly.

You are going to kill him, he thinks. Because how can those words leaving your lips not make his entire body react, how can it not drive him insane with want? “Fuck, yes, I want to fuck you, so bad,” his voice almost a whine as it leaves him, desperate and craving the feeling of you wrapped snuggly around him.

“Condoms in there,” you tell him, pointing to the 2nd drawer of your nightstand. He leans over you to reach into the drawer, finding them hidden beneath your glasses case, medicine bottles, and various hand lotions. You chew at your bottom lip as you watch him tear open the packaging, unconsciously holding your breath in anticipation as he rolls it on.

He leans down to kiss you once he’s finished, letting you taste yourself on him as he rubs his length between your folds, letting your arousal and remnants of cum serve as its lubrication. Your body shudders when he presses the tip into your hole for the first time, making sure it’ll slide the rest of the way easily before he begins to fully sheath it inside you.

He’s so thick and feels so fucking good, it’s unbelievable; and you can tell he’s being effected by you equally as much, by the way his brows furrow and body trembles on top of you. He’s silently grateful for the condom serving as a barrier between his cock and your walls, because he’d surely blow simply from being inside you if he wasn’t wearing one.

"W-Wait-" your voice calls out when you can tell he’s ready to move, soft and breathy but still loud enough for him to hear. “What’s wrong, baby? Did you change your mind? We can stop right now if that’s what you want, there’s always next time, we can-” Changbin begins to ramble, clearly concerned that he’s somehow breached a boundary or did something wrong. It's endearing honestly, and in a different scenario you might let him ramble a bit longer, but now isn't the time for that.

“Changbin. It’s not that, it’s just..” you trail off, unsure of how you should word what you’re thinking to him. Honestly, you love that he cares so much, is willing to stop even when he clearly wants it so badly, and you don’t want him to think it’s somehow his fault that you need to stop and collect yourself for a moment.

It's not that you don't want to have sex with Changbin, or that he did something wrong. In fact, he did everything right, as perfect as he always is, exactly as attentive as you always imagined him to be. It's just.. this is the first time since your ex broke up with you that you’re having an intimate moment with someone and you feel.. vulnerable? Overwhelmed too, by the fact that someone you’re so in love with has the entirety of his cock buried inside you.

“I.. I still want to but.. can we maybe just cuddle for a minute?” you ask with a slight pout and Changbin’s heart positively bursts. It’s such a soft, cute request; one that endears him to you even more than he thought was possible. “Of course, angel,” he smiles, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you into a hug, “anything you need.”

He plants kisses on your cheeks, on your lips, under your ear and along your neck, keeping you pressed close to him as he does. “That tickles, Bin,” you giggle between his extremely light kisses, and you can feel him smile against your skin, endlessly delighted by the sound of your soft laughs in his ear. You wrap your own arms around him, hugging him tightly, indulging in the closeness between you.

You stay like that for some time- wrapped in eachothers arms, sharing kisses and soft words, tiny giggles escaping you whenever his lips brush over a ticklish spot. You can occasionally feel his cock twitching inside you, still impossibly hard and eager for further stimulation from your body. You’ve had enough comfort now, it makes you think- you want Changbin to feel good now, to lose himself in you the way he made you lose yourself.

“Binnie, you can move now,” you tell him, and again he twitches as you speak, “want you to fuck me.” Fuck, he has to resist going completely feral right now, cause the way you speak to him drives him absolutely crazy. One more kiss, then he unwraps his arms from you, lifting himself up and resting his palms on either side of your head. "I'll take care of you, show you how you deserve to be treated," he tells you, still eager to focus entirely on your pleasure even now.

But that’s not what you want now; he’s already done that. Taken such good care of you, treated you with so much love and care, shown you the depths of his affection. It's his turn to get whatever he wants. “No, fuck me,” you say, voice stern and confident in your words, “ruin me, I promise can take it.”

‘Oh my fucking god,’ he thinks. You’re the one ruining him, driving him so fucking crazy he almost can’t think straight anymore. But fuck, if that’s what you want, he’ll give it to you. Without holding back, until the both of you are delirious and breathless, minds foggy and eyes glossed over, he’ll fuck you.

"I love you," he says, one last display of affection before he loses himself; and lose himself he does, pounding into you so fast and hard straight away that it makes the air evaporate from your lungs. He grabs your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders and allowing him to sink deeper inside. Your hands claw the bedsheets underneath you, bunching them in your hands so hard that your knuckles turn white.

Changbin’s head falls back, curses leaving him freely, the harsh grip of his fingers bruising your thighs. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, the merciless drilling into the gummy spot inside you making your toes curl and body writhe. “So good, you feel so fucking good,” he whines, already so close to his high. And he can’t help that he's so close already, not with the way you squeeze so tightly around him and how pretty your moans and whimpers sound in his ears.

You want to tell him that you’re close too, that you’re gonna cum just from his cock, but you can’t; you’re too breathless, the only noises you’re capable of making are high pitched sounds of pleasure. But it’s okay that you can’t tell him, because he can tell with the way your eyes roll back, tears freely falling once you squeeze them shut, body trembling as your third orgasm hovers over you.

So he gives you a little push, bringing two of his fingers to your clit and rubbing in quick, sporadic circles. You cum hard, body convulsing underneath him and a string of expletives pouring out of you. “F-Fuck,” Changbin gasps out, the sight of you, so pretty and fucked out, while squeezing him so tight and gushing all over him- he can’t hold it back anymore.

“C-Cumming, f-fuck, ‘m cumming-” he tells you with a groan that transforms into a whimper, thrusts sloppy as he comes undone, pouring all he has to give into the condom. He pulls out as soon as his high recedes, slipping the condom off and tying it closed, tossing it aside to be properly disposed of later.

His body is heavy as he flops down next to you, the both of you entirely spent. You open your closed eyes when you feel him wipe the stray hairs that clung to you from sweat out of your face, only to be met with one of the sweetest smiles you’ve ever seen. “You look happy,” you say with a small giggle, one that he easily returns. “Of course I’m happy. I just got to fuck the prettiest girl in the world, and she loves me.”

“Mm, I’m happy too,” you say as you snuggle in closer to him, “because I can say that Seo Changbin is my boyfriend.” You give him a quick peck before you lay your head down, eyes once again closing as his arms wrap around you. You’re so exhausted, but it’s a pleasant kind now; the kind that follows a perfect day, where every moment of happiness will be playing in your mind even as you drift asleep.

“I meant what I said, you know. That I’m gonna take care of you, treat you how you deserve to be treated,” Changbin whispers to you, following it up with a soft kiss to your temple, “love you so much.” You hum an acknowledgement, whispering an ‘I love you too’, much too tired to fully put into words how much that means to you.

And you know it’s true, because it’s what he has always done, even before he confessed his feelings to you. He’s always been there for you, doing his best to cheer you up even when it wasn’t easy, always listening to you when you did have rare moments of vulnerability. You may have been blind to it before, too stuck in your head and your overwhelming feelings to see how much he truly loved you, but you know now, and that’s all that matters.

Sweetly, tenderly, he lifted you up out of the eternal dark, assured you with the sweetest of words and kindest of gestures. You had always thought you deserved everything you got from your ex, from life in general, always placing the blame for why things were so hard on your own shoulders. Until Changbin’s words, you never considered that you didn’t deserve it- that you should be allowed to experience joy and happiness freely and without worry of it being undeserved, or of it coming to an end.

Your mindset won’t change in a day, and you’ll always have your depression and pessimistic thoughts to struggle with, but that’s okay now. Because you know you have someone who loves you unconditionally, who will help you to see the bright side of every situation, who will support you and care for you on the days you can’t care for yourself.

His love as beautiful as the flowers you care for everyday, his care the nutrients you need to bloom into the radiant person that lies under the dirt. You think back to the purple hydrangeas, and how their meaning reflected something you always wanted. You didn’t realize it then, but you had it all along; someone who loves you, someone who cares, someone who understands. And they’ll stay your favorite flower, you think- because you’ll always remember the way Changbin held them out to you, love and concern embedded in his eyes, the beginning of the biggest, most vibrant bloom of your life.

if you're seeing this, then thank you so much for reading until the end !! i have so much to say, firstly being that the deadline extension helped so much sfdgf i'm still getting this out basically the day it was meant to be posted (it's currently just past 2am on the 21st as i'm posting) but the extension meant i could take my time proofreading and editing it and making sure i was completely happy with the end product before posting :) <3

that being said, this also took a bit longer for me to finish than i intended in the first place because i kept changing my mind about the structure. i knew from the very beginning that i wanted the fic to have the key points it does (i.e depression, purple hydrangeas, and the reader being the owner of a flower shop) but i wasnt happy with the dynamic i originally had set for the mc and changbin.

i actually had like. a good 3-4k words down before being like actually i hate this and reworking all their interactions gdsfhdg but i think that was for the best ! the childhood friends sort of relationship i gave them after deciding to rework the fic suits the overall tone of the story much better imo and i hope you think it was a good choice too <3 thanks again for reading, and i'm looking forward to possibly joining more writing events in the future !

actually, final thought, you know what else didn't help and made me get this out later than intended?? working on 3 oneshots at the same time gdfhdgh literally i am never doing that again (i hope, anyways) bye fr now

#skzwritingcafe #skzblossominglove #skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #changbin smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz angst #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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