I have a request for a fic where both Jake and reader are starting their freshman year of college and jake is applying to be in a frat, but to be accepted the brothers in the frat make a bet with him to make the reader sleep with him ….
a/n -> omg i was literally thinking abt writing a jake fic (which i'll get to soon) and then this pops up lmao. but your mind...lord, this is such a good idea. anyway, tysm for being my first request !! it means a lot lol and i rlly hope you enjoy this :)) then, just in general, if you also sent me a request, i promise i have seen it !! i just work five days a week now, so i don't rlly have a lot of time to sit and write, but i promise i am working on them and will release them when i can 💕
are you down or what? | s.jy
pairing -> futurefratboy!jake x fem!reader
genre -> college au, best friends (alludes) to fwb
warnings -> MDNI, smut, drinking, cursing, mention of weed (no drug use tho)
w.c. -> 7.3k
!!DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!!
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Going to college is already scary enough, moving to college is even scarier. You wouldn’t categorize yourself as the “outgoing type” and you had pretty much figured your college experience would be dull and stressful; Junior year of high school pretty much prepped you for that. Luckily (depending on how you see it) for you, Jake is the complete opposite. He loved extra-curriculars, joining clubs, joining sports teams, and always made honor roll; essentially, he loved making new friends, trying new things. Everyone adored him and he had practically a long line of people waiting to be his friend. If only they knew they just had to be allergic to any sort of social activity and he would’ve immediately taken them under his wing. He’s always tried to have you venture out of your comfort zone, and sometimes, it worked. This time, however, you honestly didn’t see yourself branching out alongside him. Which both bummed you out and seemed as if it was inevitable.
Who knew that the kid you met at your fifth grade honor roll assembly and pizza party would be the one you ended up applying to colleges with, let alone plan on going to the same college with? Well, actually, you and Jake didn’t quite get along at first, it was your moms that became best friends well before the two of you did. But, thankfully, both of your moms showed up to the honor roll assembly and brought the two of you together. Even if at first he would try to make conversation with you and you would just nod your head in response, too shy to actually say anything back. At first, he thought you hated him and at the time, you thought he was annoying, but somehow you both came to find these qualities about each other endearing. There were a lot of times you were grateful to have met him and have him as your best friend.
But when he brought up the topic of a fraternity mixer while he was helping–well, more like he was the only one working–assemble an IKEA storage unit for your dorm room as you both sat on your floor, you automatically rolled your eyes. You weren’t surprised in the slightest that one of the first things he wanted to do since you guys got to college was join a frat; it’s like he was born for this, and you mean it in the least douchey way possible.
“Come on, it’s just like, some mixer; nothing major. I really want you to come. Please?” he says as he drags out the “e” at the end.
You roll your eyes again and let out a huff, handing him the screwdriver to which he rolls his eyes in return and takes it. “It’s only been a week and you’re already rushing a frat?”
“What? Think I’m not good enough for them?” he asks, joking as he continues to assemble the storage unit for you. You knew he was perfect for this sort of thing, you swear, he was already breezing through it as a pledge, or at least he was making it seem like it. Besides, you’re pretty sure that he is even mistaken as a member already around campus. “It’s not even going to be that bad. Plus, there’s going to be free booze and hella cute chicks, so there’s that to look forward to.” he says as he grins to himself.
“Gross,” you mumble, “it’s not really sounding like there’s anything for me at this dumb thing.”
He chuckles a little. “What? You mean the thought of hanging out with a bunch of sweaty dudes playing beer pong doesn’t sound enticing?”
You shudder, “You’re not really selling your case here, pal.”
He laughs. “C’moooonnnnn,” he whines, playfully bumping his shoulder with yours, “I promise you’ll have fun. And if not, then we’ll just leave after an hour and get some food. Sound good?”
You think for a moment before letting out a huff, “Fine. But if you even leave me alone for a second with those…heathens, then I will never speak to you again.” you say, half joking, half serious.
“You’re acting like these dudes are all terrible people; they’re not the spawn on Satan, y’know.” he says as he can sense the hesitance and apprehension in your voice. “I promise I won’t leave you and I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” he says as he coos and then laughs to himself.
“Dear god.” you mutter, rolling your eyes again, which only makes him chuckle.
“I’m just kidding. But seriously, you’re coming. Who knows, it could be a funny story later on.”
“Right. I bet it’ll elicit all sorts of chuckles.” you say, sarcastically.
He laughs again, shaking his head slightly as he focuses on working on the IKEA product. He shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe you’ll even meet someone there. Imagine if you fell in love with one of the frat dudes.” he laughs at his own thought.
You scoff, “Ew.”
“I know, right? How mortifying, you fall in love with some muscular, frat boy named Chad.” he shivers, “Scary.” he says, teasing you.
You laugh, “Shut up.”
He chuckles softly and then stops working to look at you. “But seriously, will you please come with me? It would be nice having you there, and it will be our first college party together, how can you possibly pass that up?” he says as he pouts slightly, giving you his best “puppy dog eyes”.
You roll your eyes and playfully shove his shoulder, “Ew, fine! Stop doing that.”
He laughs and grins, “You are the best friend I could ever ask for!” he says, acting overly enthusiastic as he hugs you tightly, ruffles your hair, then kisses your cheek. “We’re gonna have so much fun, you’ll see.”
“Bleh,” you jokingly whine as you wipe your cheek, “yeah, yeah. Just finish my storage thing.”
He rolls his eyes, “Yes ma’am.” he says as he continues working for a few more minutes. He finishes working on the storage unit, turning it upright and smiling proudly. “What would you do without me, honestly? BOOM!” he says as he smacks it lightly, “There it is, built by yours truly; you’re welcome.” he says with a smug grin.
“Alright, alright, calm down.” you say as you laugh a bit. You stand up, rolling it over to a corner in your dorm room.
Jake follows your lead, standing up as well. “Here, I can even help you pick out something to wear for the party. I was thinking of wearing a Polo-”
You turn to him and grimace, “Dear god, you’re already becoming one of them.”
He laughs and scoffs, “Hey, I make Polo’s look hot, don’t even try to act like I don’t. Besides, if I wear a short sleeved one, it will totally show off my muscles.” he says as he flexes a bit, grinning. You roll your eyes and pretend to gag and he laughs and stops flexing before nudging your arm. “Shut up.” he mumbles and turns to look at your closet. “Do you still have that dress you wore to that grad party we went to over the summer?”
“I mean, I think.” you say as you walk over to your closet rummaging inside it (even if there isn’t much room to rummage through).
You were kind of surprised to hear him talk about a dress you wore almost two months ago, but you didn’t think too much about it. You suppose maybe he only did because it was the first dress you wore in a while, so maybe he just subconsciously remembered about it. He glances at you as you look for the dress. He was secretly grateful you didn’t tease him for remembering about it, but he just thought you looked pretty in it. Not that you aren’t pretty all the time just…that time…he shakes his head to himself; it’s just a pretty dress.
He crosses his arms and peers over your shoulder, looking into what clothes you have in your closet as well. “What about that white top?” he asks, pointing out a white, low-cut tank top that is discarded to the side of the closet. ��Wear that with a nice skirt or something; that’d look good.”
You glance at it and laugh, “I wear that to bed when it’s too hot. I am not wearing that to the party; my boobs will literally be spilling out of it.”
He pauses for a moment before speaking again. “And that’s a bad thing because…?” He grins, giving you a quick wink which results in you punching his shoulder. He laughs and rubs his shoulder. “Kidding, kidding! But seriously, pick out something. You’ll look amazing in whatever you choose.” he shrugs casually. You roll your eyes and keep rummaging through your closet, suddenly hating every article of clothing you own. He leans against the wall next to your closet, “I swear to god, I can never understand why girls sometimes take so long to pick out what they wear. It’s like, how hard can it be to choose something quickly and then wear it?”
“Jesus, fine, you pick out something, then.” you say as you walk over to your bed, laying on it. “You’re the one who wants me to go, anyway.”
Jake smiles mischievously, walking over to your closet and looking through your clothes. “Do you have those tight, high-waisted jeans? The ones you wore last weekend?”
You raise an eyebrow. Is he talking about the ones you wore to the brunch your mom took you out to with him and his mom? You laugh. “Probably. My mom bought them, so she probably snuck them in there somewhere.” you don’t even realize you’re smiling a bit to yourself, a part of you secretly liking that he remembered them; maybe you looked better than you thought. “Aren’t skinny jeans, like, out or whatever?”
Jake shrugs. “All I know is your ass looked good.” he says as he spots them after looking through some of your bottoms. He grabs them and tosses them at you, the jeans hitting your stomach, causing you to let out a small “oomph”. “And pair it with that white tank top. For your shoes…” he shrugs, “maybe your Doc Martens or something casual. That’ll look good.” he says as he looks at you, nodding his head in satisfaction. “There. Done. And it only took, like, two minutes. See? It wasn’t even hard.” he jokes.
“You chose, quite literally, the most basic outfit known to man.”
“Oh, come on, it’s not even that bad. Besides, you’ll pull it off, anyway.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “I’ll wear the pants and the shoes, but I am not wearing my “booby” shirt, you perv.”
“Oh, c’mon. You know you like to show it off sometimes.” he says, grinning as he wiggles his eyebrows before laughing softly. “Just wear it, please? For me?” he jokes in a playfully flirty tone. “Plus, I need some sort of eye candy when we go to this thing.”
You scoff, playfully. “Ohhhhh, I see what this is.” you say as you sit up on your bed. “You’re hoping if you bring a hot girl to the mixer, you’ll have an automatic in with these frat fuckers, right?”
The tips of Jake’s ears turn slightly red and he scoffs, looking away before looking back at you. “What? No, that’s not the reason. Not the entire reason, anyway.” he says, laughing slightly to hide his embarrassment. “It’ll just be nice to go with you, okay?”
“Uh-huh, suuuurrrreeee.”
He laughs before going to sit beside you on your bed. “Okay, fine, fine, you got me. I did want to bring a hot girl so it'd be easier to get in with the frat. But that's not the whole reason! I also wanted to go with my best friend since we haven't really hung out this week because of classes. And I knew I'd need at least one sane person to keep me in check. Or, at least, as sane as you can get." he teases, wearing that stupid giddy grin of his he gets whenever he feels he said something hilarious.
You scoff, playfully, “Watch it.” you warn.
He laughs, “Sorry, sorry. I meant a perfectly sane, normal human who doesn’t listen to musicals in her spare time.”
You nudge his arm, “Hey! That was middle school me, back off.”
He laughs again, “I’m messing with you. But seriously, I am glad that you’re coming. It’ll be way more fun with you there.” he smiles that typical charming smile he does, not because he knows he looks good doing it, but because he just does anyway. “I really do appreciate you. Especially since you’re ‘sacrificing’ your sanity to be surrounded by these frat guys.”
“Soon, you’ll be one of them.” you shudder, “I’ll have to start writing my obituary for you.”
“Oh, come on, we’re not all that bad. I'm sure there's at least a few decent guys there that aren't complete douchebags. They're just...eccentric." he jokes, "This mixer will be a great chance for me to maybe get an in with the career path I wanna take plus if I leave a good impression with the frat guys, maybe I won’t have to be a pledge for much longer."
“‘We’re’? Oh my god, you’re already clumping yourself together with them!” you say in fake horror.
“Oh my god, you’re right.” he says in the same tone with a shocked expression. “I’m turning into one of them without even realizing it! Quick, snap me out of it!” he says, laughing slightly.
You shrug, “Gladly.” you say before punching his shoulder. It honestly hurts your knuckles, but you decide to keep that to yourself and ignore the pins and needles shooting through your hand.
He frowns and looks at you with an “i’m not mad, just disappointed look” which causes you to burst out laughing. “You know, you’ve got a mean right hook. Who knows, you might be the one joining the frat.” he says, rubbing his shoulder a little before wrapping his hand over your knuckles, squeezing it a little. He knows you probably hurt your hand a bit, so he hopes this makes your hand feel a little better before letting go.
“I’d rather die.” you say in such a serious manner, he can’t tell whether you’re joking or not, but he laughs nonetheless.
“Just get dressed. I’ll come get you later, okay?” he says as he gets off of your bed.
You groan, “Fine. But I hope you know, you are throwing me to the wolves by making me wear this outfit.”
He laughs and opens your door. “Have to let them know I’m there with the best-looking, smartest, and funniest girl at the party somehow.” he says with a wink.
You roll your eyes and cross your arms. “You’re lucky flattery works with me.” you mutter.
He grins, “What can I say? I know you so well, babe.” he says before nodding his head as a goodbye and walking out of your dorm room, closing the door behind him.
-
Against your will (and your own regard for fashion), you wore what Jake had picked out for you. He smirks a bit as he looks at you after opening your door when he knocks around a few hours later. He looks you up and down, and you notice how his gaze lingered a little longer on your chest before meeting your eyes. You cross your arms, unintentionally pushing your chest a little together, he scoffs as his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.
“Yeah…I’m for sure getting into this frat.” he says, mainly saying it to himself, but you would be lying if it didn’t give you a little bit of an ego boost.
“Pipe down, it’s literally the most basic outfit known to man.”
“But you make it look hot…real hot.” he grins.
You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder. “Don’t even.” you mumble as you walk out of your dorm room, closing and locking the door behind you.
He laughs softly as you start walking to the frat house, which is just around a block away. As you step outside, you shiver a bit from the cold and you frown at the fact that you didn’t bring a jacket, but you honestly felt too lazy to turn around and go back to grab one. He notices (and since he wasn’t wearing one either), he opts for putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you a bit closer.
“You have to admit, this is a little exciting. I mean, it’s our first college party and I’ll make it my mission to make it memorable.”
He honestly means that; he genuinely wants you to have a good time. He knows how you would rather be spending your time right now, just laying in your bed as you watch some show you’ve seen a thousand times, but he wants to break you out of that. Not that he has any problem with you being more introverted or wants to mold you into something he wants you to be, he has a more…specific reason than that. Your smile. As you two walk, he smiles to himself just thinking about it. How, whenever he sees you smiling this certain way–like you’re smiling for the first time–it’s like time stops; like you’re the only thing of importance in that very moment because nothing else matters, nothing else could possibly compare to how special and beautiful you look in those moments. It makes him feel giddy and the first time he ever saw you smile like that, he knew he had to do whatever it took to make it happen again.
“Maybe for you, but if it smells like B.O. and weed, I am so out of there.”
He laughs and covers his mouth, his laugh coming out louder than he expected it to. He runs that hand through his hair and turns his head to look at you. “I feel like you have some underlying stereotypes about frat boys.”
“And until this party proves me otherwise, it’ll stay that way.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then you’re on your own once you join their cult.”
He chuckles softly and shakes his head a bit. “I’m not going to become some buff incel just because I want to join this fraternity.”
You knew that. Well, you were hoping that would be the case. But this is different. This is college. Dramatic, maybe, but you were afraid the two of you would split apart and although you have other friends, he’s the one you’ve had for years. He knows everything about you and has seen you through all of your phases and vice versa. You just feel this looming anxiety that him joining this fraternity will be the first step in the direction of you two no longer being friends; that you’ll just become people you pass by on your way to class. You don’t want to tell him this, though, you’re not really ready to have a discussion (which may turn into an argument) about this just yet. You feel terrible for wanting this, but you’re secretly hoping he doesn’t get in. Not because you don’t want him to branch out and experience his own things in college, well, maybe a little. Maybe you’re selfish. Or maybe you’re saving him from turning into a douche. At least, that’s what you’ll tell yourself to feel better about hoping he doesn’t get in. It’s just because you want him to not forget about you. You’re not as outgoing as him, so what if he starts to find you to be boring? The thought made you frown.
-
Ten minutes. It’s been ten minutes and this party is already making you feel like you’re being suffocated from the amount of people at this thing, all of whom already seem to be drunk. Once you and Jake got here, you could already tell you were going to hate every lousy minute you had to spend at this party. Especially since there have already been a few people who’ve had their eyes on you for a little longer than you wanted. You tried to make this situation a positive, trying to just relax and have fun as you see Jake greeting the many people he already knows. It’s only been a week since the semester started and he already knew at least twenty people here (yes, you counted). He introduced you to everyone he’s greeted, though, he didn’t want to make you feel left out. He could see you were a little uncomfortable, probably just because it was crowded and loud, so he decided to take you to the kitchen, getting the two of you some drinks.
He smiles warmly, “We can dance if you want, or we can just talk, drink, get wasted, and judge people. Up to you.” he says, nudging your arm.
You smile a little and playfully roll your eyes. “I know that’s now what you want to do.”
“But it’s what you want to do.”
You look at him for a moment and before you say anything back, you hear a loud, booming voice calling Jake over. You both look and see some of the frat brothers laughing and motioning for him to come over as they yell at him like he’s some football player on the team they love. You glance at Jake.
“Please go so they stop.”
He laughs and nods, walking over to them. You take another sip of your drink and then you see someone you met in one of your classes. They notice you and wave and you wave back before going over to talk with them.
Jake walks over to the group of four of the frat boys and greets them, dapping them up. One of them motions their head towards you, “So…who’s she?” he asks, crossing his arms as he grins. The others nod their heads and Jake turns to glance at you before looking at them.
He shrugs, smiling shyly, “She’s my best friend-”
“She rushing Delta Theta Zow?” another one asks.
Jake shakes his head, “Nah, sororities aren’t her thing.”
“Too bad, she’s hot.”
Jake feels himself frown slightly at that. Sure, his intention was to hopefully have them think you’re hot so they would be more inclined to go easier on him when hazing, maybe even just decide to let him in if he could prove he knew some hot girls despite how shallow that sounds. It’s just the way he said it, the way they’re looking at you, that makes him feel sick.
“Tell you what, Jakey, you let us…get to know her, and who knows, you might just be exactly who we’re looking for.” one of them suggests.
Jake feels all of the blood suddenly drain out of his body and the frat brother grins, nudging another one. “Or, tell you what.” he says, putting his arm around Jake, “You sleep with her and you may just be one of the newest members of Alpha Omega Phi. Sound like a deal?”
“You want me to…”
“Fuck her.”
Well, there goes his chances of joining this frat, which surprisingly, is one of the more tame options out of the other ones. This one has great connections to people in the field of computer science and engineering, which is what he desperately wants to achieve. This could give him a big head start…but he can’t just use you.
He chuckles nervously, “I don’t know…she’s not like that-”
“Too bad,” the frat brother says as he takes his arm off of Jake, “We thought you would’ve fit right in with us.” the others nod their heads in agreement.
Jake thinks for a moment. “...alright…fine.”
The four of them cheer, which ignites cheers from other party goers, making Jake look around and find it a bit strange that they hold that kind of power.
“You can use Bradley’s room, he could use some sort of action on that bed.” one of them teases and the others laugh. Jake nods his head, trying to laugh along and then they shove him to go over to you. Jake quickly walks over to you, setting his drink on the counter and grabs your arm.
“The hell-?” you say as he quickly drags you upstairs into a bedroom and he closes the door behind the two of you, looking at you kind of panicked. “What the hell is your problem-”
“They want me to fuck you.”
You feel yourself freeze, all of your muscles tensing up at what just came out of his mouth. Was he being serious? “...deadass?”
“Deadass.”
“Damn…” you mutter, him releasing your arm from his grip. “So…”
He shrugs, “So…” he repeats.
“Guess you’re not getting into this frat.”
He looks at you for a moment, “So, this is like…a for sure thing.”
You raise an eyebrow, “Dude, I’m not having sex with you so you can join a frat.”
“Come on,” he pleads, using his puppy dog eyes again. To be honest, he knew you would say no for obvious reasons, but this was important to him. Sure, you’re important to him, too, which is kind of why he also figured you would be okay with doing this as a favor. “this is really important, I have to get into this frat. I could get an upper hand with some major companies I want to work for once we graduate. Please?” he clasps his hands together, “Just do me this one favor.”
“Fucking me is not a favor.”
“Well, it’s also not a punishment-”
You scoff, shoving his shoulder lightly and he laughs softly. It goes quiet for a moment between the two of you and he looks at you, expecting, wanting you to change your mind.
“How would they know, anyway? Can’t we just, like, pretend to have had sex? You know, like that scene in Easy A.” you suggest.
“In what?”
“Oh my god, we have to add that to our list of movies to watch, it has Emma Stone, so you already know it’s going to be good-”
“Okay, okay, yeah we can watch it later. Are you going to let me fuck you or what?”
You groan, “Can’t I just give you my panties or something and then you can wave them around and brag about it? Actually, don’t do that.”
“Look, this frat is made up of guys in business, engineering, chemistry, and physics majors, they’re not stupid. They’ll know, trust me, and I really don’t want to have to deal with any more hazing because I’m pretty sure it’s just going to keep getting worse and I would actually like to survive my first few weeks of college.”
“Or…you could just not join.”
He frowns, “You know how much this means to me.” You sigh. Yes, you thought this was stupid, but you also weren’t dumb enough to not realize how joining this frat could actually help him in the future. You saw the superficialness of it all and you knew he wasn’t dumb enough to see past it either, but Jake has worked really hard and besides, you would be lying if you said you saw this as a worst case scenario. “Please?” he asks, anticipating your answer.
You sigh again, “Fine.”
He smiles, “God, yes, thank you so much.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
“I’ll make you feel so fucking good.” he says. You thought you should take it as a joke, but he says it with a more serious tone before he hooks his fingers through the loop of your jeans, pulling you closer as he leans in, kissing you.
You were a little surprised by him just going for it so suddenly, but you close your eyes and kiss him back. His hand travels up to your waist, holding onto it as his other hand moves to the side of your face, cupping it as he pulls you closer, his fingers slightly tangling with your hair. He tilts his head, slipping his tongue past your lips, sending shivers down your spine as it slides over your own. He kisses you with a sort of hunger, not expecting to be kissing you with so much intensity, but once his lips met yours, it’s like a switch went off for him and he can’t help himself from wanting you more and more.
He guides the two of you over to the bed as you continue to kiss, him grunting softly as his eyebrows furrow together, feeling himself getting hard from just kissing you. He parts from your lips, having you both gasp for air before he pushes your hair aside, feeling his long, thin fingers brush past your neck before being replaced with his soft, plump lips. He leaves open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck before turning you around, your ass pressing against his hard on, making him moan softly into your ear from the contact, his precum leaking and staining his underwear and pants. You tease him, grinding against him slightly which makes him bite your neck softly as he continues kissing along the side of it, down to your shoulder. He grips your hips tightly, stopping your movements and you feel his lips and hot breath brush against your ear.
“Don’t play with me.” he whispers, gently nibbling on your earlobe before pulling away. His hands slip to the button of your jeans, undoing it and slowly zipping down the zipper. He pushes your jeans down just slightly, a little past your ass and he feels like he’s going to pass out from his fingertips gently grazing the edge of your underwear alone. He kisses your neck again, his left hand going to your neck, gently gripping it as he moves your head to the side to give him more room. That action alone almost makes you moan, but you just gasp softly as his right hand slips its fingers past your waistband, finally feeling them push against you. He moans at the feeling of you already being so wet and he coats his fingers in your arousal, making a mess in your panties.
He uses his middle and ring finger to press and circle your clit, causing you to gasp and close your eyes, your head falling back against his shoulder and he pulls away from your neck, breathing slightly heavily. He turns his head to look at you, leaving gentle kisses on the side of your face as he moves his fingers down, pushing them inside of you. From the way your lips part and you let out the softest moan, your eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, he can feel himself almost cum at the sight alone. He pushes his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing your clit and he leaves a kiss against your ear.
“That’s right, baby, you like this, hm? Fuck, you’re so wet, do you want me to just fuck you now?” he whispers against your ear, knowing he, himself, wants nothing more than to do just that. He fingers you faster, curling them against your walls as the pads of his fingers reach areas you can’t. You moan louder, feeling your legs shake and he smirks. “I bet you taste so good.” he whispers and he pulls his fingers out of you and your panties. “Open.” he demands and you open your mouth, slightly sticking out your tongue and he puts his fingers into your mouth. You lick them as he shoves them a little deeper and then pulls them out, sliding the mixture of your spit and arousal on your bottom lip before he turns your head and kisses you, wanting to taste you. He licks your lip, he sucks your tongue, anything he can just to have you on his lips. He moans softly and pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips before breaking. He’s decided he needs more.
He runs his hand along your back, slightly pushing you so you bend over the bed. You can feel your heartbeat against the comforter of the bed. He pulls your jeans down to your ankles, biting his bottom lip as he grins at the full view of your ass on display. His eyes look over how soaked your panties are, feeling a sense of pride knowing he did it. He gently squeezes and kisses one side of your ass, playfully biting it and then realizes he likes the idea of him marking you like this. He bites it a little harder, you moaning and whining at the feeling, your fingers gripping onto the bed sheet. He grins, kissing his teeth marks before he pulls down your underwear, feeling as though he is looking at the gates of heaven itself, his eyes locking onto your pussy. He mumbles something to himself that you can’t hear, but you suddenly feel his tongue slide slowly along and in between your folds. Your mouth opens as you moan, feeling yourself clenching around nothing and he chuckles softly, licking his lips.
He can feel his cock twitch in his pants, more warm precum sticking to his thigh and underwear. He goes back in for more, low groans and moans coming deeply from his throat as he buries his face into your swollen pussy, covering his face in your slick. “You taste so fucking good.” he says with a raspy voice, the vibrations feeling as though they travel throughout your whole body as you moan, feeling his tongue lick feverishly. You feel yourself drool at how he spreads your legs more, his nose and tongue all pressing into you more, him hooking his arms under your thighs, his hands resting and squeezing your ass, raising your hips slightly as he licks and sucks your clit. His nose rubs between your swollen folds as you moan louder, gripping the sheets tighter.
He licks faster, making out with your cunt as his tongue slips in and out of you. You let out a long moan, feeling as if your knees buckle, cumming all over his tongue, lips, chin, and nose. He moans into your pussy, licking up all of your release and he pulls away, looking at your glistening pussy, rubbing his fingers between your slit, spreading the mixture of his spit and your cum all over. His tongue licks his lips clean, reaching down to lick the part of his chin it can reach and he lets out a low groan, relishing in your taste. You whine as he gives a soft slap to your pussy, licking his fingers clean before using it to collect your cum from the rest of his face and licking that up as well.
He flips you over, leaning down to kiss you again and you kiss him back eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands roam along the sides of your body, his right one moving up to your chest and groping your breast through your shirt, you moan and whine as he squeezes it tightly, palming and kneading it as he starts to kiss you roughly. His breaths are heavy and before he even knows what he’s doing, he rips your shirt open, his patience dwindling with each second that passes. He kisses down your throat and buries his face between your breasts, kneading them as he kisses between them. He squeezes and pushes them together, licking across them and switching between each one to leave kisses on. He pulls down the cups of the bra, your nipples hardening more from the sudden cold air hitting them as your breathing becomes shallow and you moan with how he is handling you.
He flicks his tongue over your nipple, sucking and gently tugging at it with his teeth. His tongue swirls around your nipple, his hand squeezing the breast to fill more of his mouth as saliva runs down his chin. He moves and does the same with the other one and your chest rises and falls, moans escaping your lips. Your hand moves and tugs at his shirt, pulling the fabric up and he notices, moving away from you as he takes it off quickly. You feel yourself get even wetter at the sight of his toned arms and abs, looking over every curve of his upper body and he grins. He takes your hand and places it on his abs, moving it over them slowly and you both moan quietly to yourselves. He lets go of your hand and slides off his shoes, you taking the initiative to do the same. You both undress the rest of yourselves quickly and you feel yourself stop in your tracks when you see his long, thick cock slap against his abdomen. You clench around nothing as your eyes look over each vein, biting your bottom lip.
You reach out, using your finger to slide it over his tip, collecting the precum. His breath gets caught in his throat as he watches you, as you also collect the precum from the side of his thigh. You bring your fingers to your lips, licking them slowly as you look up at him. He watches you intently, his eyes shifting from your fingers, to your tongue, to your lips, to your eyes. You let out a soft moan as you taste him, licking your fingers clean and he reaches out, his hand grabbing your chin and lifting your head up to look at him more. He looks down at you, grinning before kissing you, tasting him on your tongue; that fact alone made him feel proud. He pushes you back against the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He kisses your temple muttering a “thank you” before pushing himself into you.
Your back arches slightly at the feeling, the pressure between your legs, the way that your walls mold and clench around his cock makes your head spin. You can feel the ridges of the veins in his cock grazing against them, making you clench tighter. He grits his teeth, cursing under his breath as he pushes himself fully into you. He moans and whines a little at the overwhelming feeling of you around him. His forehead rests on yours as he catches his breath, his hands wandering down the sides of your waist to your hips, gripping them tightly as he holds back the urge to cum. He thrusts slowly, sliding in and out of you, subtle squelching noises of your wetness coating his cock. This sound alone, however, causes him to go faster, moans spilling from your lips as the bed creaks harshly, the headboard hitting the wall. His grip becomes tighter and he clenches his jaw, letting out short breaths as he pulls away, watching your tits bounce with each thrust. He reaches and grabs one, playing with your nipple and fondling the breast, his eyes rolling back a bit as he moans. He fucks into you harder and faster, his hips meeting yours quickly, his balls slapping against your ass, the sound of your skin slapping, your moans becoming increasingly louder as your cunt swallows his cock each time he thrusts into it, his soft whines with short moans, and your arousal spreading between your thighs while getting on his drives him wild.
He pulls out and you gasp at the empty feeling. He grabs your hips and flips you over, pushing your ass up and spreading your legs, sliding himself back in, pounding into you harder and faster. You moan–almost screaming–at the sudden change of pace, your face buried into the mattress as your body shakes. He moans, gripping your ass tightly as he uses that to keep him steady while he fucks you. You moan and scream his name into the mattress, making him moan in return. He grabs a handful of your hair, pulling your head up from the mattress, making you moan and gasp.
“Scream it now.” he demands, fucking you deeper, his other hand reaching to rub circles on your clit hard and fast.
Your eyes roll back a bit and you comply, screaming his name, letting out a lewd moan afterwards as pleasure overtakes your body, your orgasm crashing down. You clench tightly around him, repeating his name over and over as you cum. That was all he needed and until now, he never realized that’s all he wanted. He thrusts harshly a few more times, going back to gripping your hips before moaning your name and pulling out. He pumps his cock a few times and flips you back over, you just giving in because your mind was blank at the moment. He moves up and moans deeply as he cums on your breasts, watching as the pearly white liquid spills on your nipples and the soft flesh, feeling warm and sticky on your skin.
He lets out a breath he seemed to be holding and kisses you. You kiss him back, sloppily, before he pulls away, moving to your chest. He kisses your nipples, a little bit of his cum on his lips before he licks it off. He uses his pointer and middle fingers to spread the cum around your nipples in a slow, circular motion, making you shiver. He smiles, and collects his cum onto his fingers off of your breasts. You open your mouth and he chuckles softly, sticking his fingers in your mouth as you suck and lick them.
“So good…so pretty…” he whispers to you.
You blush a little and he pulls his fingers out. He moves off of you and you both just take some time to catch your breath. You sit up and you both look at each other before bursting out into laughter. You both calm down after a moment before getting up to put on your clothes, but after you put on everything but your shirt is when you realize you can’t.
You glare at him, “Genius, what the hell am I supposed to wear?” you ask, holding up your ripped shirt.
He laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Damn, my bad.” he looks around and then he takes off his shirt, handing it to you. You raise an eyebrow and take it, putting it on. He walks to the closet and just grabs a shirt from there, putting it on. “I’ll give it back later.” he says, to which you laugh.
You both walk out of the room, seeing two of the frat boys Jake was talking to earlier. They smile smugly and whistle, cheering a bit and you roll your eyes. They give a thumbs up to Jake and he smiles a bit awkwardly before leaning to whisper in your ear, “Let’s get out of here.” You both walk silently as you leave the party. After a moment, he speaks, “Thanks…by the way…and I’ll buy you a new shirt and…I definitely owe you one.”
“You better get into this frat, I swear to God.”
He laughs, “Damn right.” he says as he nudges your arm and you nudge back. “So, how can I make this up to you?”
You think for a moment and then shrug. “It wasn’t all that bad.”
He scoffs, “Gee, thanks.”
You laugh, “You know what I mean.”
He smirks and looks at you. “You know…you look even hotter in my shirt.”
You roll your eyes and laugh. “What a random thing to say.”
He shrugs, “Maybe…we could do this again.”
You look at him, quiet for a moment. “...very funny.”
“I’m serious.” he says as he looks back at you. He smiles a bit and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Are you down or what?”
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➠ word count: 22.0k
➠ warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking (there’s a frat party), everything i know about hockey is from internet research for this fic i’m sorry for any inaccuracies i tried
➠ genre: fluff, gets quite suggestive (a heavy makeout scene/near sex scene) but no actual smut, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), halloween-themed at the beginning, sungchan’s not a frat boy but he’s like... a frat boy by association
➠ extra info: the ages/relative ages of the members in here are whatever i want them to be, don’t read into it too much. this is a very usamerican take on a college au btw. also i call kunhang ‘hendery’ in here like it’s his government name for a one-line gag bc i think i’m hilarious
the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines and thoughts/experiences as a chronically ill person are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines and chronic illness, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds
➠ author’s note: hi so this has been a wip for like a year lol. this one long predates sungchan’s deneofication (and subsequent re-debut in riize), hockey player sungchan just lives in my brain rent free ok. anyway, i hope you like
➠ series masterlist
“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”
“Hard to forget,” you snorted.
“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24
“Now shoo!” Dr. Son waved the small group of you out of his dimly lit office.
It was Phantasmagorical Phriday, a time-honored tradition going back to your freshman year of university. Dr. Son had been intrigued by the four freshmen who were somehow in his third-year class on Gothic Fiction and actually seemed to “get it.” His “Phantasma Phour” as you dubbed yourselves (a nickname that got quickly worn out, persisting only as the title of your groupchat):
Wong Hendery, who ended up in the class accidentally due to an error on his academic advisor’s part (she had gotten him mixed up with a Wong Henry, a junior Literature major who actually needed to take Dr. Son’s class) and he subsequently changed majors at least three times to your knowledge, so you were genuinely surprised he was graduating on time—he finally settled on Communications;
Jung Sungchan, at the time a promising young rookie hockey player who had now blossomed into your school’s reliable team captain—Biology major, being an athlete meant he could pre-register for classes and he picked Dr. Son’s at random to fulfill a gen ed Literature credit;
Zhong Chenle, an honorary member of both Nu Chi Tau, one of the biggest frats on campus, and the hockey team, as somehow 95% of his social circle were Nu Chi brothers and/or hockey players despite Chenle being neither himself, your best friend and also sometimes you swear a demon sent straight from hell to kill you—Literature major, who bullied you into taking the class; and
You, Chenle’s best friend who used to hate anything and everything Gothic fiction that got bullied into taking it anyway and now adored the genre more than any other—Literature major, who took the last spot in the class on registration day.
Dr. Son would invite you all to monthly extracurricular workshops in his office that built up to this: Phantasmagorical Phriday, a writing competition to see which of the four of you could write the best gothic short story. The stories were actually submitted the prior week, but it was the Friday before Halloween that was dubbed the Phriday in question. The four of you were invited to his office that night after classes (and Sungchan’s hockey practice) to review your pieces: how he thought everyone had improved from last year, discuss the writing process, and to finish off the night, Dr. Son would announce his top two stories. Those in the top two had the chance to send him a persuasive letter about why they should win. They had to be sent to him that night because the next morning, your professor would email the top two individually with the results.
Since this was your last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Dr. Son pretended not to see when Hendery brought out four celebratory White Claws for you all. You still had your warm, unopened, orange-flavored seltzer in your hand as the small group of you left the Literature, Writing, and Foreign Languages building together.
“I still can’t believe you couldn’t find anything classier for our last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Hendery.” You shook your head. “Ever heard of champagne? Literally any wine?”
“So you’re not gonna shotgun that, Y/N, is what I’m hearing?” Hendery teased as you all stopped under the light post right outside the building.
“Is that a challenge or what, Wong?” You scoffed, handing it back to him. “But no, I’m good.”
Sungchan thankfully cut in and changed the topic of conversation, “So are you going to start writing your letter of reconsideration, Y/N?”
This year’s top two were you and Sungchan, the member of the Phantasma Phour you spoke to the least. Outside of the monthly “workshops” (which at this point with your differing majors were just get-togethers of questionable academic value), you never saw him. You obviously saw Chenle all the time, and despite the fact that you considered him a bit obnoxious, you were sort of friends with Hendery, joining him for lunch if you happened to see him at the student union or at the coffee shop on campus. Sungchan was perfectly nice and all, you just found that you never really talked to him like the other two.
You looked down at your watch, taking a quick inhale when you saw the time. You’d stayed in Dr. Son’s office a lot later than you’d realized.
“Oh, no,” you casually waved off Sungchan’s question, readjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “I’ve got something more pressing right now. Anyway, see you guys. It was a good four years, I’m glad we got to do this.”
Lifting your hand in a wave of finality to the three men, you departed.
“She’s really not going to submit a letter?” Sungchan asked, still watching after you as your figure faded away in the distance.
“Nope,” Chenle shook his head, reaching for the spare White Claw in Hendery’s hand. “Y/N never does.”
“You didn’t know that?” Hendery questioned the hockey player, holding the drink away from Chenle.
“Why not?”
“She’s not in it to win really.” Chenle lunged for the can as Hendery jerked it away at the last second. “Just wants to make stuff.”
“So she was lying about doing something?”
Hendery and Chenle were now running circles around Sungchan in their game of keep-away with the seltzer.
“No.”
“What do you—” Sungchan sighed, yanking the drink from Hendery’s grasp and holding it high above his own head, well out of either of their reaches. “Hey!”
Now with their attention, the hockey captain kept his arm straight up as he returned to his question, “What are you talking about, Chenle?”
“Y/N does have something pressing right now. If I tell you where she’s probably going will you give me the White Claw?” Chenle bargained.
“You’d exchange your best friend’s location for an orange White Claw? Not even watermelon?” Hendery asked incredulously.
“It’s Sungchan, someone we’ve known for like four years, not some creep off the street who’s going to wear her skin.”
“No, Chenle, you don’t have to tell me that,” Sungchan shook his head, offering the can out for either one to take.
The Literature major was able to snatch it first, jumping up in celebration, “Suck an egg, Hendery!”
“I wouldn’t—” Sungchan’s words were too late though, as Chenle had already popped the tab, and the overly-shaken seltzer exploded all over all three of them.
“Zhong Chenle, I’m going to strangle you, you little weasel!”
“Ah! Sungchan, save me!”
“I would, except you got fucking orange White Claw in my eyes and I’m fucking blind now! Goddamn!”
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25
Rolling over in bed the next morning, you let out a big sigh and buried your face in your pillow, fully intent on going back to sleep. Saturday morning. No school, no work. Just you, your bed, and some much-needed sleep.
Then, the obnoxious blaring of your phone came from your nightstand. You groaned, reaching blindly for the object, and barely opening one eye just enough to snooze it. Damn, you really had slept in, to be woken up by your first medication alarm. Well, you weren’t going to die if you took your morning doses fifteen minutes later than normal. You were about to stuff your phone under your pillow when you briefly caught sight of your lockscreen after the alarm disappeared.
Text notification from Jung Sungchan?
Flopping onto your back and bringing your phone with you, you squinted against the harsh light of your screen to make sure you were reading that right. Yep, Sungchan had definitely texted you a few hours ago, separate from the Phantasma Phour chat. At almost 7:00 a.m., too. What the hell?
Curiosity won out over a need to sleep for fourteen more minutes, and you opened the notification.
[jung sungchan: Congrats, Y/N!]
You stared blankly at the text, your groggy mind desperately grasping around for any sort of context as to why Jung Sungchan would be texting you that at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday. Then it struck you like lightning, and you let out an audible “Oh, duh!” as you remembered where you both were last night. Phantasmagorical Phriday. The writing contest. You and Sungchan were the top two. Dr. Son must have sent the email out already, and apparently you had won.
Normally, you wouldn’t check your school email on the weekend until Sunday night, unless you were waiting to hear back from a specific professor—and the Sunday night check was just to see if any of your Monday classes were cancelled. Lord knows you definitely wouldn’t have checked it at seven in the morning on a Saturday. You let out a snort of disbelief as you reread the timestamp on the text. But still, it was nice of him. A good show of sportsmanship, as one would expect from the hockey captain.
You quickly checked your own student email, and did in fact see an email from Dr. Son at the very top with the subject ‘PHINAL PHANTASMAGORICAL PHRIDAY RESULTS.’
‘Y/N and Sungchan:
Thank you again for your submissions. I enjoyed working with everyone these four years.
The winner this year is Y/N. Good job.
Dr. Son.’
An amused smile crept across your face at your professor’s usual blunt email style. But this was also some of the nicest feedback he’d given your writing, even when you had won Phantasmagorical Phriday in the past, or in classes that you’d taken from him over the years. Something about it truly did feel... final.
And so with an odd bittersweetness, you drafted an equally short and blunt email back to your professor.
‘Dr. Son:
Thank you for taking us on these past four years. I will never forget the experience.
Y/L/N Y/N.’
Then finally, you went back to the original reason that you were even doing this.
[you: thanks, sungchan!]
Then, your alarm went off again, making you jump out of your skin. Well, time for your morning meds.
MONDAY, OCTOBER 27
A tall figure was nearing the corner table you had claimed in one of the campus coffee shops the following Monday afternoon, and you looked up from your laptop screen, a little surprised at who it was. Jung Sungchan was standing at the end of your table, black flannel over a graphic t-shirt and dark wash jeans, one backpack strap slung over his shoulder. He had an iced coffee in one hand.
You paused the movie playing on your laptop, taking out both your headphones as you looked up at him inquisitively, “Uh hi, Sungchan.”
“Hi, Y/N.”
“Are you here to study or something?”
“Mm.” He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “Not really. Just grabbing a coffee and saw you. Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?”
“Oh, sure. I’m waiting out the storm to leave,” you gestured to the near-constant downpour that had started right after you’d arrived over two hours ago. Noticing that some of Sungchan’s hair and shoulders were damp, you added, “The storm you apparently got caught in without an umbrella.”
“Oh, yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair to push some of it away from where it had been falling into his eyes.
“I don’t mind having some company while I wait.”
To your surprise, instead of sitting across from you, Sungchan plopped himself onto the same bench that you were on, one leg slung over either side so he could face you directly.
You picked up the mug in front of you, your second cup of your drink of choice. You’d gotten a refill after it became clear that the rain wasn’t letting up any time soon. Sungchan was already a third of the way done with his iced coffee as you blew over your hot drink before taking a small sip. He glanced up at you, and you felt like you were going to choke on the uncomfortable silence. So you took a gamble. Turning in your seat to face him as well, you hiked a knee up onto the bench, bringing your mug with you.
“Do you want to ask me something, Sungchan?”
The hockey player startled, having to catch himself from nearly choking on his coffee. Seems like you were right. Sungchan finally stopped sucking down his drink, setting it down on the table and wiping his palms on the knees of his jeans. “I heard that you never sent in a letter to Dr. Son. Any year you were a top two.”
“Oh, yeah, nah.”
“Why not?”
“Didn’t seem worth it,” you shrugged.
“What?”
“Every year I participated I wanted my work to stand on its own two legs. After the death of the author, that’s all that’s left, right? The work. It has to speak for itself.”
“Oh,” Sungchan nodded, then squinted his eyes, confusion entirely overtaking his features. “Wait, what?”
“Sorry, I don’t know how much Lit Theory you’ve done. Probably not a lot as a Bio major, huh? Death of the author is both literal and metaphorical. Removing what the author meant to do or say with a text from how you actually interpret the text as the reader. It’s a lot easier when they’re actually dead, but the abstract concept is practiced when they’re alive too. It’s… seeing the text as separate from authorial intent. Mind you, it’s only one tool in a literary critic’s arsenal, but I liked it for our Gothic fiction class. All the authors we read in that class, they’d been gone for a while, we had no way to know what they really meant when they wrote all that stuff. And it didn’t really matter for our purposes. All we did have was what they wrote, and that was enough for me. So the same should be enough for whoever reads the stuff I write. Even if it’s just Dr. Son.”
“Huh.”
“Though I guess I just explained myself a little, oops,” you laughed at yourself, taking another sip from your steaming mug. “I’m getting less and less mysterious by the second, aren't I?”
“Chenle made it sound like you didn’t care about winning,” Sungchan asked, cheek in hand.
You arched an eyebrow at this. “You asked Chenle about me?”
“W-Well you left so fast after we saw Dr. Son, and you two are you know...”
“Oh he’s my best friend,” you clarified for perhaps the ten-thousandth time in your life. “And while others may use any litany of swears for him and Hendery calls him a little weasel, I prefer ‘actual demon sent from Hell to kill me.’”
“What?” Sungchan’s eyes widened.
“He pushes me out of my comfort zone. In a good way, most of the time.”
“Got it. Then what do you do for him? If he’s your yang…”
“I’m entertainment?” You snorted, taking another sip of your drink. After setting it back down, you answered more sincerely, “I’m kidding. Sometimes it feels like that but I did ask him one time a couple years ago, when he was tipsy enough that I believed the words coming out of his mouth but not so drunk that it was unintelligible. ‘A safe place.’ And since then… I can see it in us. That’s my yin to him.”
He smiled softly at you. “That’s... really nice.”
“Sorry, what were you asking me before that?”
“Oh, uh— Chenle said you really didn’t care about winning Dr. Son’s contest, you just wanted to make stuff? That’s why you didn’t submit a letter.”
“Generally, sure. Winning would’ve been great, but I didn’t write what I thought Dr. Son wanted. I took all of his feedback with a grain of salt. Took stuff that I liked from him, took stuff I liked from other profs I had. Mixed and matched to make something that was mine.” You pressed your lips together, then leaned forward like you were about to tell him a secret, “I didn’t live for Phantasmagorical Phriday, Sungchan. You do know that, right?”
“Wow,” he blinked, seeming a bit disoriented. “I’ve never really thought about… you like that.”
“Well to be fair to you, you only ever knew me there and in Dr. Son’s class. Makes it hard not to think of me only through that lens. All you know about me is that I presumably like Gothic fiction and I’m a Lit major, right?”
“Right.”
“So what do you think I was doing here before you showed up?”
“…Reading Edgar Allan Poe.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at that, turning your laptop screen to show the paused movie to him, “I was watching Pacific Rim.”
His jaw literally dropped, and you felt the need to save him at least a little. Grabbing a book from your bag, you held it up, “I did come here initially to finish reading this new mystery novel I just got, but then the storm came and I had nothing else to do after I was done with the book.”
“But still… you’re so…”
“I have interests outside the one class we took together?”
“Smart,” he finished, an absolutely adorable expression of wonder across his face.
You weren’t expecting that, surprised giggles bubbling up out of you as you felt yourself growing warm under his awestruck gaze.
“Anyway, your turn,” you tapped his knee with your book before putting it back in your bag.
“For what?”
“To expand my horizons of you. All I know about you is that you’re the hockey captain, and a Bio major who took a gothic fiction class one time like three years ago. Show me you’re a multifaceted individual, too.”
“Uhm, that’s about it.”
“Oh come on, Sungchan.”
“No really, if I’m not on the ice, I’m in class; if I’m not in class, I’m with my team; and if I’m not with my team, I’m studying.”
“You’re here, right now,” you pointed out. “Last I checked I’m not on your hockey team, and we’re not studying. You have to do one thing that’s not for school or hockey. My thing was just watching Pacific Rim this one time, remember?”
“Alright…” he paused to think, fingers tapping along his thighs. “I used to play the piano.”
“Past tense, but I’ll accept it. When did you stop?”
“High school? Around when piano lessons and hockey practice started conflicting.”
“And you chose hockey?” You asked, hoping it didn’t sound judgmental. You really were just curious, trying to understand him.
“Actually, the choice was made for me.” He held his right hand out in front of you, and it was then that you saw his pinky finger was unnaturally crooked as he pointed to the digit. “I broke it in a game without even realizing it. Bruises and stiffness sometimes are normal so me and my parents didn’t know anything was up until weeks later when I was fucking up all the notes at my piano lessons because it still hurt. By the time I finally saw a doctor and got a splint on it, it set up wrong. All dexterity for piano out the window. Hockey on the other hand… guys have done a lot more with a lot less.”
You couldn’t help but curiously run a gentle fingertip over the crook in his pinky. “Does it hurt at all? Now?”
“Not really.” He went to bend and flex the fingers of his right hand, and you saw how the fifth finger didn’t curl up as much as the others. “It’s just a lot stiffer. Doesn’t bother me all that much.”
He brought his left hand up and wiggled the fingers on that hand. “Besides, I’m a lefty anyway.”
“So—apologies if this sounds like a stupid question to you, I don’t know anything about hockey—are there like, different hockey sticks for left-handed and right-handed players?”
Sungchan immediately broke into snickers, and you set down your mug to cross your arms over your chest indignantly.
“Hey, I didn’t laugh at you for not knowing what death of the author was—”
“I wasn’t making fun of you, I’m sorry,” he covered his mouth. “That was just… too cute. Uhm yes, there are lefty and righty sticks.”
You had to bite down your bottom lip to not smile at him calling you cute, and instead keep up your ruse of being offended. “I feel patronized.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There was still a hint of a giggle in his tone, and you felt your self-righteous façade slip away as he continued, “You should come to a game, then, if you really want to broaden your horizons. The season just started. First home game is this Thursday, actually. 7:00 p.m. and students get free admission with your student ID.”
“Thursday?”
“Fridays are for basketball, Saturdays are for football.”
“Oh. Right.”
“You don’t go to those games either, do you?”
“Oh no, did I make it obvious?” You asked sarcastically.
“A bit,” Sungchan jested back.
Outside the window visible past Sungchan, the rain had let up a few minutes ago, and you briefly glanced over at your laptop for the time. Shit, your next alarm was going to be going off soon. If you left now, you should be home at roughly the right time for your next dose.
Clicking your tongue, you started packing up your things, “Well, looks like the rain’s finally let up enough to allow me safe passage. That’s my cue.”
“Oh.” The hockey player with you looked over his shoulder at the newly sunny day outside before turning back to watch you put your things away.
“Are you heading out too?” You nodded to his empty cup.
“I’ve uh, got some homework to do.”
“Guess this is where we part ways then.”
“Um, you didn’t say if you were going. To the game.”
You tucked your chin to your chest to hide your smitten smile as you put your laptop in your bag. Typically just asking for the details would’ve been taken for a yes, but Sungchan wanted extra confirmation. This boy wasn’t good for your heart, truly.
Turning back to him, you gave him a firm and nearly business-like nod. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
A bright grin lit up his features. “Okay! Great! Uhm, feel free to bring some friends, I know just sitting in the stands by yourself might be lonely.”
“I’ll see if I can drag somebody else out. It’ll be a tall order, though. Literature majors, you know, we prefer our Shakesperean poetry readings.”
“Oh, well—”
“I’m kidding,” you laughed and stood then, slinging your tote onto your shoulder. “Honestly, have you seen Chenle at a rager? Boy can drink twice his body weight I swear. He shouldn’t, but he can.”
Before you could reach for your cup and saucer to buss your place, the hockey captain spoke up, “I’ll take care of your mug, don’t worry.”
“Oh, thanks, Sungchan! I’ll see you Thursday then.”
“Bye…” Sungchan trailed off, watching the door long after it had closed behind you.
He didn’t actually have any homework to do, and scrolled on his phone for a few minutes to make sure you were out of the area before leaving himself. He grabbed his long-empty plastic cup and your mug. His went in the trash, and as he went to put yours up with the other dishes and trays, his eyes were caught by the iridescent glitters left behind on the rim by your lip gloss.
[you: hey what are you doing thursday at 7:00?]
[chenle: depends on what weird poetry reading you’re trying to drag me to]
[you: not this time. Sungchan’s hockey game?]
[chenle: you want to go to a sporting event?? why????]
[you: i told him i’d go please don’t make me go by myself]
[chenle: did you offer to go or did he ask you to come?]
[you: he asked me to? i guess?]
[chenle: haha yeah fuck no i’m not going with you]
[you: why not????????]
[chenle: a guy invited you to one of his games? yeah no way am i coming with you]
[you: what difference does that make? you’re seriously going to make me go to a hockey game by myself?]
[chenle: i don’t know how to tell you this gently so: he wants to fuck you]
[you: bro???]
[chenle: especially hockey? caveman brain is activated, he wants to show off how big and strong he is for you over the other males]
[you: damn can’t believe i just blinked and woke up in 200 BC]
[chenle: i’m warning you, only go if you’re ready for the consequences. i.e., that]
[you: so you’re not coming with me]
[chenle: no <3]
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30
Your chronically early self had gotten there as soon as the doors opened to spectators in order to scope out the perfect spot for yourself. Somewhere not too close to any speakers, where you could still see what was going on, hopefully somewhere Sungchan could maybe see you, but you could make a quick escape if need be. A lot of parameters, hence the need to be early. That meant that you got to watch the visiting team warm up first, and now your school’s team was warming up before the game. Finally the stands started filling up, and you had to do a double-take at the newest figure entering.
“Zhong Chenle, you lying little bitch!” You cursed out your best friend who was approaching you.
He immediately went to defend himself as he plopped down beside you, “Look, I told you I wasn’t going with you, not that I wasn’t going at all. Come on, Lit major.”
He finished off with a solid knock on your head, which didn’t hurt all that much through the beanie you were wearing, but you still slapped his arm away with a glare.
“Are you sure you want to live until graduation day? I can’t tell sometimes.”
“Half the team are Nu Chi guys,” Chenle explained his being there, then waved at one of the players skating by, 23, who gave a salute back. “Jeno.”
“Oh.” You belatedly waved too, but your friend had already turned back to warming up.
Chenle then gave you the run-down on all your friends and acquaintances’ numbers as he spotted them.
“Goalie. Sicheng, 7.” He just blocked a shot from a familiar number, 23. “Already told you, 23 is Jeno. Right wing.”
“Does he always suck?”
“Here’s Ten, number 10. Right defense. He’s never told me which came first, his nickname or his jersey number.”
Sicheng blocked Ten’s shot.
“2 is Mark, center.” His went in.
“66, Donghyuck, center alternate.” His also went in.
“24, that’s Yangyang, left wing—and a miss!”
“This doesn’t bode well that so many of our players apparently kind of suck.” You muttered to yourself, well aware that Chenle was no longer listening to you.
Finally, the tallest of the team was skating up to take a shot. “And there’s your guy, Y/N. Number 27, Jung Sungchan, left defense, captain, your dreamboat—”
“If you don’t shut up—”
“Oh! All net!”
“Isn’t that a basketball—”
“Hey, you got your earplugs, right?”
“Yep, same ones for concerts,” you confirmed, reaching into your purse for them. You hadn’t been able to take your full tote bag into the school sporting event, so you had to condense the essentials into your smaller purse.
“Good, because uh, it’ll get loud.”
“I figured.”
“Yeah, remember how half the team are Nu Chi guys?”
Your eyes widened in realization, “Oh god.”
“Here they come!”
Whipping around to face the same direction he was looking, you saw a horde of about ten to fifteen guys storming the rink, practically shaking the audience section. They were all donned in blue and orange, your university’s colors, various hockey or Nu Chi merch and paraphernalia, and you would’ve absolutely bet money that at least three of them had Nu, Chi, and Tau symbols painted across each of their chests under their shirts. Chenle leapt up to greet them all, the volume of the area immediately rising tenfold at least.
You recognized most of the Nu Chi frat brothers, they were mutual friends or acquaintances of yours through Chenle over the years, and there were even some familiar graduated faces. Lee Taeyong was the first to pick up on your presence, squeezing past Jisung—a new pledge that had glommed onto Chenle in particular—to plop down behind your seat.
“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Taeyong asked you with a tilted head. “Not exactly a good place for you, is it?”
Taeyong was frat president for your first two years of college and his last two. You had an absolute disaster at a Nu Chi party in your freshman year that he was witness to. Ever since then, when you would see him in passing at other lowkey (or as lowkey as frat functions could get) Nu Chi events that Chenle took you to during those two years, you always got the distinct impression that he was keeping an eye on you during them.
“Could be asking you the same thing, Taeyong,” you countered, fully turning around in your seat to chat with the man. “Didn’t you graduate two years ago? You don’t have anything better to do on a Thursday night? Like your taxes or something?”
“Us old-timers who peaked in college like to come back and re-live our glory days vicariously for the first home game,” he entertained your jibe, making you giggle. “And somebody’s got to be these kids’ DD. They always go at it too hard after the first game. Win or lose.”
Johnny, another graduated Nu Chi brother, spoke up then, eyes laser-focused on you, “So Chenle’s finally dragged you out to a game, Y/N?”
You immediately looked at your friend with wide eyes, knowing what the answer was, and exactly what reaction said answer would garner. Chenle, on the other hand, seemed all too thrilled to join in, turning to face you with his hands on his hips and a knowing smirk on his face.
“Oh no, I didn’t bring Y/N. She actually didn’t know I was coming at all. I found her here all on her own,” he announced to all the guys, who were hanging on to every word he said. If literally anything else were happening, you might’ve laughed at how they were all wrapped around his finger.
“No offense, but you don’t really seem like you’re interested in hockey,” Jungwoo, a junior who you’d shared a couple literature classes with, said curiously.
You sighed, giving Chenle a frank look before admitting, “Jung Sungchan invited me.”
They exploded with various hoots, hollers, whoops, and whistles.
With a shake of your head, you turned back around to look back at the players on the ice, knowing full well that there was nothing you could do alleviate—or even really participate in—the absolute chaos that was happening behind you.
Eventually, the game started. Taeyong, who had moved to sit on your other side from Chenle, quietly explained the basics of what was going on to you: positions, plays, scoring, why the referee made certain calls. Chenle was caught between cheering along with the other Nu Chi guys and rattling off hyper-specific stats on individual players to you, so you were truly grateful to have Taeyong giving you your “hockey for dummies” tips and tidbits throughout.
You kept your eyes on number 27, as Chenle had pointed him out to you earlier. The gear made it somewhat difficult for you to really recognize any distinguishing features about Sungchan himself except maybe his height, made even greater by the skates he was wearing. But as much as the intellectual side of you might’ve hated to admit it, there was definitely some part of you that very much enjoyed watching him play; that got some kind of thrill every time somebody tried to check him and he didn’t budge—or when he checked somebody and they most definitely did budge.
Before you knew it, all three periods were over, and you were jumping to your feet along with the others, cheering wildly. Your school won by a landslide.
“Oh, they’re going to get plastered,” Taeyong murmured from beside you fondly.
All of you had been in the cheering section milled around in the ice rink lobby waiting for the team to get out of the locker room.
“That was fun,” you declared to Chenle as the two of you stood off to the side from the larger group of loud Nu Chi brothers.
“Yeah, you didn’t seem like you were listening to a word I said.”
“Because you were telling me sports stats, Chenle, I’m surprised my brain didn’t start bleeding out of my ears.”
“Well I’m surprised your nose wasn’t bleeding watching your dreamboat Jung Sungchan beat up all those other guys,” Chenle teased. “200 BC called, they want their cavewoman back—”
You lunged at him, managing to get an arm around his throat in the beginnings of a questionably friendly chokehold, “I’m going to kill you, you little—”
“No murder in the rink!” Came the chastising voice of Johnny Suh from afar, and you reluctantly let him go.
The players started streaming out of the locker room soon after, and you nervously scanned the crowd for Sungchan. Chenle was easily dragged into the chaos of everyone celebrating, leaving you standing off to the side waiting.
Finally, you spotted him. Sungchan was wearing a simple pair of black sweatpants and black hoodie with your school’s name embroidered across the front, his hair a bit mussed up. He was deep in conversation with Sicheng, brow furrowed. The goalie’s features were similarly serious as they gestured to each other. You stayed put, not wanting to interrupt. Taeyong had mentioned that Sicheng was sort of like a co-captain, you guessed they might be doing something important.
Then you’d suddenly made eye contact with Sicheng, who was facing you. He gave you a casual head nod, and said something to Sungchan you couldn’t quite make out. The captain whipped around, a bright smile coming to his face as soon as his eyes landed on you. You lifted your hand to give him a small wave and smile back.
Sungchan quickly ended his conversation with Sicheng, making his way over to where you were standing by a wall.
“Hey, Y/N,” he was still smiling down at you, his eyes practically glittering even in the harsh fluorescents of the lobby. “So you really made it out.”
“I said I would.” You fidgeted with the straps of your bag.
“And…?”
You tilted your head, “And?”
“What did you think? You know, are your horizons super broad now or something?”
You couldn’t help but laugh. His phrasing was funny, but also remembering how he played and was now giving you his undivided attention admittedly made your chest flutter.
“It was good, yeah. I had fun,” you confirmed. “You uhm, you played really good. I think.”
“Thanks,” Sungchan scratched at the back of his neck, and you swore the tips of his ears were pink, but that could’ve just been the cold. “Did you drive yourself?”
“Walked, my apartment is close.”
“Uh, so, we all go out to a bar after games usually. It’s kind of a sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday, but I’d really like for you to come. I’ll buy you a dr—”
“I’m really sorry, Sungchan, but I can’t. I’d love to, but…” You trailed off, wracking your brain for some concise way to explain why he couldn’t buy you a drink.
“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Sungchan assured you, and you winced at the way the hopeful smile fell from his face.
An awkward silence descended over the two of you. You were chewing on your bottom lip, desperately trying to think of something to say to gloss over your rejecting his offer. You didn’t want to end the conversation on such a sour note, nor did you want to leave him just yet either. Stealing a glance at the clock above you on the wall, however, you knew that you’d need to be going soon anyway.
The hockey player was the one who ended up breaking the silence, “Can I walk you home? It’s late for you to be out by yourself.”
A relieved smile overtook your features, and you hoped he could see the sincerity in it, “Sure, thank you. Let me let Chenle know he’s relieved of his man-shaped friend duties for the night, and we can go.”
You got on your tiptoes to look around for your friend, finally spotting him in a headlock by Jeno, with Yangyang giving him a noogie. They all seemed to be laughing, so it didn’t look too much like bullying that you felt the need to intervene.
“You know, I’ll just text him, actually,” you chuckled, bringing out your phone to do just that.
“Man-shaped friend duties?” Sungchan questioned as the automatic doors parted for the two of you.
“His words, not mine,” you snorted. “But you know, making sure a woman doesn’t walk places by herself at night, that kind of stuff. Having a man just with her makes her safer, as fucked up as that is. Chenle corrected it to be man-shaped since he’s not the manly protective type.”
“I see.”
“But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties for tonight, Sungchan.”
As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you wanted to stuff them back in. Friend. God, that was absolutely not what was happening here and you knew it. Chenle’s previous texts flashed across your mind. You obviously knew why Sungchan would’ve wanted to invite you to his game, and you said yes purposefully. Friend. Foot, meet mouth.
Sungchan blinked down at you, but seemed to take it in stride, “Of course, Y/N. Anytime you need a man-shaped person at your side, just call me up. I’ll bring my hockey stick.”
He patted his gear bag that was slung over his shoulder, making you giggle.
“I’ll keep you on speed dial, then.”
It was a short walk to your apartment, and you and Sungchan mostly talked about the game. You asked him a couple questions that Taeyong hadn’t covered during it— which Chenle might’ve, except you had tuned him out. And as you came to a stop at your front door, you didn’t yet fish your keys from your bag.
“How often do you have away games?” You asked.
“They’re usually about half,” Sungchan shrugged. “It’s a bit annoying missing classes, and the bus is kind of rank on the trip back.”
“Ew…” You wrinkled your nose.
“But they’re always a lot of fun.”
“So, uhm, when’s your next home game?”
His face brightened as he seemed to realize what exactly you were asking, “Next week. Same time.”
“Okay, cool.” You bit your lip.
“Cool,” he echoed.
You looked up at Sungchan, catching his eyes for a heart stopping moment. Both of you were standing on your welcome mat, he was close enough that you could catch a faint whiff of the detergent from his clothes—a college athlete with freshly washed clothes? You might already be in love—and watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. You had the urge to grab him by the front of his hoodie and yank him—
A garish, blaring ringing going off interrupted your split-second pros and cons weighing that had been going on. Sungchan startled at the noise, reminding you very much of a baby moose in the moment. You groaned as you reached into your bag for your phone.
“Oh my god, stop it,” you hissed under your breath as you snoozed the alarm that was going off on there. Once it was quiet, you looked back up at the man with you sheepishly, “Sorry about that.”
He joked, “Curfew?”
You laughed lightly, “No, just a reminder for something I have to do after I get home. It’s fine.”
“Well, before you go do that, can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Nu Chi and the team are hosting a joint Halloween party this year, and I’d really like it if I could see you there.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow, people will probably start showing up after like ten, eleven. It’s at the Nu Chi house, theirs is bigger than ours.”
“Fascinating phrasing,” you snickered.
“I know this is last minute, so I get if you have other plans or something.”
“I… can probably swing by for a bit, yeah,” you nodded.
“Great!” Sungchan beamed. “Oh, it is a costume party, by the way.”
“Costume?” You arched a brow. “What’ll you being going as? And please don’t say hockey player.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, “Definitely not… that would be lame…”
“You were planning on going as a hockey player, weren’t you?”
“Me and Mark have been putting all our spare time into planning this thing, I haven’t had any time to think about a costume.”
“Well you’ve given me 24-hour notice for a costume, so this is your 24-hour notice for one too. When I find you at the Nu Chi house tomorrow, I do not want to see a hockey jersey, Jung Sungchan. Any sports player is off-limits, understand?” You poked his chest with finality.
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded in assent.
Just then, your alarm went off again, and this time you jumped out of your skin. Apparently, another 5 minutes had elapsed. With a sigh, you reached into your bag for your keys.
“I should let you go do that thing,” Sungchan chuckled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Sungchan,” you unlocked your front door. “See you tomorrow.”
Sitting at your kitchen table a couple minutes later, you were looking down at the vitals displayed on the screen of your blood pressure cuff.
“Jung Sungchan…” you muttered to yourself as you added the reading to your digital record, noting how the line graph jumped up with the new data.
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 31
“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. You two were grabbing a quick lunch between classes, and doing an obligatory catch-up on how your short but sweet walk with Sungchan went last night. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”
“Hard to forget,” you snorted.
“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”
You threw a fry from his plate at him, “It wasn’t like that!”
He ducked, letting it sail by his head and hit the wall behind him.
“Then what was it like?”
“It was more like a big puppy that I couldn’t say no to and—”
You were cut off by loud gagging noises from your friend, and went to kick him under the table, but missed and hit his chair leg instead. He still got the message, quieting down to let you continue.
“I told him I’d be able to just pop in for a bit. I’ll be in and out before it’ll get too bad.”
“Famous last words...”
“Hold on, LeLe,” you grabbed your friend’s arm to stop him on the sidewalk in front of the Nu Chi Tau frat house.
Taking another look into your tote bag, you made sure once again that you had everything you could possibly need tonight. Medications, snacks, water bottle, ear plugs, the usual. After closing the snaps on the bag, you nervously fidgeted with the hem of your costume. Generic witch, it was the last thing the costume store had in your size that wasn’t garishly scary. You understood well and good how college Halloween parties worked: you had to look hot, not terrifying. Not to mention that those horror show costumes were also much pricier than your “Sexy Witch” one.
“You look cute, Y/N,” Chenle reassured you, readjusting your witch hat for you. “Jung Sungchan won’t know what hit him.”
Chenle, on the other hand, was an almost scarily realistic zombie. If you hadn’t spent an ungodly amount of time hanging out on his bathroom counter this afternoon watching him apply the SFX makeup himself, you would’ve thought he had hired a professional makeup artist to do it. He’d always gone ham on Halloween since you two were kids, ever since he figured out how to make a Transformers costume out of cardboard boxes in primary school. You usually participated in partner costumes with him, but you really didn’t want him to make you a gross-looking zombie tonight.
“Thanks.” You gave him as confident a smile as you could muster.
Resecuring your grip on your go bag, you started up the walkway to the house with your friend.
You had been able to faintly hear the thumping bass of the music from outside, but once inside, you were almost immediately hit by a wall of music. Just inside the front door you were faced with a mass of people in bright costumes, flashing lights, corny Halloween decorations of cobwebs, spiders, ghosts, and pumpkins all over the walls.
Chenle looked over at you expectantly, “Y/N?”
“I couldn’t find my concert earplugs, only my noise canceling. I won’t be able to hear anybody unless they’re shouting at me if I put those in,” you replied, having to raise your voice to make sure he heard you. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay…” He sighed and grabbed your elbow. “Come on, let’s find a quieter spot in the house then.”
You gave him a thumbs up and bright grin, already feeling your ears acclimate to the loudness. You could totally do this. It was one night, and you were just going to see Sungchan for a bit then go. Pop in then back out, just like you said.
You didn’t have to wait long to spot Sungchan. Chenle had barely tugged you into the next room over from the small foyer when a familiar head was visible over the crowd, his bright smile focused on you.
“Hey, Y/N!” Sungchan grinned down at you. He was dressed in a suit and tie, what you were guessing was probably his only set, and his hair was parted to one side, styled off of his face. The tie had already been loosened, and the tuck of his dress shirt wasn’t so crisp.
“Hi, Sungchan,” you smiled up at him, amazed that you could hear anything over both the music and now your heart beating so loudly in your ears.
“So you did find a costume.”
“Oh, yeah,” you messed with the hem of your skirt. “Last one at the shop.”
“You look great.” He was still beaming down at you, and you could feel your skin growing warmer. “I’m really glad you could make it.”
“Thanks. Uhm, so what are you? Funeral director?”
“What? No, I’m—” His sentence stopped in its tracks as he looked down at the front of his suit jacket. He started patting his empty breast pocket, then other jacket pockets, then pants pockets, then looked around on the floor. “Fuck.”
“What?” You looked around under your feet, but weren’t able to see anything other than the usual party debris. “Did you lose something?”
Sungchan looked back up at you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I was about to say that I’m Mulder from the X-Files. But I’ve apparently lost my fake FBI badge. So it looks like I’m a funeral director now.”
You giggled. “Maybe you can be Mulder when he retires and buys a funeral home.”
“Yeah, the perfect costume. Won’t take too long to explain to anybody, they’ll get it immediately,” he laughed.
“Hey, I’m just glad you didn’t wear a jersey.”
“I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”
“Oh, have you seen Chenle’s makeup by the—” But when you turned around to gesture to your friend, you found that he had disappeared, leaving you and the hockey captain all alone.
“Chenle?” Sungchan asked with a tilted head. “I didn’t even realize he was here yet.”
You shook your head fondly at your friend’s antics. Well, you’d have to thank him later.
“He must have gone to get a drink or something. Either way, it seems I’ve been abandoned.”
“Well, you can come hang out with me and some of the guys, if you want?” He offered.
“Yeah, I’d really like that,” you nodded, readjusting your bag to make sure it was pulled in tight to your body.
Sungchan led you through the frat house with a hand on the small of your back, and you snuck a glance up at him when he went to greet someone who had called his name as you passed by. He kept you tucked into his side as he slowed to give the guy a friendly slap on the shoulder. As soon as Sungchan had stopped to say hello, two more people appeared seemingly from nowhere, eagerly greeting him as well. You faintly recognized one, Jisung, a new Nu Chi pledge. He’d been at the hockey game you went to, and always found Chenle at Nu Chi events that you tagged along to. You looked up at Sungchan’s animated, handsome face again as he continued talking.
“This is Y/N.” Sungchan’s voice suddenly pulled you into the conversation. You snapped your focus down from his face to the other three that were in front of you, and realized that they all definitely knew that you’d been staring.
“Oh, hi.” You gave the three boys a nervous smile.
“Y/N, this is Jisung, Shotaro, and Renjun. Jisung and Shotaro are Nu Chi pledges, Renjun’s a sophomore brother, and he’s—you’re a Literature major, right, Renjun?”
“Yes.” One of them nodded.
“Renjun’s a Literature major too, Y/N,” Sungchan finished the introduction.
“Cool, cool,” you nodded. It had been Shotaro that called Sungchan over in the first place, you were pretty sure.
“Anyway, thanks for the offer, guys, but I already promised Hyuck I would, so we’ve got to go.”
Sungchan ushered you away to the tune of a chorus of disappointed groans from the three boys, and you wracked your brain to see if you could recall hearing any sort of proposition from them. But nope, between the loud music and your prior lack of attention to the conversation, you had nothing.
“What did they want?” You gave up and finally asked Sungchan.
“Beer pong. Hope you don’t mind that I declined. I’ve already had a couple and am not looking to get wasted quite yet.”
“Oh, no, not at all,” you shook your head. Thank god you didn’t have to deal with that yet. “Not really my thing anyway. Terrible hand-eye coordination.”
Sungchan seemed about to say something when someone walked by you with an exceptionally pungent cologne. The whiff shot directly to your head like a bullet, the sharp pain making you wince and hiss. It took everything in you not to cover your nose like Edward Cullen and instead shift to breathing through your mouth for a few moments.
“Y/N? You okay?” Sungchan’s voice was clearly concerned.
The sharp pain was gone just a couple moments after it had registered, and you opened your eyes up again, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, don’t know what that was.”
“Okay, good.” He squeezed your shoulder before dropping his hand back down to your back and continuing your trek through the Nu Chi house.
You and Sungchan finally made it to a room adjacent to the main living room, where there were a couple of beat-up old couches and lots of Nu Chi Tau paraphernalia. The bass of the music playing in the next room over would occasionally make the picture frames and plaques on the walls rattle, and you could hear every word of the songs crystal clear, even though the room that you were in was packed to the brim with partygoers as well. Sungchan stopped you at a group of people gathered around one of the couches, tapping the shoulders of two of them who had their backs to you. Donghyuck and Hendery turned around, immediately parting to make room for the both of you in the group upon seeing you.
Almost everyone in the group was familiar to you either as friends or acquaintances. Your social circle was big thanks to Chenle, who was friends with practically the entire hockey team and Nu Chi house, despite being a member of neither. But now you didn’t have your best friend at your side, just Sungchan and your tote bag, both of which you were keeping close to you.
“Oh shit, Y/N!” Hendery grinned, pulling you into a one-armed hug of greeting. “Damn, it really is you!”
“Yeah, I’m a witch, not a ghost, Hendery,” you retorted jokingly. He was dressed as Prince Eric, if you weren’t mistaken.
“Well, when Sungchan said you were coming, some of us were a bit... skeptical.”
Someone dressed as Venom cut in from Hendery’s other side sharply, “No, I believe you said ‘never in a million fucking years, loverboy.’”
The rest of the group erupted in tipsy snickers and ‘ooh’s, and you felt Sungchan jostle a little as someone had presumably given him a teasing shove.
“Alright, guys. You can cut it out now,” Sungchan spoke over them authoritatively. He then looked down to you, features softening. “Sorry. Anyway, this is Donghyuck, he’s on the team and in Nu Chi—”
He pointed to the boy right next to him, wearing a very classic vampire costume splattered with a little bit of fake blood or fruit punch (you couldn’t tell in the poor lighting), and you wondered if he had also gone to a Halloween store last-minute like you. You knew him both from the game, and from a couple times you’d seen him with Chenle outside of frat or hockey events.
“Mark, frat president and he’s on the hockey team—” He was next to Donghyuck, dressed as Spiderman. You were already familiar with Mark, both from the game, and a group project in a class last year. You wondered if Mark remembered that.
“Ten, hockey and Nu Chi—” Ten was reclined on the couch, a top hat that had presumably been on his head earlier now resting on his propped up knee. Between that and his eyepatch, he clearly was dressed as some character that you couldn’t identify in the moment. You knew Ten outside of hockey, the frat, or even Chenle. He was a Lit major, so you had shared classes and study groups over the years. He raised a friendly hand in greeting.
“Sicheng, my co-captain and he’s in Nu Chi, too—” He was on the couch with Ten, sequestered to one corner as his teammate was taking up most of the space with his legs. Sicheng was dressed up as an angel, fake wings, little halo, and all. And you knew Sicheng through Ten, they’d been roommates since freshman year and could often be found together around campus. He gave you a nod of familiarity.
“Dejun, Nu Chi—” Sungchan had finally reached the man who was dressed as Venom.
“And you of course, unfortunately, know Hendery, Nu Chi.”
“Oh, boo, Sungchan,” Hendery stuck his tongue out at the captain.
You smiled and nodded a little bit at everyone else, but you were finding it hard to concentrate with the music in the background. Did it really need to be that loud?
“Y/N?” The sound of your name snapped your focus up, and you looked around for the source.
A few of the guys had gone back to their own conversations. Sungchan was looking down at you, head tilted inquisitively. Presumably he had been to the one to say your name.
“Oh, sorry,” you tried to give a nonchalant chuckle, but it was getting harder and harder to even articulate yourself with all the stimulation. “The music...”
“Oh!” Sungchan perked up at this. “Do you want to go dance?”
He was offering a hand out to you, and you stared down at it, mouth opening and closing as your brain felt like it was moving through sludge. You quite literally could not process what that string of words actually meant for a good second, and then it took even longer for you to even tie together the right way for you to respond. Cognitive fatigue. Oh this was not good. You squeezed your eyes shut, then open.
You again gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m- I’m kind of light-headed right now. Could you get me something to drink?”
His features immediately turned concerned. “Of course. Do you need to sit down or a ride h—”
“Can you just get me a drink?” Your brain was stuck in a perpetual loop now that it had locked onto one task. It took all of your energy just to regulate your tone enough to keep your voice (hopefully) as sweet as possible, despite the fact that you had cut him off.
“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed your upper arm reassuringly before taking off.
Your eyes were fixated on the spot where he had just been, your vision seeming to continuously zoom in and past your head. Squeezing your eyes shut once more, you took a deep breath through your mouth to try to recenter yourself. But it didn’t help any. Your head felt like a balloon that someone was overinflating, and you knew exactly what was coming next. You swallowed thickly, taking a second to look through the crowd. Nope, you couldn’t wait for Sungchan. Not like you could even verbalize much of anything right now. You had to go take your medication.
So you hurried into the crowd, clutching your tote bag to your chest like your life depended on it—which it really did. Mumbling ‘excuse me’s to everyone you shouldered, bumped into, or stepped on the toes of, you finally made it to a door that you were pretty sure was a bathroom. You tried the handle first, and when it gave in, you still knocked as you opened it, just in case. It was miraculously empty. Maybe there really was a God. Then, the balloon started to deflate, the pressure in your head inverted, becoming a harsh, squeezing pain instead. Nope, nope, definitely not a God. Or at least not a benevolent one.
You locked the door behind you with clumsy fingers and shuffled over to the sink. The countertop was in good enough condition for you to toss your bag up there and start rooting around through it. Bottle after bottle after bottle, then you finally secured the right two. You shook out a pill from one, then a pill from the other. The lights above the mirror were becoming more insufferable by the second. You cracked open the fresh bottle of water you had stored in your bag too, and knocked both pills back in one big gulp.
Tossing the water back into your bag, you could fucking finally flip the switch and turn the lights in the bathroom off. After feeling your way along the wall, you eventually found the bathtub, and sat yourself down. The music was somewhat muffled in here, and you figured this was going to be the darkest room in the whole Nu Chi house. Right now, your plan was to wait in here for your medication to kick in and hopefully stop this migraine before it really got going. Then you could make your great escape, and send Sungchan some bullshit apology text later. After tossing your witch hat to the ground vaguely beside your bag, you gently rested your head against the cool tile of the shower with a sigh. Chenle was right, you shouldn’t have come. Cynically, you thought that you should have timed it. See how long you lasted before you got a migraine. You’d be surprised if that was even 15 minutes.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Sungchan returned to the group with your requested drink in hand and another for himself, frowning when he immediately noticed your absence. “Hey, where’d Y/N go?”
“Oh, shit, uh…” Mark looked around with a baffled look on his face. “No clue dude, she was just here a second ago.”
“I’m going to go find her. Here.” He shoved both drinks into Hendery’s hands.
“Sungchan, come on, take a hint, man,” Donghyuck sighed, patting the taller boy’s shoulder sympathetically.
“What?”
“She asked you to get her something to drink and then slipped away when nobody was looking.”
“Y/N’s not like that.”
“And denial’s a river in Egypt.”
“No, she hasn’t been feeling well all night. I think. I’m going to go look for her.”
“So you’re admitting that you make her physically ill.”
“Dude, you’re just asking to get your shit rocked, you know that, right?” Ten warned him.
“Hey, I’m standing up for women—”
Mark cut him off, “Hyuck, you’re on your own if Sungchan decides to fuck your shit up. I don’t care if you’re my little, I’m not—”
“Oh, wahhh, my big strong big won’t protect me.”
“Christ, I swear he’s only had like four shots and a couple…”
His friends’ voices quickly faded into the din of the party as Sungchan pushed through the crowd. He couldn’t spot you, but found maybe the next best thing.
“Hey, Chenle.” He grabbed him by the elbow, turning him away from the arm wrestling competition between Jeno and Yangyang that he was spectating. Or, he at least hoped this was Chenle, it was a bit hard to tell with the zombie makeup.
“Hey, Romeo!” Chenle greeted him jovially, punching him in the shoulder over-zealously. Okay, definitely him.
“Have you seen Y/N? In the past like, five minutes or so?”
“You lost her?” The zombie asked angrily, cheerful mood immediately soured.
“Uh, yes? Sorry?”
“No, I’m not pissed at you,” he shook his head at Sungchan’s apology. “You go check the bathrooms, I’ll look outside. Don’t bother calling her, she’s not going to pick up.”
“What’s—”
But Chenle was already gone.
You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting in there for, but you could feel some of the overstimulation from the party beginning to slide off of you. Which could be either a good or bad thing. Cognitive fatigue was usually a prodrome and postdrome for you. Regaining some clarity could either mean that your medication was working and the migraine was going away, or you were about to enter the proper migraine phase. The fact that the pain hadn’t gone away was worrying. But at least it was dark, and relatively quiet. Oh, quiet... you could put in your earplugs now too.
Just as you had gone to grab for your bag, there was a knock at the bathroom door. You froze. Shit.
“Occupied!” You yelled out hesitantly to them, wincing at the loudness of your own voice. Okay, ow.
The person knocked again, harder.
“Seriously! Busy in here! Puking my brains out!” You yelled even louder, hoping they got the fucking idea this time. There was no way you wanted to have to actually get up and deal with a drunk partygoer that needed to piss and/or puke.
“Y/N? That you?” A familiar voice came through the door. “It’s Sungchan, can I come in?”
“Oh, sure, hold on.” You clambered out of the tub as carefully as you could in the dim lighting coming from under the door.
Against your better judgment, you turned one set of lights on in the bathroom, then cracked the bathroom door open. Sungchan was in fact on the other side, and you stepped back to let him in. He looked around the bathroom, worry on his face.
You shut the door behind him, saying sheepishly, “So, I was lying about the puking my brains out.”
“But you don’t look okay.” He peered down at your face as you were still wincing against the bright lights. “You didn’t drink anything tonight, what’s wrong?”
You went to sit on the side of the tub, feeling a pain in your eyes now. You gestured to the light switch. “Can you turn that light off?”
“Uh, okay…” He obliged, and the room was dim once again.
Your eyes adjusted quickly, and you could still see the general outline of everything in the room. Sitting back in the tub, you pulled your knees to your chest. Well, no chance for your great escape now. Sungchan climbed into the dry tub with you, facing you. He didn’t fit great in the small space, all gangly limbs, and your knees bumped into each other. But he sat there with you quietly.
“I’ve got a migraine coming on, I had to get somewhere quiet and dark and take my meds.” You told him bluntly, opting to just take the plunge. Not like you could even attempt flowery language at the moment anyway. Sure, some of your speech capabilities were coming back now that there was less sensory input, but you weren’t going to be doing any soliloquies tonight.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sungchan said quietly. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No, no. I actually- I actually don’t want to be alone right now, if that’s okay?” You surprised yourself with your answer.
“Yeah, of course.” He said reassuringly. “Do you want me to take you home?”
“I might not have drank but you did. I’ll be okay here, for the most part. I’m the one who came knowing that I get sound-induced migraines.”
“Wait, really?”
“Mm, yeah,” you pinched the bridge of your nose to alleviate some of the tension there for a moment. “Remember when I said Chenle pushes me out of my comfort zone in a good way most of the time?”
“Right.”
“One of the times it wasn’t... good was when he got an invite to Nu Chi’s Halloween party our freshman year, dragged me with him. And he always means the best when he does stuff like that. I hadn’t made any new friends at college, meanwhile he had a bunch, including some of the pledges at Nu Chi.”
“How he got the invite.”
“Exactly.” You needed to take a pause, resting your head against the cool tile again. After a few deep breaths, you pushed on in the story. “Anyway, we’d been there for a couple hours when the loudness and the music and everything finally got to me and I got a migraine. I had my go bag on me, and went to what I thought was an empty corner of the house to take my meds. But a couple other people saw me knocking back pills and wanted some. My head was hurting like a bitch, and they were trying to grab them from me and anyway, I spilled a bunch of them all over the floor, drenched myself with my water and their beer, and elbowed a dude and gave him a bloody nose.”
“Holy shit,” Sungchan breathed out.
You opened and closed your jaw a couple times to try to relax the muscles and joints there. “I couldn’t even open my eyes because my head hurt so bad. Chenle told me later I was screaming and Taeyong wanted to call an ambulance until Chenle ran up and explained what was happening. They put me, Chenle, and Jeno—turns out that’s whose nose I broke—in Taeyong’s room in the house for the rest of the night. Neither Chenle nor I were in any shape to drive ourselves home.”
“Wait is that how you met Jeno?”
“Yeah, and it turns out he wasn’t one of the ones trying to take my pills, he was trying to break up me and the people who were. Collateral damage.” You recounted it regrettably.
“When Jeno found out I’d invited you, he told me he’d keep his room clear in case we needed it. I thought he was just being a dick.” Sungchan sounded like he was having an epiphany. “Y/N, do you think you’ll be okay to move up a floor?”
The bass was thudding through the door, and you knew that if you stayed here when you transitioned into the throes of however bad this migraine fully got, you’d regret it. Grabbing your earplugs from your bag and putting them in, you gave him a thumbs-up and attempted a smile, but you knew it came out like more of a wince.
Sungchan kept you between him and the wall as you moved through the Nu Chi house, casting as much of a shadow against the garishly flashing lights as possible. Even through your earplugs, the music was raucous, people were practically screaming at each other, and you gripped one hand around his arm and the other onto his suit jacket to keep yourself balanced and to not lose him. When you got to the stairs, he fully wrapped an arm around your shoulders to jerk you out of the way of a drunk Nu Chi member stumbling his way down, and kept it there the rest of the way up. The noise was squeezing around your head like a vice, and you shut your eyes tight at the top of the stairs for a moment in an attempt to clear your head.
Sungchan’s voice was right beside your ear, muffled through the earplugs, “We’re almost there, Y/N, I’m sorry, come on.”
You were vaguely aware of the man with you feeling around on the top of a doorway before jiggling a doorhandle, and finally you were in a blissfully dark and quiet-ish room. Your head definitely hurt more than before, and you practically collapsed onto the bed.
“He was kind enough to stuff all his dirty clothes in the closet,” Sungchan muttered.
You managed a strangled chuckle at that, dropping your go bag onto the floor beside the bed. A moment of silence passed, and you could hear Sungchan awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet at the doorway.
“Sungchan,” you said his name, then patted the empty half of the bed beside you. “You can sit. I know Jeno doesn’t have any other furniture in here besides the bed and his PlayStation.”
“He probably only has a bedframe because it came with the room.”
You snickered, but were cut off by the squeezing pain turning to a sharp, stabbing pain behind your left eye, “Oh fuck!”
“Y/N?!” Sungchan was right beside you, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down beside you.
“Sorry, sorry, it feels like I’m getting an icepick lobotomy! Jesus!” You hissed, cupping a hand over your left eye as if that were actually going to do anything. “It’s normal, I’m fine. Relatively.”
“Okay…”
Still clutching your eye, you rolled onto your side and brought your knees up towards your chest. You blindly fumbled towards the head of the bed, and felt a pillow being pressed into your hand.
“Thanks,” you muttered, tucking it under your head.
“Do you want to lay under the covers?” Sungchan whispered.
“Do they smell like Jeno’s washed them in the past week?”
He laughed breathily at that, “Miraculously they do. I think he was planning on getting laid.”
“He gave up getting his dick wet for me. Jeno’s a real one,” you mumbled, feeling the covers that you were laying on top of being pulled out from under you.
Sungchan gently brought the sheet up to your shoulder, then a blanket too. The stabbing pain behind your eye was still there, and your stomach filled with dread as you acknowledged that your acute medication wasn’t going to be working this time. This was going to be a full-blown migraine, and who knew how many hours it would last.
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything else you need? Water?”
“No. Just uh, let me know when two hours have passed, I can take another dose of my meds that aren’t fucking working then.”
“Oh. Will do.”
You opened and closed your jaw, letting out a distinct groan. Another few minutes passed. Or, you think it was a few minutes, you couldn’t really check your phone for the time.
“Sungchan.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have to stay. I’m sure the party is a lot more fun.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“…No.”
“I want to stay. I’m not going to have any fun out there knowing that you’re in all in this pain all alone in here.”
You squinted your right eye open, and had to crane your neck to look up at where Sungchan was sitting against the headboard. He had taken his suit jacket and shoes off at some point, now just in a rumpled dress shirt, loosened tie, slacks, and socks. He held your eye contact steadily, head tilted slightly and a frown across his handsome features.
Reaching your unoccupied hand up towards him, he watched it with confusion.
“What do you need? Your bag?”
“No.” You grabbed his hand, giving it a light squeeze.
“Oh.” An adorably radiant grin was on his face now instead.
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1
Sungchan knew you’d finally fallen asleep when you stopped muttering swears and curses under your breath, the pained expression fell from your face, and your hand that was holding his went limp. He could still hear the party going strong outside of Jeno’s bedroom, and a glance at his phone told him it was just after one in the morning. He had no want to rejoin his friends, to leave you.
He took his tie all the way off, thinking to himself that if you were feeling better, you might have joked that he looked like Mulder the off-duty funeral director. And he would’ve laughed and watched the cute way the corners of your mouth quirked up when you said something that you thought was funny. He set the tie down with his shoes on the floor beside the bed.
Careful to stay on top of the covers that you were sleeping under, Sungchan shifted until he was laying down too, pillow tucked under his head, facing you on his side, hand still holding yours.
Like usual, you didn’t remember falling asleep, but you did remember shutting your eyes tight and wishing really hard for your head to stop hurting so bad. Or to die. Whichever the Universe felt like granting. And judging by the fact that you were now waking up without a migraine, it seemed like the former.
The first thing you were aware of before you even opened your eyes was that you felt like shit. Sure, your head didn’t hurt anymore, but jeez the morning after wasn’t much better. Tired, achy, and your brain felt like TV static.
The second thing that you were aware of, after opening your eyes, was Jung Sungchan just a few inches from your face. He was still asleep, soft bursts of air passing from his lips and mussing up strands of hair that were falling into his eyes. You didn’t quite have enough in you to coo over his bedhead, but you could give half of a fond smile as you pushed yourself into a sitting position, running a sleepy hand over one side of your face.
Only one of your earplugs was still in your ears, and you looked around the bedsheets for the other one. After securing it, you scooted over to the edge of the bed to put the plugs back into your carrying case before rolling back over and pulling the blankets over you again. You deserved this, honestly. Sleeping in late, a comfy bed, warm blankets, a cute boy next to you, nothing to—
Your happy thoughts were ripped away by the sound of a loud alarm. You shot up, scrambling towards your tote bag to grab your phone from the depths of it and turn your goddamn alarm off before it woke Sungchan up.
“Mm?”
Too late.
Sheepishly, you looked over at him, “Sorry…”
“‘S okay,” he mumbled, flopping onto his back and rubbing a hand over his face. “How’s your head?”
“Better. A lot better, thanks.”
“Good, good.” He yawned, “Morning, by the way.”
“Good morning.”
His eyes were closed as he laid there, a hand resting on his chest, and you weren’t sure if he had fallen back asleep.
“…Sungchan?”
“Hm?”
Taking his inquisitive tone as a sign that you could keep talking, you said, “Uhm, that was the first time I’ve had anybody around for one my migraines in a while. I’m sorry if it was… well, I don’t know. What was it like for you?”
He opened his eyes, rolling onto his side to face you and tucking a hand under his cheek, “Oh, uh, I mean, I wasn’t quite worried, since you seemed like you knew exactly what was happening, you know? But still, I… I was wishing there was more I could do. It was weird knowing that you were in pain but not being able to see where it hurt.”
“I should’ve figured that might be upsetting. Sorry about all that.”
“No, Y/N, it's okay. I get it, you just wanted someone with you when you were hurting.”
“Yeah, yeah, I did,” you nodded, curling one of your hands into a fist in your lap, digging your nails into your palm in an attempt to not cry at how easily he saw right into you.
“I was more than happy to sit with you.”
“I’ve had these stupid migraines for years now. Tried every treatment in the book, been on every regiment. And my friends and family, they don’t treat me like I’m made of glass or anything, which I’m grateful for. Everyone in my life knows I’m a pro at it all: I’ve got my go bag, all my meds, my alarms, I’ve been going to doctors’ appointments, testing, everything for years. But like... they still hurt. The migraines still fucking hurt.” Your voice cracked over the word, and your nails dug in deeper. “And I just… think they forget that part sometimes? I don’t know, I guess they hear the word ‘migraine’ thousands of times over the years it sort of loses its meaning. They kind of forget what one actually is. But it hurts Sungchan, my head just hurts for hours or even days, sometimes so bad I throw up from the pain. I can’t do anything but lay in bed in the dark and cry. Last night’s wasn’t that bad but still… thank you. I needed for it to all be real to somebody.”
Sungchan pushed up into a sitting position, and through your watery vision you could see that his brows were furrowed. You followed where his gaze was locked, and watched as he gently unfurled your fingers. You used the thumb of your other hand to rub at the divots that your nails had left in your skin.
“The migraines are why I’ve been all weird, by the way.” You added, trying to ignore the strain in your voice.
“What?”
“When you wanted to buy me a drink after the game. One of my migraine medications that I take, I can’t drink alcohol on it. It just felt like a weird and long explanation to have to give in the moment. And when you asked if I wanted to dance with you last night, the music would’ve made the migraine come on quicker than it did, but explaining it to you then, again it felt like it would’ve ruined the moment even more.”
“Oh… don’t worry about it.”
There was still one big thing you hadn’t smoothed over. But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties tonight, Sungchan. Stupid, stupid.
Pushing through the discomfort prickling at your skin, you asked, “Sungchan, do you want to go on a date?”
“A…” He looked you dead in the eyes for a moment, mouth parted, and blinked once, twice before he was absolutely beaming at you. “Yeah, yes, I do.”
“Okay.” You couldn’t help but giggle, nerves buzzing through you as your chest was airy and you were lightheaded for two reasons now, “Okay, good.”
“Is it bad for me to say that I’m relieved? That you have migraines? Well, not that you have them, because obviously they hurt, but like, that this is what it was? I seriously thought I was being stupid, like mixed signals or something. Like, you came to my game but then you didn’t want to go to the bar.” He ticked the instances off on the fingers of one hand.
“Medication,” you nodded.
“Right. Then you let me walk you home after, but you called me your friend.”
“That was just plain stupidity,” you admitted with a groan at having to relive that moment again.
“And you said yes to coming to the party, but then you didn’t want to dance with me,” Sungchan had now run out of fingers and dropped his hand back down to the bed.
“The music...”
“And when you disappeared, I thought you left because you didn’t like me. I just… felt like I was going crazy.”
“It’s not awful of you to be relieved about this. I’m sorry, Sungchan. Migraines aren’t conducive to romance, apparently.”
“Oh, bullshit.” He pushed back immediately. “They’re just not conducive to drinking and loud parties. That’s not romance.”
“Alright, fair. I’m wont to agree with you.”
“And you need to stop apologizing for your migraines. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose.”
“Well, I did come to a loud ass party knowing I’d probably get a sound-induced migraine.”
“Okay, aside from that— which, I’m very flattered by and will never ever ask you to do anything like this ever again.”
“Okay.”
Suddenly the door handle rattled, then there was a banging on the door. “Hey! Are you two done in there?” Jeno yelled through the wood. “You better not be having post-headache sex on my bed!”
“Seems like he didn’t get laid last night,” Sungchan muttered.
“If he keeps up that pounding I’m going to get a rebound headache and he’s going to wake the entire house, please let him in,” you groaned.
The boy with you quickly moved to do so, unlocking the door and throwing it open to whisper aggressively, “Jeno! Shut the fuck up! People are still sleeping!”
“Oh. You’re dressed.”
You rolled your eyes at your friend, “I don’t know what you think a migraine is like, but getting my back blown out is pretty far down on my to-do list for immediately after.”
“How are you feeling?” Jeno was nice enough to ask as he rooted through his closet.
“Like shit. While you guys nurse actual hangovers today, I get to nurse a migraine hangover. Same awful morning after without the fun night before.”
“That sucks.” He secured a rumpled shirt and inside out pair of sweatpants. “I told Chenle you were crashing here last night, by the way. He didn’t just abandon you for shits and giggles.”
“Oh, thanks. He was sober enough to drive?”
“Mark had a Breathalyzer and everything.”
“Wow…”
“Now I recommend you two get the fuck out before everyone else wakes up and sees you sneaking out together.”
“Right,” Sungchan nodded, sitting on the edge of Jeno’s bed and pulling his shoes on.
You quickly gathered your shoes, phone, witch hat, and go bag before giving Jeno a short goodbye and following Sungchan out. The Nu Chi house was thankfully quiet as everyone was still asleep in their own rooms, save for the partygoers and brothers who had passed out on the couches in the living rooms. Once you were on the front porch, the two of you dared to speak again.
“I’ll drive you home, Y/N,” Sungchan offered.
“Mhm, thanks,” you squinted against the bright sunlight, reaching into your bag for the spare pair of sunglasses you kept in there.
He gestured to your bag. “So what all do you have in there?”
“Everything but the kitchen sink.” You sighed, finally securing your sunglasses and putting them on. They did help, but you knew there was no way you were going to avoid a rebound headache today. Realizing that Sungchan might actually have been genuinely asking and wasn’t just trying to be polite, you decided to give him a sincere answer as well. “Uh, my meds, my blood pressure cuff, earplugs, sunglasses, some snacks, other miscellaneous non-migraine related stuff like an umbrella.”
“Blood pressure cuff?” He stopped in front of a sedan parked on the street, and opened the passenger door for you.
Even through your unpleasant migraine hangover, you couldn’t help the giddy smile that crossed your lips at the gesture.
Once the both of you were in the car, you explained, “One of my medications affects my blood pressure. I have to check it every few hours, or whenever I feel kind of funny. That’s partially what the snacks are for too.”
“Really?” He started the car and pulled out into the street.
“Most of my meds I need to take with food, so keeping snacks on me makes it easy. The sweet ones are in case my blood sugar drops though.”
“Blood sugar too?”
“A different medication affects my appetite, secondary effect is on my blood sugar. Fun fact, it’s the same one that keeps me from drinking alcohol. Anyway, if you’re ever craving something sweet, I keep gummies and stuff on me usually.”
Sungchan let out a deep breath. “Wow…”
“Oh and water.” You perked up as you realized you’d forgotten something, and reached in for said item. “I've got my water bottle. I need water to take my meds, obviously, but I also need to drink water to make sure I don’t get kidney stones from my medication.”
The car had stopped at a stoplight, and he looked over at you in disbelief. “What the fuck.”
“Hey, it’s this or be entirely unable to participate in society.” You explained. “I used to get five or six migraines a week, with really bad or mild headaches constantly in between. I couldn’t do anything, they were disabling. Clearly, they still are now when I do get them, but I only get one or two a month.”
“I can’t imagine— I… yeah…” He trailed off as the light turned green, a deep frown etching itself on his features as he clearly was trying to imagine what a huge shift in his life that would be. And was having a hard time doing so.
“People without chronic illnesses usually can’t, until they get one,” you shrugged. “I know I couldn’t imagine it either. Then I got my first migraine. Then my second, and my third. I think the ‘chronic illness’ part really hit for me when I had to order my first sharps disposal bin for the monthly injections I take.”
“You’re…”
“Do not say that I’m so strong or any live laugh love type shit right now.”
He laughed, shaking his head, “No, no, not what I was going to say. I was just thinking… you’re really cool.”
“I just info-dumped about my migraines, medication, medication side effects, and treatment to you for ten minutes straight and that’s the conclusion you came to?” You asked in disbelief as he pulled into your apartment complex, and it dawned on you just how long you had been talking about yourself for. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been that detailed with someone other than your neurologist or your mom about your condition and treatment.
Sungchan put his car in park to turn and look you in the eye. “I’m looking at the bigger picture here: You’re a Lit major, you like Gothic fiction, you’re good at writing, you’re smart and know things like death of the author and stuff, you like Pacific Rim, you’ve come to one of my games, you’re funny, and you just info-dumped to me about something personal for ten minutes. So yes, I think you’re cool. Actually, cool might be an understatement.”
“Jung Sungchan, you…” Your cheeks were hurting with how wide you were grinning. Whether it was the migraine hangover or truly from how warm and happy his words made you, you couldn’t formulate a proper response, “Congrats, I’m speechless.”
“I think that's good?” He laughed again. “Anyway, you told Jeno earlier that you felt like shit, so I won’t hold you up anymore. Rest well today, Y/N.”
“Thanks. You too, Sungchan.” You wrapped your hand around the door handle but stopped just short of actually opening it. “Oh, and uhm, I don’t know if this too eager or whatever, but I’m free tomorrow.”
His face lit up with recognition at what you were implying. “Me too. But are you going to be okay? Like, recovered?”
“Yeah, I’ve got all day today to sleep it off.”
“Okay.” He grinned.
“Okay.” You repeated. “Text me?”
“Yes, yes. I will.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
And with that, you got out of his car, making sure to take your go bag that had been on your lap for the whole drive.
Halfway to your front door, you turned around to give Sungchan a final wave goodbye, and he waved back through the windshield. Once you’d finally disappeared into your apartment, he looked over at his now empty passenger seat. Well, not completely empty, he realized. Your witch hat was on the floor of the passenger side, you’d forgotten to grab it on your way out. He picked it up, gently setting it on the seat beside him. He’d just give it back to you when he saw you again for your date tomorrow.
“A date,” Sungchan sighed happily, feeling his chest swell and nearly burst with joy. “A date, a date, a date.”
Putting his car in reverse, he looked through the rear window as he muttered, “Suck an egg, Donghyuck. Man-shaped friend, my ass.”
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2
Sungchan picked you up at 7:00 p.m. on the dot for your first date. You made sure to take your nighttime meds early and silence your alarms so there was nothing to bother you that night. Migraines notwithstanding, of course. You still had to bring your go bag just in case you needed anything acute, but you didn’t think twice about leaving the majority of it in the car, tucking just a couple individually packaged tablets into your pocket before accepting Sungchan’s hand that he offered to you after opening your car door for you.
Walking into the movie theater with him after he bought your tickets, you were about to start off in the direction that the usher had pointed you when your date stopped you.
“You want anything from concessions?” He nodded towards the long line of other couples, families, and groups of friends.
“I’m not big on overpriced popcorn,” you shook your head with a smile. “Thanks though, Sungchan.”
“You sure you don’t want a soda or candy? How’s your, you know, blood sugar?”
It was then that your polite smile morphed into a genuine, touched one, and you squeezed his hand that you were holding. “I’m doing good, promise. I made sure I ate before. But thank you, seriously. You’re really sweet.”
“Okay, but let me know if you need anything.”
“Sungchan, can I tell you something?” You ducked your head in towards him conspiratorially.
“Yeah, of course.”
You gently shook one side of your jacket, and a muffled rattling sound came from within it. “I snuck a bag of Skittles in,” you whispered to him.
He chuckled as you dropped your jacket back down and smoothed over the inside pocket inconspicuously. “Two steps ahead of me.”
“I just didn’t want to ruin our date if I got low.”
“It’s very thoughtful, thanks.”
“So are you!” You tried to reassure him.
The two of you entered where your movie would be showing, and picked your seats. The previews had already started, so you had to drop your voices to whispers.
“But you’re going to be good with the bright light, and the sounds?” Sungchan double-checked with you.
You nodded insistently. “You’re the one who made me compile a list of stuff that I could do, remember?”
“I know, but you also came to that party knowing that it was like 100% guaranteed to give you a migraine. So I think I’ve earned some skepticism.”
“Okay, fine. You got me there,” you sighed. “But I get nothing out of suggesting things that will give me migraines other than cutting our time together short. Which I don’t want to do.”
Sungchan shifted in his seat, and when you looked over at him, you could see a small, bashful smile on his face. “Good. Glad we got that cleared up.”
The previews finally ended, and the entire theater quieted down, including you two. You settled in to watch the movie, scooting closer to your date, looping your arm under his, and resting your head on his shoulder. He hesitantly leaned his head against the top of yours.
As you left the theater hand-in-hand with Sungchan, you two were deep in discussion about the movie, and in the back of your mind, you realized with a panic that you had far too much that you wanted to say that wouldn’t fit into the short ride back to your apartment. Not to mention that you didn’t want your night with him to be over yet.
“Hey.” You called for his attention as he opened up the passenger door for you, stopping before you got in the car.
“Hey.” He offered you a lopsided grin, still holding the door open with one hand and now caging you between him and the open car door.
If the parking lot wasn’t literally swarming with other movie theater patrons, you swore you would’ve grabbed him and kissed him stupid right there and then. But a family of five walked by at that moment, so you swallowed down the itch.
“We should go somewhere,” you suggested, trying to sound equal parts nonchalant and hopeful. Which was a weird combination, you knew, but you didn’t want to come across as too desperate. Again, a ridiculous sentiment, but it was engrained in you with social conditioning or whatever.
“We just went somewhere,” he pointed out knowingly, and you swore that was a smirk that you spotted on his face in the shadowy lighting afforded by the parking lot streetlamps.
“We should go somewhere else.”
“Like where?”
“I don’t know,” you shrugged, despite how desperate you felt on the inside to just be around him right now. “Somewhere. Are you hungry?”
“Are you?”
You pressed your lips together in a thin line. “Well—”
Finally, he smiled, nodded towards the car, and said, “I know somewhere. Get in.”
Sungchan closed the car door after you before walking around to get into the driver’s side. He didn’t offer you any information or clues as to your new destination as he left the movie theater parking lot. The hockey captain drove with one hand casually holding the bottom of the steering wheel, the other tapping out the rhythm of whatever song was playing over his speakers onto his thigh. You dragged your eyes from his fingers to the passing scenery.
Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a good date. Even the last date you’d been on was a distant memory. Lunch with some CompSci major your freshman year, a blind date set up by a mutual acquaintance. He just talked over you the whole time. You didn’t deign to go on a second date with him. It wasn’t that your migraines made it impossible to date—they hadn’t even come up at the date with the CompSci major (mostly because he didn’t give you the opportunity to say much of anything)—but you knew that it was always going to be something to get out of way. Either up front or at some point down the line. And it was exhausting enough for you to have to completely restructure your life around them, how could you really ask some stranger who barely knew you—or didn’t at all—to consider doing the same? It felt like it just made your dating pool even narrower, an added standard that you didn’t even get to pick.
But with Sungchan, it had happened in the worst way possible, you disappeared on him because you were having a migraine, without even having told him anything about them. And not only was he more than chill about it, he stayed with you through your entire full-blown migraine. Listened to you explain every ailment, medication, and medication complication that you have, and just tucked all that information away to keep track of your wellbeing. Taken it all in stride and made it look easy. And that was before your first date. It almost made you angry. Not at Sungchan, but at the fact that other people had ever made you feel like an inconvenience.
The car slowing to a stop knocked you from your thoughts, and you didn’t even realize that you had been silent for the entire trip. Sungchan didn’t seem to mind, though, as he hadn’t tried to start a conversation either. He put the car in park as you looked around, trying to gauge where exactly you were.
“Are we… on campus?” You turned to him with an eyebrow raised.
He was already out of the car, though, jogging around to get your door. As he opened it for you, he tilted his head innocently, “What was that?”
You stepped out, taking in your surroundings. “Are we at a campus parking garage?”
“Specifically, the top floor of Evergreen Parking Garage,” Sungchan clarified, rolling the passenger window down.
Evergreen Parking Garage was a commuter-only parking facility, meaning that this level was empty this late at night. It was also located at the furthest reaches of the north block of campus, which bordered a nature preserve, meaning that while on one side was your university campus, the other side was entirely evergreen trees. Hence the name.
Sungchan had parked on the side that faced the nature preserve, and as you turned to question your date as to why exactly he’d taken you to campus, you were instead greeted by the sight of him hunched over to lean into the open passenger window, seemingly messing around with the audio controls of the still-running car.
You tilted your head to one side, then the other as you just watched him struggle for a moment before finally speaking up. “What uh… What are you doing, Sungchan?”
He banged his head on the frame of the window as he went to stand back up. “Fuck! Ow…”
Covering your hand to muffle your giggles, you waited patiently for him to turn around and answer you.
Still clutching his head, he said with a sheepish smile, “Just give me a sec, sorry. Technical difficulties.”
And with that, he opened the door to properly sit in the passenger seat, futzing with his phone and the car radio. Finally, there was music playing from the speakers as opposed to the radio station ads, and he turned the volume up before getting back out of the car and shutting the door. With both the driver and passenger windows rolled down, you could hear the song clearly.
“I was originally going to try to take you to this lookout, but there were other cars there, so I had to keep driving by it and oh my god why did I tell you that—” He scratched the back of his head nervously. “Anyway, since we didn’t get to dance at the party…”
Sungchan offered his hand out to you, and you set yours atop it. The upbeat song that had been playing finished just then, switching to a much slower, softer one. You stepped in closer, smiling up at him as you looped your free arm around his neck. His other hand settled on your hip, and he slowly started leading you in an uncertain sway of sorts.
You let out an airy chuckle, “Was this really the kind of dancing you had in mind for a frat party?”
“Would you believe me if I said yes?” He questioned.
“Would you believe me if I said that I believed you?”
“No.”
You snickered. “Smart man.”
“But this is good, too. Better, even.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, there’s not a bunch of other drunk, sweaty, loud people everywhere knocking into us. I don’t have to worry about somebody spilling beer on me, or other guys looking at you, or the DJ picking something bad. Or you getting a migraine.” Sungchan slotted his fingers with yours. “I just get to think about you.”
You rested your head on his chest, eyes zoning out on your linked hands. It was his right hand, so his pinky finger couldn’t quite fold down along with the others. “Yeah. I like this, too,” you agreed softly.
A cool breeze gently blew across your cheek that wasn’t resting on Sungchan’s chest, and you were glad for the warmth of him pressed against your front. Your feet awkwardly bumped into each other, making you chuckle, and he apologized with a nervous laugh.
“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I haven’t exactly taken any ballroom dancing classes. Have you?”
“Well...”
You jerked your head back to look him in the face. “You have?”
“You know how Greek life has those formals every year?”
“You’re not in a frat...”
“No, I’m not. But freshman year, Nu Chi had pitched in for this dance teacher and— God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Sungchan said regretfully, tilting his head back to look up in embarrassment.
“Sungchan, come on!” You pleaded.
“Hendery swore me to secrecy...”
“Well now you have to tell me!”
“Hendery’s date couldn’t make it to one of the lessons, so he asked me to fill in for her...”
Your jaw dropped with delight, “Was his date an Amazon? How did that work? He couldn’t have possibly dipped you! Or twirled you!”
“She was taller than him, to be fair,” he admitted. “Nothing that couldn’t be adjusted for with some thick soles, but, you know...”
“You’re such a good friend, Sungchan,” you said through a couple of giggles, imagining the two of them attempting the aforementioned twirls and dips.
He dropped his head, shaking it. “Right, thanks.”
“So I guess I should be leading then, hm?” You teased, your feet bumping his again in that moment.
“I feel like you’d lead us over the edge of this parking deck, Y/N,” he joked.
Before you could make a retort, he stepped back from you to gently twirl you around by the hand, and a cross between a surprised yelp and a laugh tumbled from your mouth. As he brought you back into his chest, you could barely think over the joyful buzzing in your head that resonated out to every square inch of your body.
“Okay, okay, I guess you can lead,” you surrendered, looping your arm back around his neck again.
After some time, the songs had picked up tempo again, but you and Sungchan were long past actually dancing to them. You were more so just holding each other, leisurely swaying, and from here you got to listen to the sounds of his breathing. He’d taken to rubbing absentminded circles into your hip with his thumb, and the fingers of your arm that was around his neck had dipped below the material of his collar, resting on his bare skin.
“Sungchan?” You murmured.
“Yes?” He responded, his voice rumbling right under your ear.
“Thank you for not making me do this in front of a bunch of other cars at the other lookout.”
He let out a couple quiet laughs, his chest shaking with each. “You’re welcome. I figured all of the teens making out in their cars also didn’t want to watch us do this either.”
You mock gasped, pretending to sound scandalized, “You were going to take me to a lover’s lookout? On the first date? Jung Sungchan…”
“Who are you, my grandma? Nobody calls it that anymore.” He pinched your side. “And only because it’s actually got a great view over the city and—”
“I’m kidding, Sungchan.” You pinched him back, lightly, on the nape of the neck. “Besides, I wouldn’t have been opposed to a trip to a lover’s lookout with you anyway…”
You heard the breath hitch in his throat, then Sungchan swallowed and inhaled through his nose, before he finally spoke, “Really?”
His grip on your hip tightened, sending a bolt of electricity along your skin out from the contact point. You brought your head out of his chest and used your arm around his neck to draw him in even closer.
“Really,” you echoed, blatantly staring at his lips now that they were centimeters away from yours. “And it looks like we’ve got our own right here.”
Then Sungchan was using his hold on your hip to push you back step by step until your back was against the side of his car. Your own arm around his neck kept him anchored to you as he stood hovering over you, blotting out any light that would’ve come from the light post above you. Your noses were almost touching, your breaths mingling in the negligible space between your mouths. You were looking at Sungchan’s eyes now, usually a warm, deep brown, now all inky blackness in the dark of night, and staring down at your own mouth. Your tongue instinctually darted out to wet your lips, and that seemed to be the final straw.
His mouth on yours was desperate, but not desperate to get laid, like your previous lover’s lookout banter might imply. Like he was just desperate for you. He stole kiss after kiss from your lips, but never forced his tongue into your mouth, nor moved his hands anywhere else. Despite leaning more and more of his weight forward onto you, utterly pinning you to the car, he kept his bruising grip on your hip and never let go of your hand.
You parted your mouth with a bedraggled gasp of his name, and he finally took this as an invite to slip his tongue into the mix. You shifted to rest the hand that was laced with his above your head, on the roof of the sedan, giving his hand a squeeze. He squeezed your hand back.
Turning your head and breaking the kiss, you hoped he’d get the idea as you continued laying there half-spread out under him. He did, thankfully, kissing from the corner of your mouth across your cheek and down your jaw and neck.
“Sung…chan…” You breathed out his name, stroking the back of his head with your free hand as his lips latched onto a spot at the base of your neck.
Trailing your hand down further, you snuck it up under the hem of his shirt, feeling over the expanse of his chest and stomach. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You pulled the article of clothing up towards his head insistently, and he detached from your neck for the two of you to jointly strip him of it. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You truly didn’t know if he looked or felt better, but you couldn’t ogle him for long, because he was back on top of you as soon as he’d thrown the shirt into the front seat via the open passenger window beside you. His lips were so warm on yours, his skin even hotter under your touch now as you unabashedly felt up every inch of it and the muscles underneath.
But soon that wasn’t enough either, and you were fumbling at his pants button. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating down into your own chest, as his hand snapped around your wrist.
“Ahh…” He hissed regretfully.
“What?” You looked up at him with wide eyes.
“I can’t get my dick out in public.”
You glanced at the car behind you, with its tinted windows, then back at Sungchan. He met your eyes, then shrugged. “That’ll work.”
It was a mad scramble to get the door to the backseat open, so much so that you accidentally smacked Sungchan in the leg with said door. After lots of apologies through giggles, both of you were in the backseat with the doors closed and locked. Sungchan had the task of awkwardly reaching forward over the console to roll the windows back up first, during which you made a couple observations about his backseat, which you hadn’t seen much of before. His practice bag for hockey was back here—which was different than his gear bag, as you’d already been told. The gear bag actually had his equipment that he needed to play with like mouth guards, sticks, and all of that, while his practice bag had more personal stuff like changes of clothes or hygiene products. You figured his gear bag was either in the trunk or at the rink, as he didn’t always need to carry it back and forth with him. But other than the practice bag and a couple of reusable grocery bags on the floor, the backseat was pretty clean. You were genuinely impressed, especially because he made it sound like he tended to chauffeur a lot of his teammates/roommates around frequently.
Sungchan eventually reentered the backseat fully, focusing a content, closed-lip smile on you. You’d taken it upon yourself to lay down on the seat, your knees propped up by your feet. He settled in to kneel on the same cushion as your feet, but just rested an arm on your knees and his chin atop that forearm to gaze down at you, still smiling.
“What? What’s that smile for?” You asked, starting to feel a bit self-conscious.
“Nothing, I just—” He reached both his hands out towards you, fingers spread, and you got the idea, linking yours with them. “I hope you don’t get the wrong idea. I want this to be a real thing, Y/N. Like, I don’t just want to sleep with you. I don’t even do this kind of stuff—car sex on the first date in a campus parking garage?—literally ever. I’m just kinda crazy about you. I know for most people usually it’s the opposite; you know, they save it for later for really important people. They try to make it special, but I know it’ll be special just because it’s you.”
“Sungchan... I’ve never done something like this either,” you admitted, squeezing both of his hands tight. “I think I’m just kinda crazy about you too.”
“Okay. Cool.” He beamed at you, and you felt your insides turn to mush in that moment. You didn’t think they’d ever un-mush again.
“Now can you please take my clothes off before I spontaneously combust?”
“Fuck. Yeah.” He nodded, immediately turning serious as his brow furrowed and he leaned forward to lock his lips with yours again, propping himself up with one hand to hover above you.
You let your knees fall apart to give him room to settle in between your legs. He pulled at your jacket first, and you sat up to help yank it off, dropping it to the floor with his practice bag. With you no longer laying down, he could use two hands to get the next part, your top. His fingertips skimmed along your skin as he grabbed the hem. You broke the kiss so he could start pulling the clothing up your body—
A loud knock against the driver’s side window quite literally made you scream, and Sungchan jerked up and hit his head once again, this time on the roof of the car. You tugged your shirt back down to cover you, ducking to lay flat on the seat as Sungchan looked at you with panic in his eyes.
Another knock came at the window, this time accompanied by a man’s voice, “Campus security! Roll the window down or I’m going to ask you to turn the car off and step out!”
“Just a second!” Sungchan yelled back, a noticeable crack in his voice. He had a difficult time maneuvering his lanky body over the console fully into the driver’s seat again.
“Now!” The man called out again. “Three! Two!”
Sungchan didn’t have time to put on his shirt before ‘one,’ and he rushed to roll the window down. A flashlight was immediately shone into the car, and you didn’t doubt your own visibility to the security officer. You were remaining laying down for your own mental wellbeing at this point. You didn’t think that you could deal with looking this man in the eye right now.
You didn’t know if it was wisdom or embarrassment that kept your date from saying anything, but he thankfully didn’t speak until spoken to, not offering up any incriminating information. After five entire seconds of silence, the officer let out an audible sigh.
“No overnight parking in this garage,” he said, his tone making it very clear that he knew that was not what was going on. “I’ll be back in five minutes and if you’re still here, you’re getting a ticket.”
“Yes, sir,” Sungchan replied.
“I’m sure that the captain of our hockey team wouldn’t want to get put on probation at the beginning of the season.”
“N-No, sir.” His voice cracked again.
The security officer grunted, but said nothing more. You heard Sungchan roll the window back up, then the sound of another car driving away. Slowly, Sungchan turned around to look at you over the console with wide, horrified eyes.
“He knew who I was…” He whispered. “That was the most terrifying 45 seconds of my life.”
“You’re famous, Sungchan,” you teased, sitting up in the backseat now that the coast was clear.
“Yeah, and fame has got so many perks so far.”
“Almost got into your first scandal already.” You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. “Caught with a girl in your backseat. What will the fans say?”
“Considering my fans are all frat bros, probably something along the lines of wolf whistles and incoherent, congratulatory lewd jeering.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, able to picture that perfectly considering you’d already gotten a taste at the first home game you’d gone to. “Sounds about right.”
“Anyway, I should take you home before that guy comes back.”
“Good idea.” You slipped your jacket back on.
“Are you going to come up here or am I your chauffeur?”
“I suppose I’ll sit up there with you,” you sighed, opening the backseat to get out and into the front normally since there was no security man around.
Back in the passenger seat, you handed Sungchan’s shirt back to him, “Here, have some decency. You’re the captain of the hockey team, you know.”
“I’m sorry, who was going to spontaneously combust if we didn’t get naked in the next 0.2 seconds?” He scoffed, pulling his top back on.
“I don’t recall.”
“Sure.”
“And who’s still hard in their jeans right now?”
“Don’t remind me, I have to drive like this,” he groaned, taking the car out of park with a shake of his head.
As Sungchan drove with one hand, the other reached over to take yours, lacing his fingers together with yours.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6
Just a few days later, and you were at the rink again, eagerly watching the hockey game in front of you. Chenle was beside you, continuing his constant sports commentary on every play that happened. You still mostly tuned it out, but you were pretty sure you at least understood most of the basic rules that Taeyong had explained to you before. You kept your eyes on Sungchan, cheering him on along with the other various Nu Chi brothers around you and other fans in the stands. It wasn’t as full of a house as it had been for the first home game, but you were perfectly content to have a slightly quieter environment.
Sungchan happened to skate by your section as everyone was resetting their positions, giving you a wave through the clear barrier. You gave him a slightly bashful but nevertheless bright grin as you waved back.
“So are you two like... dating now?” Hendery asked from your other side, leaned forward with both of his elbows on his knees as he watched the game. He looked back at you over his shoulder with a shit-eating grin, though, one that made you roll your eyes.
“I don’t know. We’ve been on a date. I mean, there was the Halloween party, but I got a migraine so I don’t think that really counts, so— I don’t have to explain myself to you!” You scowled at him, shoving him away by his shoulder.
He laughed as he let himself get jostled around in his seat from the push, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just curious. Unlike your bestie over there, I think you two are adorable.”
“What?” You looked over at Chenle, who Hendery had pointed at.
Chenle had apparently been listening enough to be able to jump in to defend himself. “It’s not what it sounds like. I think you two are great, promise.”
You turned back to your other friend. “Then what the hell are you talking about, Hendery?”
“He just doesn’t want to lose,” the Nu Chi member explained. “I pegged Sungchan’s huge crush on you on day 1 of Dr. Son’s class. Once the Phanta Phour stuff started, I knew that boy had no chance. Chenle just didn’t think you’d ever... hold on, how’d he put it... be into uh, ‘Neanderthal frat-bro-in-law types.’”
“I was maybe a bit tipsy...” Chenle added in.
“So you made a bet on if Sungchan and I would get together? In four whole years?” You looked from left to right between them.
“Loser has to buy winner a 12-pack,” Hendery confirmed with that same grin. “When Phantasmagorical Phriday ended this year, I really thought I’d lost. But then you turned up at the game last week and I figured Sungchan just might score himself a buzzer beater.”
“You two need to get better hobbies,” you declared with a snort.
“This so counts as sudden-death OT, but whatever,” Chenle scoffed under his breath.
You smacked him across the chest. “And don’t call my dating life ‘sudden death’ either.”
“Hey.” He said softly, grabbing your arm, and you turned your head to meet his gaze. “I really was worried about you going to the Halloween party with your head. I swear.”
“I know, LeLe,” you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “You did some great wingmanning once we got there.”
The brief flash of sincerity you got from your best friend was over as quick as it had come, as you heard the crash of helmets on the ice, and both your focuses were drawn back to the game. Two players had collided into each other and the clear barrier right in front of your faces. You grimaced sympathetically as you tried to identify the player from your team. 23— Jeno, ah, he’d be alright. And you were right, he took off almost immediately as the other guy was left behind still dazed.
At the end of the game, with the buzz of another win in your veins and the anticipation of seeing Sungchan thrumming along your skin, you bounced on your heels as you waited in the lobby. You weren't paying attention to the ecstatic, dramatic recollections that Chenle and the Nu Chi brothers were giving of specific plays around you, your gaze entirely focused on the locker room exit.
The very first player to leave was Sungchan, his eyes already scanning the crowd. Without a second thought, you darted over to him, ignoring the couple of whoops and whistles you two got from your friends.
Sungchan beamed down at you as he went to pull you into a hug, and you were immediately enveloped in the smell of the freshly washed clothes that you’d caught last time. This time, though, there was the distinct, crisp smell of ice rink ice under it as well, reminding you of when you’d go ice skating with friends.
“Hey,” you smiled up at him as he let you go, but didn’t step back very far. “You played really good again. I’m pretty sure. A bit more sure than I was last time.”
He was still grinning, looking down at the floor then back up at you before he responded, “Thank you. And I don’t really expect you to become a hockey pro or anything if all that doesn’t interest you. As long as you don’t expect me to remember what death of the author is.”
“This was only my second game, have some faith in me!” You cried out indignantly. “And no, I don’t expect you to become a full-blown literary critic either.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologized through a couple of poorly suppressed giggles. “I do believe in you. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to learn boring sports stuff for me.”
“I do want to be able to follow the basics of a game without Chenle or Taeyong annotating it for me, at least.”
“Oh, yeah, you can definitely do that. Might need to come to a few more games, though...”
You nodded giddily. “Just let me know when the home games are and I’m there.”
“Yo!” A voice had called from the gaggle of guys heading towards the exit. You didn’t even realize that the rest of the team had left the locker room in the time that you’d been talking to Sungchan.
While you couldn’t tell who had gotten your attention, it was Donghyuck that asked, “Are you two coming or are you just going to keep making moony eyes at each other all night?”
“Yeah, Sungchan, you’re our ride!” Yangyang yelled out from somewhere.
“DD!” Jeno cheered.
“I’ll drive you two,” Mark offered with a shake of his head.
“Shotgun!” The two of them immediately dibs-ed in unison.
“Sorry, bitches, I’m his little,” Donghyuck declared. “That means eternal dibs on shotgun in Mark’s car.”
The frat president scoffed, “You only give a shit about that when it directly benefits you.”
“You guys go ahead,” Sungchan cut into their bickering. “We’re right behind you.”
After they had all filed out, he looked back down at you, a nervous smile worming across his face. “Sorry about that...”
“It’s okay,” you said. “So... you ready to go?”
The two of you had already discussed going to the after-game celebrations with the team before this. Sungchan texted you last night to check in and make sure you’d be okay with going from the loud game to a noisy bar/pool hall with a bunch of frat guys after. You’d assured him that you’d be okay as long as you sat away from any music speakers at the bar, and he’d in turn made you promise to tell him if you needed to leave early.
However, he now halted you as you were slowly turning towards the exit. “Wait, I want to try this again.”
With a sneaking suspicion of what he was about to do, you assured him, “Sungchan, you don’t have to—”
“Let me do this. Please.” He gave you those same eyes that had convinced you to go to a frat party in the first place, and you were squaring your shoulders back to face him, giving him a firm nod.
“Okay. Go for it.”
He asked casually, “So, did you drive yourself?”
You had to hold back a laugh, covering your mouth to straighten your face before replying coyly, “Oh, me? I walked. My apartment is close.”
“So, the team all goes out to this bar after home games. It’s a pretty sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday night, but I’d really like for you to come with me. I’ll buy you a... soda.”
“I would love to come, Sungchan,” you giggled, adjusting your purse strap.
“Awesome,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
As you walked up to the passenger side of his car with him, you suddenly realized something. “Wait, did you have your car last time, too?”
“Maybe?” He rubbed the back of his neck, reaching for the door handle to open it for you.
“Then why did you walk me home?”
“To spend more time with you?”
You stole a quick kiss before ducking into the passenger seat.
Squished into one side of a booth with Sungchan’s arm around you, you chatted happily with Chenle, Ten, and Sicheng, who were sitting opposite from you. The team and cheer section were spread out between a couple booths and tables near each other, a few of them up playing pool too. You sipped on your soda between discussions about tonight’s game, upcoming games, classes, or whatever else struck you all. Currently, you were locked in a conversation with Ten about the most recent assigned reading in a class that you two shared together this semester.
“I thought that scene had a lot of great allusions back to the earlier one with her mother and the pie baking,” you gushed.
“Really?” Ten tilted his head curiously. “I was seeing it more as a continuation of the cannibalism-sex-love metaphor, since they were eating figs, you know.”
You nodded knowingly. “That’s true. Everything’s about sex—”
“Except sex.” You two finished quoting your professor in unison.
“And then with figs, there’s the Bible interpretation, of course,” you continued.
“Always the Bible.”
“We can never escape what John Milton did for Christian fanfiction, truly.”
“But I do like the pie scene connection the more that I think about it, actually.” Ten knocked back the rest of his cocktail. “And, tying her mother into the cannibalism metaphor could be a fascinating angle, too.”
Your eyes widened as you were practically vibrating your seat with excitement now. “Yeah, her earliest memory being of food, parental love, and harm...”
“Anyway, I need a refill.” Your friend shook his glass of ice with a smile. “Be back. Good chat as always, Y/N.”
Chenle and Sicheng scooted out of the booth to let Ten out, the former heading off towards the restrooms while the co-captain followed his roommate to the bar, leaving just you and Sungchan. You continued musing over the new connections you’d just made in the text as you turned your gaze back over to Sungchan beside you. He was already looking at you, a fond half-smile on his face.
“Hi.” He said quietly.
“Hi,” you replied, just as quiet.
Sungchan took a swig of his drink, then eyed yours. “You haven’t drunk any water since we get here.”
He’d been sure to not only order your promised soda of choice, but also water, and as you now looked over at your two cups, you could tell that the water had not been touched at all while the soda was practically empty.
“Oh uh, I guess I haven’t.”
“Drink some.” He pushed it towards you insistently. “Can’t have you getting kidney stones on my watch.”
“Okay, okay.” You acquiesced easily, switching your straw over to that glass and chugging a quarter of it in one go. “Better?”
“Much.” He nodded in satisfaction. “So what were you and Ten saying about pies and sex or whatever? Sex isn’t about sex?”
“Oh, it’s just something one of our professors says a lot. ‘Everything is about sex except sex.’ For lit analysis. In literature, pretty much everything is about sex. Or can be. You can turn like, anything in a piece of text into an innuendo or euphemism if you wanted to. Except for sex. Like, if a sex scene is included in a piece of literature, it’s not actually about the sex that’s being depicted. The sex is meant to represent something else. Like politics, or social structures, or whatever other themes are present in the work. Unless you’re just reading porn. But even then, there’s artistic merit to erotica, and plenty to be learned about the social structures at the time it was written, too.”
Sungchan hadn’t blinked the entire time you’d been rambling on, and upon you finally stopping, blinked in rapid succession as he seemed to come to from a daze. “Wow. Uh, interesting. Filing that away with death of the author.”
“Sungchan...” You leaned in to whisper, placing a hand on the inside of his thigh, just above his knee. His leg jumped, knocking his knee into the tabletop. Your hand had narrowly avoided being smashed too, saved only by its position curled around his leg instead of directly on top. You didn’t move it up or down now though, simply tapping your index finger against the loose material of his sweatpants as you giggled. “What are you thinking about?”
He cleared his throat a couple of times. “How you still have three-quarters of that glass of water left to drink.”
You laughed, slumping to relax into his side and pulling your hand back up to a more casual position on top of his leg. With your other hand, you grabbed your water. “Alright, fine.”
Not too long after your water had been drained, Sungchan was driving you home. Some of your other friends had taken off as well, and you didn't put up too much of a protest when he offered. As your familiar building came into view, you suddenly remembered something.
“Oh, visitor’s parking is over there. Sorry, forgot to mention before.” You pointed to a few parking spots painted with yellow lines instead of white, further away from the apartment entrances than the resident parking. “They’re a bit picky. Chenle got towed after like, five minutes one time.”
“Got it. Thanks.” Sungchan smoothly turned the wheel to pull into one of the open visitor’s spots.
Your reason for showing it to him was two-fold. One, to let him know you hoped he’d be coming over more often, so he’d need that information for future reference. And two, for perhaps less innocent ulterior motives tonight. Truly, your apartment complex only towed people after dark. Overnight visitors. Chenle’s five-minute tow had been a fluke.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said with no prompting, and you had to hold in a sigh of relief.
Instead, you gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks, Sungchan.”
“I don’t think I thanked you for coming tonight. To the game.” He slowly meandered up the sidewalk with you, hand holding yours.
“Thanks for inviting me again. I had a lot of fun.” You squeezed his hand.
Your front door loomed in the not-so-distant distance.
“Uh, are you busy this weekend?” He rushed to ask. “I have Saturday morning practice, at 7:30, but it’s over at 9:00, and after that I’m free.”
So that’s why he had texted you at seven in the morning to congratulate you on winning Phantasmagorical Phriday.
“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to do something, just pick from the list I sent you. Surprise me, hm?”
“Will do.”
You were finally on your front welcome mat, and watched his face fall as he seemed to be drawing a blank about how else to prolong your night. But you had an idea.
You didn’t let an alarm or anything else possibly have the chance to interrupt you, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his mouth down to yours. He stumbled forward at you suddenly yanking him off-balance, catching himself with one hand on your front door and the other on your doorframe. Then, he dropped a hand to the small of your back, drawing you in even closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.
Disconnected just enough to murmur against his lips, you asked, “Do you want to come in?”
“Please?” He replied with a nearly sheepish chuckle.
“So polite,” you quipped.
You gave him one more peck before turning around to unlock your door and drag him in by the arm.
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