Persimmon Problems
jaemin x reader
summary: fantasy crushes are all fun and games until it stops being a fantasy and heâs really talking to you. but what are you supposed to do when he invades every part of your life?
genre: fluff, angst, university au, non idol au, heâs not a frat boy but heâs basically a frat boy, inaccurate depictions of student council, I donât actually know what this is
warnings: swearing, drinking, implied sex (itâs pg-13), lmk if I missed any
wc: 18.3k (oops)
a/n: ahahaha remember that jaemin dream⌠yeah. anyways so Iâve looked at this for so long that I donât even know what this is anymore, all I know is that I canât keep working on it. also I still don't know what a persimmon tastes like so.. yeah. I really wanted to try one but if this stays in my drafts any longer I will go insane. I hope you all enjoy!!!! as always I'd love to hear what you think :)
Youâve never had persimmon before but you think maybe itâs the best word to describe Na Jaemin. He is a persimmon in your palm, an unknown flavor to be discovered if you dare to bite. It doesnât help that he chose to wear orange today, the sweater a shade away from pink.Â
Thereâs a pinch at your side. âYouâre staring again.âÂ
You glare at Renjun, who doesnât bother to look up from his laptop, working on the graphic for the student council. âWas not.âÂ
âWhatever,â he says. âJust donât let the pretty boy distract you from paying attention because I needed to finish this yesterday.â
âThe only one distracting me is you, and you arenât pretty.â You pretend his silence is agreement instead of him trying to force you to take notes as Professor Bae closes up the lecture.Â
Itâs not that you canât focus around Na Jaeminâyour perfect notes at the end of class prove just the opposite. Jaemin simply exists in another world. There is your corner, mostly filled with student council responsibilities and never ending university work, and there is Na Jaemin, honorary member of every frat on campus. Not that youâve been thinking that much about him, but his Instagram shows up in your recommended often enough for you to know that he goes to parties nearly every weekend. The sliver of overlap in the Venn diagram of your world and his only includes Microbiology on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1 to 4, and thatâs enough for you. To fantasize about him from here, a fruit youâll never have the opportunity to try.Â
Jaemin starts to turn around and you quickly turn to Renjun, resisting the urge to peek at him out of the corner of your eye. You look at the shapes on Renjunâs computer instead.Â
âThat looks like shit.âÂ
âTrust the process,â he says.Â
âYou spent the entire lecture working on this, you are aware we have a lab where you actually have to do things right?âÂ
âYou donât think you can handle it on your own?âÂ
âStop trying to bait me into doing all the work.â You close your laptop, standing and stretching. You see Jaemin out of the corner of your eye, a blob of black hair shuffling down the aisle toward the door to the classroom. The orange-pink sweater is actually a cardigan, large cream colored buttons keeping it together. Thatâs when you realize youâre staring again. Shit.Â
âAre we eating before lab or do you seriously think youâll finish that thing in the next thirty minutes?â You ask Renjun, who still hasnât moved.Â
âYou want to be president when you arenât even pressuring me into posting the election announcements that were supposed to go out yesterday?âÂ
âI want to eat something before we have to stare into microscopes, so what do you want?â You wonder if heâs focused enough to miss you grabbing his wallet out of his bag.Â
âWhatever you want is fine and if you use my card it will literally decline.â You curse and toss his wallet back into his backpack.Â
âShould have taken that class with Chenle, his card never declines.âÂ
âThatâs because itâs his parentsâ black card.â He finally looks up from his laptop at you. âAre you getting the food or not?âÂ
You open your mouth to say something extremely witty and/or smart, but your stomach rumbles. âIâm going to fire you when Iâm president.âÂ
âAnd who else will put up with your bullshit?â he calls as you walk down the aisle. You prepare a mature response (sticking your tongue out at him), walking backwards. Directly into someoneâbouncing off their chest, more specifically.Â
Hands grab your shoulders before you can react, straightening you before you have a chance to fall. âWoah there.âÂ
âHoly shit, Iâm so sorry,â you say as you turn around and find Na Jaemin staring at you. Apologies spill out, even as he smiles at you, a true, knees-to-jelly, threat-to-sunshine smile.Â
âDonât worry about it,â he says.Â
âSorry,â you repeat. Your brain struggles to diversify its vocabulary with him looking at you, smiling with his eyes in full focus. His eyes are so dark itâs difficult to distinguish between his pupils and his irises. Staring, again, the third time in an hour. Why canât you be normal around him?Â
âI was blocking your way out anyway, so it wasnât all your fault.â He steps back, letting you out of the aisle. At least, giving you the space to do it, since your feet decide not to work. He tilts his head at you, sending your brain into a spiral of predictions, ranging from heâs going to ask you out (rather fantastical) to heâs going to tell you that you have something stuck between your teeth (horribly realistic).Â
Instead, he says, âYouâre YN, right?âÂ
âYeah. How did you know that?âÂ
His smile widens when you say yes. âStudent council vice president, right?âÂ
You donât trust your voice so you nod.Â
âIâm Jaemin,â he says, extending his hand for a moment like he wants to shake hands but he pulls away at the last second. âYour picture is on the website.âÂ
âNice to meet you,â you say, mouth going through the motions on its own since your brainâs whiteboard has been wiped completely clean. The only thing left is NA JAEMIN in giant bold letters, bright red marker and all.Â
âYes, it is,â he says. Does he know the effect his smile has on people? Legally it could be considered a weapon. He pauses a moment longer, like he wants to say something else but instead he turns away, walking back to his seat, waving at half the class because of course he does.Â
You donât have to turn around to feel Renjun staring at you. You donât feel like hearing his judgy comments, even when theyâre only passed on through his eyes. Whoever said eyes are the window to the soul was rightâRenjunâs give you a clear view of the most judgmental person you have ever met. You leave the class without looking back.Â
Very few places nearby campus sell edible food, and even fewer are ever empty enough to be able to grab food and eat before the three hour lab starts. Today is even worse than normal, as if everyone has chosen to be hungry at the same time as you. You end up at a 7/11, grabbing Takis since theyâre the only chips Renjun will eat. You grab an iced tea, tapping your finger in line as you wait. Getting the food was enough of a distraction to keep you from thinking about Jaemin but as you wait for the person in front of you try to get a discount using a coupon that expired three months ago, you go over every millisecond of the interactionâand god, you were so awkward. All you really did was apologize to him, you couldnât even move. You have got to grow up, stop acting like a middle schooler with a crush.Â
The cashier finally gives up, giving the person a discount and waving them out. You set your food down and smile at her. She does her best to put a customer service smile back on her face, though you can see the exhaustion. You thank her as profusely as you can.Â
By the time you make it back to the lecture room, thereâs barely five minutes left of break.Â
âThank god, Iâm starving,â Renjun says, grabbing the bag out of your hands. You keep your iced tea on the side farthest from him, glaring at him until he tilts the bag so that you can reach it too. âWe are going to make Donghyuck cook tonight, I need real food.âÂ
âAgreed,â you say, covering your mouth with your hand so you donât spew hot chip dust everywhere.Â
âAnd I took pictures of you embarrassing yourself in front of Jaemin, so please try to replace me as your social media correspondent.â He smiles at you over the purple bag.Â
âYouâre horrible, has anyone ever told you that?âÂ
âMusic to my ears, sweetheart.âÂ
.
.
Unfortunately, Renjunâs graphic does look good, though still not good enough to warrant how much time he spent on it. The messy shapes donât look half as bad when theyâre the right color, and all the information is listed (not in Comic Sans, though itâs only a matter of time before he tries to use it again. You have yet to find out if he actually likes the font or just wants to be annoying). He posts it an hour after the lab, which wasnât half bad. Your percent error was under 50% for once.Â
Itâs a Friday morning, no classes since your university actually listened to the student requests for a three day weekend, which the student council (you) takes full credit for. Unfortunately, that doesnât mean you are responsibility free. Instead you sit in cheap plastic chairs rented from the events and planning committee and under a tent thatâs in serious danger of blowing away.Â
You cling to your ball cap, NCIT STUDENT COUNCIL embroidered on the front. The papers in front of you whip around, the weights on top of them holding steady. At least it isnât raining, though the thick clouds overhead get darker every minute.Â
Realistically, thereâs no reason for you to be here. All the information about running for student council is posted online and with over 30,000 students, only a small portion of the student body actually careânone of whom are walking around campus at 11 in the morning on a Friday. You pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders. Just another fifteen minutes and then Jisung will relieve you. Mark should be the one freezing his ass off since heâs the one that insists on upholding tradition, but as president he takes advantage of avoiding work whenever he can.Â
Only two and a half months before that privilege is yours. Assuming you are elected, of course, but thereâs no real danger in losing that. Youâve been a part of the council since freshman year, appointed as vice president as a sophomore. Few people have more qualifications, and fewer are actually interested in the position. Usually the competition comes from within the cabinet, but none of the rest of the guys have said anything about the running, though that might be because you havenât shut up about the position since freshman year. Either way, the position is all but yours, and there is absolutely no reason you need to sit here when you could be studying for midterms.Â
A strong gust of wind blows from in front of you instead of behind and this time you are too slow. Your cap flies off your head, tumbling across the empty quad. You shuffle after it, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly over your shoulders, which helps protect you from the cold winds. Unfortunately, said cold winds donât stop blowing, and your hat blows faster than you can shuffle. It reaches to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the squad by the time it finally stops.Â
Moving as fast as you can wrapped up one dry day away from mummification, you try to snatch the cap before it gets blown away again. You bend down to reach for it but a pair of sneakers appear in front of you and a mitten-clad hand grabs it before you can. You stand up and find Jaemin, wearing bright red earmuffs that have a green headband to make it look like a pair of cherries. He holds your hat out, smiling when he sees you (when he recognizes you?).Â
âWhatâs wrong? Hat got your tongue?â He waits, with an expectant smile. The boy next to him, wearing more layers than you, shakes his head. âSorry,â Jaemin says, âbad joke, I know, but I couldnât help it.âÂ
Even the most lovesick part of you canât defend him on that one. You take your hat from his outstretched hand, sticking it back on your head when you realize what your hair must look like after crossing the quad with all the wind.Â
âItâs Jaemin, from microbio,â he says, as if thereâs actually a chance you donât know him.Â
âThanks, Jaemin from microbio.â
He flashes a smile that warms you better than any sun. âMy pleasure, Vice President.âÂ
âYou can just call me YN,â you mumble.Â
âWhereâs the fun in that?â You swear he winks, though maybe itâs the wind blowing in his eyes.Â
The boy next to him nudges Jaemin with his shoulder, keeping his hands tucked safely in the pockets of his jacket. âArenât you going to introduce me?âÂ
Jaemin rolls his eyes. âThis is Jeno, heâsâGod, I guess heâs my best friend.â He glances at Jeno, unimpressed. âThe position is temporary.âÂ
âThanks!â Jeno says brightly.Â
âJeno, this is the vice president of the student council,â he says.Â
âYN,â you say, âIâd shake your hand butâŚâ You show your hands, stuck keeping the blanket wrapped around you.Â
âItâs alright, I lost my gloves, so my hands are stuck here.â Jeno lifts his jacket with his hands in the pockets, just to prove his point.Â
âHey, I didnât get a handshake,â Jaemin says.Â
âDid you need a handshake?âÂ
He tilts his head, showing off his jawline, not that youâre paying attention to that at all. It simply calls attention to itself, and who are you to ignore a jawline that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo (not the ninja turtle). He must be cold with so much skin exposed.Â
âIâll settle for some advice,â Jaemin says. Right, maybe you shouldnât be comparing his face to famous works of art mid-conversation (save it for the Instagram stalking like everyone else).Â
âAdvice?âÂ
âI was actually looking for you anyway.â Jaemin glances at Jeno before meeting your eyes again. âThe student council election is open to anyone, right?âÂ
âThe presidency is open to seniors that are enrolled here, but yeah,â you say. âWhy?âÂ
He shrugs. âIâm going to apply.âÂ
You blink at him. âFor president? Of student council?âÂ
âYeah,â he says. Jeno shuffles beside him, stuffing his hands impossibly deeper into his pockets.Â
President⌠but thatâs your position. If it wasnât for the senior-only rule, youâd already be president. You rose through the ranks, suffered through a vice presidency with Mark to get hereâitâs your position.Â
âDo I apply there?â He asks, pointing at the table youâre supposed to be sitting at.Â
âThe application is online,â you find yourself saying, âyou have to submit a resume and go through a qualifying process, and submit your proposals for campaign policies and a whole bunch of other stuff, itâs all on the application information.â Youâre about halfway through your own application, though itâs mostly copying and pasting from the document youâve been working on since you joined student council.Â
âYou can scan the QR code on this blanket, itâll take you to the application.â You hold it straight, cursing Renjun in your head for being so creative with marketing. You look like an idiot, waiting for him to scan your shoulder.Â
âCool,â Jaemin says, pulling out his phone, but instead of scanning the code, he hands it to you, a new contact profile with your name already in it. You glance between the phone and the smiling boy. âCan I ask you if I have any questions?âÂ
Jaemin is asking you for his phone number. To help with his campaign, against you. Your brain works in overdrive, trying to determine how you are supposed to feel. Your heart doesnât hesitate to take advantage of the internal turmoil. You put your number into his phone and hand it back to him.Â
âSure,â you say, even as your brain screams at you not to. âWhatever I can do to help.âÂ
He grins and your brain fully malfunctions, gears popping, cartoon sparks flying. âThank you, YN.âÂ
âNo problem,â you mumble, knowing thatâs not true at all even without a functioning brain cell. You should have let him call you vice president when you had the chanceâthis is so much worse.Â
âI should go back,â you say, taking a step backward, a gamble considering your history of walking backwards around him. Trying not to linger in Jaeminâs presence is like a planet resisting the pull of gravity to the sunâno matter how hard you try, you canât beat physics. Â
 But maybe he isnât the sun because when you take another step, Jaemin takes a step to follow you. Are there stars that revolve around planets? But Jaemin doesnât revolve around you, he doesnât even exist in your solar system. Maybe a black hole is a better metaphor, sucking you in from a galaxy over. You should stop making metaphors based on middle school astronomy.Â
You peer at Jaemin as he continues across the quad, walking leisurely beside you as you shuffle. Jeno trails behind slightly, risking the cold to pull out a phone.Â
âAre you following me?âÂ
Jaemin looks at you over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. âYou think youâre that special already?â Before you can answer, he laughs. âBut, yeah, I am. I canât leave you all by yourself out here, anything could happen.âÂ
âAs opposed to by myself at the table?âÂ
He shrugs. âThereâs two chairs. I could sit with you.âÂ
Itâs your turn to raise your eyebrows, looking him up and down. Heâs got a puffy jacket (bright red, probably to match with the earmuffs) and jeans. âYouâd freeze in five minutes.âÂ
âYou couldââÂ
âAre we going to Doyoungâs or not?â Jeno calls from behind you.Â
âRight,â Jaemin says, âI definitely did not forget about that.â He glances at you. âRain check?âÂ
âIâm sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to keep me company freezing my ass off,â you say, âbut seriously, I wouldnât let you stay anyway.â You reach the table, turning to face him.Â
Jaemin pouts. âWhy not?âÂ
âFor starters, I donât want to be responsible for the hypothermia youâre bound to catch,â you say, âand itâs a student council thing. Youâre not a part of the student council.âÂ
âNot yet.âÂ
Right. The standard, crush-threatening-the-dream-youâve-spent-three-years-working-toward-situation. âAlso, no offense, but I barely know you.âÂ
âOffense taken,â Jaemin says, holding a hand over his chest. âWeâve taken half a class together!âÂ
âWeâve spoken twice if you count today!â You say. Does he really not get it? âAt the very least it would be awkward.âÂ
âI take full offense to the idea that I could ever be awkward,â Jaemin says. He folds his arms over his chest, eyeing you. âIâll prove it to you.â Your gut twists, sending off the warning bells, but thereâs no way Jaemin is actually flirting with you. He probably hates the idea that someone doesnât immediately trust him with their heart and soul. He doesnât need to know that you already do. Thatâs why thereâs simply no way heâs flirting with youâit simply doesnât make sense.Â
âDude, we seriously need to go,â Jeno says. âDoyoung is spam texting.âÂ
Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at you. âIâll see you in class.âÂ
âBye Jaemin,â you say. You watch him walk away with Jeno, throwing his arm over his friendâs shoulders. He doesnât look back at you.Â
What just happened?Â
Jisung approaches so quietly you jump when you turn around and he stands in front of you. âWas that Na Jaemin?âÂ
âYesâwait, how do you know him?âÂ
Jisung avoids your eyes, turning to watch the pair of boys trudge away. âRenjun talks.âÂ
Youâre going to kill him. But first you need to defrost, so you hand the blanket over to Jisung and jump a few times to warm yourself up, trying in vain to make up for the loss.Â
âWhat was he doing here?â Jisung asks, wrapping himself so tightly his feet are bound together. One strong push would send him tumbling over, probably unable to get up. If only it was Renjun.Â
âHe wants to be president.âÂ
âOf student council?âÂ
âApparently.âÂ
âHuh.â Jisung sits back. âArenât you supposed to be president?âÂ
âYep.âÂ
âHuh.â Jisung stares at you.Â
âHave fun!â You say. The air without Jaemin is so much colder. Maybe your toes have frostbite. âItâs cold!âÂ
Jisung grunts, huddling down and you donât spare a second look at him. Thereâs a solid chance heâs texting Renjun already, since your best friend has decided to be a dirty gossip. You walk along the sidewalk and try to tell your heart that no matter how pretty his smile is, Na Jaemin is bad for you. Your heart reminds you that he saved your hat.Â
Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, fully expecting to see a message from Renjun but instead a string of numbers show up. you better save my number :). You stare at your phone until it fades to black, which is why you know the exact moment it starts to snow. Though itâs March and the groundhog didnât see its shadow, a snowflake falls on your phone, melting quickly. You walk home in the snow, thoughts of Jaemin piling up a snowbank that no plow can clear.Â
.
.
For breakfast on Tuesday morning, you have an untoasted bagel with a side of impending doom. You woke up with the feeling, a knot in your gut that usually only appears before exams or after you drink too much coffee, but today has chosen to warn you of unknown horrors yet to come. It has to be the dream you had, only you forgot it the moment you woke up.Â
[Bitch #1] Youâre just trying to avoid jaemin.Â
You donât know why you expected Renjun to support you. Unsurprisingly, he found out about Jaeminâs intent to run for president before you made it back to your apartment, and dedicated an hour to lecturing you over FaceTime, then spent the entire pregame on Saturday side eyeing you.Â
Jaeminâs message sits at the bottom of your recent texts. He hasnât sent anything since Friday, though neither have you. You close your phone and try not to think about him, an impossible task. In the end you canât think of a valid excuse, and go to your morning lecture. Itâs one of your favorite classes (world history of medicinal developments 1200-1600) but today your mind drifts, still trying to figure out why today feels so off. Are you forgetting an assignment? Youâve checked the syllabus for all of your classes and the reminders your professors sent out but nothing has slipped past your the list on your planner. You check your outfit after class to see if you put something on backwards but you look fine. By the time you head toward microbio, youâve resigned yourself to a day of inexplicable anxiety.Â
You should have trusted your gut.Â
You take one step into the room and the knot in your gut twists itself into a mess that spells out leave now while you still have the chance.Â
In your normal spot at the back of the classroom, sitting beside Renjun, sits Jaemin, grinning and waving at you like heâs been sitting there the entire semester.Â
You walk carefully down the aisle of desks, stopping in front of him. âYouâre in my seat.âÂ
Jaemin doesnât seem to notice Renjunâs snort, opting to smile at you. âHello YN, itâs nice to see you.âÂ
âHi Jaemin,â you say, âyouâre in my seat.âÂ
He rolls his eyes, sliding his backpack to the side and slipping into the next seat over. âI was just getting to know Renjun.âÂ
You glare at your best friend, sitting beside him. âIâm sure heâs been lovely.â Renjun smiles innocently, turning back to photoshopping a graphic of the student council. Â
Jaemin pulls out his laptop, sitting leaning back into the chair. Is he planning on sitting here for the whole class? Â
âWhat are you doing?â You ask softly. Renjun continues to click around, not even pretending not to eavesdrop.
âI told you, I could never be awkward,â Jaemin says.Â
âSpeak for yourself,â you mutter, shrinking in your seat. Does he really not notice the class staring at you? Okay, maybe staring is an exaggeration, and itâs not the whole class, but the people he normally sits with keep glancing back at you and whispering to each other.Â
Professor Bae walks in and they turn back to the front, saving you from (more) embarrassment. From the corner of your eye, you watch the boys at your sidesâRenjun doesnât bother to open the notes doc he shares with you, opting for continuing the edit, which you canât really complain about because itâs the series of posts you asked him to make. Jaemin pulls up a cartoon series, Teen Titans, volume off with the subtitles on.Â
âIs this what you do every class?â You whisper.Â
Jaemin looks away from his fake typing for a moment. âShe grades for attendance, not participation.âÂ
âAre you even passing this class?âÂ
Jaemin grins. âSweetheart, I skew the curve.â Just to prove his point, he pauses the bickering superheroes and pulls up the grade review for the class. True to his word, his scores are well above average, rivaling your own. With the exception of Renjun, you havenât met anyone whoâs gotten similar grades.Â
Jaemin smiles, switching back to the show. He exudes confidence, and why wouldnât he? Not only hot and popular, heâs smart too, smarter than youâit takes you hours of studying, exam cram sessions, paying attention in classâhe doesnât even hide that he isnât paying attention, and from his reputation alone, you know he doesnât spend as much time studying as you. Does he know what heâs getting into with student council? Even the laziest of presidents put in several hours of work a week.
Jaemin laughs at the show. Renjun finally glances at you, raising his eyebrows at Jaemin in a silent question. You shrug, mouthing, I donât know either. He purses his lips and turns back to photoshop. Youâre sure the second Jaemin steps away heâs going to be on your ass again.Â
Belatedly, you realize youâve spent far too much of the class thinking about Jaemin. Professor Bae has already moved on from weekly announcements to new topics, meaning you have a date with YouTube review videos tonight. Thank god Professor Bae actually cares about her students and has recorded lectures. You just have to hope you didnât miss one of the exam hints she only drops during class.Â
Jaemin and Renjun stay quiet for the rest of the class period, though it does little to help you actually focus. Between Jaemin existing next to you and the inevitability of Renjunâs judgment, itâs hard to stay focused on virus identification. You take half the notes you usually do.Â
But can you really blame it on them? Itâs you that loses focus, you that is distracted by Jaemin beside you when he doesnât actively try to pull your attention. He may have disrupted the balance of the universe by sitting beside you, but that doesnât mean you have to fall off the scale.Â
Professor Bae announces the end of lecture a couple minutes early. You swear you see her raise her eyebrows at you and glance at Jaemin before disappearing into her office for the half hour break before lab. Is it too self-absorbed to wonder if sheâs taking things the wrong way? But what is the wrong way? None of it makes any sense except that maybe Jaemin is too stubborn for his own good. Funny how a week ago he didnât know your name and now you can say heâs âtooâ something.Â
âSo what do you normally do during break?â Jaemin asks. âOther than bounce off the chest of your roguishly handsome classmates.âÂ
You roll your eyes to keep him from noticing how flustered his comment actually makes you. âGo over the prelab in case someone forgets to do itââ
âI always do it!â Renjun says.Â
ââbut usually get snacks and do homework. Lately Renjun has been doing a lot of student council work during class, but thatâs because he doesnât know how to manage his time.âÂ
âSays the one who asked me to design a scheduler for them.âÂ
âJust because youâre good at Canva doesnât mean youâre on top of your work.âÂ
Renjun shakes his head. You can tease him all you want, at the end of the day, you know that it doesnât really matter. The truth is, he just doesnât need to study as much as you. Sort of like Jaemin, and absolutely nothing like you.Â
âWhat do you normally do during break?â You ask.Â
Jaemin purses his lips. âWell, my lab partner rarely does the prelab, so usually I let him look at mine.â From the row where Jaemin normally sits, a guy in a striped yellow polo glares back at you.Â
You glance between him and Jaemin, who turns away from his partner to look at you. âShould you go over there?âÂ
âProbably.â He doesnât make a move to get up, instead tilting his head and smiling at you a little. âYouâre very interesting, YN.âÂ
You cough, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the A key on your laptop which is in serious danger of falling off. âWell, your lab partner is probably going to try and inject you with a virus during lab if you donât go over there.âÂ
Jaemin laughs. âYouâre probably right. Iâll talk to you later.â He stands up and glances at Renjun, who finally looks away from his laptop. Jaemin nods at him and flashes a smile at you, showing perfect rows of white teeth, and finally turns around, backpack half open in his hand.Â
You tear your eyes away from him, turning back to Renjun, who sits with his elbow on the armrest, chin in hand. He softens his eyes and looks up at you. âYouâre very interesting, YN.âÂ
âShut up,â you say, pushing his elbow out from under him, though he doesnât fall like you wish he would.Â
He shakes his head. âI do not like that guy.âÂ
âReally?â You frown. âWhy?âÂ
âThe fact that youâre even asking me that.â He sighs. âHeâs just not my favorite type of guy.â He glares at you before you can tease him. âYou seem to exclusively be attracted to shitty men, and then I become associated with them through proximity and itâs overall not a fun time for me.âÂ
âOkay first of all, you barely know Jaemin,â you say, âand second of all, nothingâs ever going to happen with him.âÂ
Renjun raises his eyebrows.Â
âSeriously,â you insist, âheâs literally Jaemin, and Iâm⌠not his type. You can hate him all you want but donât do it on my behalf.âÂ
Renjun stares at you a little longer. He doesnât believe you, and heâs probably right not to. But he turns back to his computer and doesnât argue back.Â
âI didnât do the pre lab, though,â Renjun says, âthat was a lie.âÂ
âIâm going to kill you and make it look like an accident.âÂ
.
.
Jaemin doesnât show up to class on Thursday. You stare at your phone, the single message in your conversation with him. Curiosity and something bitter boil together, making it impossible to think logically. He acts so friendly around you it would be easy to mistake him for a friend, but itâs not like you donât have friends. You wouldnât have a second thought about sending a text like this to Renjun or Donghyuckâbut youâve never felt butterflies when either of them looked at you.Â
So when your phone dies, you slip it into the pocket of your sweatshirt instead of trying to fight Mark for a charger (ever since âsomeoneâ stole one, heâs been overprotective of the cords). Itâs movie night anyways, itâs not like you need your phone.Â
âWait,â you say, âsince when are we watching Endgame?âÂ
âWe literally just voted,â Donghyuck says, âYou could have tied it for Lilo and Stitch but you werenât paying attention.â He glares at you.Â
Mark throws an arm over your shoulders. âItâs all good, YN can just make the popcorn.âÂ
âItâs hitting buttons on a microwave.âÂ
âOh, would you look at that, the movieâs starting!â Mark says, pushing you off the couch and towards the kitchen of his apartment. You glare at him, but the guys have made you watch Marvel movies enough times that you are glad for the excuse to escape any part of it. Itâs bad enough you can hear it from the kitchen.Â
The shelves in Markâs apartment are tall enough that he keeps a stool in the kitchen so that he can reach the highest of them. Of course thatâs where he keeps his popcorn, so you jump as high as you can, snatching the box. Except you pull a little too hard and the box flies clean out of your hand, your feet slipping out from under you. You tumble to the ground, narrowly avoiding banging your head on the faux marble countertop.Â
A moment later, Donghyuck appears standing over you, box of popcorn in one hand. âYou could have just used the stool.âÂ
âThatâs so much work.âÂ
âAnd yet it keeps you off the floor.â He holds out his free hand and helps you stand. Your tailbone hurts a little but otherwise it seems you dodged major damage.Â
âYou okay?â Chenle shouts.Â
âFine,â you shout back. You wonder what the odds are that theyâd let you bleed out to finish the movieâprobably higher than what you want to calculate. At least Donghyuck is as anti-Endgame as you.Â
He sets the box on the counter, pulling the plastic off a bag and putting it in the microwave for five minutes. You wouldâve just used the popcorn button but Donghyuck insists it tastes better this way. He turns around, leaning against the counter and studying you.Â
âSo,â he says.Â
You raise your eyebrows. ââSoâ what?âÂ
âSo, Jaemin.â Donghyuck stares at you, eyes unreadable. Heâs been like this ever since you met himâpulling people apart with his eyes and extracting the most important bits, all with a smile on his face. He knew Shotaro was going to drop out before Shotaro did.Â
âHeâsâŚâ A friend? A crush? The guy you wish would stay out of your life so you could keep daydreaming about him?Â
âHeâs sort of famous,â Donghyuck says. âOr infamous, depending on who you ask.âÂ
âAnd if I ask you?âÂ
Donghyuck smiles like this is going according to his script. âHeâs lots of fun to party with. I donât know anyone that doesnât like him.âÂ
âBut?â You jump when the first piece of popcorn pops.Â
Donghyuck pins you down with his eyes. âBut he isnât the boyfriend type. I mean, Iâm not best friends with the guy, but itâs pretty obvious, and I talked toââ
âStop.â You hold a hand up. âI know exactly what kind of guy he is, Iâm not an idiot.âÂ
âIâm not saying youâre an idiot, I justââ
âDonghyuck, I get it.â You stare back at him. âI really do, but I promise I know what Iâm doing.â Okay, maybe that last part is a lie, but you know what you arenât doing. You donât expect a single thing from Na Jaemin.Â
âI heard heâs running for president.âÂ
âCome on,â you say, âyou think he can beat me?â Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. He wonât call you out on it, but he doesnât have to. Your lie doesnât even convince yourself. Jaemin has it allâgrades, good looks, and, most importantly, popularity. Yes, he can beat you. Easily.Â
âWhy are you helping him?âÂ
âJisung canât keep his mouth shut, huh?âÂ
âRenjun was actually the one that told me, but thatâs not the point,â Donghyuck says.Â
âHe hasnât even asked for help,â you say, âand itâs not like Iâm going to give up. I justâŚâ
âYou like him,â Donghyuck says. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to try to deny it but you wonât fight a battle thatâs already lost. But you wonât admit it either.Â
âI know what Iâm doing.âÂ
Donghyuck chews on his lip for a moment. âJust be careful,â he says, âI do care about you. A little. Just a tiny bit. And from what I know, Jaemin is a good guy, but I donât want you to get hurt because he isnât what you want him to be.âÂ
âGross, stop acting like weâre friends,â you say.Â
âNever mind, I take it all back,â he says, âand I wonât be your vice president.âÂ
âToo late.â You shrug. âYou already signed a contract.âÂ
âFine, Iâll veto everything you propose.âÂ
âYou donât have the power to do that.âÂ
He tossed his hands up. âWhat is the point of being vice president?âÂ
You beam at him. âDoing the shit I donât want to do!âÂ
Donghyuck opens his mouth to argue back but he pauses, sniffing at the air, and thatâs when you realize the popcorn has long since stopped popping. Behind Donghyuck, smoke rises.Â
He curses, pressing the button to open the door only to take a wave of smoke straight in the face. At least the bag isnât on fire. You laugh as he waved his hand in front of his face, coughing.Â
âDude, what is that smell?â Mark shouts from the living room.Â
You spend half the movie bickering with Donghyuck while trying to get the sharp smoky scent out of Markâs kitchen. By the time the Avengers have all the infinity stones again and are in the final battle, you are curled up on the floor with a blanket, the popcorn bowl confiscated by Chenle when he realized how much you and Donghyuck ate while making it (it sort of tastes like smoke anyways). Two Marvel movies later, Mark shakes you awake and sends you and the rest of the guys out.Â
Youâre so tired by the time you get home, you plug your phone in and fall asleep. Thatâs why you donât see the message until your alarm goes off the next morning.Â
[Na Jaemin] you busy?Â
.
.
For the past three weeks, youâve tried meditation. Renjun swears by it, but youâve seen him lose it over half a quesadilla, so it doesnât exactly instill confidence in you. Still, you set aside ten minutes every morning to listen to the podcast he sent you. Itâs meant to be calming, to connect you with yourself, and usually you do feel better, at least for a few minutes.Â
You peek at your phone, checking how much time in the lesson is left (3 and a half minutes). No new notifications.Â
Jaeminâs message gave you a heart attack when you woke up. He sent it at 8:12pm, probably right after your phone died. So seeing his message first thing in the morning woke you up pretty fast. You sent an apology that you definitely didnât rewrite fifteen times, and now you wait.Â
But no, youâre meditating right now. Clearing your mind, not thinking about a single thing except the air that floods your lungs, letting your heart beat twice before releasing the air again. You peek your right eye open. No new notifications.Â
The narration ends and you sigh, laying back on your bed and checking your schedule for the day even though youâve memorized it. In half an hour you need to be in the library to meet with your study group, then a council meeting, some space for lunch (which will undoubtedly end up crashed by Chenle or Donghyuck), then more homework in the afternoon. Tonight youâre supposed to go to a party thrown by one of Markâs friends from grad schoolâdepending on whether Renjun can find out if heâs a poli-sci major or not.Â
You jump when your calendar disappears and the incoming call screen pops up. You stare at Jaeminâs name for a couple seconds before your brain begins to function again, and you slide the button at the bottom of your phone to answer the call.Â
âHello?âÂ
âYN,â Jaemin says. His voice is a little deeper than normal, raspy like he just woke up. âI was starting to think youâd blocked me.âÂ
âSorry, my phone died last night and Mark doesnât let anyone use his chargers.âÂ
Jaemin laughs, the phone distorting the quality, sounding choppy and un-Jaemin. âDamn, does the student body know he treats his council like this?âÂ
You laugh a little but canât think of anything else to say. The silence stretches longer as Jaemin doesnât speak either. The ceiling of your apartment has a constellation of holes, evidence of the former tenantâs antics. You have yet to figure out exactly what it could beâstabbing the ceiling with a broomstick? What does Jaeminâs ceiling look like? Heâs so hard to pin down, like the more you get to know him the less he makes sense. Heâs the type to have a messy room with clothes tossed everywhere and a bed thatâs never made, yet heâs also the type to keep it neat, put up diagrams to match the college aesthetic of studying even if Jaemin himself is allergic to it.Â
âSo,â Jaemin says, apparently realizing you arenât going to say anything else. âI actually texted last night because I wanted to see you.âÂ
You shove down the butterflies that spring up. âFor what?âÂ
âFirst of all, itâs cruel that you donât think Iâd want to see you just to see you. But also I was gonna ask to go over microbio together because I heard a rumor that Professor Bae talked about the final.âÂ
âDonât you have a lab partner?âÂ
âYeah, heâs who told me she talked about it. Unfortunately heâs worse at taking notes than me.â He pauses. âBesides, youâre much cuter.âÂ
âOh.â The butterflies breach containment, digging like madmen trying to escape your stomach.Â
âSo are you free?âÂ
Despite just checking your schedule, your mind goes blank. You frown, trying to remember what youâd just seen, and thank every deity that might exist that Jaemin canât see your face right now.Â
âIâm free after the council meeting. How is 12:30?âÂ
âDamn, council meetings on Fridays,â Jaemin says, âthat works though. Meet you in the library?âÂ
âWe can use the council room on the third floor,â you say, âno one else will be there.âÂ
âOkay,â Jaemin says, âsee you soon, YN.âÂ
âBye, Jaemin.âÂ
The butterflies have turned into zombies, rotting in your stomach and spoiling the leftover popcorn from last night. Itâs just sharing notes. Itâs just Jaemin. Heâs just a boy from another world. The butterflies groan and demand chocolate.Â
.
.
Council meetings feel a little bit like the Magic School Bus series. The tagline plays in your head: A normal council meeting? With this group? No way!Â
Some of the blame can be directed towards having such an eclectic group of majors, Mark as the only true political science major. The rest of the group has been adamant about keeping the council safe from political science majors (how Mark doesnât see the horrors of his classmates you truly donât know). Another point towards Jaemin, being biochem and pre-med.Â
Though being a non-poli-sci major doesnât mean he can handle the presidency. Mark can barely do that. Not that heâs a bad president. Though it sometimes feels like you do all the heavy lifting for him to take credit for, he does work hard. No, Markâs problem isnât his leadershipâitâs that he doesnât know when to give up.Â
The council meeting is long done but he continues to bicker with Donghyuck, who holds the entire student council hostage.Â
âItâs a proven fact,â Mark says. âHow are you arguing with science?âÂ
âCan science tell me what I feel?â Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest. His laptop has faded to black, the meeting notes long forgotten. âThis isnât about facts, itâs about my experience!âÂ
You check your phone. The meeting has already gone over fifteen minutes. Any longer and Jaemin could walk in on a very not-empty room with Mark committing a crime against Donghyuck for saying that Froot Loops have individual flavors. Maybe itâs time to intervene.Â
âYouâre just gaslighting yourself,â Mark says, âitâs not physically possible!âÂ
âWell, youâre not physically possible!âÂ
âThat makes negative sense. Iâm getting dumber listening to your attempts to argue.âÂ
âOkay,â you say, standing up so quickly your chair falls back. âThis isnât council business anymore. All in favor of concluding the meeting?â According to the official rules, Mark is the only one that can conclude the meeting, but Jisungâs hand flies up, followed quickly by Renjun and Chenle.Â
âCool, majority rule,â you say, ignoring the outrage on Markâs face. Donghyuck pretends to be mad too, but he was only arguing with Mark to piss him off. Heâll probably follow the older boy around just to ruin his day. The two always have some fight going onâyouâre convinced the reason Donghyuck agreed to be your vice president (if you win) is just because Mark would hate it.Â
Jisung leaves first, eager to escape from Donghyuck and Mark. Donghyuck pauses long enough to write a few more summarizing notes on the meeting but catches up to Mark before he can vanish, continuing to pester him about Froot Loops.Â
âGoing home,â Renjun says, âweâre going out tonight, by the way. Turns out Taeyong is an econ major, and also a former frat president.âÂ
âHuh,â Chenle says, âI canât believe neither Donghyuck or me know him.âÂ
Renjun shrugs. âI need to finish a couple projects since nothing will get done tomorrow.â He grins. âSee you guys later.âÂ
âBye Renjun,â you say, tapping your phone screen to check the notifications.Â
[Na Jaemin] in the libraryÂ
[Na Jaemin] lost in the libraryÂ
[Na Jaemin] nvm found the stairsÂ
[yn] need me to come find you?Â
[Na Jaemin] nah i donât get lost (yes please)Â
âYouâre texting with Jaemin?â Chenle breathes over your shoulder, making you drop your phone. Unfortunately itâs still open, your messages easy to read and Chenle doesn't hesitate to snatch it. At least the rest of the guys left, only Chenle is nosy enough to wonder who youâre texting.Â
âThis is painful,â he announces. He hands the phone back to you. âYou could at least add an emoji. Or, like, send more than one sad message.âÂ
âWhy?âÂ
Chenle shakes his head. âYou are texting the Jaemin, right? Na Jaemin?âÂ
âIs there any other?â Â
âYouâve got a chance here,â Chenle continues, ignoring your question. âNot many peopleâwell, Iâve actually heard heâs quite experienced but thatâs beside the point, because you have a chance and thatâs rare.âÂ
âGenuinely, I have no idea what youâre talking about.â You glance at the door, just in case Jaemin appears. Somehow you donât think you want him overhearing this conversation.Â
âOkay, look,â Chenle says, âyouâre you. Student council, 4.0 GPA, plans to be the next director of the WHO or whateverââ
âThatâs not at all what I want.âÂ
âânever a second you arenât working, and then thereâs Jaemin, and sure heâs a STEM major too, but the heâs type that strolls through life, who has things fall into his lap because heâs hot and lucky but you canât really be mad about it because heâs Jaemin.â He pauses, like that explains everything. But you already know that Jaemin exists in a realm outside your own. Chenle waits a moment longer then shakes his head. âYou know what, youâll figure it out eventually.â He glances at you with a frown. âMaybe.âÂ
âGood bye, Chenle,â you say pointedly.Â
He moves extra slow, closing his laptop only after spamming the save button. He once forgot to save a spreadsheet after a two hour budgeting session and you think heâs still traumatized. Still, spending a full thirty seconds hitting CTRL + S is excessive even for himâheâs stalling, trying to be as nosy as ever.Â
âIâm meeting him at the elevator so you can stop stalling,â you say. You hover over the send button, Chenleâs âadviceâ infecting your brain. You hit send before you can overthink it any more.Â
[yn] on the way now đÂ
Chenle sighs, returning to peeking over your shoulder. âYouâre hopeless.âÂ
You grin and give him a thumbs up. âThanks buddy. If you hurry you can run into him in the elevators.âÂ
Chenle perks up, grabbing his still-open bag and sprinting out the door. You feel a little bad for lying to him, but he was the one that didn��t read Jaeminâs messages closely enoughâevident from missing the fact that heâs on his way up the stairs and how Chenle thinks he might actually be flirting with you. You shake your head at the thought.Â
Just when you reach the doorway to the stairs and wonder if you should meet him in the stairwell, the door flies open. Despite climbing three flights of stairs, Jaemin breathes normally. A different backpack than usual is sling over his back, bright orange, like⌠well, an orange. (Persimmon, your brain unhelpfully supplies).Â
âHi,â he says. âSorry Iâm late.â You wonder how anyone is immune to his smiles. A smile like that robs you of everything irreplaceable and leaves you missing it as soon as itâs gone.Â
âYouâre not late,â you say, showing him the time on your phone as you walk to the council room. âExactly on time.âÂ
âOh.â He glances at you, and when you turn your phone back to face you, you understand the awkwardness.Â
[Chenle] good luck đ¤Şđ¤Şđ¤Ş
[Chenle] have fun with the hottie đĽđĽđĽ
[Chenle] but not too much fun đźđź
You clear your throat, praying he didnât get a chance to read all of the messages. âChenleâs just making fun of my emoji use. Or lack of emoji use.âÂ
Jaemin nods. âI hate to take the side of someone Iâve never met over you, but he might be right.âÂ
âI use a perfectly respectable amount of emojis,â you say. âBesides, Iâve never seen you use any.âÂ
âYouâre just going to have to text me more to find out.âÂ
Youâve never been so happy to see the doors to the council room. Itâs nothing more than a glorified study room, with a rectangular table that stretches in the middle of the room, eight wooden seats set around it. A giant whiteboard stretches the majority of the back wall. The only truly special part of the room is the projector that hangs from the ceiling, with a screen that needs a button to come down. The walls that line the hallway are glass, along with the doors, so that anyone can see the council discussions, though tucked away in the back corner of the third floor, only the occasional passerby is subject to the bickering.Â
Jaemin raises his eyebrows and whistles. âThis is nice.âÂ
âDonât lie,â you say. âThe only nice thing about it is that we have full access to it whenever we want.â You point to the sign that reads Student Council Members Only. Truthfully, the six of you use it more as a private study room than for actual council work.Â
âIt is nice,â Jaemin says, holding the door open for you. He pauses in front of the whiteboard. Chenle had been sitting closest to it, apparently spending the final thirty minutes of the meeting drawing out different game plans for the basketball club he somehow has time for.Â
âChenle,â you explain, âhe thinks heâs a part of the Golden State Warriors.âÂ
âHow much council work actually gets done in these meetings,â he says teasingly.Â
âYou catch on fast,â you say. âIt took me the full first year to realize how incompetent we are.âÂ
âHow come?âÂ
âThe president just wanted resume padding. He was incredible at sucking up to faculty and making the right people think he was a great leader, but he would send us fresh-terns to pick up condoms and sent Donghyuck with a fake to get drinks once.âÂ
âFresh-tern?âÂ
âThe freshman interns,â you explain, âsince the president is the only elected position and the rest of the council is appointed, the only way to get known is through the âinternship,â which technically is open to anyone but only freshman are dumb enough to dedicate that much time to a job that does absolutely nothingâlike, it doesnât pay or even guarantee you a spot on the council in the future. Itâs all based on whether the president likes you or not.Â
âAnyway, our president last year was marginally better, and he tried to abolish the seniors-only president rule but couldnât get it to pass in time, so we ended up with Mark. Not that Mark is a bad president, though council meetings could be half as long if he wouldnât go on tangents every two minutes.â You stop, realizing how much youâre talking. Youâve come dangerously close to telling him the truth about the presidency. Jaemin says nothing, probably bored. âAnyways, weâve got a few new initiatives this year but mostly we try to maintain the annual events and keep Markâs head on his shoulders until he graduates.âÂ
âSounds like fun,â Jaemin says.Â
âSometimes.â You pause. âHowâs your application going, by the way?âÂ
He glances at you, smile fading a little. He turns back to the whiteboard, this time studying the fading drawing Renjun made a month ago of a goat fighting Donghyuck. âStill figuring things out. Mostly working on my campaign goals.âÂ
You nod. A part of you wants to press further, learn more about his plansâbut because you want to beat him or because itâs Jaemin? Why is it so difficult to think clearly around him?Â
You sit at the table and open your laptop, pulling out your notes. He sits beside you, scraping the chair against the tile floors until his knee is an inch away from yours. He must not notice the way your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer. A moment later and your brain is invaded by his scent, a clean smell like laundry detergent or body wash.Â
âItâs organized by subject,â you explain. âUsually I take notes in class and then Renjun reviews and organizes it with keywords and highlighting and this coding system that I donât really get but he swears by. Either way it works for us.â You show him the keyword that Renjun uses to signify exam hints, combining it with the past classâs date to cross reference the relevant information.Â
Jaemin lets out a low whistle. âThis is crazy.âÂ
âYeah,â you say, âRenjun puts a lot of time into it. But when we study for exams, itâs worth it.âÂ
âYou know Renjun from student council?â He asks, beginning to type a few notes.Â
âI guess thatâs where I met him first,â you say. âBut heâs pretty much my best friend. The whole student council is pretty close, way closer than the group Mark came into. He tells us horror stories about how they made the fresh-terms compete just to turn them against each other, though thatâs back when it was filled with poli-sci majors.âÂ
âNone of you are poli-sci?âÂ
âIâm public health,â you say, âand Mark is poli-sci, but the rest of the guys avoided it. We swore that the next council would be free of the plague of poli-sci majors.âÂ
âYou really hate them?âÂ
âThey deserve it,â you say. âBut also itâs because I made the mistake of dating one last year.â You shudder at the memory.Â
âReally?â Jaemin looks away from his laptop, staring at you instead.Â
âDonât make fun of me,â you whine. âIt was a moment of weakness and he confessed to me with cookies.âÂ
âNot making fun,â Jaemin says. âWere the cookies at least homemade?âÂ
âWell, yes.â You shake your head, trying to stop the next bit from coming out. But Jaemin raises his eyebrows and you canât help it. âHe had his ex make them, actually.âÂ
âNo!âÂ
âYeah, and then dumped me for them after, like, two weeks, and the guys are all convinced that he cheated on me with them,â you say. âSo, no, I donât really like poli-sci majors.âÂ
âA good observation,â Jaemin says. His approval makes your cells glowâscientists could discover a new form of bioluminescence from within you.Â
Jaemin continues to stare at you, eyes full of warmth. Itâs so easy to get lost in them, glancing between the pure dark chocolate and fond smile on his lips. The change in light when your laptop screen fades snaps you out of it.Â
You eye him. âDo you even need these?âÂ
âNope,â Jaemin says. He grins at you. âJust an excuse to see you.â He turns back to the laptop and continues to copy your notes into his document. You turn around, giving him no chance to see the smile that creeps onto your face. You seriously need to get a grip. Jaemin needs to get a grip and realize that he canât flirt with you like this, not without completely upsetting the balance of the universe. But even as the world slides sideways, you smile.Â
.
.
âNothing special.â Thatâs what Renjun said when you asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. But March 23rd falls on a Friday this year, and everything snowballed from there.Â
Thatâs how you find yourself wearing an outfit even the most lenient parents would dub inappropriate, wearing more body glitter than exists in the state of Utah, taking your fifth shot.Â
âSixteen more to go,â Renjun says, patting your back. Why you promised to match him shot for shot, you arenât quite sure. You had reasoning, at some point. Definitely before the shots.Â
At least you arenât aloneâDonghyuck curls his lip after his shot, lime slice snatched out of his hand by Mark before he can take it as a chaser. Mark laughs as he grimaces.Â
 âWhatâs our motto?â Donghyuck shouts.Â
âTwo and three to infinity!â Mark shouts.Â
âNobody goes to the hospital!â You shout.Â
âTo the grave!â Renjun shouts.Â
âHuh, I guess we should have coordinated that,â Donghyuck says. âI was thinking something more like âhappy birthday Renjun.ââÂ
âShoulda said something,â you say. You take a step to the couch, the world tilting to the side, though maybe itâs actually you because you stumble into the wall. It holds you up until you make it to the couch, sighing as you reach solid ground. A couple people sit next to you, friends of friends of Renjun whose names you donât know regardless of the alcohol.Â
âYouâre YN, right?â The girl closer to you says, making you feel a little guilty for having no idea who they are. She beams when you nod. âI live in Apollo Hall, Karina is my RA, she says you aced biochem.â Â
âOh, yeah,â you say. âWho do you have?âÂ
âProfessor Ahn,â she says.Â
âHeâs good,â you say, âI had him for a different class and he talks off topic all the time but if you visit him in his office hours once, heâll remember and be more lenient on the research report. I can send you my notes, too, if you want.âÂ
She smiles even wider. âReally?âÂ
You nod, your brain sliding around your skull with the movementânot a good sign, only five shots into the challenge.Â
The music changes, a Britney Spears song that Donghyuck must have slipped into the rotation. The girlâs friend drags her up to dance before you get the chance to ask for her name.Â
Dancing sounds like so much fun, until you stand up and realize that youâve been hydrated too well. Your bladder announces its need for attention much like the maintenance worker that fixed the leak in your showerâloud and last minute.Â
You push your way through the people crowded at the edge of the room, making your way to the hallway where the bedrooms and, more importantly, bathroom are. You pass by a semi-familiar face flirting with a girl from Renjunâs study group, but your bladder gives no time for your brain to make connections of recognition, let alone time to wave.Â
Finally, you break the crowd, ignoring the couple making out concerningly close to Donghyuckâs bedroom door (something you like to call ânot my problemâ). All your focus is on the door to the bathroom, a piece of lined notebook paper taped on with RESTROOM scribbled in marker. Just as you reach for the handle, the door swings inwards.Â
You might have caught yourself, two or three shots ago. Instead you tumble forward, the floor coming to meet you fast. And then you arenât.Â
âWe have got to stop meeting like this,â Jaemin says, laughing. He caught you by the elbows, your face pressed into his chest. He helps you straighten up, though he doesnât let go of your arms.Â
âJaemin.â You grin at him.Â
He tilts his head. âYouâre drunk.â Â
âYouâre pretty,â you say. Jaemin tilts his head and smiles at you. Endearing. Endearing, that Jaemin has an amused expression on his face. Like he is endeared by you. How funny.Â
But he really is pretty. He must be hot in the leather jacket, loose over his broad shoulders. Yes, those broad shoulders. Heâs hot too. But first, heâs pretty. His black hair falls just above his eyes, loosely split down the middle, framing the perfect angles of his faceâthe perfect line of his nose, gentle curve of his cheekbones, that jawlineâand of course those lips. Perfect lips.Â
Jaemin leans closer. âYouâre prettier.âÂ
You burst into laughter, stopping only when you snort. âYou almost sound serious.âÂ
Jaemin doesnât say anything else, still smiling at you, only a couple inches of space between you. Ignoring those lips this close is impossible. Theyâre the prettiest shade of pink, and he must have put on lip balmâor maybe itâs the lightingâbecause they glow. What do they feel like? They have to be softâyouâd bet everything in your pocket (if these pants had pockets) he tastes sweet. Like a fruit, a yummy, juicy fruit, dripping with juice, which reminds youâpee.Â
You push past Jaemin, into the bathroom. âNeed to pee.âÂ
He catches his hand on the door before you can close it, frowning a little. âYouâre not going to slip and crack your head open?âÂ
âNope,â you say. âReally need to pee.â He lets go of the door and you slam it shut, using one hand on the counter to steady yourself while you fumble with the lock. After an eternity, you finally get to the toilet, which, despite the number of people crowded in a house of two college guys, isnât totally disgusting.Â
Two minutes, an empty bladder, and clean hands later, you push the door open. Your balance has improved just enough for you to feel confident in your ability not to die on the dance floorâand with perfect timing because Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz just started playing. You find Donghyuck in the middle of the room and join him, grinning when he cheers.Â
Renjun appears halfway through the next song, shots in hand. More of the tequila ends up on the ground than in your stomach by the time you knock it back but Renjun shouts, âSix!â anyways.Â
Another 2000s hit plays (itâs definitely Chenleâs playlist, which reminds you that you havenât seen him in a while) and you get Renjun to stay on the dance floor for the full song. Itâs hot and sweaty and you wouldnât be anywhere else in the world.Â
Donghyuck cheers again, hyping up the people that join your little circle. You turn to see Jeno, wearing a piece of fabric that technically could be called a shirt though it really looks like a hole for his head thatâs completely open at the sides except for the ties at the bottom. Beside him, and right next to you, Jaemin grins at you. He throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you against his side.Â
âAnd I was like baby, baby, baby, oh!â You shout along with the song, vaguely aware of the rest of the guys singing alongâexcept for Jaemin, who waits for Ludacrisâs verse to come in to rap it word for word.Â
Renjun drags you away before the next song can start. âNumber seven,â he shouts in your ear over the bass.Â
âWhat about Donghyuck?â You glance behind you where he starts a full performance, an empty water bottle as a microphone.Â
Renjun shrugs. âHeâll catch up.âÂ
You watch Renjun struggle to pour the tequila, holding the bottle with two hands off the edge of the counter to get the mouth as close to the paper shot cups as possible. You canât see how much tequila actually makes it into the cups but it burns its way down, sending your stomach spinning. Only a third of the drinks you are supposed to take with him but youâre already questioning the next round.Â
Renjun gets dragged away from you by some people you arenât even sure are actually his friends, but you lose track of him when someone tugs on your hand. Jaemin, again. He lost his jacket at some point, wearing a shirt that matches Jenoâs, showing off his considerable arms. Even in the poor lighting from the strobe lights Donghyuck set up, you can see the definition in his biceps.Â
Yeah, youâre definitely staring.Â
Jaemin asks something but you canât hear him over the music. You step closer, stumbling a little on your own feet. As always, he catches you, arm sliding around your waist.Â
âHow are you doing?â He shouts over the music.Â
You grab his other forearm to keep yourself from falling over. âIâm so hungry.âÂ
Jaemin leans closer, lips brushing against your ear. âWanna get out of here?â You raise your eyebrows at him and he grins. âThe McDonaldâs, across the street?âÂ
âI need French fries,â you say, letting go of his arm and spinning out of his embrace to face the door. He catches you before you can go too far (and fall on your face), looping his elbow through yours.Â
As soon as the door closes behind you, everything falls silent. Not everything, because you can still hear the bass from inside the house, and cicadas sing, and the highway is close enough to hear the rumbling of engines passing by. But quiet falls in the space between you and Jaemin, a breath waiting to fall free.Â
He doesnât let go over your arm, using his other hand to brace the three steps in front of Donghyuck and Renjunâs place. He leans on you as much as you lean on him, magnets stuck to each other, except magnets donât struggle to stay upright crossing an empty street. Maybe if they could get drunk.Â
The street light flickers above you, crackling electricity. You can feel Jaeminâs bare arm against yours, firm muscle held taut. You peek at the boy beside you, his head tilted to the sky. Pretty. You wonât say it again for fear of being repetitive, but itâs the right word for this moment. Not just Jaemin, but the chilly night air, the faulty light above you fighting with the neon lights to illuminate your breath. Youâll blame the alcohol in the morning, but tonight itâs all pretty.Â
Jaemin swallows, Adamâs apple bobbing up and down, and he turns to meet your eyes. Itâs definitely the alcohol but you donât look away.Â
The crosswalk changes to the white man, beeping at you to cross the street. You tear your eyes away from him, settling for clinging to his arm to make it past the striped crosswalk illuminated by headlights.Â
Youâre hardly the only drunk couple at McDonaldâs. Jaemin notices you limping a little and drops you off in a booth, stumbling on his own to order. You must have done something dancing, though you donât remember anything hurting. Your ankle hurts now, so you lean your head into your elbow and watch Jaeminâs back.Â
The fluorescent lights canât make him look sickly. They show his arms in their full glory, open sides revealing enough of his body to make you self-conscious. The hint of a farmerâs tan dusts his arms, shoulders just a shade lighter than his forearms. Where did he get that from?Â
So many questions about him. So much to know. So little you do know but you like him so much it gets so hard to tell. What matters.Â
Jaemin puts his wallet into his back pocket, turning around and smiling when he meets your gaze. He slides into the seat across from you. âPotatoes are incoming.âÂ
âDo you know what persimmons taste like?âÂ
âWhat?â His brow furrows, a cute frown that makes you forget what youâd asked.Â
âNever mind,â you mumble. Opening your mouth any more around him is a dangerous gameâyou arenât quite sure what will spill out.Â
He reaches out to tap his finger on your arm. Like the sun, being in his atmosphere makes everything warmer, his touch boiling your skin. The heat flows through your body, each cell vibrating with the need for something.Â
âYou feeling okay?âÂ
It takes considerable concentration to work past his finger, which has graduated to drawing shapes, and answer him. âRenjun wanted to do twenty-one shots for his birthday but seven is beyond enough.âÂ
Jaemin whistles. âIs Renjun going to survive tonight?âÂ
âProbably not,â you mumble. âThat opens up a council position. You could be a good social media person. Your face is pretty enough.âÂ
âIs that the only requirement for student council?â Jaemin asks. âBeing pretty?âÂ
âYou canât be a poli-sci major either,â you say, âwhich you pass. It helps that youâre smart, and kind. I like people that are smart and kind.âÂ
âThatâs a low bar,â Jaemin says. âWhat else do you like?âÂ
âHmâŚâ Your voice rumbles, a funny feeling in the back of your throat. You hum for a little longer before you remember Jaemin asked you a question. What do you like?Â
âSharks. Theyâre much cooler than dolphins. And potatoes, I love potatoes. I like Renjun. And Donghyuck. And Mark, even though heâs a poli-sci major. I like Chenle and Jisung. They might be my favorite people.â And you. I like you so much I donât know how to say it.Â
âWhat about doctors?â Jaemin leans closer, intertwining his fingers with yours. âDo you like doctors?âÂ
You lift your head up, pouting your lips at him. âDoctors have needles. I donât like needles.âÂ
Jaemin laughs. âEven if the doctor is super rich?âÂ
âRich? From taking all my money?â You cry.Â
âRich from saving peopleâs lives,â he says. âLike a neurosurgeon.âÂ
You squint at him, the blurriness of your eyelashes mixing with the blurriness of the alcohol and canceling out until his face becomes clear. âAre you actually pre-med because of Greyâs Anatomy?âÂ
Jaemin looks away, running a hand to the back of his neck. âMaybe.â His biceps are almost enough to distract you from his admission. Almost.Â
âOh my god.â You canât hold back the giggles, trying to cover your mouth with your hand. Tears prick at your eyes and you gasp for breath, stomach twisting the alcohol with the giggles and turning over itself until you arenât sure if youâre starving or need to throw up.Â
âItâs a perfectly respectable career!â Jaemin says.Â
âYou want to be Patrick Dempsey?â You say between giggles. âNot even McSteamy?âÂ
âHey, heâsâwait, you watch it too?âÂ
You shrug. âItâs fun.âÂ
âThen how are you making fun of me!â He cries.Â
âI didnât go into medicine because of it!âÂ
Before he can say anything else, the workers shout a number. He glances at the receipt and shoots you a glare without a drop of malice in his eyes and leaves.Â
Jaemin being silly. Jaemin bickering with you. Hard to believe that even two weeks ago, you never would have believed he watched childrenâs shows in class and chose his profession because of a soap opera. Jaemin who keeps surprising you, who makes you want to believe that maybe heâs from the same planet as you after all.Â
He brandishes the brown paper bag in front of him like treasure. What does it matter that youâre grinning because of him and not the golden treats inside?
âFor you,â he says, setting the bag in front of you and tilting it on its side so you can reach inside for the fries. âI didnât know what sauce, so I fought⌠Okay, maybe flirted with the worker, but the important part is that I got one of each.â He pauses glancing at you. âWhich apparently you donât need.âÂ
âSo good,â you say, eating them properly: no sauce, just freshly fried golden perfection. You look up to find Jaemin smiling at you⌠fondly? Is that whatâs in his eyes?Â
âWhat?âÂ
He shakes his head. âYouâre just cute.âÂ
You stare at him, fry halfway to your mouth. He looks down, the tips of his ears tinted red as he grabs a fry and dips it in honey mustard.Â
The rest of your time at McDonaldâs is dedicated to properly enjoying the French fries and not at all sneaking glances at Jaemin sneaking glances at you. You finish the fries long before the swirly feeling in your stomach goes away. The butterflies must be drunk too.Â
âBack to Renjunâs?â Jaemin asks, standing up and extending a hand for you to take. The most dangerous handhold of your life. You donât think twice about taking it.Â
âMm, Iâm pretty tired,â you say, âand Renjun was pretty adamant about the twenty-one shots thing. If we go back, he wonât let me go until one of us is in the hospital.â Walking is easy when Jaemin lets you lean on his shoulder. Standing just outside the McDonaldâs, your shadows stretch ten times as tall as you, the lines between you and Jaemin undefined.Â
Jaemin raises an eyebrow. âYou arenât worried about him?âÂ
âHe swore to send Donghyuck to the grave before him, heâll be fine,â you say, âplus Jisung is there, sober. Theyâll be fine.âÂ
âAnd you?âÂ
âIâll be fine when I get home.â You tilt your head up from his shoulder only for him to look down at you, his nose brushing against yours. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding. But you donât move away and neither does he.Â
âTake me home?âÂ
He doesnât move for a heartbeat, eyes flickering to your lips. Then he turns his head straight, patting your head with his free hand a couple times. âOkay.âÂ
You whisper directions, a ten minute walk from Renjunâs place. The walk home is considerably less stumbly, your balance recovered halfway through the fries. You cling to Jaeminâs arm anyway, more afraid of letting him go than falling.Â
The building appears far too quickly, Jaemin pushing open the glass doors and walking you to the elevators. You donât dare say a word to break the silence as the elevator dings to the third floor. He waits until you reach your door to disentangle himself from you, standing with the tips of his sneakers a millimeter away from yours, catching your hands in his.Â
âGoodnight, YN,â he says.Â
No. This isnât the time for goodnight, not when every atom in your body might explode if he takes a step away. You tighten your fingers around his.Â
âDo you want to come in?â You ask. âSee my apartment?âÂ
He tilts his head, a little frown creasing his brow. âOkay.âÂ
You fumble with your keys, hands shaking when you open the door. Emotions swirl around you, making it difficult to tell the difference between excitement and anxiety, if it exists. Calling the place an apartment is a bit of a stretch. Glorified broom closet is your preferred termâa bed shoved against the far wall with a tiny window next to it, desk tucked in next to it like a puzzle piece without enough space for a chair, a door for your bathroom, directly next to the âkitchenâ of a stovetop oven and sink, and a closet that barely fits your coats.
Beyond being tiny, you left the place a mess, second, third, and fourth contenders for outfits strewn on your bed, unwashed dishes in the sink. The entryway is the only space for the two of you to stand together comfortably but you lead Jaemin farther in, balling up the clothes and tossing them into your hamper underneath the bed.Â
âI donât normally have company,â you explain.Â
âItâs okay,â he says, âmy roomâs a mess too.â He picks up the pink teddy bear from your bed and smiles. âA gift?âÂ
You shake your head. âBought it myself for surviving sophomore year.â You pull the great white shark out from beneath a blanket. âFreshman year.âÂ
âCute,â Jaemin says, still looking at the bear.Â
You follow Jaemin as he wanders the tiny room. He pauses at a framed picture of the student council that sits on your desk. It was a gift from last yearâs graduating cabinet, the whole group, president, appointed cabinet, unofficial members, and the fresh-terns, fifteen people in total.Â
âThat oneâs my ex,â you say, the word still strange in your mouth. âIf you count two weeks as even dating.âÂ
âThe one in red?âÂ
You nod.Â
Jaemin snorts. âIâm way hotter than him.â He sets the picture and turns, and suddenly only a couple inches of space separate him from you. This close, you can see exactly how pretty he is, long eyelashes that cannot be natural, even longer when he stares at his toes instead of meeting your eyes. And, this close, you can see the soft pink of his lips, lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit.Â
Not drunk, not yet sober, itâs easy to lean a little closer, brush your lips softly against his. The kiss is over before you can think about it.Â
You open your eyes to Jaemin staring at you, eyes wide, somewhere between disbelief and fear. You open your mouth to apologize but he moves faster, hand coming up to cup your face and pulling you closer until you kiss him again, your hand instinctively catching you against his chest. He links his fingers with your free hand, tugging you even closer to him.Â
He moves slow at first, a gentle kiss that takes your breath away anyway. He pulls away when the stars flood your brain, smile boyish and sweet. His thumb strokes your cheek into the shape of a heart. Then he slides his hands to the back of your neck, letting go over your other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you against his chest.Â
Jaemin knows how to kiss. He moves like itâs his last chance, desperate lips telling truths words canât capture. And you might not have as much experience, but you understand the language of desperation. A never ending chain of fireworks explode within you, pushing you to wrap your arms around his neck, kiss him even harder. Your hands move on their own, tugging at the cloth of his shirt until he leans back, breathing heavily.Â
âHow far you want to go?â He asks, chest rising and falling with each breath. âYou know consent is so sexy.âÂ
You laugh, giddiness making it difficult to think. âYou have a condom?âÂ
Jaemin grins, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He slips the shiny packet out, tossing his wallet to the floor along with his shirt. He gives you a proper amount of time to ogle his chest before tugging you against him again, your heart pounding so hard against him he must feel it.Â
He tilts your head towards his until his lips brush against yours, and when he speaks, you feel every word. âNow where were we?âÂ
.
.
[Na Jaemin] sorry I had to go :(
[Na Jaemin] wish I could have been there when you woke upÂ
[Na Jaemin] but! I have a surprise
[Na Jaemin] [image attached]
[Na Jaemin] see you in the morning <3Â
You blink at the message, a picture of him wearing a fuzzy headband in the middle of his skincare routine. Your head pounds a little, but otherwise your hangover isnât too bad. Definitely not the worst itâs ever been.Â
No, the strange feeling in your stomach is something else. Last night is burned into your memory, every move, every touch. Jaemin, who you fell asleep beside, though the timestamp on the texts show he didnât stay much longer after. Not that you expected him to. Itâs Jaemin, you remind your traitorous heart. No matter how much he flirts, no matter what he did drunk, he was never yours.Â
Your phone rings, but it isnât Jaemin.Â
âHey,â Renjun says.Â
âYou sound awful,â you say, throat aching.Â
âYouâre one to talk,â Renjun says, âand you didnât even get to double digits. Donghyuck out-drank you.âÂ
âAnd howâs Donghyuck doing?âÂ
âThrowing up in the shower, it sounds like.âÂ
You laugh, the motion, sending your stomach spinning. âHappy birthday Renjun.âÂ
âYeah, yeah,â he says, âI actually did call for a reason.âÂ
âI am not helping with clean up,â you say, âChenle swore heâd do all of it since he bailed on set up.âÂ
âNot that,â Renjun says. âIâll be over as soon as I can walk without passing out.â He hangs up, leaving you to frown at the empty screen.Â
Well, considering how late he got back, Jaemin probably won't be awake any time soon. You need to shower and rehydrate and try to convince your stomach to take somethingâand with how Renjun sounded over the phone, it seems like youâll have plenty of time.Â
An hour later, slightly burnt toast, and post-Advil, the headache is mostly gone. Your stomach still twists at the thought of Jaemin. You jump at the doorbell but find Renjun wearing a mismatched sweatsuit and his bright orange crocs, glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of his nose. He wears the hood of his sweatshirt up but you can see tufts sticking up.Â
âGod, did you shower?â You catch a whiff as he passes by, reeking of tequila.Â
âI was serious about coming over as soon as possible.â He groans, collapsing on your bed. âI think I maybe came over too early though. Might need to throw up.âÂ
âDo you want toast?â You offer.Â
He glares at you. âJust sit.â Renjun rarely speaks with patience but today he seems extra short on it. Maybe because of the hangover, but the way he glares at the carpet before turning to look at you makes you wonder if something else is wrong. His eyes soften a little when he meets your eyes, his frown lightening just barely.Â
âI really wish I didnât have to tell you this,â he begins. âDid you go out with Jaemin last night?â
âHe⌠took me home,â you say. âWhatâs wrong Renjun?âÂ
âLast nightâwellâthis morning, I met some guys from Sigma Nu, who are friends with Jeno and Jaemin,â he says, âwho were talking about how Jaemin is going to be president. About how heâs messing around with the frontrunner, trying to distract them or fuck around, trying to take the presidency.â He falls quiet, studying your face.Â
âHe wouldnât.â Your voice feels so small.Â
He wouldnât, you said, but you canât even convince yourself. Your heart flounders, drowning in a lake of its own creation, choking on fantasies. Your brain takes control in the chaos, gears turning despite the crashing waves. Facts donât need oxygen.Â
1) Jaemin approached you about the presidency firstÂ
2) he pretended not to know you were runningÂ
3) heâs known for hooking up with anyoneÂ
4) he never belonged in your worldÂ
The conclusion is obvious, a conclusion you could have come to much sooner if you werenât too busy getting swept off your feet by his easy flirting and sweet smile. Though your heart doesnât want to believe it, it makes too much sense. So much more sense than the hope you were stupid enough to believe in. Jaemin isnât that type. How many of your friends told you that? How many times did you tell yourself that? But you let him hurt you anyway because he held your hand and called you cute. How quickly a fruit can rot when it sits in the palm of your hand.Â
Jaemin doesnât exist a universe awayâhe lives in your world, worse than a cliche. The type of boy that made you want to believe in him, even when you knew better from the start, and maybe thatâs the worst part. He never hid who he was, what he wanted. Itâs you that wanted more, that believed he could want something more. How pitiful.Â
âIâm sorry,â Renjun says softly. âI wanted him to be different.âÂ
âDid you? Because everyone was telling me about how I needed to be careful, protect myself, not get hurt over him. Did any of you consider that I didnât ever expect anything from him?â You shake your head. âNo, you all thought poor little YN, getting their feet swept out from under themself over a boy that doesnât give a shit about them? A boy thatâs actively trying to stop them from achieving a dream theyâve had since they started college? Well, guess what? You all were right. Congratulations.â You bite your lip trying to hold back the tears but itâs too late.Â
âIâm sorry,â Renjun repeats. He pats your arm, looking away when you swipe at your eyes. He waits for you to take a shaky breath, hand on your arm. You grab the teddy bear, trying not to hear Jaemin calling it cute.Â
âI slept with him.â The admission burns its way up your throat. âLast night.â You sigh. âYou don't have to tell me Iâm an idiot.âÂ
âOkay, I wasnât going to say that,â Renjun throws his arm over your shoulders. âThough Iâm kind of regretting sitting on the bed.â He scoots a little forward but squeezes your shoulder. âYouâre going to do things you regret, thereâs no stopping it.âÂ
âWhy do you always have to be right? Why am I exclusively attracted to shitty men?â Your chin digs into the innocent bear, jaw tightening. âWhy canât I just like a boy that likes me?âÂ
âDo you think maybe you liked him too much?â Renjun asks gently. âLike maybe you liked the idea of him more than Jaemin himself.â He pauses, squeezing your arm. âDonât let a boy that isnât real hurt you.âÂ
You lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. âBut he was real. Sweeter than persimmon. Like a strawberry. Or a mango.âÂ
âOkay, Iâm not understanding.âÂ
âI thought he was a persimmon, a magic fruit I could imagine tasting sweet or sour or tart but heâs real and even though his flavor isnât a mystery, itâs better than what I could have imagined. Like taking a bite of a pineapple and itâs the best pineapple youâve ever had, juicy and sweet.â
âOkay first of all, thatâs a terrible metaphor, please stop talking about how he tastes or I will throw up,â Renjun says. âAlso persimmons are real.âÂ
âI know that,â you snap, âbut Iâve never had one, so theyâre magic to me.â You stare ahead, grateful Renjun knows when you just need a little bit of time to work up the courage to say what you need to say. âIâm saying you are right. I didnât really like him, not at first. But itâs worse than that because when I did get to know him, it was so much better. He wasnât a dream, he was a boy who watches Greyâs Anatomy and does skincare even after a night of partying.
âI know it makes more sense, that his flirting wasnât real, that he was never really interested in me. But nothing real about him makes sense, and I want to believe in him, still.â You purse your lips. âPretty pathetic, huh?âÂ
âYou really liked him,â Renjun says, âthat wonât just go away.âÂ
âThat would be too easy,â you mutter.Â
Renjun laughs. âYouâre going to be fine. There are so many better men.âÂ
âThatâs what you said last time,â you say.Â
âAnd I was right,â Renjun says, âJaemin is better than last time. Marginally. At least he isnât a poli-sci major.âÂ
You snort.Â
âSee, youâre already laughing at him.â Renjun pushes you off his shoulder, standing up and groaning. âNow, Iâm going to throw up in your bathroom, and then we can watch dumb action movies until your brain rots. The rest of the guys are supposed to come over, though I think Donghyuck is still throwing up.âÂ
You bury your face into the bear. âDoes everyone know?âÂ
Renjun pauses. âThe guys from this morning were sort of proud to be the ones to tell us.âÂ
You groan. The door to your bathroom closes but you barely hear it. You clutch the bear a little tighter, as if the fluff could break through your chest and fill the spilling hole in your heart.Â
It would be too easy to blame Jaemin, to pretend like none of the pain is from your own stupidity. But you already told Renjun. You knew it from the start.Â
Knocking at the door, a knock that means only one person. You wipe the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath that does nothing to steady your heart.Â
âGod, I was afraid I was waking you up.â Jaemin starts talking as soon as you open the door. He holds up a bag, a tray with two iced coffees and a hot cup. He looks unfairly good and, of course, he grins at you. âI wasnât entirely sure what your hangover cure is, so I got hot and iced coffee, and thereâs a breakfast sandwich and a donut and also these potato things, I really wasnât sure what youâd like, butââÂ
âDid you know that I was running for president?âÂ
Jaemin freezes, frown slowly curling his brow. âWhat are youââ
âJust answer the question.â You grip the door handle, knuckles turning white.Â
He pauses a moment too long. âItâs not like that.âÂ
âNever talk to me again.â You fight the urge to slam the door, but your neighbors donât have to suffer your wrath. You shake your head, âI canât believe I fell for your bullshit.âÂ
Jaemin opens his mouth but you close the door, sliding the deadlock as hard as you can. He has the audacity to try to explain himself. If you didnât want to hear him out so badly, you might laugh. Instead you turn your back on the door, sliding down it until you can rest your head on your knees and sob.Â
.
.
Jaemin makes it halfway down the aisle of seats on Tuesday before you turn to Renjun, panic and tears in your eyes. He glares at Jaemin so hard he freezes in his tracks and doesnât try again. He doesnât look at you in class, not even a peek. On Thursday, he walks straight to his seat.Â
.
.
Chenle doesnât bother to throw his packages into the recycling after opening them. He says heâs hanging onto them to make moving out easier, but really heâs just too lazy to break them down. You have to step around them to get into his apartment, since he thought it would be fun to make an obstacle course out of them. Navigating these sober is hard enough, you have no idea how he makes it to bed after a night out.Â
But today, itâs worth it. Itâs been two weeks since you cut off Jaemin, a month since the day you bumped into him in class (a month and three days but whoâs counting?). He doesnât look at you anymore. You havenât fully escaped himâevery once in a while youâll hear his laugh from the other side of the lecture room. The sound still stabs between your ribs, a wound turned new each time you hear it. But it cuts a little more shallow each time. One day you wonât feel it at all.Â
And today, Chenle got a puppy.Â
She cries before you make it over the baby gate in Chenleâs room. A tiny ball of white fluff bounds toward you, tripping over her own feet.Â
âHi baby!â Your voice automatically rises three pitches looking at her. âArenât you just adorable!â You crouch down, letting her jump on your knees. She wonât sit still long enough to be pet, sprinting around your feet, then back to Chenle sitting on the floor, back resting against his bed.Â
âHi to you, too,â Chenle says pointedly.Â
âHi Chenle,â you turn back to his puppy. âAnd hello puppy!âÂ
âHer name is Daegal,â he says. You can hear him rolling his eyes. ââCause sheâs got a big ass head.âÂ
âChenle is so mean to you!â You coo at the puppy at your feet. âBut thatâs okay, Iâll take good care of you. You can come home with me!âÂ
âYou hear that baby?â Chenle says. âYN wants to pay me $1000 to take care of you!âÂ
You stare at him. âDid you seriously adopt a $1000 puppy?âÂ
He shrugs. âSheâs really cute.âÂ
âYouâre insane.â Daegal settles down enough to let you pat her head.Â
âI invite you into my home for some much needed puppy love and this is how you treat me?â Chenle sighs. âTo think that I felt bad for you, that I told you about her before anyone else. This is how I get treated for my kind heart.âÂ
âI donât need your pity,â you say. Daegal licks your hand.Â
âItâs not pity.â He pauses. âWell I guess it is pity, but youâre also my friend YN. Believe it or not, watching you live the sad boy lifestyle over some dude, again, is not fun. Iâd much rather watch you being happy with my puppy.âÂ
âYouâre the one who brought it up,â you mutter.Â
Chenle claps his hands, making Daegal jump. âBut that does remind me, everyone has been too much of a coward to ask, but Iâve heard from tertiary sources about his reputation, but Iâd love a first hand account.âÂ
âWhat are you talking about?â You eye him.Â
âHow was the sex?âÂ
âYouâre seriously asking me that?âÂ
He shrugs. âWell, yeah.âÂ
You pick up Daegal, staring at her instead of Chenle. She wiggles her tail, then her paws, so you set her back down. âIâm not answering that.âÂ
Chenle narrows his eyes, studying you. âThat means it was good.âÂ
âThatâs not at all what I said.âÂ
âAnd yet youâre not denying it.âÂ
âPlease shut the fuck up.âÂ
For once he listens. With Renjun, silence means peaceâhe doesnât say anything that doesnât matter. When Chenle doesnât speak, it means he has something to say and he isnât sure how to say it. You peek up at him and your suspicions are confirmed. He chews on his lip, frowning at you.Â
âJust tell me.âÂ
Chenle purses his lips. âHe dropped out.âÂ
âOf school?âÂ
He rolls his eyes. âThe election.âÂ
You stare at him. âSeriously?âÂ
âHe hasnât touched his application since Renjunâs birthday and Donghyuck said yesterday he emailed and said he wasnât going forward with it.â He doesnât say anything about how technically you should be checking the email.Â
âBut it doesnât make any sense.âÂ
Chenle shrugs. âIâm just telling you what I was told.â He stands up. âNow! How much do you like cleaning up dog pee?âÂ
You glance down at Daegal, who squats in the middle of the room, a dark stain on the carpet beneath her. Chenle tosses you some paper towels and a can of Febreeze.Â
âWhy am I cleaning up after your dog?âÂ
âBecause you tried to steal her,â he says, âand Iâve already done this three times today and Iâm really sick of it.âÂ
You shake your head but pull off a paper towel and press it into the stain.Â
âWeâre going out tomorrow night, by the way,â Chenle says. âAnd youâve passed two weekends in a row so youâve hit a cap for the month. You have to come with, no âbuts.ââÂ
Apparently the grace period of pity is over. Whatever, itâll be nice to do something other than hiding in your room watching Powerpuff Girls. And maybe you will see him. Maybe youâll get an answer to the giant question mark thatâs lodged itself in your heart when Chenle told he dropped out. Maybe the little caterpillar of hope thatâs survived these past few weeks can metamorphize.Â
And maybe heâll break your heart again. But you wonât get any answers daydreaming.Â
.
.
How Renjun can still drink Tequila, you truly do not understand. Ever since his birthday, the thought of it makes your stomach flip, and you didnât even drink that much. But he sips on the margarita, insisting it doesnât taste like alcohol.Â
âItâs disgusting,â you say, pushing it closer to him. âI am not drinking this.âÂ
He rolls his eyes. âYou do realize the whole gimmick of this place is all their drinks are made with tequila, right?âÂ
âNo one told me that!â You glare at Chenle, who showed up at your door at exactly 8:00pm and dragged you to the bar. âFor the record, I would have pre-gamed. But I guess I can be the babysitter tonight.âÂ
Chenle cheers. âDonghyuck, youâre back in! YN is babysitting!âÂ
Your drink slides down the table to Donghyuck, interrupting whatever âconversationâ he was having with Jisung.Â
âI thought the whole point of dragging you out was to make you have fun,â he says.Â
âYou better be fun, then,â you say.Â
Donghyuck raises his eyebrows but eventually take a long sip. âBrain freeze!â He cries, clutching his forehead. You laugh with the rest of the guys. Itâs almost normal, except you canât help but peek at the door whenever somebody walks in.Â
The night passes and the guys get more drunk. The bar gets more crowdedâsoon you are squished between Renjun and Chenle, barely able to breathe as the music slowly gets louder. The tequila looks more and more appealing but the guys need at least one person sober to make it back alive: Chenle arm wrestles a stranger while Donghyuck has some poor soul cornered, practicing his pick up lines.Â
When Chenle loses, you push past him, muttering something about fresh air that they probably canât hear. You push through the crowd of drunk people, trying not to remember the last time you did this.Â
You squint at the steps, edges difficult to see with so little light. Who builds a bar on the second floor of a building? You make it to the final step but misjudge how close it is and your foot slips off the edge, sending you tumbling forward. You might have caught yourself, but you donât have toâstrong arms catch you mid fall, wrapping around your waist and swinging you clean off the stairs and onto solid ground. You arenât surprised at all to look into Jaeminâs eyes as he lets go.Â
He frowns at you, eyes so dark they look black. Maybe itâs the lack of light, but the twinkle in his eyes, the glint youâve come to recognize as trouble, is missing.Â
âHi,â you say.Â
He drops his arms, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. âSo youâre talking to me now?âÂ
An apology begins on your lips but you canât push it out. Not when you still donât understand. âCan we talk?âÂ
He glances at you. âHave you been drinking?âÂ
You shake your head. Â
âOkay.â He doesnât walk away, folding his arms over his chest.Â
When you imagined this conversation, the sun shined so that you could see the warmth in his eyes. He smiled at you, called you silly for ever doubting him. The Jaemin in your head wouldnât ever do something to hurt you.Â
But Jaemin doesnât exist in your headâitâs far past time you learned that.Â
âIâm sorry,â you say. âI shouldnât have just cut you off. But I thought⌠I donât know what I thought, let alone what I think now.â You force yourself to meet his cold eyes, searching for a hint of warmth. âChenle told me you dropped out of the presidency.âÂ
He nods slowly.Â
âBut Renjun told me that someone told him that the presidency is the only reason you ever pretended to like me, but if you dropped out then I really donât get it. Not that I ever got it in the first place, though, because youâre you and Iâm me, and everyone kept telling me that, like I didnât already know that you are supposed to be a persimmon and grow on a tree far far away from my lemon or pomegranate or whatever kind of fruit I am, because the point is we were never meant to be.â You take a deep breath, realizing that you donât exactly sound sane. âWhat Iâm trying to say is that it doesnât make sense. It made sense when you were trying to cheat me out of the presidency, but you dropped out. And it doesnât make sense.âÂ
Jaemin blinks slowly at you. âYou would rather believe that I was trying to rob your presidency than that I actually like you?âÂ
âDo you?âÂ
He frowns. âOf course I do. I like you so much I think about things Iâve never wanted before, the silly shitâwatching horror movies as an excuse to cuddle, having picnics by the river, buying groceries togetherâI wanted to do all of it with you.Â
âYou talk a lot about how weâre different peopleâwho gives a shit? If Iâm the type of person that wants to be with you and youâre the type of person that wants to be with me, why does any of that matter?â He takes a step closer to you, and you can see you were wrong. His eyes arenât cold, theyâre full of emotion, dark waves of hurt. âWhat do I have to do to prove it to you? Should I tell you how pretty you are? How incredibly smart you areânot fake smart like me, but really smart. And when Iâm around you, I like who I am. I know itâs cheesy but you bring out the best in me.Â
âI know I fucked up. I should have told you how I felt before anything else, and I shouldnât have left. I regretted it as soon as I was gone but it was terrifying to lay next to you and give you my bare heart, even when I didnât think you would ever try to hurt me.â He takes a deep breath. âI donât know if it hurts more thinking that you never wanted a relationship or thinking that Iâd ever stoop that low. I mean, everyone tells me about my reputation, but I didnât think you cared about any of that.âÂ
Tears prick at your eyes. How could you be such an idiot? Listening to all the wrong people, especially yourself. Jaemin doesnât exist in another world, he isnât any kind of fruit. Heâs a boy that you like that likes you back. It doesnât have to be any more complicated than that.Â
âIâm sorry,â you whisper, reaching a tentative hand out to rest against his arm. âIâm so sorry.â He drops his head, sighing. âI was an idiot.âÂ
He sighs, staring at your hand. You start to drop it but he grabs it, squeezing your fingers. âWhere do we go from here?âÂ
You study him, eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Jaemin who is not a fruit, not an alien, just a boy.Â
âHey.â You reach out and cup his cheek, waiting for him to meet your eyes. âMy name is YN. I think youâre really cute.âÂ
For a heartbeat he doesnât move. Then he smiles, cheek rising underneath your hand. âHey, my name is Jaemin. I think youâre really cute too.âÂ
âOh really?â You slide your hand to the back of his neck, wrapping your other arm across it. His arms wrap on your waist, pulling you into a hug. He squeezes you flush against him, head tucked into your shoulder just as yours is tucked into his.Â
âI know we canât start over,â he says, âbut can we start again?âÂ
âHow about this time we just talk to each other?â You say, tapping your fingers on his shoulder. âNo more rumors and gossip.âÂ
He nods, chin digging into your neck a little. âI swear, I wonât give you any reason to doubt me ever again. I wonât be the kind of guy your friends call a red flag.âÂ
You loosen your grip and lean back to look him in the eye. âWait, did they seriously say that to you?âÂ
âI ran into Donghyuck after I dropped out and we had a very⌠one sided conversation with his side doing all the talking,â Jaemin says, âand Renjun made it obvious from the start that he didnât like me.âÂ
You laugh a little, then even more when he pouts. âYouâll win them over again.âÂ
âThey really donât like me,â he says.Â
You cup his cheek again. âYouâll change their minds.â He leans into your touch, closing his eyes. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his. He gasps a little, hands tightening on your waist.Â
âNow, am I remembering incorrectly, or are you an amazing kisser?â You ask.Â
He grins, leaning forward and closing the distance without wasting a second. Neither of you can stop smiling, lips and teeth gnashing together but itâs still the best kiss youâve ever had.Â
.
.
You stretch an arm out, only to find more bed instead of empty space. You sit up, shivering as the blanket falls away. Right, you fell asleep in Jaeminâs bed. His room is much bigger than yours, sharing an apartment with Jeno. He has enough room for a dresser and a nicer desk, even a chair. It seems he lied to you about being messy, because even when you show up unannounced, like today, his clothes are neatly folded and the biggest mess youâve found has been three dirty dishes in the sink (which you later found out were Jenoâs).Â
Jeno, apparently, isnât all badâhe did let you in even though your boyfriend was still out. He doesnât fully trust you, but then again, your friends donât hide their mistrust of Jaemin either. You maintain your earlier stance that time will heal that wound.Â
You hear a knife against a cutting board coming from the kitchen, so you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and shuffle towards the sound, unable to stop the smile from spreading up your lips when you turn the corner and find Jaemin standing at the counter. He glances behind him and grins at you, and even though you just woke up from a nap and probably have messy hair and marks on your face, he says, âyou look sexy.âÂ
âSo cheesy,â you say. He laughs and turns back around. You slip behind him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his back and closing your eyes. He radiates warmth better than any blanket. Itâs too easy to lean against him, take a deep breath of the scent of his laundry detergent and cling to him. Jaemin moves slowly, careful not to hit you by accident.Â
âWhatâre you doing?âÂ
âA surprise,â he says, âat least my attempt at one.â He sets down the knife on the counter and taps on your hands, pulling them apart gently and spinning around to face you before setting your hands back on his waist. He tilts his head at you when you purse your lips and frown. âWhatâs wrong?âÂ
âStill no ass,â you say, patting him a little lower than his waist.Â
âHey!â He sticks his lower lip out. âIâm trying.âÂ
âNo oneâs perfect,â you say, sliding your hands back up and sneaking a kiss to his cheek.Â
âYou are,â he says, cupping your face to kiss you properly. Jaemin still kisses like itâs his last chance, drawing out every moment, lips lingering on yours until your head spins. Itâs only when you canât breathe that he finally pulls away. Â
âGood answer,â you say.Â
He smiles. âIf you come to the gym with me Iâd be more motivated to get an ass youâd be proud of.âÂ
âYou send enough pictures for me to know that if I saw you at the gym I would never survive,â you say. âYou want me to die?âÂ
He laughs, squishing your face together with his hands. âIf anyoneâs going to die, itâs going to be me, because you are too cute.âÂ
He presses another kiss to your lips, still squished together in a pout. He laughs at the outrage on your face, letting go of your cheeks and slipping his hands behind your neck, kissing you one more time for real, letting go far too early.Â
âThe surprise,â he says. He lets go of you with one arm, turning to the cutting board and holding up a slice of what he was cutting. It looks a little bit like a tomato, though itâs more orange than red, and about the size of a golf ball.Â
âA persimmon?âÂ
âI still donât really get the persimmon thing,â he says, âbut Iâve never tried one.âÂ
You blink at him. Jaemin makes it so easy to fall in love. He holds the piece closer to your mouth, waiting for you to open. A persimmon tastes sweet and mild and rich, a little bit like honey. Jaemin eats his own piece, frowning and nodding.Â
âNo more magical mystical fruit,â Jaemin says.Â
âYouâre going to make an amazing trophy husband,â you say. You tap him on the nose. âMaybe we could even be a power couple.âÂ
He grins. âWeâll be so cool. Like BeyoncĂŠ and her husband.âÂ
âJay-Z?â
âWhatever.â Jaemin flips his hand. âThe important part is that I am BeyoncĂŠ.âÂ
You smack his shoulders softly. âHell no, BeyoncĂŠ would never have a flat ass.âÂ
âIt always comes back to the ass.â He sighs. âBe honest: are you embarrassed by me?âÂ
Once you never thought he could be embarrassing. That was before you knew he staked his career on a soap opera and wears jorts to the gym, before he called you drunk just to confess he accidentally stole your pencil, before he spent three hours putting up campaign posters for you (and then another two getting written up by campus police for not having permission). Before you fell in love with him.Â
âBy you? Never.â You pat his cheeks. âYour ass leaves much to be desired, though.âÂ
thank you for reading!
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What? Like Itâs Hard?
gn reader x soonyoung
summary: With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blondeâcomplete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, heâs notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows.Â
Or, studying for a law test has never seen this much chemistry.
genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, uni au, friends to lovers, opposites attract
warnings: swearing, drinking, food, arguing, a couple sex jokes, one spicy scene at the end but no actual smut, refusal to acknowledge feelings, what's the word for beyond oblivious????
full wc: 24.3k
playlist! - i'm not very good at this but i tried to add songs alternating between yn and soonyoung :)
a/n: hello!! first of all, sorry this so long! it's been a very very busy summer. thank you to everyone who has continued to show interest in the story, it's really kept me going. i honestly have no idea what this is anymore but i hope it does not disappoint :) as always i appreciate feedback of any form <3 thank you again for reading and have a lovely day! finally, happy scoups day :)
a/n2: a special shout out to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta and for helping me fact check... why do i keep writing about lawyers when i know absolutely nothing about the field.......
âNope.â You grab your backpack, shoving your laptop inside, but he gets to your water bottle before you can reach it.Â
âCome on.â Soonyoung pouts his lips.Â
âI wonât do it,â you say.Â
Soonyoung hugs your water bottle hostage against his chest, dark blue hiding in the crook of his elbow, bright against the pale pink sweater he wears. Itâs an unusual choice for him, normally clad in baggy jeans and loose t-shirts. Still, the color highlights his new hair, blonde bordering on white. Hardly the first time heâs done something insane for a bet.Â
âPlease! Iâm desperate!â He cries again, stepping closer, though he keeps a firm grip on your water bottle. You never should have told him how emotionally attached you are to it; you should have known it would be held against you.Â
âNo,â you say. You sling your backpack on, just in case he gets any other ideas. The other students shoot dirty looks at you, actually in the library to study (like you were, until Soonyoung arrived). So you grab him by the arm, rolling your eyes at how he jerks the water bottle out of reach.Â
âWalk and talk, weâre not doing this here,â you say, folding your arms over your chest.Â
âCome on, how hard can it be?â Soonyoung asks. âItâs just a test.â
âJust a test?â You snort. âSoonyoung, you are aware that most people donât apply to law school on a dare?âÂ
âI donât have to get into law school!â He says, âjust get a 179 on the LSAT.âÂ
As if that makes it any better. You eye Soonyoung and his tight grip on the plastic. Maybe itâs a lost cause and you should just swing by the bookstore to get a new one instead. But that water bottle has butterfly stickers that have survived since freshman year and a dent from the time Jun tried to use it as a weapon in a fight against Jihoon (that was declared a draw when the bottle busted open and doused both of them equally); it holds memories better than water and youâll be damned if you let Soonyoung hold it hostage.Â
âThatâs actually harder,â you mumble. From the corner of your eye, you can see him tucking the blue bottle under his right arm, farthest from you. This wonât be easy, especially since you saw the poorly disguised thirst trap of him and one of his frat bros at the gym: those arms are not to be underestimated.Â
âIâll pay you!âÂ
âWith what money?âÂ
Soonyoung pauses. Youâve reached the exit by now, sunlight warming you through the glass doors. He turns to the sunlight, and you know heâs pretending to be a main character from an artsy film (not that heâs ever seen on). He takes a deep breath, as if he already regrets what he has to say next.Â
âOkay, Iâll offer you the only services I have.â He turns to face you, eyes on the floor.Â
âOh my god, Soonyoung!â You shove his shoulder. âYou are not selling your body for a test!âÂ
âBut itâs all I know!â He says. He pokes your arms. âYou could have so much muscle if you lifted just twice a week.âÂ
âOh.â You blink at him. âYou meant working out?âÂ
âWhat did you think I meant?âÂ
You feel heat rush into your cheeks. You push the door open, praying Soonyoung doesnât notice. âIt doesnât matter,â you say, not daring to check if heâs following. âI donât have time to workout.âÂ
âThen what do you want?â Soonyoung asks. He stays just out of reach, adjusting his grip so that the water bottle hangs from his hand. âPlease, Iâll do anything!âÂ
âWhy do you need me?âÂ
âBecause youâre the smartest person I know,â he says without hesitation. In the three years of your friendship, youâve learned that the only time Soonyoung isnât serious is when he flirts.Â
âYou are,â he insists. âPlus youâve already taken it, so youâre my best chance. My only chance, itâs not like I have a good track record with tests.â He gives you a lopsided smile as he tries to pretend like heâs joking. But Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You see the sparkle in his eyes dim, and you remember freshman Soonyoungâwhen he failed the midterm and holed up in his room in the frat house for two full days, not even venturing out to drink. Itâs that damn sparkle that gets to you. He isnât paying attention anymore, water bottle hanging loosely from his hand, but you canât bring yourself to snatch it.Â
âYou can pass it,â you say with a sigh. âItâs about studying correctly.âÂ
âI donât know,â Soonyoung says. âIâve never really studied.âÂ
âWell, thatâs what Iâll teach you.âÂ
Soonyoung freezes, grabbing your arm. âSeriously?â When you turn to face him, his smile is so bright it warms you from the inside out, hotter than the actual sun on your skin. He throws his arms around you, wrapping you in a hug so tight he lifts you off the ground. Your heart does this strange thing where it hops into your throat. Your arms come up as a reflex but his embrace is too tight for you to even hug him back. Â
âThank you, thank you, thank you!â He shouts. He doesnât let go, even when he sets you back down. He loosens his arms just enough to look at you, the full force of his smile directed at you. âI swear youâre welcome at the frat house any time, Iâll buy you anything you want when I have money, Iâll drive you wherever you want if I can get Seungcheolâs car, Iâll do whatever, just thank you, thank you, thank you.âÂ
You know you should answer, or say something, but thinking is too much when heâs so close you can smell the strangely sweet combination of laundry detergent, cologne, and sweat. You push out of his arms, snagging your water bottle on the way out.Â
âItâs whatever,â you mumble. Though his arms arenât around you anymore, you feel strangely hot, like your blood is boiling, and your heart still pounds.Â
âIt is not whatever,â Soonyoung declares. âI swear, whatever you want, Iâll do it.â He holds a hand over his heart and if it was anyone else youâd think they were joking but itâs Soonyoung: heâs deadly serious.Â
You canât handle his gaze anymore, turning to study your beat up sneakers. âReally? Youâll get my first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice from Jun?âÂ
âIâll get that book back.â He glances at you. âIt is a book, right?âÂ
âYeah,â you say. âThough thereâs been some good adaptations.âÂ
âThatâs the one with the zombies?âÂ
âZombies?â You frown. âOh my god, do you mean Pride and Prejudice and Zombies?âÂ
âThatâs not the original book?âÂ
âNo,â you say, laughing. âThe original is Jane Austen, in the 1800s.âÂ
âOh,â Soonyoung says.Â
âIâve actually never seen that one,â you say. âItâs the only adaptation I havenât seen.âÂ
âHow many movies are there?âÂ
âWell, thereâs the 1940 adaptation, the BBC series thatâs widely regarded as the most faithful adaptation, the 2005 Kiera Knightley movie thatâs iconic, plus the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, which is a vlog-style Youtube adaptation. Then of course thereâs Jane Austenâs other works, like Persuasion, which, the new one, for the record, was a terrible adaptation.â You stop when you realize youâre dangerously close to going on what Jihoon calls âan Austen tirade.âÂ
âI liked the movie,â he says after a pause. âI donât know if it was that good, or close to the books. But it was fun.âÂ
âIâll have to watch it, then,â you say. âI know itâs the obvious choice, but Pride and Prejudice really is my favorite Jane Austen novel. Good luck getting it back from Jun though. Heâs studying abroad this semester.âÂ
âHeâs the friend from your history class?âÂ
âNo, thatâs Jihoon, my roommate,â you say. âJun was in my language class.âÂ
âI thought you hated everyone in that class.âÂ
âOh, I did,â you say. âBut Jun is friends with Jihoon, so he sort of just became my friend too.âÂ
Soonyoung hums, saying nothing else. You donât recognize the song, though you tend to mostly listen to classical music when you study or whatever Jihoon blasts from his room, so itâs not that surprising. The melody is nice, though. Well, Soonyoungâs voice is.Â
âI really am grateful,â Soonyoung says. âI know I was begging, because I donât think I can do this without youâwell, I donât know if I can do it with you, but youâre my only hope andâIâm rambling again.â He flashes a smile. âThe point is, thank you.âÂ
You shrug, feeling shy under his gaze. âItâll help me study anyways,â you say. âYou learn a lot when you teach.âÂ
âI thought you already took it?â
âI only got a 150,â you say, sighing. âI need at least a 165.âÂ
Soonyoung nods, forehead creasing like it always does when heâs lost in thought. âThank you anyway.â
âWell, you swore to do whatever I tell you,â you say, desperate to change the subject. âDonât think I wonât abuse that.âÂ
âOh, YN,â he says, âIâm counting on it.â He even winks.Â
You cough, choking at the outright flirting. Soonyoung hasnât tried a line on you in so long you thought heâd used them all. He isnât seriousâit was engraved in his DNA the second he became a fully fledged member of Sigma Beta Tau but itâs not like many people flirt with you, so itâs hard to stop your heart from jumping.Â
You check your phone, unable to look him in the eyes. Itâs 2:18 now, prime naptime if you can get back to your apartment before Jihoon gets back. But if itâs past two, unless he lied to you at the start of the semester, that means Soonyoung should be in his data ethics class. âHey, donât you have class right now?âÂ
Soonyoung glances at the time on his phone. âShit.â He takes off, sprinting across the grass, dodging three picnics and narrowly avoiding getting rocked in the back of the head by a frisbee. He pauses at the edge, turning back around to wave wildly at you.Â
âThank you!â He shouts. The picnickers glance between you and him and you can feel the blush returning. Soonyoung doesnât notice all the eyes on him, waving like a goofball one final time before sprinting off again. Like a whirlwind, heâs gone again, leaving you to stroll across campus and wonder what you just signed up for.Â
.
.
Soonyoungâs brow furrows into a frown, lips pulling together in a pout. He rests his chin on his hands, looking up at you from the table like a puppy that knows heâs in trouble. âThat bad?âÂ
âYour analytical reasoning was good!â You say, not wanting to destroy him just yet. âThe logical analysis wasnât that bad either, you just need practice.âÂ
âWasnât there a third section?âÂ
âThe score for reading comprehension was pretty bad.â Horrendous, actually, but you canât tell him that, not when heâs deflating faster than a balloon at a knife throwing contest. He sits back, head knocking lightly against the back of the stiff library chairs.Â
âWe can work with this! Itâs really not that bad,â you say. You reach out instinctively, wrapping your hands over his hands. Your thumb rests against the soft smooth skin of the back of his hand, the rest of your fingers brushing lightly against his calloused fingers. You jerk back when you realize what youâre doing, patting his hands once and grabbing the workbook in front of him as if itâs what you meant to do all along. You study the upside down words, not daring to look at the disgust thatâs probably painted on Soonyoungâs face.Â
âYou can start with practicing the logic problems,â you say, flipping through the work book. âIâll figure out a strategy for the reading portion.âÂ
Soonyoung heaves a sigh, sitting up and hunching over the workbook. You flip open one of your old workbooks and try to pretend like youâre not trying to melt away from embarrassment.Â
âThis isnât very much teaching,â Soonyoung says without looking up. âLots of problem solving.âÂ
âI donât really know what Iâm doing either,â you say. âI just watched a lot of youtube videos when I was studying last year. I should have known better than to take it over the summer, though.âÂ
Soonyoung glances up. âHow come?âÂ
You chew on your lip. Youâve known Soonyoung for a while now, but youâve never talked to him like this, mentioning any real things other than complaining about roommates. Soonyoung would listen, probably say the ârightâ things, but itâs a study session, so you just say, âJust not good timing.âÂ
He nods, returning to his humming. You turn to your own workbook, trying to figure out how to get Soonyoung to actually read the passages for the reading comprehension. Twenty minutes pass in an instant and Soonyoung drops his pencil, sliding his journal with the answers back in front of you. You flip to the answer key, scanning between the two.Â
âWhen are you taking it again?â Soonyoung asks while he waits.Â
âJust before Halloween,â you say. Exactly 38 days from now, according to the IMPENDING DOOM countdown clock on your phone.Â
âThat soon?âÂ
You shrug. âI wanted to give myself time to take it again in case I bomb it and it had to be before midterms, so, yeah.âÂ
âIs it really that bad to take all your tests at once?â Soonyoung asks.Â
âI mean, finals week pretty much kills me every semester. I actually thought I was cutting it close with only two weeks between it and midterms.âÂ
âIs November cutting it too close?âÂ
âDepends on when in November you plan on taking it,â you say, âthough you probably wonât be able to take it again if you donât like your score.âÂ
âNot a problem for me,â Soonyoung says. He doesnât waver against your raised eyebrow. âIâm getting that 179, first try.âÂ
âYouâre that confident?âÂ
âIn you.â He winks. âAlso the bet is off if I donât get it on the first try.âÂ
You nod. âYeah, that makes more sense.â You glance at your calendar. â
âNovember 18th.âÂ
âThatâs not too bad, you dodged between midterms and finals, there should be plenty of cram time.âÂ
Soonyoung shrugs. âI just scheduled it so that I would get the results before the Christmas party.âÂ
âI didnât think you would be the religious type.âÂ
âOh, Iâm not,â he says. âThe frat has this annual post-finals party before people go back home for holiday break, usually on the last day of finals. Thereâs no way Iâm letting Seungkwan get away with my hard earned Playstation, and thereâs no way heâd miss the party.âÂ
âYou canât just buy your own game?âÂ
âItâs a console actually,â he says, âand thatâs not the point.â You prepare for some lecture about honor or frat code or something overly dramatic and inspired by any of the countless war propaganda movies he loves, but he closes his mouth.Â
âI guess it doesnât really matter,â you say. You turn back his sheet, half the answers marked with a dark blue X because red feels too cruel. âYouâre clearly committed.âÂ
He sighs at the answers, flipping back to the first question and frowning. You think the conversation is over, but without looking up from glaring at the right answers, he says, âYou should come.âÂ
âTo?âÂ
âThe Christmas party.âÂ
You stare at the top of his head but he doesnât seem to notice. You wonder how he manages to keep his hair so blonde without ruining his scalp but you donât see any dandruff. âMe?â You finally say.Â
âYou said youâd come, like, freshman year,â he says. âYou never did.âÂ
You did promise, back when you saw him for class every day. But frat parties werenât your scene back then. They arenât your scene now. Nothing about blasting music and binge drinking appeals to you, and yet Soonyoung peeking at you from his notebook makes you feel guilty anyways. He looks at you like he really doesnât understand why you wouldnât want to go.
And thatâs the worst part: for Soonyoung, you would go. When he looks at you with the damn Soonyoung Sparkle, youâd do anything.Â
âIâll⌠think about it,â you finally say.Â
He looks at you for a moment longer, then nods, like he didnât really expect you to say yes. You try not to feel like youâre letting him down.Â
âCan you explain this one to me,â he asks, turning the book so you can see it from across the table.Â
You skim the question, which turns out to be a series of questions about stained glass windows. You take a moment to glance between Soonyoungâs answers and the correct ones.Â
âWalk me through your process,â you say.Â
âOkay, I start withâŚâ
.
.Â
âSoonyoung, are you even listening?âÂ
He blinks at you, lifting his head from his arms. âSomething about strategies? For reading?âÂ
You snap the book shut, shaking your head. You open your mouth, speech on responsibility and studying on the tip of your tongue but one look into Soonyoungâs Sparkle Eyes (patent pending) and all the words are gone. You really need to figure out how to get around that super power.Â
âCome on, itâs so nice out,â he says. âWe should be outside.â He grabs your hand. âThis is not studying weather, this is dating weather.âÂ
âSoonyoung your test is in two months, you seriously want to skip?â You donât dignify the second part of his complaint with a response. The idea of Soonyoung on a date makes your stomach flip.Â
He sighs. âNo, but itâs October, we wonât get many more nice days, so can we at least go outside?âÂ
You hesitate a heartbeat too long and Soonyoung jumps up. He closes the workbook, knocking loose papers off the table and sending highlighters of every color flying in every direction. The chaos earns a couple side eyes from the people around you and a full on glare from the person directly next to him, but Soonyoung, as Soonyoung as ever, doesnât seem to notice. He picks up the papers and highlighters, shoving them into his backpack without a folder and slinging it over his shoulder. You can only follow him, grabbing the drinks before he tries to carry them along his laptop. When it comes to Soonyoung, mixing liquids and technology is more dangerous than mixing alcohols. You havenât forgotten The Coffee Incident, flooding his backpack at 8 in the morning.Â
He drags you out of the library, though you donât put up much of a fight. Soonyoung makes you want to relax, just a little, and when he smiles back at you as soon as he steps out of the sunlight, you find you donât regret a thing.Â
Soonyoung pulls his emergency blanket out of his blanket, passing it to you. Heâs more prepared for naps than any class heâs ever taken but the thin fabric is soft so who are you to judge? He heads straight for the quad, which is already filled with people, some groups of friends, too many obvious couples with heads in each other's laps or arms wrapped around each other. Soonyoung settles down in a relatively unpopulated corner, taking the blanket back to shake it out the blanket a few times before laying it flat on the ground.Â
Soonyoung groans when you pull out the workbooks as soon as you sit down. âThere isnât anything more fun to study?âÂ
âSoonyoung, itâs the LSAT,â you say. âItâs not really meant to be fun.âÂ
âButââÂ
âYouâre the one that wanted to go outside,â you remind him, tapping his arm with a pen. âIf youâre too distracted weâll have to go back into the library.âÂ
He gazes at the other people laughing for a long moment before turning to face you again. You raise your eyebrows and he takes the workbook from your hands, flipping it open to the sticky-note bookmark.Â
The next twenty minutes are relatively quiet, the only noise coming from the chatter of the people around you, too far away to clearly hear, and Soonyoung humming while working through practice problems. Youâre not sure if he even realizes heâs doing it, though he bobs his head slightly. You wonder what Soonyoung is like when he isnât trying to get out of studyingâeven outside of the party invites youâve avoided, you rarely see him on campus (because you arenât on campus when you donât have to be). You almost went to dinner with him to celebrate passing the business class freshman year where you met him, but you got food poisoning and he never rescheduled.Â
Itâs for the best, though. Even like this, tutoring him minus payment of any kind, you can tell that spending too much time with him will be dangerous. He flirts so easily it feels genuine, and even though he can be ridiculous, heâs never been anything but lovely to you. And it doesnât help that heâs hot. He glances up, as if he can feel you staring, but he just flashes a smile at you and ducks his head again. Damn frat bros with endearing charms that melt you like the perfect grilled cheese.Â
Perfectly blue without a cloud in sight, the sky is an empty canvas above you. The air is just the right temperature, just between hot and cold, the sun ensuring that it never dips into the latter. Just the slightest breeze kisses your skin, lifting the edges of the papers but never flipping them. Soonyoung was right: the perfect date weather.Â
âSoonyoung?â You turn your head to see a dark haired man standing over you. Wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and sides ripped open, you figure thereâs a 80% chance heâs one of Soonyoungâs frat brothers.Â
âSeokmin?â Soonyoung frowns.Â
âYou were actually serious?â Seokmin asks, gesturing to the books. âYou know Seungkwan said it as a joke, right?âÂ
âYeah, but a bet is a bet,â Soonyoung says. âAnd I really want his Playstation.âÂ
Seokmin snorts. âYou know he only said it because he knows you canât do it.âÂ
âIâm not like Iâm losing anything by trying.â Soonyoung sets his lips in a sharp line of determination (which you recognize from the dining hall when he sweet talks his way into free cookies). Seokmin raises his eyebrows at his aggression but eventually decides itâs not worth the fight. Instead, he plops down on the blanket, making a little triangle between the three of you.Â
âYou must be YN,â he says, extending his hand. His easy smile and the way he sat down without waiting for an invitation reminds you of Soonyoung. Unlike the faux blonde, it feels foreign and you shift a little closer to Soonyoung instinctively.Â
âItâs nice to meet you,â you lie. Seokminâs eyes curl into little half moons when he smiles, apparently not noticing your awkwardness. You canât help but feel like heâs intruding as he turns to Soonyoung and asks him to explain what heâs doing. Soonyoung explains it well, though it helps that he was working on the analytical reasoning section.Â
Itâs because heâs interrupting Soonyoungâs studying. Thatâs why it bothers you that heâs here, even though Soonyoung doesnât seem to mind and Seokmin seems genuinely interested. Unfortunately, the revelation doesnât stop you from wishing Seokmin would just leave. Â
âI donât know how you do any of this,â Seokmin says after Soonyoung explains the next problem.Â
âItâs easy!â Soonyoung says. âHalf the time the answer is in the question, you just have to know where to look!âÂ
âQuoting me?â You raise your eyebrows.Â
âWell I did learn from the best!âÂ
âSo cliche,â you mutter but the compliment gets you smiling anyway. You look up to find Seokmin looking at you. He has a strange look on his face, frowning, but not angrily. He looks a little bit like when Soonyoung canât decide between the right answer and the second best option. He doesnât look away when you catch him staring.Â
âWhat?âÂ
He pauses a long moment before answering, as if pondering how to answer. Finally, he says, âI like you.âÂ
You stare at him. Soonyoung had been diligently working on practice problems but his head jerks up at the words.Â
âI mean, youâre a cool person,â Seokmin quickly says. âGood tutor for Soonyoung.â After hearing his name, Soonyoung grins and turns back to underlining in the workbook.Â
âTutor?â You say. âI really donât think Iâm doing all that much.âÂ
Seokmin shrugs. âI donât know many people that would spend this much time with someone if they aren't helping. Besides, either way, Iâve never seen Soonyoung this dedicated before.âÂ
âThatâs because you donât dare to bet against me,â Soonyoung says without looking up.Â
âHe might have a point there,â you say. Soonyoung takes a moment to smile at your support.Â
âWhat Iâm trying to say is that youâre cool,â Seokmin says.Â
âThank you?â You wait for him to say something else but he sits back and rests his hands behind him, stretching out in the sun a little more. Sighing, he tilts his head toward the sun.Â
âSeems like the weather will turn cold soon,â he says. âThis might be the last warm day of the year.â He glances at Soonyoung. âAnd youâre spending it here instead of pre-gaming the Tau party.âÂ
Soonyoungâs pencil freezes. He peeks up at Seokmin, then at you, then shrugs. âI take my bets seriously.âÂ
âWhatever,â Seokmin says. He lays back fully, half of his body sticking off the blanket into the grass. âWhat are the Ke$ha lyrics? âThe party donât start âtil Soonyoung walks in?ââ He doesnât wait for a correction. âI think Iâll wait until you're finished and weâll tear it up together.âÂ
Soonyoung glances at you, then unsuccessfully tries to hide his laughter at your expression. You donât mean to be rude, but Seokmin really just invited himself all on his own and crashed your picnic. Study date. Outdoor study session. The name doesnât matter, what does matter is itâs only supposed to be you and Soonyoung.Â
âHeâll fall asleep in about five seconds,â Soonyoung whispers. âHe doesnât actually care about the party, he just likes my nap blankets.â On that point you canât really blame Seokmin.Â
âAs long as it doesnât disrupt your studying,â you say.Â
âRight,â Soonyoung says, more to himself than you. âThatâs whatâs important.âÂ
You arenât so oblivious that you miss his bitterness, but you are enough of a coward to decide not to ask about it. How do you even ask about something like that? You can barely answer his questions about the LSAT, so feelings? No chance.Â
You flip open your own workbook and set a pencil case down to keep the book open and ignore the soft snores from Seokmin. Soonyoung hums, the soft breeze carrying the gentle tune to you and easing you into a false sense of comfort, planting the idea that itâs always been like this and it always will be. But Soonyoung will take the LSAT in November and you will graduate in the spring and there wonât be any more excuses for seeing him, let alone laying out in the sun with him. Letting yourself enjoy this moment has dangerous consequences for your heart.Â
And yet you enjoy the warm sun on your skin and hum along with Soonyoung anyway. Seokmin is right: this kind of day wonât last long.Â
.
.
You jump awake at the sound. It takes you a moment to register where you are, to blink the sleep out of your eyes and recognize the stiff library chairs, the yellow tinted lighting of the study rooms on the third floor. Built like a prison cell with no windows and stained linoleum floors, you arenât entirely sure how you fell asleep. The last thing you remember is working on your essay on Sense and Sensibility, which was rather difficult since you havenât had the time to finish rereading it. Your book rests on the table next to your open laptop, screen dark.Â
A second knock reminds you why you woke up in the first place and you turn to the door. Through the glass door you see a student with a backpack hanging off their shoulder, half smiling. They turn the knob, opening the door just enough to stick their head in.Â
âHey, sorry, I think I have the room scheduled,â they say.Â
âOh, Iâm sorry, I lost track of time,â you say, slamming your laptop shut and shoving everything into your backpack. To their credit, the other student doesnât rush you, even apologizing and telling you to take your time. But if youâve lost the room, that means the two hours you had booked the study room forâthe two hours you designated for writing the essay and doing problem setsâwere spent asleep, which means the LSAT cram schedule has been completely thrown off with only three days before the test.Â
You groan as you step into the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor. The farther up, the more intense the quiet levels get. Hopefully it wonât be so quiet that you fall asleep, but since you got a nap, you should be able to power through an all-nighter. It wouldnât be the first time. You brace yourself to check your phone for the time, though being kicked out of the room means you already know your fate. 9:08 means that you have a little less than three hours until the library closes. Youâve done more with less time.Â
The first couple desks are occupied by students but you donât stray, heading for a familiar corner, ignoring the empty desks that line the stacks. Your corner, that you found freshman year during finals season when you couldnât find an empty desk, is perfect: hidden behind the encyclopedia shelves with a light directly above it, only three dicks carved into itâall on the underside (discovered on a particularly bad day where you found it most comfortable to lay underneath and rethink your entire life). You smile at the small comfort, striding through the stacks with Sense and Sensibility still in your arms.Â
You nearly drop the book when you see the backpack, abruptly turning despite the fact that it must have been obvious to whoever stole your corner that you were headed there. You feel rage boiling up and threatening to spill. You close your eyes, reminding yourself that the corner isnât actually yours. Still, as you settle into a desk facing a giant window that reveals the dark campus, you canât help but feel bitter. Your thoughts stray to the desk that should be yours, even as you pull out your computer.Â
BATTERY LOW
The words light up your screen, mocking you before the screen falls dark again. You dig in your backpack for your charger that you always slip into the main pocket. You feel your underused pencil pouch, the single journal since you keep most of your notes on your laptop, LSAT prep book, your three folders, and no charger. Even when you look inside and lay the entire contents of your backpack on the desk in front of you, the only charger you find is for your phone. Which means the longer laptop cord is probably sitting on your desk, all the way back at your apartment.Â
A twenty minute walk back, twenty minutes less for writing your essay. You can start it on your phone, maybe, though the thought of switching between reading the Sparknotes and typing already exhausts you. Itâs moot anyways, since all you can do is sit and stare at the desk, covered in the contents of your soul. This is what your life has become: a stack of paper that weighs less than the digital universe on your laptop thatâs all contingent on a $15 charger that abandons you when you need it most.Â
In the end it isnât the rage that gets to you. Itâs the hilarity of it all, how silly it is that your life is dictated by something so stupid.Â
The fifth floor decrees silence, so you make sure that your sobs donât make a noise. You canât control the tears but you can hold your breath. When your head starts to feel light and your lungs are desperate for air, you can breathe through your mouth and inhale as slow as you can to keep the shakiness to a minimum. You can do everything you can to hold it together, even when youâre falling apart.Â
Someone taps you on the shoulder. You lift your head, ready to face a tired librarian kicking you out but instead you see bleach blonde hair and a forced smile over a furrowed brow.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â You whisper, glad for the quiet because you donât trust your voice to support you.Â
He holds up a thick, leatherbound book. LSAT for Dummies. âExtra reading couldnât hurt, right?âÂ
You blink at him. The only times youâve seen Soonyoung in the library on his own has been with a thick blanket and closed eyes (itâs how you know he sleeps with his mouth open, just a little). You canât quite believe heâs in front of you and yet he takes a step closer and doesnât vanish.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â He asks.Â
âShhh,â you say, holding your finger to your lips to get him to quiet down, even though thereâs no one in sight. âQuiet floor.âÂ
He nods, looking around as if heâs waiting for someone to kick him out. He turns to look at your desk, the contents of your backpack still strewn about. He tilts his head but doesnât dare raise his voice to ask. You know he hasnât missed the tears, still wet on your cheeks.Â
You done? He mouths.Â
Not even close, you think, but you nod anyways because itâs the easier answer. Soonyoung doesnât hesitate, gently closing your laptop and sweeping everything into your backpack. You watch as he dumps it all into the biggest pocket, zipping it up and slinging it onto his back. He tucks the law book under his arm and holds out his other hand for you to take.Â
âCome on,â he whispers. And you take it, let him pull you out of your chair. The walk to the elevator; out of the library; toward the edge of campus; nothing feels far when Soonyoung doesnât let go of your hand. You follow him in a daze, clinging to his hand in the off-chance that all your luck rides on himâlike if you let go, youâll lose your tether to this planet.Â
Soonyoung rarely walks in silence and today is not an exception. He rambles about the only member of the frat capable of cooking that apparently canât do anything without creating a giant mess. Even as he complains about the guy, Soonyoung canât help defending him, explaining in mouth-watering detail how good his food is.Â
âOne time he crowd sourced some steaks and did a grill for the new pledges and they all thought it was a prank or something and nearly cried when he actually let them eat them. I think they burnt their mouths from eating it too fast, afraid someone was going to take it away from them.â Soonyoung stops at the edge of campus. He glances at you, a question in his eyes. Where are we going?Â
âSoonyoung,â you say. Squeezing his hand feels natural. âI donât really want to go back right now.âÂ
He nods, squeezing your hand back. âYou want to go for a ride?âÂ
âYou have a car?âÂ
âNope.â Soonyoung fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes a call. You can only hear Soonyoung, who says, âI need a ride,â and âPick me up by the duck statue,â and then he hangs up.Â
The edge of campus that Soonyoung drags you to is right next to the athletic fields, which explains why there is a giant statue of the mascot that towers over you. It has three of its own personal spotlights and shiny claws from fans rubbing them for good luck, despite there being no official tradition. You only went to one game, mostly to confirm you would rather be anywhere else (except maybe the bathroom of the stadium). Either way, the only thing you do know about the statue and mascot for your school is that it is not a duck.Â
âThatâs a raven.â You point at the statue.Â
Soonyoung frowns between you and the hunk of metal. âOh, Larry?âÂ
âIt has a name?âÂ
âWell, thereâs the official name, which is like, Midnight Rain or something, and the frat name.âÂ
âAnd the frat name is Larry?âÂ
Soonyoung shrugs. âI didnât choose it.âÂ
âAnd you call it a duck, too?âÂ
âIt looks like a duck.âÂ
You study the statue. You arenât an ornithologist, but youâre pretty sure ducks have webbed feet instead of talons, and different beaks. Plus youâve never seen a pure black duck. But youâve spent enough time with Soonyoung to know it doesnât have to make sense when the frat is involved (in fact, youâve found sense is rarely involved in their decisions).Â
âWe just call it the duck. Or Larry, when we want to be formal.â Soonyoung jumps at the honk of a horn. You turn around with him to find an obnoxiously red convertible parked against the curb. The driverâs smooth black hair is styled to look effortless, hair falling just above his eyes, and he wears sunglasses despite the fact that the sun went down three hours ago. He might be attractive, if he wasnât trying so hard. You never thought you had a type, but someone like Soonyoung, who wears clothes that he likes and sticks his hair straight up because he thinks it looks funnyâthatâs more your style.Â
âHereâs our ride,â Soonyoung says. He starts walking, pulling you with him, still holding your hand. You arenât sure if he even realizes, but youâre in no hurry to remind him.Â
âHey Josh,â he says.Â
Driver (Josh, apparently), finally pulls off his sunglasses. âSoonyoung, you have a friend.âÂ
âIâm YN,â you say, wishing your voice didnât sound so scratchy from crying.Â
 âOh, I know,â he says, a twinkle in his eye that flirts between danger and fun. âIâm Joshua.â You try not to feel unsettled by it. He raises an eyebrow as Soonyoung slides into the backseat and you sit beside him. âAm I just an Uber to you?âÂ
âSeungcheol is out and I knew there was no way you would let me drive your car,â Soonyoung says.Â
âSo, yes?âÂ
Soonyoung shrugs and laughs at Joshuaâs expression.Â
âWhere are we headed?â He asks with a resigned sigh as if heâs used to Soonyoungâs antics. Has he done this before? You frown. Why does it matter to you if heâs done this with someone else? Youâre so busy with the internal war, you miss Soonyoungâs answer.Â
âSeriously?â Joshua asks. âItâs a weeknight.âÂ
âLike thatâs ever been a problem for you.âÂ
Joshua glances at you. âYouâre okay with this?âÂ
You pause. You donât actually know where Soonyoung said to go. But itâs Soonyoung, your heart says. You're inclined to agree with it tonight. âYeah.âÂ
He shakes his head and mutters something you donât catch and kicks the car into gear. Before long, you are flying down a two lane road you didnât even know existed. The wind starts to pick up with the top of the car down, blasting your face. Though your nose is still stuffed from crying, the air fills your lungs, tasting like dead leaves and unnatural warmth courtesy of climate change. For the first time tonight, you can breathe.Â
.
.
The clock reads just shy of 1 am by the time the car stops. As soon as the rumbling engine cuts out, another noise takes over, drowning everything else out. Crashes too rhythmic to be thunder, the blows softened by tall dunes illuminated by the carâs headlights that Joshua didnât turn off.Â
Soonyoung turns to you with a grin. âReady to have some fun?â He doesnât wait for an answer, jumping out of the car instead of opening the door, ignoring Joshuaâs shout. He sprints toward the crashing waves.Â
Joshua shakes his head, opening his door and ushering you out from the back. He even closes the door behind you, folding his arms over his chest and walking slowly to the beach with you. The headlights cut out but the moon and stars shine enough to see where the boardwalk ends and the sand begins. Soonyoungâs movement gives him away more than any light, running alongside the water and dancing with the tide.Â
You clear your throat. The ride cleared your head enough for you to feel properly embarrassed about meeting someone right after sobbing. You shudder to imagine how terrible you looked when he first picked you up, clinging to Soonyoung like he was the only thing keeping you alive. A blush forms just at the thought of it.Â
âSo, you do this often?â You ask.Â
âDo something truly insane because of Soonyoung? All the time.â Joshua laughs. âWe donât usually end up this far away though, and usually someoneâs life is in imminent danger.âÂ
âThat doesnât surprise me,â you say, watching Soonyoung strip his socks and shoes off and toss them behind him. One sock gets caught in the wind and blows back toward you and Joshua.Â
Joshua stops before the two of you can catch up to him. You turn to look at him. Itâs difficult to read his expression in the moonlight but he frowns like heâs not sure he should say something. Eventually he says, âIâm going for a walk down the boardwalk.â He glances at Soonyoung, then back at you and smiles. âHave fun with him.âÂ
You watch him turn around and trudge back up the sand, wondering if all of Soonyoungâs friends are this strange. Maybe itâs just being in a frat. You grab Soonyoungâs sock and set it with his shoes, smiling when he turns around and waves like a maniac.Â
âItâs the ocean!â He shouts over the crashes.Â
âYouâre soaked!â You shout back. He glances down and apparently finally realizes his shirt is wet, clinging to his shoulders already. He strides back toward you, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer.Â
âMy shoes are not coming off!â You warn him.Â
âJust come closer!â He says. âItâs amazing!â You stand with him at the edge of the water, watching it rise in the darkness and draw closer and closer. It crashes on the sand first, a violent move, kicking up wet sand and mixing it with white water. The frothy white water creeps forward, until you have to dance backward. Soonyoung stays in the water, letting it wash around his feet.Â
âIt feels better like this,â he says.Â
âMy feet are covered in enough sand,â you say, though he does look like heâs having fun. The water must be freezing this time of the yearâit would feel so nice running over your skin. But youâd end up with wet socks and even more sand in your shoes to clean out.Â
Soonyoung holds out his hand. âYouâd like this.âÂ
You chew on your lip. Normally youâd laugh in his face and say ânot a chance.â But normalcy has never been running three hours away to the beach in the middle of the night when you have class at 9 in the morning. You pull off the sneakers without untying them and pull your socks off, setting them next to Soonyoungâs and joining him at the edge of the water. His hand isnât out by the time you return but he slips it into yours when you join his side.Â
Another wave crashes and you watch the water creep forward, faster than you expect it to beâand youâre right, itâs freezing, but Soonyoungâs right too, it sends an icy shock throughout your body that sends a tingly rush up from your toes to every nerve in your body, setting them on fire. You squeeze his hand and laugh.Â
âGood?â He asks.
âI love it.âÂ
You donât know how long you stand there, holding onto Soonyoungâs hand and letting the water wash over you. After a few waves, it doesnât feel cold anymore. You stand until your feet are buried in wet sand, each wave sending you lower and lower.Â
âMy feet are freezing,â Soonyoung eventually says.Â
âMine, too.â You lift your feet reluctantly, already missing the coarse sand and cold water. You have to let go of Soonyoungâs hand to put on your socks and shoes, shuddering at all the sand in your socks. The cotton became damp from sitting too close to the water, your shoes faring the same. Yet you donât regret a second of it.Â
You stand up and stretch, feeling your spine pop. When you turn back around, you almost scream. You manage to contain it to a gasp, a wheezing Soonyoungâs name. He blinks at you innocently, like he isnât standing in front of you with his shirt in his hand.Â
âWhat are you doing?â You choke out.Â
âWeâre at the beach,â he says. âI have to take pictures.âÂ
âAnd you need to take off your shirt for that?âÂ
âWhy? Does it bother you?â He smirks.Â
Muscles have never been a selling point for you. The âpeopleâ youâve crushed on have all been smart or kind, crushes of intellect rather than bodies. His toned abs, sculpted shoulders, the way his body curves gently as he allows you to stare at himânormally it wouldnât get to you at all (other than the embarrassment of being this close to a shirtless man for the first time in a long time). But itâs not just the muscles. Itâs Soonyoung, your Soonyoung who calls you at four in the morning to tell you about the movie he just finished and is too endearing for you to truly be annoyed at. Itâs the Soonyoung that gets lost in the Engineering building even as a senior. Itâs the Soonyoung that drags you to the beach in the middle of the night just to make you smile. Yes, it bothers you. No one should be this incredible and hot.Â
âNo,â you mumble, failing to convince yourself of the lie.Â
Soonyoung seems to be done teasing you, dropping his shirt into your hands. He walks a little closer to the waves, apparently not bothered by the chilly ocean breeze. He starts to pose, then raises his eyebrows. âArenât you going to take pictures?âÂ
âWhereâs your phone?â
âThe cameraâs broken,â he says. âJust use yours and you can send them to me.â He continues to pose, flexing his arms as subtly as he can which isnât particularly subtle (though the muscles are even more impressive in person). You are tempted to reach out and feel the tension, before you realize you are staring again.Â
You numb to Soonyoung in this half-dressed state as you take the pictures. The frat must have a professional photographer or something, because Soonyoung knows how to pose. Despite some of the angles and positions seeming awkward, each picture comes out as if from a photoshoot. He only gives you a few instructions on taking pictures, and compliments you way beyond your talents.Â
âJust like that!â Soonyoung says, breaking his model face to grin at you. âYouâre really good at this.âÂ
âYou canât even see the pictures,â you say. You bite your lips so you donât smile. Apparently that doesnât matter, because he keeps posing. Itâs a good thing you just upgraded your phone storage because you estimate at least a thousand pictures are taken for each pose.Â
âAre you guys done?â You jump at the voice next to you. Apparently Joshua returned from his walk, sneaking up using the crashing waves as cover. âWe should head back soon if you want to make your morning classes.âÂ
âDefinitely want to,â you say. You havenât gotten any work done, but thatâs no excuse to skip class. Soonyoung pouts but doesnât argue.Â
âPerfect!â Joshua claps his hands together. He shoves you toward Soonyoung and grabs your phone. âOne more picture together and weâll go.â
Being at a distance worked perfectly fine but those muscles have you frozen in place again. Soonyoung throws an arm over your shoulders and grins like you do this all the time. His biceps press through your jacket, the flex of the muscle exactly as you imagined it, not that it stops your heart from thundering.Â
You canât help but steal a glance at Soonyoung. Despite feeling like youâll malfunction at any second, thereâs nowhere else youâd rather be. Soonyoungâs features look soft this close, even the sharp cut of his jawline. You want to study every line of his face, each curve, memorize it until the way his lips slowly curl into a smile is carved into your heart. Spending the rest of your life here doesnât seem too bad.Â
âLetâs go,â Joshua says, breaking whatever magic froze time for you. You are left with cold toes and sand in your sneakers as you march up the dune and back to Joshuaâs car.Â
âI just cleaned it,â he groans, looking at all the sand you and Soonyoung tracked in.Â
You mumble an apology but when you try to offer to clean it for him, he shakes his head. âNobody touches my baby.âÂ
You glance at Soonyoung, who followed you into the backseat again. He rolls his eyes at Joshua, smiling in a way that you know means he isnât serious. You smile back at him and click your seatbelt into place.Â
âAddress?â Joshua asks, handing you his phone. You punch it in and hand the phone back. 3 hours and sixteen minutes.Â
Joshua whistles, seeing the arrival time of 4:53. âRemind me never to do this again.âÂ
âThe beach was your idea,â Soonyoung says. His words slur a little.Â
âJust go to sleep already,â Joshua says. The engine rumbles on and he pulls away from the empty boardwalk.Â
ââm not even tired,â Soonyoung says, fighting a yawn. He slouches and leans against the headrest, rolling his head to look at you. âYou have class in the morning?âÂ
âNot until nine.âÂ
âThatâs good.â He doesnât succeed in fighting the yawn this time. His blinks become longer and longer, eyes closing more than opening. Itâs like watching the energizer bunny shut down.Â
âSoonyoung?âÂ
He opens his eyes and you think maybe heâd wait for the rest of his life for you to say something.Â
âThank you.âÂ
âAlways.â He smiles lazily. âI swore Iâd do anything.âÂ
His sworn loyalty. It should be fun, having a boy like him dedicated to fulfilling your wishes. But what would it be like if he wasnât sworn to you? If he did these kinds of things just because he wants to?Â
You didnât think you were tired but the next thing you know, Soonyoung gently shakes you awake.Â
âWeâre here,â he says in a quiet, very un-Soonyoung voice.Â
You blink at him, trying to figure out why your neck hurts so much, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. From the rear view mirror, Joshua watches you. Right, instead of writing your essay, doing the problem sets, or any of the readings, you went to the beach. You wait for the guilt to set in but it doesnât come. None of the anxieties from earlier in the evening (the technical part of your brain reminds you it was the night before) overwhelm you.Â
âRight,â you say, clearing your throat. Your mouth tastes nasty but before you can say anything, Soonyoung hands you a water bottle. You take a sip before saying thank you.Â
Soonyoung unbuckles his seatbelt. âIâll walk you up.âÂ
You nod, grateful you donât have to ask him. The night has been a full adventure on its own yet you arenât quite ready for it to be over. At least you arenât ready to say goodbye to Soonyoung.Â
Thereâs still something you want to tell him. You want to tell him that you like his blonde hair, even though everyone else thinks itâs ridiculous. You want to tell him that you lied earlier, you nearly lost your mind seeing him shirtless. You want to tell him that you feel proud when he gets the right answer on the first try, that you think his concentration frown is cute, that youâve never enjoyed studying like you do when heâs by your side. You want to tell him that on your worst days, days like today, just being Soonyoung makes it better.Â
But you learned a long time ago tired ramblings and drunk confessions are siblings. They both end in heartbreak and twelve packs of ramen.Â
So you ride the elevator with him and watch the lights flicker. You never cared when Jihoon brought his friends (well, Jun) over, but the carpets that look dirty no matter how many times theyâre cleaned and beige walls are even worse tonight. You can stand to live in a boring apartment, but not a dirty one.Â
âThis is me,â you say, gesturing to 808. You turn your back on the door, facing Soonyoung instead. He looks radiant under the fluorescent hallway lights, which really isnât fair. They make his bleach blonde hair look natural, highlight the blemishes on his skin, easy to see when heâs this close.Â
You should go inside and he should go back down but neither of you move. For the second time tonight, you are frozen in time with Soonyoung.Â
The floor creaks and you jump, turning around at the same time, accidentally knocking into Soonyoungâs chest as you turn to face the noise behind you. Jihoon, gym bag over his shoulder, frowns at you across the hallway.Â
âAre you seriously just getting back now?âÂ
Shit. You never texted him. âUm, Jihoon, this is Soonyoung,â you say. He waves behind you. âSoonyoung, Jihoon.âÂ
Jihoon folds his arms. âIâve heard about you.â You glare at him, which he ignores. âYouâre taking the LSAT on a dare?âÂ
âYouâre the one that wants to be a music producer?âÂ
Jihoon raises his eyebrows and looks at you. âYouâve mentioned me?âÂ
âOnly the worst,â you say, smiling at him.Â
âI thought you were at the library all night?â Jihoon says.Â
âWe went on an adventure,â you say. You show him your sandy shoes. He raises his eyebrows but doesnât say anything. Itâs clear he knows he interrupted something, but the stubborn asshole doesnât move.Â
You turn back to Soonyoung. âGoodnight,â you say, resisting the urge to hug him.Â
âItâs morning,â Jihoon says.Â
âGoodnight,â Soonyoung says, glancing at Jihoon. He pauses and fidgets with the hem of his shirt but finally gives you a half hug that feels more like a bro hug than anything else. He disappears into the elevator then pops his head out a final time âSend me the photos!âÂ
You turn to Jihoon. âI forgot to text you.âÂ
âI figured Iâd wait until the morning to call,â he said. âEven if you were kidnapped thereâs still a 90% chance youâd figure out a way to show up for class on time.â He turns the key in the lock and strides into the apartment. Youâre too tired to argue back, especially when heâs right, so you just follow him into the apartment.Â
âI like him,â Jihoon says before you vanish into your room.Â
âShould I find you a wedding dress?â You say. âSoonyoung is single.âÂ
Jihoon rolls his eyes and grabs a protein shake from the fridge. âWhy do I even bother?âÂ
You donât wait for him to leave first, peeling your shoes off in the entryway where you can sweep up the sand and practically fall into your room. Itâs race to change into an old t-shirt before you collapse onto your bed.Â
You set an alarm for 8:30 and check fifty times to make sure itâs actually set. Then you open your camera roll, shaking your head at the countless pictures. You choose twenty non-blurry ones before your eyes start to droop. You scroll to the bottom and click on the pictures Joshua took. Soonyoung grins for the camera, his easy smile as captivating on your phone as it is in person. You are staring at him, a soft smile on your lips and hearts practically bugging out of your eyes. Itâs so ridiculously obvious how you feel. You send him his thirst traps and keep that picture for yourself.Â
It takes a week for you to realize Soonyoung never posted the pictures.Â
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The weight of the world has the decency to wait until youâre home to fall on your shoulders. You hold your keys up and canât push it into the lock. If you didnât do well today, it means the past two months have been a complete wasteâall the studying, the assignments you got low grades on because you were studying, the nights you spent at your deskâwasted and doomed to repeat.Â
All but the time you spent with Soonyoung. Even if you fail (again), he should at least score decently, and you canât consider that a complete waste.Â
You raise your key to insert it into the lock but the door flies open. Jihoon glares at you, arms folded over his chest. âWhat the hell is taking you so long, your boyfriend is here.â Â
You peer past him and find Soonyoung lounging on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table. He sits up when he sees you, grinning and waving. You wonder if heâs been there since you told him you were finished. You make a mental note to get Jihoon his favorite protein shakes.Â
âHow did you know I was here?âÂ
âMe and your boyfriend heard you shaking your keys in front of the door for like twenty minutes,â Jihoon says.
âHeâs not my boyfriend,â you mutter, praying Soonyoung didnât hear either of you. You push past Jihoon, letting him lock the door behind you. Soonyoung jumps off the couch as soon as you drop your bag, almost tackling you in a hug. You pretend not to hear Jihoonâs scoff as he locks himself in his room again.Â
âHowâd it go?â He asks, squeezing you one more time before letting go. You try not to feel disappointed about it. âI mean, I know you did amazing, but how do you feel? Was the room super hot or super cold? Did the proctor give you the evil eye when you turned in your paper because they were secretly trying to sabotage you?âÂ
âNo?â You frown. âAnd the room was fine, I felt pretty good about it, but I felt good last time, so I donât really know, I just really donât want to take it again.â You sigh. âI know you want to know as many details as possible for your test, but I really, really donât want to think about it right now.âÂ
Soonyoung grins and pulls out a package of White Claws and a bottle of vodka from a plastic bag that you just noticed sitting on your coffee table. âThatâs perfect because I brought a gift from the whole frat.âÂ
âThat seems pretty on brand,â you say.Â
âAnd a gift from me.â He digs again and pulls out a DVD. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.Â
âYouâre kidding.â You say. âI think I have to be drunk to watch that.âÂ
âYou donât have faith in my taste in movies?â Soonyoung asks but he pops open the first drink and slips something shaped concerningly like a knife out of his pocket and stabs the can, chugging it before it can really spill on your carpet. Before you can register what he did, he tosses the empty can on the coffee table, immediately scrambling to straighten it. âSorry, force of habit.âÂ
âSoonyoung, I donât think I can keep up with you,â you say, sitting slowly onto the couch.Â
âOh, donât worry, Iâm a lightweight,â he says. âI definitely should not have chugged that.âÂ
âI guess I better catch up,â you say, unscrewing the vodka and pouring a shot in the little paper cups that Soonyoung brought. The acrid scent curls your lip but you knock it back as fast as you can, forcing it down when you miss the back of your throat and it burns your tongue. Soonyoung hands you a can, the lime flavored seltzer pushing the nasty flavor out of your mouth.Â
âYeah, Iâm terrible at that,â you say.Â
Soonyoung shrugs. âIâm not one to judge. You should have seen me as a pledge.âÂ
You grin at the mental image of Soonyoung wearing a fake toga made of bedsheets. âI bet you were adorable.â You take another sip of the drink (which tastes significantly worse when you arenât comparing it to straight vodka) and miss Soonyoung scrambling for words.Â
âI canât drink this,â you declare, setting the can down. You cross the room to the fridge, opening it and studying the contents. Soonyoung follows you, resting his chin on the door and glancing inside.Â
âJihoon does most of the cooking,â you say, feeling self-conscious. Not much populates your fridge, a package of chicken breast and a carton of eggs. A couple containers of take out that are either two days or two weeks old sit in front, and the drawer of fruit that is filled with apples from Jihoonâs mother definitely smells funny.Â
âI live in a frat house, this is heaven.âÂ
You flash him a smile and grab the orange juice, shaking it as you grab a glass from the cabinet (thank god Jihoon did the dishes last night). Soonyoung follows you back to the couch and waits for you to pour a glass and add two shots of vodka. You raise the glass and he takes your rejected White Claw and clinks it.Â
âCheers,â he says, sipping this one instead of chugging it. He sets it down and leans against the armrest so that he can face you. âHow did you meet Jihoon, by the way? He seems like a pretty reserved dude.â
âYeah, sorry if he was short with you, he isnât half as mean as he pretends to be,â you say.Â
âWe actually talked a lot.â He pauses, tilting his head as he thinks about it. âWell, a lot about working out. I think I could turn him into my gym buddy with enough pressure.âÂ
âI would pay to see that,â you say. Jihoon tried to bring you to the gym exactly once, and you have regretted it ever since. The soreness haunts you, but you think Soonyoung might be one of the few people on the planet that could keep up with him with those arms.Â
âI didnât know you were into that,â Soonyoung says with a giggle. You roll your eyes.Â
âYou know for a fact thatâs not what I meant,â you say, âand to answer your question, we lived in the same dorm freshman year. He was next door, and both our roommates were psychotic, so we ended up trading. Weâve been living together ever since because Iâm the only one that can put up with his annoying ass. Also he cooks and keeps me alive during finals.âÂ
âI canât believe I was a dorm assignment away from living with you.â Soonyoung shakes his head and pretends to sigh. âFate isnât on my side.âÂ
âDonât you live in a frat house?âÂ
âSemantics,â Soonyoung says. He pauses. âSemen-tics.â He starts to laugh and though the joke is far from funny, you find yourself giggling too.Â
âYouâre drunk,â you say.Â
Soonyoung points at you. âIâm pretty sure youâre drunk too.âÂ
You tilt your head from side to side, trying to think at first but the motion feels nice, toeing the line between dizzying and comfortable. Right, you were checking if you were drunk. You have your answer, but you donât want to stop spinning just yet.Â
âDo you really want to be a lawyer?â Soonyoung asks. You freeze with your head on your right shoulder, frowning at him. âI mean, like, how do you know?âÂ
âIt makes good money,â you say. âWell, corporate law does. Everything going according to plan, Iâll be out of debt before Iâm thirty, retiring at 65.âÂ
âBut how do you know thatâs what you want?â Soonyoung asks. You wonder if heâs asking you or himself. You think about the first day you met him.Â
It was the first day of your sophomore year, 8 in the morning in the worst classroom in the Armhayer Building at the end of a dead end hallway with no windows. The business program had a required career building course and some cruel administrator decided to make the other available class clash with the other required business class for the year, so half the class was people you were stuck with for the full year. Despite its reputation, the business school at the university seemed to only accept idiots.Â
You settled for a long semester of biting back your eye rolls and yawning through class, choosing a seat in the front so that at least you wonât have to look at anyone else. And for fifteen minutes, you struggled to keep your eyes open.Â
Then Soonyoung walked in.Â
He was out of breath, telling the professor that he got lost several times and someone gave him the wrong directions. You didnât really pay attention to him until he dropped into the seat next to you. Fully prepared to give him a side eye and judge him for the rest of the semester, Soonyoung flashed a smile at you and apologized for disrupting you. He was so obviously not your type, yet when his head dropped on your shoulder, you didnât wake him up. Two classes later when the professor told the class that you would be in a semester-long partner project, you didnât hesitate to say yes when Soonyoung asked you.Â
Soonyoung hadnât ever taken the class seriously, going through the motions and doing the bare minimum for most of the assignments. You never paid any attention to it, but you realize that he never actually told you what he planned to do with his life, always asking you what you planned to do with your copious amounts of money. Now you wonder if it was because he really doesnât know.Â
âI want stability,â you finally say. âThis plan is stable. Safe, as long as everything goes according to plan. I guess itâs not as cool as dreaming about being an astronaut or whatever, but itâs what I want.âÂ
âI think itâs cool. Knowing what you want to do.â Soonyoung says with little enthusiasm.Â
âYou donât have any idea?âÂ
He shrugs. âI have to be smart to do the things I want to do.âÂ
âYou are smart.âÂ
âYou donât have to pander to me, Iâm not looking for your pity.âÂ
âSoonyoung.â You wait for him to look you in the eyes. âYou are smart. This isnât pity. Sure it takes you a little longer to read things, and you have to work a little harder to answer some questions, but that doesnât mean youâre not smart. Youâre just as capable as me, more capable when it comes to emotional intelligence. Have you ever noticed that wherever you go, someone is always waving to you? I donât think thereâs a single person in this world that doesnât like you. Donât downplay how important that is.âÂ
He chews on his lip and you know he doesnât believe you. How many people have told him heâs dumb? You want to drag every single one of them here and make them apologize, make them realize how special the boy in front of you is. Eventually he shrugs. âIâll just end up being an intern, and then Iâll be so charming theyâll promote me without realizing I donât know what Iâm doing and Iâll become a CEO that pays people to do the job for me.âÂ
You smile and shake your head. âWe can vacation together in the Bahamas.âÂ
âPlease, thatâs where the semi-rich people go,â Soonyoung says, lifting his head from the back of the couch. âWeâll have our own islands and sail past each other.â This time when he smiles, the sparkle glints, just a little. His bleach blonde hair sticks in strange angles from rubbing against the couch, looking a little like a fuzzball. You reach a hand out and pat it down, except the hair is fried from being bleached so many times and almost breaks under your hand.Â
When you pull your hand down, Soonyoung is staring at you. Except staring isnât the right word. He looks at you like no one else ever has, a thousand unsaid words behind his eyes, a language like no other that maybe only you can understand. Those dark eyes, so soft and warm, begging you to drown in them. Heâs a siren, luring you in with a song of desire that only you can hear.Â
You donât realize youâve leaning closer until you fall forward, catching yourself on his chest. Soonyoungâs hand flies to your waist, moving so fast it must have been reflex.Â
âSorry,â you mutter but you donât get off him. Resisting his eyes from this close is impossible. Soonyoung blinks at you, frozen. It occurs to you that youâre almost kissing him. All you have to do is lean forward, press your lips against his. Would his lips be chapped? Would he kiss you back? Would he make fun of you for being a terrible kisser? You hold your breath, wondering if you are about to find out.Â
You jump at the bang of a door slamming shut. You push off Soonyoungâs chest, back to your side of the couch until your back slams against the armrest. The pain is almost enough to sober you up and you realize exactly what you were about to do. You canât bear to look at Soonyoung staring at you so you look at Jihoon instead, who doesnât seem to realize that he interrupted anything by walking into the kitchen, headphones blasting music so loud that you can hear it. He grabs one of the takeout containers from the fridge and finally notices you and Soonyoung staring at him.Â
âWhat?â He shouts over his headphones. You shake your head and he stares at you all the way back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make you jump again.Â
âWe should probably start the movie,â you say, turning to face forward, anywhere but Soonyoung. âIâll get my laptop.â He doesnât say anything but you can feel Soonyoungâs eyes on you as you jump up. Ignoring the spinning in your head, you walk to your room. You lean against the door as soon as it shuts behind you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.Â
You wish you could blame the idiocy on the alcohol, but you arenât drunk enough for that. Besides, regardless of the reason, it was a mistake, it would be a mistake, to kiss Soonyoung. No matter how badly you want to do it.Â
Your computer sits on your desk. The longer it takes for you to get back, the stranger it will be, so you grab it and return to the couch. Dizziness gives you an excuse to peer at the floor, perfectly valid reason to avoid Soonyoungâs eyes.Â
âAre you ready to have your mind blown?â He asks when you insert the DVD into your laptop.Â
You raise your eyebrows but still donât have the courage to face him. âItâs that good?âÂ
Soonyoung laughs easily, as if nothing happened. âYou have no idea what youâre in for.âÂ
You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He faces the computer, sitting back against the couch. Other than his red tinted cheeks, you canât tell heâs drunk at all. You have no idea what youâre in for, he said. He has no idea how right he is.Â
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You hold Soonyoung by the shoulders, staring him down. Your eyes begin to water but you hold them open, determined not to lose. Soonyoung squints, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. You just have to hold out a little longer, but your eyes begin to ache and the air pierces into them.Â
âDamn!â Soonyoung cries, throwing himself back onto the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. You let go of his shoulders and resist the urge to rub your eyes, settling for blinking as fast as humanly possible. Your eyes burn but you smile anyways, wiping tears away with the back of your hand.Â
âHow are you so good at that?â Soonyoung asks. He gives into the impulse, hands pressed against his eyes.Â
âIâm really not, I think youâre just bad at staring contests,â you say. âNow hurry up, you lost so you have to answer.âÂ
He sighs as if he didnât beg you to help him study. With only a day before his test, youâre not sure how much this is really helping, but at least he isnât partying with the rest of his frat (who do a pre-finals bar crawl, apparently). Instead, Soonyoung is on your couch, again. You try not to think about the last time he was here. Not productive thoughts, especially not when Soonyoung is one day away from taking the most important test of his life.Â
âIs it B?âÂ
âAre you asking or telling?âÂ
âI hate when you say that.â He peers at the paper, eyes moving slowly as he rereads the line. âNo, itâs C! Wait, no, B. No, A!âÂ
âPick an answer.âÂ
He chews on his lip. You have to force yourself to keep your focus on his eyes. âB,â he finally says.Â
Youâre tempted to drag it out and make him wait but he puts on the Soonyoung Sparkle so you go ahead and nod.Â
âI knew it! Trust your gut!âÂ
âYouâre quoting me now.â You pretend to wipe tears from the corner of your eyes. âYouâve grown up so quickly.â Â
If it were Jihoon, heâd roll his eyes but Soonyoung perks up, as if youâve given him a real compliment. He pauses before asking his next question, eyes flickering to the papers separating you from him.Â
âYou really think Iâll do well?â He asks softly.Â
You study him, the way his unnaturally blonde hair has been strategically gelled to stick up in all the right places, the way his plain white t-shirt hangs loose on his shoulders. You wonder what he sees when he looks in the mirror because the way he sits now, waiting for an answer as if youâd actually say no, breaks your heart a little. He really has no idea how brilliant he is, in every sense of the word. You donât know how to make him see it so you just take his hand and wait for him to look you in the eyes.Â
The second the glittering dark irises meet yours, you see the desperation. He tries to smile, to hide the fear but Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You fight the urge to brush your fingers against his cheek.Â
âSoonyoung.â You squeeze his hand. What you feel isnât a passing crush, youâve known that for a while now. Admitting it doesnât give you the bravery to do anything except pull the shield of cowardice around your heart a little tighter. âIâd be an idiot if I said I didnât.âÂ
He holds your gaze a little longer, until it almost looks like he believes you. Then his eyes light up. âI have a surprise for you!âÂ
He digs into his backpack, pulling out a blanket (not the one he used when it was still warm enough to sit outside in the grass), a plastic water bottle half-full of bright green liquid, three crumpled flyers for events on campus, and finally, a small rectangular item, carefully wrapped in paper towels.Â
âI was a little worried it would get damaged in my backpack,â he says. âI really, really tried to walk gently and didnât bring it near any coffee.âÂ
You choose not to point out the unnatural liquid in the plastic water bottle, instead appreciating his efforts to protect whatever your surprise is. Besides, itâs not like he didnât try. He carefully pulls the paper towels off, revealing a navy blue leather bound book with gilded lettering. Not just any book.Â
âYou got it back?â You cry. Soonyoung pulls the rest of the paper towels off to reveal the intricate design on the cover, the golden pages, with Pride and Prejudice inscribed on the spine. âMy baby!âÂ
You hover over the book, not wanting to ruin it with the dirt and oils from your hands but so desperately wanting to caress the beautiful book. Itâs just as you remember it, down to the tiny dent on the front cover where you accidentally knocked it against a railing. You canât wait to put it back on your bookshelf where there has been an empty space ever since Jun managed to snag it. You remember Soonyoung is there when you hear his laughter.Â
âYou like it that much?âÂ
âOf course,â you say. âItâs my baby.âÂ
âItâs a book.â But he smiles and you know heâs just teasing. So you figure, why not?Â
You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His frat-bro instincts must take charge because he doesnât hesitate to hug you back, pulling you against his chest and squeezing you like heâs the one getting a gift.Â
âThank you,â you say. âThank you, thank you, thank you.âÂ
âThis is my thank you,â he says. You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest, a strange sensation that sends butterflies tumbling around between your stomach and your heart. âItâs the least I could do for you.Â
The awkward position isnât exactly comfortable, twisting your body to face him with your shoulder overtop of his forcing your face into his neck but you donât want to let go. You give yourself five more thundering heartbeats before you let go, turning to study your book again so you have an excuse to avoid his eyes.Â
âHow did you get it back?âÂ
âSame way you lost it,â Soonyoung says. âI made a bet.âÂ
âOn what?âÂ
Soonyoung shrugs, turning to look at the book that still sits in his lip. He gently places it into yours, using the paper towels to prevent smudging with his fingers.Â
You frown. âHow? Jun is in another hemisphere.âÂ
âDonât underestimate the power of video calls and express shipping,â Soonyoung says. âBy the way, Iâm wearing your friends down. Pretty soon theyâll like me more than they like you.Â
âOh really?â You raise your eyebrow. You ignore the vole gnawing at your gut whispering that he might just be right.Â
âI got Jihoon to go to the gym with me and I got him to admit I was friends with you before he was,â he says, holding a finger out. âJun says that he wants to meet me the second he returns to the country.â A second finger goes up. âWho else can I add to the list?âÂ
Heâs only joking. He doesnât mean it the way it sounds, but your skin wants to crawl inside out. The truth is, they are pretty much your only friends. Jihoon, Jun, and Soonyoung, the latter two having wormed their way into your life. My only friends.Â
âYouâve got to start going on the offensive,â Soonyoung says. He avoids your eyes and you know he didnât miss your discomfort. Great, now he pities you. âIâm serious, Seokmin and Joshua have been asking about you, and Seungcheol keeps complaining that he hasnât met you yet.âÂ
You snort. âTheyâre frat bros, they just want more people to party with.âÂ
âIâm a frat bro,â he says.Â
âYeah, butâŚâ But what? Heâs Soonyoung? Once again, you wonder why he is so different to youâwhy the epitome of frat boy chaos doesnât repulse you like he should. But he isnât some one-dimensional steroid-infused party boy, not the type to bully the freshman trying to join just because he can. He gets drunk after two shots and makes his pledges follow him for 24 hours a day as âhazing,â only to take them for a dinner he canât afford and skips his own classes so they donât miss theirs.Â
Heâs not a typical frat boy. But Soonyoung loves his frat, and you canât find a way to tell him this without making it sound like you are looking down on the rest of the members.Â
So you just say, âIsnât this supposed to be a study session?âÂ
Soonyoung sighs, pulling the book in front of him and staring at the words. Even though you can see that he isnât reading, he doesnât say anything else.Â
âYour test is tomorrow,â you say.Â
âYeah, I know.â He doesnât pick up the pencil.Â
Youâve never struggled to read Soonyoung. He canât hide when heâs upset, shoulders slumping, a little pout forming over his lips. He doesnât fully frown but his eyebrows comes together, just a bit. And itâs usually easy to figure out whatâs wrongâheâs tired, or wants to be at a party instead of studying. But now? He was fine just a moment ago, even while he was cramming earlier.Â
âIs something wrong?â You donât know why youâre so scared of the answer.Â
âI just thought that⌠nNever mind.â He sighs again. âYouâre right, this is a study session. I should be studying.â He doesnât look at you and you canât help but feel like you messed up. But Soonyoung eventually picks up his pencil and asks you to check his answers and the feeling slowly fades.Â
Will the rest of your feelings fade when you arenât with him like this anymore? When he takes his test and has no reason to see you every day? Will your heart still beat at the mention of his name? Will you spend the rest of your life thinking about all the almosts with him? Or will it fade until Soonyoung is just a boy that you helped because of a silly bet?
Even as you consider it, you know the answer. He isnât just a boy, and he never will be. Maybe thatâs what really scares you.Â
.
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You glare at Soonyoung. âDo you know what time it is?âÂ
Jihoon glances at his watch. â7:43.âÂ
Soonyoung grins beside him, arm over his shoulder. Both boys stand in your bedroom doorway looking far too composed for this ungodly hour.Â
âItâs a Saturday.â Just two minutes ago you were in blissful sleep. Okay, maybe not blissful, since you stayed up until three in the morning because you couldnât fall asleep, and you were having a weird dream where you were looking for something and ended up by the stadium staring at a giant duck statue instead of the raven. But the point is you were asleep until two fists banged on your door so loud you thought it was going to fall apart.Â
You canât even be that mad at Soonyoung, not when he smiles like that. So you glare at Jihoon.
âHonestly, I figured you would be up,â he says. âYou were the one that said you didnât think you were going to get any sleep.âÂ
âIâm sorry,â Soonyoung says. âI really just wanted to help distract you for the last hour.â Right. The last hour until your entire future would be determined by a triple digit number. No biggie.Â
âLet me get dressed,â you say. They step back before you have the chance to slam the door in their face. Youâd like to be able to dress up nicely, but youâre already shivering, so you grab your comfiest sweatpants and the sweatshirt Soonyoung lent you (that still smells like his cologne). You dart into the bathroom and meet the two boys in the doorway of the apartment, pulling on your sneakers.Â
You pull the hood over your messy hair and tighten the strings. Soonyoung grins at you and taps your nose.Â
âReady to go?âÂ
âHow did you get out of bed this early?âÂ
âOh, I never got in,â he says. âLong story, but we gotta go, they wonât wait much longer.âÂ
âThey?â You ask but Soonyoung doesnât hear you. He turns to Jihoon, waving.Â
âSee you tomorrow!â He says, throwing an arm over your shoulders to pull you out the door. âIâll let you know how it goes!âÂ
Jihoon rolls his eyes. âWhatever.â But he looks at you and smiles. âItâll be fine.â Before you can thank him, he shuts the door.Â
Soonyoung doesnât let go of your side, pulling you to the elevators and squeezing you against him. âHow are you feeling?âÂ
âLike I should be asleep.âÂ
Soonyoung smiles, as if your grumpiness is funny. You decide itâs moot since thereâs no way you could fall asleep now that you are an hour and seven minutes away from finding out the results of your future.Â
âI figured Iâd save you from wallowing in worry,â Soonyoung says. âWe can do fun things while we wait. I planned out the whole morning, we have options! Thereâs going to the gym, or for a job around campus, breaking into the science lab and petting the rabbits, going to Barbâs for breakfastââ
âBreakfast,â you say. You arenât a huge fan of getting in trouble with the college when you have just over a semester before graduation and though you arenât sure if your stomach will accept food, working out is a guarantee for throwing up. Besides, a hot cup of coffee could clear a little of the fog in your brain.Â
âBarbâs it is,â Soonyoung says, practically bouncing on his toes. He really seems to only have two settings, and today heâs at 120%.Â
He lets go of your side when the elevator opens and you step to the ground floor of your apartment. You rub your arms and pretend like the chill is from the weather even though the lobby is still warm. He holds the door for you pretending to be a doorman, bowing and gesturing with his arm for you to pass. You turn so that he doesnât see that the silly gesture made you smile.Â
Parked outside is a white jeep that looks larger than normal, and is apparently the asshole thatâs been blasting their music for the past ten minutes. You arenât surprised in the slightest when Soonyoung strides up to the car. Â
âI donât have a car,â he says, belatedly apologetic. The two men in the front seat donât seem to mind, though you suspect they have been up all night along with Soonyoung as soon as the door opens and you hear their voices singing off-tune over the blasting music.Â
âBoy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away,â The driver cries, using a water bottle as a mic. You recognize Seungcheol from Soonyoungâs descriptions, half from his voice and half from the back of his head. The person riding shotgun is also familiar, a mess of dark hair that must be Joshua. He doesnât look much different in daylight, sunglasses resting on his forehead. Thankfully they turn the music down a little and stop singing when you get it.Â
Seungcheol grins at you through the mirror. âSo I finally get to meet the infamous YN. You know, you still havenât shown up to any parties.âÂ
âIâve been busy,â you say, glancing at Soonyoung who focuses a little too much on his seatbelt.Â
âHi, YN,â the passenger up front says, waving at you through the rearview mirror.Â
âJoshua,â you say. âGet into life and death scenarios with Soonyoung recently?âÂ
âWell, Soonyoung jumped out of a car window.â He pauses. âIt wasnât moving,â he adds when Seungcheol jerks his head towards him. âThough I wouldnât put it past him.âÂ
âI have done it before,â Soonyoung says solemnly. It takes him a moment to realize everyone is staring at him. âIt was a dare.âÂ
âWhy am I not surprised,â Seungcheol grumbles, turning back around and putting the car into drive. Though you were thinking something along the same lines, the way Soonyoung deflates a little makes you wish Seungcheol hadnât said anything.Â
The rest of the drive is quietâat least in terms of conversation. Seungcheol cranks his stereo up to the loudest setting and blasts the Spice Girls until Joshua starts singing along. Apparently car karaoke for âWannabeâ is sacrilegious to the frat leader.Â
You can hear yourself think again when the car pulls into the parking lot and he finally cuts the engine. A few cars line the parking lot of the 24 hour diner that sits on the outskirts of campus. The giant neon red Barbâs that hangs over the entrance flickers in the cloudy morning light teeters the line between quaint and electrical fire waiting to happen.Â
The workers, a host and three waitresses, wave at the boys, and do a double take at you. You swear you hear the host whisper âIs that really them?â to Joshua as he leads the group to a table in the corner but Soonyoung distracts you with the menu.Â
âI had this thing memorized since freshman year, I canât believe youâve never been here. The pancakes are my favorite for hangover cures, not that Iâm hungover by the way, Iâm actually running on my third energy drink.â He taps the picture, a golden stack of perfectly fluffy pancakes that can only be photoshop.Â
âArenât energy drinks bad for your heart?âÂ
Soonyoung shrugs. âJoshua invented this to get through finals, you mix Red Bull, Bang, and Coke and it keeps you up for three days straight. Great for when youâre nervous because you physically have to do something about it.âÂ
âI donât think thatâs how it works,â you say. âWait, why are you nervous?âÂ
âYour test results come out today,â he says too quickly. Â
You consider debating with him but a waitress approaches, wearing a fifties frock and a high ponytail with a ribbon that probably looked like a bow at the start of her shift but has drooped down and now just looks sad. Her face is a mask of emotions, not a smile, not a frown, just emptiness, a contrast to the button clipped to her collar making her âHappy.âÂ
âThe usual?â She asks, pausing at you. She tilts her head and you can see the mask twisting at the edges, a frown almost forming on her brow. She glances at Soonyoung. âIs this who I think it is?âÂ
âWho do you think it is?â Soonyoung asks at the same time that Joshua and Seungcheol say, âYes.âÂ
The corner of Happyâs lips turn into a tiny smile that seems to be her equivalent of a grin. âIâve heard so much about you.âÂ
âOkay, haha, very funny,â Soonyoung says. âStop harassing my friend. Weâll order when we have a chance to look at the menu.â Â
Happy raises her eyebrow just slightly at the word âfriend,â but closes her notepad. She returns to a pastel pink bar where you can clearly see her whispering and gesturing to you.Â
âWhy do so many people know me?â You mutter, shrinking into the corner of the booth.Â
âThe thing about Drunk Soonyoung is that he doesnât really shut up,â Seungcheol says.Â
âThatâs being gentle,â Joshua says. âOne time he spent four hours describing Finding Nemo. Thatâs longer than the actual movie.âÂ
âItâs a good movie,â Soonyoung says.Â
âThe point is,â Seungcheol says, glaring at Joshua, âhe tends to talk when heâs drunk. Usually about good things, things that he⌠Well, things that he likes.âÂ
You turn your head to look at Soonyoung, who is once again pretending to study the menu. âYou like studying for the LSAT that much?âÂ
Joshua unsuccessfully tries to hide his laugh with a snort while Seungcheol gains slightly more success with a fake cough. Soonyoung doesnât react at all, staring at the painted flowers on the menu. Eventually, he shrugs. âIâm dedicated to the bet.â He points at a stack of pancakes covered in bananas and chocolate. âThatâs what I usually get.âÂ
âIsnât against all rules of gym core and muscle building to eat decadent things?âÂ
âDid you just call working out âgym core?ââ Seungcheol asks.Â
âAm I wrong?âÂ
âNope!â Soonyoung says brightly. âAnd cheat days are a thing, so do you want to split it or not?âÂ
âYou know I canât say no to bananas and chocolate.âÂ
âAnd pancakes!â He waves down the waitress and points to the stack.Â
âAh, the new Soonyoung,â she says. âYou guys getting your actual usual?âÂ
Joshua and Seungcheol nod and she doesnât bother to write any of it down. Then again she already knows their orders. Except she called Soonyoungâs ânew.â Before you can ask what she meant, a shout makes you jump. You turn around to see a stream of boys entering, enough of whom you recognize that you realize at least half the frat has rolled into the diner. The waitresses roll their eyes and groan but somehow they donât look all that upset.Â
âMr. President!â The tallest boy, Johnny according to Soonyoungâs Instagram tags, holds a fist over his heart and pounds it a couple times. Seungcheol nods and greets each of the boys, most of whom seem to still be in various stages of inebriation. Almost all of them glance at you and whisper to each other, and you get the feeling they know exactly who you are.Â
Just what has Soonyoung said about you?Â
âHow are we doing on time?â One of them calls out.Â
â46 minutes,â Joshua says. You frown. 46 minutes⌠until 9? Do they all know about today?Â
You tap Soonyoung on the arm. âWhatâs going on?âÂ
âYou see, the thing is,â he says, âapparently I was nervous?â He tries to fake a laugh but it sounds strained. âI donât really know but the guys made me tell them about today and then I didnât really know what was happening but I guess they followed us here? Thought you might like moral support, or something.âÂ
You peek out at the booths crowded with frat bros and cringe back into your seat when they grin at you. âTheyâre all looking at me.âÂ
âWell, I guess I do talk about you a lot,â he says, only loud enough for you to hear. He wonât meet your eyes.Â
Ask him why. You want to be brave. You want to be right about the answer you think heâll give you. You chew the inside of your cheek.Â
âBecause of the bet?âÂ
Soonyoung doesnât answer for a moment. âI guess.âÂ
Coward.Â
âWhy are we whispering?â Joshua asks, leaning across Soonyoung towards you. âAre we gossiping?âÂ
Soonyoung pushes him off. âButt out.âÂ
âJust telling Soonyoung that Iâve never had an army of drunk guys rooting for me before,â you say.Â
âCould have had it sooner if you came to a party,â Seungcheol says.Â
âYou really want me at a party that bad? We just met.âÂ
Seungcheol glances at Soonyoung, who shakes his head. He sighs. âIf only I could tell you why you need to come.âÂ
You frown between the three men. âI donât like when people talk in circles over me.âÂ
âJust promise youâll come to the Christmas party. Itâll all make sense then,â Seungcheol says. Youâve heard a lot about Seungcheol from Soonyoung, and the more you listen to him, the more you believe it. Heâs a strange man.Â
âIâll think about making an appearance.âÂ
âReally?â Soonyoung whips around to face you and you know that you have to come now. You havenât seen him this excited since you let him skip studying to party. No, heâs even more excited now. âYouâll come?âÂ
You canât stand his gaze so you study the placemats. âMaybe.âÂ
He grabs your hand until you meet his eyes. âPlease?âÂ
The Soonyoung Sparkle. You never win against it. âFine.âÂ
âGet a room,â Joshua says behind a very fake cough. You pull your hand back into your lap and pretend like you arenât embarrassed.Â
âHow long now?â You shout out.
â40 minutes,â someone answers. You groan and lean back into the sofa. Studying was hard enough but waiting makes you want to pull out each individual hair on your head. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide if the stain looks more like a horse or a flower.Â
âLook at this.â Soonyoung passes his phone in front of you, forcing you to look down. His Instagram is open to a picture of a kitten looking drunk, face covered in milk. Such and obvious attempt to distract you but you smile anyway.Â
âSweet,â you say and even you arenât sure if you mean the cat or Soonyoung. He shows you cat pictures until the food finally arrives (33 minutes to go). You have to wait another five minutes because Soonyoung insists on having a photoshoot, despite your protests that you look like you just woke up (he raises his eyebrows at that). You stop fighting when Joshua makes him cut a piece of the pancake and feed it to you. Chocolate nearly drops in your lap but Soonyoung shoots his hand out at the last second and catches it.Â
âOkay, can we please just eat,â you say. Joshua and Seungcheol shrug and pretend like they werenât instigating the pictures and telling you and Soonyoung how to pose.Â
Soonyoung was right about the bananas and chocolate. Rich and decadent, theyâre delicious. When he cuts you a slice and pushes it toward you, you can even forget the countdown to the end of the world. Or, more accurately, the end of the world doesnât mean anything to you when Soonyoung smiles at you like that.Â
You eat slowly enough to bring you to the ten minute mark. Fear mixes with the dessert for breakfast in your stomach, twisting it until it threatens to jump out of your throat. Soonyoung takes your hand under the table and holds it. You donât run away this time.Â
He holds you to the planet again, keeps you from floating away and disappearing before you can reach the stars. Itâs Soonyoung that keeps your heart beating. Always Soonyoung.Â
Seungcheol and Joshua chat, Soonyoung piping in a few times, but their words donât reach you. Stuck somewhere between crushed beneath the weight of the world and floating away, you focus on the clock, watching the seconds tick closer and closer.Â
âLast minute!â Someone behind you finally shouts. Soonyoung squeezes your hand. You pull up the website on your phone and put in your login information and hover over the SUBMIT. At thirty seconds, they start shouting it out.Â
âTen!âÂ
âNine!âÂ
âEight!âÂ
âSeven!âÂ
âSix!âÂ
âFive!âÂ
âFour!âÂ
âThree!âÂ
âTwo!âÂ
âOne!âÂ
Half the guys start cheering already, probably forgetting the count down doesnât mean as much as the results themselves. You hit SUBMIT and watch the little wheel spin around and around and around until it finally refreshes. The number stares back at you, impossible to read right in front of you.Â
169.Â
âCongratulations!â Soonyoung shouts, throwing his arms around you and squeezing while you try to comprehend what that means. 169. The number should be all you can think about but Soonyoung holds you, shouting how proud he is, how he always believed in you.Â
â169!â Seungcheol shouts, miles away from your bubble. You can hear the guys break out into cheers, hear them chanting the number (which turns into 69) but itâs just you and Soonyoung. The world didnât end and Soonyoung is still by your side.Â
The rest of the morning is a blur. Every member of the frat insists on congratulating you, which mostly means a lot of hugs, though one of the more drunk guys tried to spin you around on his shoulder. You laugh when youâd usually frown and find your way back to Soonyoungâs side like a magnet.Â
Maybe itâs the euphoria that gives you courage.Â
âHey Soonyoung?âÂ
âHm?âÂ
You say it before you can think too much. âMaybe just the two of us next time?âÂ
He grins before you can finish speaking. âIâd love that.âÂ
.
.
You have the courtesy to let Soonyoung sleep in as much as he wants. You wait for him at Barbâs, trying to figure out how to call this a date.Â
Youâve seen him a couple times since you got your score back, but you needed to study for finals and he had to make up for missing a lot of frat activities. Youâve only seen him in passing, nothing to fill the Soonyoung shaped hole in your heart. But today that will change. You will celebrate together and you will tell him how you feel. And then⌠you have no idea.Â
Itâs just Soonyoung thereâs nothing to be nervous about. Too bad your body doesnât agree with you. Every nerve stands at attention, jumping at the bell that rings when the door opens. You donât worry when Soonyoung doesnât get to Barbâs by 8:30 like he said he would. Even at 8:45, you arenât worried.Â
Itâs only at 8:55 that you really start to wonder where he is. Maybe you should have picked him up. Knowing him, thereâs a 50% chance heâs lying in a ditch after a failed attempt to recreate an impossible stunt from Fast and Furious. At 9, you call him. Between each silence in the ring, you wait for his voice but it never comes. He uses the automated voicemail, so you donât even get his voice telling you to leave a message.Â
The anxiety turns to fear while you wait. The door rings and you see a fluff of bleach blonde hair and jump up. But though you recognize the face, it isnât Soonyoung.Â
Chan, one of the younger members of the frat, with Mingyu and a guy whose name you forgot. They all have the same look in their eyes when they see you, far too much like pity.Â
âYouâre YN, right?â Mingyu asks. âYouâre supposed to meet Soonyoung?â The two guys with him, easily identifiable as frat members between their unkempt hair and sweatshirts plastered with Greek letters, stop mid conversation and glance at each other.Â
âIs he okay?â You ask, still standing in the awkward position in the booth.Â
âHeâs got his score back,â Mingyu says.Â
âWe were supposed toââÂ
âYeah, I know,â Mingyu says. âIt was a 167. You should really talk to him yourself.â He pauses, glancing at his frat brothers but they shrug. âHeâs at the house. See if you can talk some sense into him.âÂ
Youâre too afraid to ask any other questions so you just watch Mingyu and the other two walk past, and pretend that they arenât whispering and stealing glances at you.Â
Going to a frat house was never on your bucket list but your feet travel without guidance. You find yourself in front of a rather nondescript house. No bodies hang out from windows, no one is passed out in the yard. Then again itâs a weekday.Â
You pause at the door, wondering if you should knock. You tap your hand on the door and it slides open, the latch bolt pushed completely in. You step inside tentatively, peeking around but itâs quiet. You turn the corner to find an open room and Soonyoung sitting on a couch, glass with a bright liquid in his hand. He doesnât even look at you.Â
âAre you seriously drunk right now?âÂ
Soonyoung just shrugs, taking another sip from the glass. Even from here you can smell that itâs more tequila than fruit punch.Â
You shake your head, crossing the room sitting beside him even though he didnât invite you to sit down. He was considerably cuter the last time you saw him drunk. Youâve gotten used to the power of Soonyoungâs facial expressions, his smiles, his frowns, the way his eyes glaze over when heâs bored, the way they gleam when he daydreams; theyâre as precious to you as Soonyoung himself. But his face is a clean slate now, not a smile, not a frown, just a blank stare.Â
âYou know a 167 is still insanely good, right?âÂ
He shakes his head.Â
âSoonyoung.â He doesnât look at you, so you grab his drink. Any other day and you would have failed miserably but his alcohol-impaired senses make him slow enough for you to get a hand on the half-empty glass. He glares at you but you donât yield, tightening your grip and pulling the bottle even harder.Â
âLet go,â you growl. âTalk to me like a normal human.âÂ
He shakes his head, pulling on the glass so you yank back, except you overestimate how weak he is like this, and the glass flies out of his hand, the contents spilling all over you. The red liquid sinks into your blue sweater, soaking you through all three layers.Â
âWhat the hell?â Soonyoung says.Â
âThat gets your fucking attention? Spilling your drink?â You say. âYou know, I really thought you were different.âÂ
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?âÂ
âYouâre acting like a child. So you didnât win the bet. Who fucking cares? Do you know how hard it is to get higher than a 160? Soonyoung, you are smart, and you worked so hard for this. You could go to law school with that score. You could graduate above a 2.3 if you stopped acting like a stereotypical fuck bro and actually studied.Â
âYou know, you could actually be something if you wanted. You donât have to get a degree and work at a corporate job that sucks your soul away until the Soonyoung that actually matters is gone. I know itâs easier this way, but if you actually tried to dream, you could do something. I donât get it, honestly. Because everyone thinks youâre an idiot you act like one? Is that what it is?âÂ
âYou donât have to pretend like you donât think the same thing.âÂ
You snort. âI donât, but clearly you wonât believe me. You think that if you have to work for something then itâs not worth it when you could be so much more.âÂ
âWhy do you even care?â Soonyoung asks, looking you in the eyes for the first time. For a moment, you think you might actually be wrong, because all you see in his eyes is pain. A physical force that constricts your heart and makes you weak in the knees, Soonyoung looks at you like heâs been fighting a war you never knew about, like heâs been suffering in silence for a lifetime. He looks at you like youâve broken his heart.Â
Why do I care? You could scoff. Because Iâve been in love with you ever since you fell asleep on my shoulder. Iâve been fighting this stupid crush for so long that I donât know who I am without it. I donât know who I am without you. I care because every day the world proves that we arenât worthy of this planet, that love canât solve all problems yet you make me question it all. You donât just bring light into my life, you make it glitter. And I canât tell you any of this.Â
âI donât know.â The lie tastes bitter but itâs still sweeter than rejection.
âThen why are you here?â Soonyoung looks away. Without his eyes pinning you down, you can breathe again, but every inhale still drags against your heart. You stand up. Afterall, you donât have an answer for him.Â
âI take it back. You are an idiot,â you mutter over his head as you walk past him. You make it to the corner of the street before the tears finally spill over your cheeks, and all the way back to your room before you canât breathe.Â
.
.
Without the distraction of finals, you are left with your own thoughts, your words and Soonyoungâs floating around your head. You have always been something of a hermit but youâve become J.D. Salinger himself, only leaving your room to sneak into the kitchen and scrounge for scraps of junk food that Jihoon hasnât thrown away yet. You watch so much reality TV that you start to dream about it.Â
Every episode the people, a family living on a homestead that just happens to dress in brand name clothes and drive a Benz, fight and cry and make up. You yell at the mother when she forces her daughter to change because she didnât think polka dots are appropriate and cry along with the daughter when she starts to sniffle in her confessional, wondering if her mother would ever approve of her choices, whether it was clothes or the people she wants to date.Â
You bet your confessional would be a hit if it was ever filmed. Tears run down your cheeks as you practice it in the mirror, choking out an apology for calling him an idiot and telling the whole world what you arenât brave enough to tell him.Â
Jun calls but you canât answer. He leaves three voicemails: an apology, a goofy one telling you heâll be back soon, and a final one, yelling at you to pick up or at least let him know youâre alive. You text him an apology you donât know if you mean. He says thank you anyway and doesnât call again.Â
You have no plans to change your schedule (wake up, steal food, cry, sleep) but on the third day you run out of goldfish and canât find anything in the kitchen that doesnât make you nauseous. To make matters worse, despite the fact that itâs seven in the morning (the earliest youâve woken up since the Fight), Jihoon catches you.Â
Youâve successfully avoided him and his inevitable lecture, slamming your door shut and ignoring his knocks but he catches you off guard today. He sneaks in from his morning workout wearing a black t-shirt and slides that he somehow manages to walk stealthily in, scaring you when you close the fridge and find him standing where the door was.Â
âAre you done hiding?âÂ
âIâm not hiding,â you mutter.Â
He folds his arms.Â
âFine,â you say. âIâm not done hiding.âÂ
âWell too fucking bad,â Jihoon says. You try to step past him but he holds his arm out. Youâll never beat him in a physical fight so you step back, shaking your head.Â
âHave it your way. Go ahead.â You wave your hand. âGet it all out. Yell at me or lecture me or whatever, I donât care. Youâre going to tell me that Iâm an idiot? That I shouldnât be so afraid of rejection, that Iâm blind to how he feels?Â
âOr are you going to tell me that I shouldnât trust someone like him? That I shouldnât be crying over a goddamn frat boy, Iâm better than this, Iâm better than him.â You choke back a sob, not sure what words are coming out anymore. You wipe at the tears in your eyes and are so focused on trying not to cry that you donât notice Jihoon walking away. You do see him come back, blurry shape coming into focus as you blink away the tears. He holds something in his hand, a navy blue square. A throw pillow from the couch?Â
He shifts it in his hand until he holds the corner with the zipper, swinging it a couple times back and forth. Then he yanks his arm back and arcs the pillow in a wide loop, landing directly on your head.Â
âOw!â You cry but Jihoon just swings again, hitting your arm this time. He hits you so hard it knocks you off balance, sending you to the floor. Jihoon doesnât hesitate, swinging the pillow into you again and again, every inch of you.Â
âYou. Are. An. Idiot.â He grunts out each word with a blow. âYou really think youâre better than him?âÂ
He finally pauses, not even breathing heavily. You shake your head to answer him. âOf course not.âÂ
âGood,â he says. Then he hits you again and again and again.Â
âOw, Jihoon, what the hell?â You bury your head in your knees and hold your arms over you, trying in vain to protect yourself.Â
âIâm not your babysitter,â he says. âIâm not your father, or your brother, or any of that shit. Iâm your best friend and youâre being an idiot and Iâm not going to stop hitting you until you get some sense knocked into you.â He freezes, as if realizing exactly what he said. âWait, noâthatâs not what I mean, shit, sorry, butââÂ
You peek out from your arms and find Jihoon opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out what to say. He looks like a fish out of water, and it occurs to you he is a fish out of water. Heâs never had to comfort you before, probably never had to comfort anyone. No wonder heâs so bad at it.Â
You wouldnât laugh at him and borderline abuse, but your emotions are beyond fried, and he just looks so funny standing over you with a pillow raised, still sputtering half apologies. You try to stop the laugh before it comes out but it turns into a snort and then you canât stop laughing, tears that you tried to push back falling freely. You lay back on the floor and laugh until your sides hurt, only vaguely aware of Jihoon laughing above you. Eventually he joins you on the floor.Â
âYou know what I meant,â he says. The pillow rests on the floor between his legs, all the fluff on the far end from the one-sided pillow fight.Â
âI knew what you meant without the pillow.âÂ
âToo bad,â Jihoon says. âIâm tired of listening to the theme song of that god awful show. You could at least watch something likeââÂ
âI swear if you bring up an anime, youâll feel exactly how hard that pillow can hit.âÂ
Jihoon laughs, patting it a couple times. âI saw him the other day. He looked tired.â He pauses but you donât dare speak. âWe didnât speak. I donât even think he saw me. But it doesnât matter because Iâm not the one he needs to talk to.âÂ
âI know,â you say.Â
âThen why are you still on the floor?âÂ
Because youâre scared. Because it would be easier to just give up now, for once to ignore putting in the hard work and just let it pass. But just because itâs the easy option doesnât mean itâs the right option. At the very least you need to apologize to him.Â
âWhat if he hates me?âÂ
Jihoon snorts. âThen heâll get some pillow violence too.â He pauses. âHe doesnât, though.â
âIt doesnât mean that it will turn out okay.âÂ
âNo, it doesnât,â Jihoon says. âBut no matter what happens, youâll deal with it. And even if it absolutely sucks in the moment, eventually it will be over, and it sure as hell will be better than that stupid fucking show.âÂ
You nod, setting your chin on your knees. Your stomach turns in anticipation for what you will have to do, but heâs right. Itâs time to stop running. Tonight is the Christmas party, and you were never formally uninvited. Somehow you doubt Seungcheol will throw you out. Itâs time to get off the floor and get ready.Â
âHave you ever thought of being a life coach?âÂ
âHell no.âÂ
.
.
What am I doing here? You fake a smile at Seungcheol and swallow the shot as fast as you can, grimacing as the vodka burns everything from the inside of your mouth to the depths of your stomach. You should have just stuck to your mixed drink only policy but Soonyoung always has you breaking your rules. Even when he isnât with you.Â
Seungcheol disappears as soon as you take the drink, and you don't see anyone else you are comfortable enough to chat with, though that list is quite short. You do a turn of the house, which looks marginally better than the last time you saw it ,the benefit of bad lighting. Itâs already crowded with more people than youâve ever seen on campus. You make your way through each room on the lower floor, finding more than a couple bleach blondes. None are who youâre looking for. You stop in the living room, where you saw him last.Â
âHe isnât here.â You turn at the voice. An unfamiliar boy stands next to you, holding a half-empty Smirnoff Ice. âHe went to visit family or something.â He pauses, looking you up and down. âAt least thatâs what he said.âÂ
You nod. You find it doesnât surprise you that he seems to know who you are. You suppose youâve grown used to it, just one of the side-effects of being close with Soonyoung. Though itâs still strange, it doesnât make you uncomfortable anymore. Or it wouldnât, if you didnât think this stranger is implying that itâs your fault Soonyoung isnât at the âParty of the Year.âÂ
You canât stand his gaze so you make your way back towards the drinks, grabbing the first bottle you could find and chugging half of the lukewarm drink. It tastes like a fruit you canât recognize and carbonation and the more you drink the harder it is to swallow but you force it down.Â
You came to apologize. He isnât here, so why do you stay? Because you promised him? Do you really miss him that much? That you would come here and suffer through all this chaos, just for the memory of him? It doesnât make any sense but you think that might be a side effect of the alcohol. You get another drink just in case youâre still sober.Â
.
.
Your head pounds, the aching feeling of the stage between drunk and sober. Normally youâd like to be sound asleep by now, or at least in the comfort of your home, but you canât bring yourself to leave. Itâs hot and sweaty, the music is way too loud, and you canât find water anywhere, but you stay anyway, because youâre an idiot that fell in love.Â
You curl up on the couch, opposite of a couple making out as if the room isnât full of people, waiting for just a glimpse of him that will never appear. Even drunk, you think itâs pitiful, but you canât stop.Â
You didnât think you could fall asleep in all the noise but you open your eyes when you feel the world tilt sideways. Youâre vaguely aware of the arms underneath your legs and back, cradling you against someoneâs chest. No, not just someone.Â
Because you arenât enough of an idiot, you can tell itâs him, his sweet scent, maybe even just his arms. Soonyoung carries you out of the living room and up the stairs, the blaring music fading only slightly.Â
âI thought you werenât here,â you mumble.Â
Soonyoung frowns down at you. âYou okay?âÂ
You shake your head, suddenly realizing there are tears in your eyes. No, Iâm not okay, I love you, you want to say. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to hug you while still carrying you.Â
With your head resting against his chest, you can fully appreciate his beauty. His hair is black, which suits him even though he looks nothing like your Soonyoung anymore. You reach up and trace the lines of his face that are unchanging, the sharp straight line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his nose, his soft eyebrows. You drop your hand when you realize heâs staring at you, belatedly realizing you never got to his lips. You can only imagine how soft theyâd be, soft like Soonyoung himself.Â
âYouâre crying,â Soonyoung says softly. You canât tell if heâs talking to you or not. He pauses in front of a door, struggling to open it without dropping you. Finally the door swings open and he sets you down on a bed, taking a deep breath and sitting beside you.Â
He brushes the tears from your eyes, as Soonyoung as ever. Sweet as ever. Sweet and Soonyoung. They should be the same word. You make a mental note to email Merriam-Websterâs dictionary and make the suggestion.Â
Soonyoung doesnât say anything, just watching you with those perfect eyes. His hand rests on your face even though the tears are long gone, thumb tracing shapes on your cheek.Â
âYou swore youâd do anything for me,â you say.Â
âAnything,â Soonyoung repeats.Â
You turn to the walls, knocking his hand off your cheek, not daring to look him in the eyes. Even drunk, you are a coward. Heâs put up pictures on his wall, a couple Polaroids but mostly printed pictures, with the frat, some childhood pictures, and one that you recognize. The picture of the two of you at the beach that you thought you didnât send, where you are looking at him with all the love in your heart. You trace his smile, blinding even in paper form.Â
âCould you maybe try loving me back then?â You mumble. Your eyes feel heavy between the alcohol and the tears and youâve said what you needed to say, so you let them take over, closing your eyes and letting the blasting music from downstairs drown out any thoughts. And because itâs so loud and youâve already drifted off to sleep, thereâs no way you could hear his answer.Â
âI already do.âÂ
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The first thing you do when you wake up is throw up. You make it out of the bed but not to the bathroom, mostly because you donât actually know where it is. You grab the nearest bucket-shaped item, which happens to be a mostly empty trash can. You lean away as soon as youâre done, breathing through your mouth and looking away from the mess. Belatedly, you realize someone is patting your back, brushing hair out of your face.Â
âBetter?â Soonyoung asks. His knees rests against your lower back, one hand resting on your back, the other caressing your face. Thank god you already threw up because looking at him makes your stomach twist again and if there was anything in you, it would come up again. If you could throw up your heart, you would. As it is, the organ is trying to climb its way up your throat, whether itâs guilt or heartbreak you donât know.Â
 You nod in answer to his question, letting him help you up. Your head pounds and though you know you wonât throw up again, your stomach flips. Right, your policy of mixed drinks is definitely reinstated after this.Â
âSorry I threw up in your trash can,â you say.Â
âBelieve me, that is not the worst that trash can has seen,â Soonyoung says. âWait, that sounds bad, I didnât mean it in a weird way, I just meanââ He stops himself, shaking his head. âItâs a frat house.âÂ
âItâs your room,â you say softly. With sober (albeit heavily hungover) eyes, you take in the room again. Itâs tiny, one bed pushed against a wall with a desk set right next to it. Unsurprisingly, itâs stacked with protein powder and a pile of frat flyers, laptop balancing off the edge, not a paper in sight. Except for the one next to his bed, the walls are bare, an ugly shade of beige except for a circle filled with white plaster that looks suspiciously like the reformed crime scene of a fist going through drywall. It must be from whoever owned the room before Soonyoung.Â
The wall next to his bed is covered in pictures. You remember being amazed by them last night. Your eyes zero in on the picture of the two of you, right next to the pillow thatâs still dented from your head.Â
âDid I steal your bed?â You frown except the movement hurts your head.Â
âI slept in Johnnyâs room since heâs decided to disappear off the face of the planet instead of accepting the fact that he graduates next semester,â Soonyoung says. âI actually just came in here for some clothes, which reminds me.â He rummages through a drawer, pulling out a wrinkled t-shirt and handing it to you. âIf you want a change.âÂ
You glance down and feel like throwing up all over again. Your favorite shirt is covered in stains, alcohol, vomit, and something you definitely donât want to name. If you werenât feeling so terrible already, youâd cry that Soonyoung is seeing you like this.Â
âIâll get you a toothbrush, too,â he mutters, disappearing and leaving you to scramble to switch shirts. The white dri-fit is meant to be a workout shirt, though itâs clear that it would be oversize on Soonyoung. Either way, the soft fabric is gentle on your skin, much better than the jeans you slept in. Too bad youâre stuck in them until you get back to your apartment.Â
You could run away right now. Soonyoung probably wouldnât be surprised. But heâs being nice to you, so much nicer than you deserve. Sweet and Soonyoung. But you came here to apologize, and though last night got derailed, you canât keep running from it. Besides, itâs not like the morning can get much worse.Â
So when Soonyoung comes back proudly brandishing an unopened toothbrush that he may or may not have stolen from Seungcheolâs bathroom, you accept it gratefully. You stare yourself down in the bathroom, fighting nausea and an impending migraine because you have a mission to achieve, a real mission unlike last night. Itâs still a haze, but you donât think youâll ever forget how gently Soonyoung cradled you against his chest, the brush of his fingers on your cheek. If he didnât show up this morning, youâd think it was a dream.Â
Soonyoungâs door is open when you finish but he isnât in his room. You grab your bag from the floor and venture down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. Thereâs a couple people passed out in the living room, and one person snoring softly in the kitchen, head folded in his arms in a position that must be incredibly painful for his neck. But itâs where you find Soonyoung, digging through the fridge and finally pulling out a water bottle. He hands it to you, along with a bottle of pills.Â
âThank you,â you sigh, not even bothering to check the label for the brand. You take a couple and chug half the bottle, gaslighting yourself into believing that it will instantly revive you (it doesnât work and your head still pounds).Â
âAre you hungry?â Soonyoung asks. He opens the fridge again, this time wide enough to show the shelves that are filled with beer, vodka, and White Claws. Thereâs a pizza box and some eggs, but not much else.Â
âHow are any of you alive?â You ask softly, glancing at the snoring person on the counter.Â
âYuta can sleep through an apocalypse, donât worry about him,â Soonyoung says, waving his hand. He closes the fridge, leaning against it. âAnd most of us keep our actual food in mini-fridges. I just cleared mine out for break, so I donât have anything in it.â He doesnât say anything else about vanishing.Â
âIâm pretty sure that pizza has been in there since the start of the semester and Iâve never seen eggs in here before though, so I donât think you should risk any of this,â Soonyoung says. âMcDonaldâs fries are a far superior hangover cure, theyâve never failed me.âÂ
âThereâs a McDonaldâs nearby?âÂ
Soonyoung grins, pulling keys out of his pocket and spinning them around his fingers a couple times, except they fly off and clatter on the floor. The man asleep on the counter, Yuta apparently, stirs but doesnât move. You canât help but smile as Soonyoung scrambles to retrieve them from the floor. If you didnât know any better, youâd think he was flustered.Â
âThere isnât one,â Soonyoung explains, leading the way to the door. âBut I have the keys to Seungcheolâs car.âÂ
âIâm not really comfortable with grand theft auto,â you say, though you donât stop following him to Seungcheolâs giant white Jeep.Â
âHe gave me the keys last night when I walked in,â Soonyoung says. âSomething about owing me. He was pretty drunk.â He darts around to the passenger side before you can, opening the door for you. He waves his hand when you frown at him, as if youâre the one acting strange. Thinking with this headache is too hard so you just get into the car and strap the seatbelt on.Â
âI canât believe you thought Iâd steal a car,â Soonyoung says. He turns the engine on and scans the front of the car before finally settling his right hand on the gear shift.Â
âYou have driven this car before, right?âÂ
âOf course,â Soonyoung says a little too fast. You grab onto the door handle and hope that your stomach really is empty.Â
Soonyoungâs driving isnât the worst youâve ever experienced; that title goes to Jihoon, who was banned from touching car keys after his Mario Kart driving. That said, you think heâs a good second place. He slams on the gas and the brakes too hard and drives altogether too fast. He blasts the radio and sings along purposefully off key. You should be terrified but itâs the most fun youâve ever had riding in the passenger seat.Â
âIâm never riding with you again,â you say, breathless from laughing. He pulls to a stop at the red light, the Golden arches of your destination still one light away. âYou know yellow lights mean slow down right?â
âI stopped at this one!â Soonyoung says. âIâll have you know I havenât been in an accident.â He pauses. âSince I was nineteen.âÂ
You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from smiling fully. âThatâs what I figured.â You peek at Soonyoung and heâs smiling too.Â
So different from the last time you saw him. You donât deserve this. You shouldnât be able to laugh and joke around with him so easily, not when you still havenât apologized. And Soonyoung shouldnât be looking at you like that, genuine fondness in his eyes.Â
âThe lightâs green,â you say. His smile fades a little when he turns his head and drives ahead, stepping lightly for once. Youâre so close now, but a car going straight in the right lane prevents him from turning.Â
The pain medicine must have kicked in because your headache is slowly fading, replaced by heartache that no medication can cure.Â
âWhy are you being so nice to me?â You blurt out.Â
The blinker beeps a steady rhythm in the empty silence. âIsnât it obvious?âÂ
âNothingâs ever obvious with you, Soonyoung,â you say softly.Â
âOh.â The light turns green and he guides the car slowly into the parking lot, stopping in a spot instead of pulling up to the drive through. As soon as the car is in park, he turns to face you. Thereâs a crease in his forehead that you recognize from the rare occasions that he would actually talk to you seriously. âYN, I genuinely thought I was being clear about this from the beginning, but if you still really donât get it, then Iâll say it straight up: I like you. Iâve liked you since the day we met and then I fell in love with you.Â
âDid you know youâre the first person thatâs ever genuinely believed in me? I mean, I know I have friends, and my family means well, but they always get this look in their eye whenever I talk about trying for things, like it was cute that I was trying, but they never actually believed in me. And I started to believe them too. I started to believe that I couldnât believe in myself.â He frowns. âThat makes no sense. The point is, you are the reason I started to believe in myself again.Â
âNo oneâs ever looked at me like you do. No oneâs ever told me to get my shit togetherâwell, they have, but youâre the only one that told me it was because I could be better.Â
âYou say it wasnât obvious, but Iâve tried to tell you a thousand times. I flirted, I tried to ask you on a date so many times, and I finally accepted that youâd never see me like that, so I was a dick. I told you off, even though you were right. Iâm so sorry for that, and Iâm sorry I ran away, and Iâm sorry it took me so long to apologize.âÂ
âStop,â you say. Soonyoungâs eyes widen, tears welling up, and you realize he thinks youâre rejecting him. âStop apologizing!â His brow creases in confusion, an adorable frown. Summoning all your courage, you reach out, resting your hand on his. âIâm the one thatâs sorry. I didnât have any right to judge you and the choices you were making, and I shouldnât have yelled at you when I knew how much the bet meant to you.â
You squeeze his hand, closing your eyes. âAnd I think I was a little oblivious on purpose. Iâm not the kind of person that has crushes, let alone crushes that like me back, so I freaked a little and missed all the signs.â You open your eyes and grin at him. Itâs easy to feel brave when he smiles back at you. âBut I like you, Soonyoung. I like you so much, I donât have enough words to express it. My whole life has been about my future, my career, and itâs exhausting, but being with you makes it all exciting again. Like, no matter what happens, if youâre with me, it wonât just be okay, itâll be fun.âÂ
Soonyoung beams. âReally?âÂ
You squeeze his hand. âI like you.â Like the first time you took the LSAT, you canât think of a single word, except instead of damning your future this feels like the start of it. Soonyoung sits across from you and you donât need words.Â
You donât know how long you sit there, but reality sets in when your stomach growls. You glance outside the window and remember where you are. âDid you just confess to me in a McDonaldâs parking lot?âÂ
âBetter than drunk in my own bed.âÂ
âI didnât!â You let go of his hand to hide your face.Â
Soonyoung grins. âYou were cute!âÂ
âI donât remember it, it doesn't count!âÂ
âWhatever you say,â Soonyoung says, leaning over the center console. He gently pulls your hands away from your face, hand circling your wrist gently. You instinctively hold your breath, though you donât lean away. Soonyoung leans a little closer, forehead resting against yours.Â
âThis okay?â He whispers, breath kissing your lips, and you remember that less than an hour ago, you were throwing up. Your head still aches and your stomach is still queasy and your whole body feels disgusting.Â
âWe are not having our first kiss in a McDonaldâs parking lot,â you say, leaning back. Soonyoung sighs, but he sits back in his chair, settling for grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours.Â
âFine,â Soonyoung says. He rubs his thumb back and forth, and when you meet his eyes, you see a familiar glint of trouble. âYou know Iâm still sworn to you. Whatever you want.âÂ
The words go straight to your heart. You could live a thousand lives and never meet someone as genuine as Soonyoung. You know that he means it, heart and soul, that heâd do anything for you. And it should be terrifying that heâs willing to bear his heart for you, that you are willing to do the same. But itâs Soonyoung. Itâs easy to trust him with it, because even though he breaks half the computers he touches and canât hold onto a pencil for his life, he wonât ever drop your heart.Â
I love you. One day youâll be able to say it, one day youâll scream it like you so desperately want to. But until then, you settle for his certified brilliant smile and the gentle brush of his lips on the back of your hand, only letting go to turn the engine back on.Â
âLetâs get you some fries,â he says. âThen kisses?âÂ
You shake your head and laugh, slipping your hand back into his.Â
Before he can put the car into gear, his phone rings. He stares at the screen for a moment, frowning like he canât decide whether he should answer it or not. Finally he slides the green across, turning on speaker.Â
âHey Seungcheol, Iâm withââÂ
âWhere the hell are you? And where is my car?â Seungcheolâs voice is somewhere between angry and concerned. âYou think itâs okay to vanish and then show up only to steal my car?âÂ
âFirst of all, you gave me the keys,â Soonyoung says. He glances at you. âAnd Iâm at McDonaldâs because YN desperately needed a hangover cure.âÂ
âHey,â you say so Seungcheol knows youâre there.Â
The line is quiet for so long you think Soonyoungâs phone has finally given up on him but eventually he says, âYouâre with YN?âÂ
âWe talked,â he says. âAnd weâre good.âÂ
You snort. âThatâs how youâre going to describe it?âÂ
âAre we not good?âÂ
You glance at your hand still intertwined with his, the Soonyoung Sparkle glittering back at you when you look him in the eyes. Good? Thereâs not a word to describe how you feel right now.Â
âWe are beyond good.âÂ
.
.
âAre you crying?â You whisper. Soonyoung shakes his head, chin brushing against your head but when he inhales again, he sniffles. You reach up to pat his cheek and are entirely unsurprised when itâs wet. On screen Elle Woods continues her speech, for once not wearing pink.Â
âSheâs just so cool,â Soonyoung says. You lift your head off his chest so you can look him in the eyes. The temptation to tease him is hard to resist but he pouts his lips and you see another tear slip out. You kiss his cheek, out of habit more than anything. Strange how much can change in two weeks, how something youâve never imagined doing has become natural. But being with Soonyoung is just like that. New and old at the same time, the kind of comfort that has you planning how to make this last a lifetime.Â
Soonyoung wraps his arms around you tighter, so you nestle back into his chest, turning away from the end of the movie to close your eyes and breathe in his cologne.Â
âI canât believe youâve never seen this,â you whisper, lips brushing against his neck. âThe whole bet was based on a movie you havenât seen.âÂ
âYouâre missing the end,â he says. His voice rumbles in your ear, drowning out his heartbeat.Â
âIâve seen it before.â Your bed really isnât built for two people to lay down together. You are laying more on Soonyoung than the mattress but itâs not the first time. From the way he holds you, you doubt itâll be the last.Â
The credits roll too quickly, but Soonyoung still doesnât let go. He pulls you up so that your head is next to his, nose centimeters away from yours.Â
âSo am I officially qualified to go to law school?â He asks.Â
âYou are Elle Woods certified,â you say. âBut youâre sure thatâs what you want?âÂ
âI mean I have to get in. But I figure if Iâm going to waste away at a desk, I might as well do it for something I believe in.â He pauses. âWith someone that believes in me.â He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, breath tickling the sensitive skin. You canât help but sigh.Â
âThat doesnât mean itâs what you want,â you say, after several heartbeats of struggling to think.Â
âI wantâŚâ His words âTo be with you. However youâll have me.â His arms loosen, hands sliding down to your waist.Â
âStill not answering the question,â you breathe out but you canât even remember what the question is, not when heâs shifting to lay on top of you, lips inching their way up your neck. He kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips, then stops, pulling away and meeting your eyes again.
The Soonyoung Sparkle. The grinch has nothing on youâyour heart swells so large it feels like itâs going to explode out of your chestâAlien style. Does he know what he does to you? How heâs made everything in your life shine? How happy you are when heâs with you?Â
âI love you,â you whisper.Â
Soonyoung blinks at you. âYouâŚâÂ
âI love you,â you say again, this time with more confidence. âI really, really love you.âÂ
Soonyoung grins, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, moving like the world outside has stopped. He makes a bubble around you again, or maybe itâs your own heart; either way the only thing that exists is the way his hands inch up your shirt, the way his lips begin to press harder against yours. You give up on coherent thoughts, settling for wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.Â
âI love you, too,â Soonyoung whispers between kisses. âIf that wasnât obvious.âÂ
Soonyoung who always treated you like you were enough already. Soonyoung who does everything with 100% of his heart. Soonyoung who has always been sincere with you, from the first day you met him. Soonyoung, who you are so lucky to be loved by.Â
You donât know how to say any of this in a way that makes sense so you let his fire melt you until you are putty in his arms. He pulls away, and the Soonyoung Sparkle burns, your personal stars flickering back at you. Â
âYou want toââ Soonyoung starts to say, but the door slams open. Then Soonyoung falls on you, pillow rolling off his head.Â
âIâm taking this back!â Someone shouts while you hear Jihoon cursing.Â
âRead the room, idiot!â Soonyoung pushes off of you, sitting up and pulling your shirt down as smoothly as he can. You sit up, trying to decide if you should be embarrassed or angry. Facing Jun, frozen midstep with his jaw hanging open a little and Jihoon in the doorway with his arms folded, shaking his head slightly, you opt for the latter.Â
âDoes no one knock in Colombia?â You frown at him. âAnd when did you get back? Why didnât you call?âÂ
âIt was supposed to be a surprise,â he mumbles, staring at his feet. âAnd you were supposed to be alone, according to my sources.â He glares at Jihoon.Â
âYN didnât say he was coming over,â he says with a shrug.Â
You turn your frown to him. âYou walked in halfway through the movie, I literally shouted âSoonyoungâs over.ââÂ
âI had my headphones on,â he says, though heâs avoiding your eyes too. Typical of your friends, never claiming responsibility for their actions.Â
âSo this is Soonyoung,â Jun says, turning to face him. Soonyoung moved to the edge of the bed, too far away for your taste but probably an appropriate distance for your friends, especially compared to what they walked in on. Jun tilts his head. âYou dyed your hair.âÂ
âYeah,â Soonyoung scratches the back of his head. âSpur of the moment thing.â You miss the blonde, surprisingly fitting considering it isnât his natural color. But the black suits him too, and probably will help him with law school interviews. Then again, knowing Soonyoung, this color wonât last long either. Good thing there isnât a color you donât think suits him.Â
âWe should do this properly,â Soonyoung says. âGo out for dinner or something.âÂ
âHey, I didnât get dinner,â Jihoon says.Â
âYou want to get dinner with me?â Soonyoung perks up.Â
âNo, Iâm protesting unfair treatment.âÂ
âItâs not unfair, Iâm just clearly his favorite,â Jun says.Â
âCan you guys stop fighting over my boyfriend?â You say.Â
Jihoon and Jun stare at you. When Soonyoung turns to face you, he grins, eyes sparkling.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âYou just called him your boyfriend,â Jun says.Â
âWell⌠he is.â You feel your cheeks flush. âWhy are you guys making it weird?âÂ
âItâs not weird,â Soonyoung says. He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. âItâs cute,â he whispers in your ear. âAdorable.â This only makes you flush even more.Â
âWell, I donât want to interrupt, so Iâll just grab this and you two can get back to⌠whatever.â Jun takes a step towards your bookcase. You grab the pillow that he threw at Soonyoung and nail him in the chest, earning a laugh from Jihoon.Â
âDonât even think about it.âÂ
âThe book is mine, Soonyoung never fulfilled the bet!â Jun says. You stand up, blocking him from your Pride and Prejudice.Â
âHey, I followed through!â Soonyoung says. âWeâre dating!âÂ
âI remember the bet stating that you had to ask YN out after you took the LSAT.â Jun turns to him.Â
âAnd I did,â Soonyoung says. âYou never said it had to be right after.âÂ
Jun eyes him. âThatâs cheating.âÂ
âThatâs being a lawyer,â you say. âAnd I think heâs going to be really good at it.âÂ
Jun glances between you and Soonyoung and shakes his head. âWhatever, Iâll get my book back another day.âÂ
You step closer to Soonyoung and he links his pinky with yours. You glance at your friends. âAre you going to stand there forever or are we getting dinner?âÂ
âYou two donât want to get back to what you were doing?â Jihoon asks.Â
You slip your hand into Soonyoungâs. He meets your eyes and heâs only been your boyfriend for two weeks but looking at him is like looking home. Thereâs no need to rush.Â
âSounds like someone doesnât want to pick where we go.âÂ
âWe should make them pay, too,â Soonyoung says.Â
You grin at him. âYou are the smartest person I know.âÂ
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