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zreamy · 7 months

Text

won't let you go (this time)

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

summary: back home for good after a semi-unsuccessful first year at university in a new city, you’re looking forward to getting back into the routines of your old life in the town you grew up in but the one person you’d been desperate to see doesn’t seem too pleased about your return :(

genre: angst.. ......... fluff, smut, college au, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slow burn

warnings: minors dni, british in a way that's not vague (might be vague.. it's hard to tell when ur british), so so long, sad heeseung, long paragraphs..

word count: 36,007 .. (apparently, i'm in a competition with myself to see who can write the longest fic)

playlist: seasons wave to earth, understand keshi

author's note: writing this fic was like pulling teeth and then cooking pasta out of it.. bUT IT'S DONE !!! also one of these scenes is smth i reworked from a fic i posted to wattpad in 2021.. thanks @asahicore for the beta u rock ! and as always be lmk ur thoughts (positive/negative/anything) 🤍

fic taglist: @enhastolemyheart

Lee Heeseung had often imagined what it would be like when he saw you again.

Sometimes, he envisioned you standing on his doorstep, playing with the cuffs of your sweater. Other times he’d dream up a chance encounter at the local grocery shop, where you’d be distracted and bump the end of your trolley into his. He’d even pictured a sun-soaked vacation, a gorgeous white sand beach where the temperature would be inching past the thirties. You, laying out on a patterned towel, lost in the pages of a book, and your pretty face obscured by its cover. Yet, even with the sun in his eyes and his poor vision, he’d recognise you without a doubt.

Regardless of circumstance or setting, in all of his hazy daydreams, you’d look up at him with unbridled love in your eyes and say the words he wanted to hear all those months ago: I choose you.

Heeseung had always imagined that his heart might glow in his chest, through his shirt like something from Jane the Virgin, and you’d know you made the wrong decision.

But sometimes, typically when in an alcohol-fuelled state of despondence, these images would be rougher around the edges. Heeseung would be hot, with bleach-blond hair and thick dark brows—a walking, talking beacon of sexual energy when you’d see him. In his head, it would happen at a party or a club somewhere, and he’d be too busy talking to another girl to notice you, his arm hanging off of her, lust clear in his eyes. Somehow, even in sweatpants and an old hoodie of his, you’d still look as beautiful as always.

“Heeseung,” you’d say, completely crushed with tears welling up in your eyes under furrowed brows. “I choose you.”

Reluctantly, he’d draw his eyes away from the girl and notice you, finally, and a smile would spread on his lips, a mean one, condescending. He’d shrug, wrapping his arm tighter around the girl and say, “You’re too late.” He wouldn’t mean it, but he’d say it just to drive you crazy. Make you beg him to take you back for months until he felt you’d suffered enough—as much as he had.

These thoughts were few and far between and mainly followed by hot, guilty tears rolling down his cheeks because he knew it was his fault. After all, he was the one to let you go.

For now though, the little round table in Mark’s backyard seats four, and, in the arms of a balmy summer night, Heeseung chooses the seat closest to the fence. The garden light is still busted so in his seat of choice, furthest from the kitchen door, he’ll go completely unnoticed but still see anyone who might join him outside.

His phone is freezing when he takes it from his pocket and unsurprisingly holds no notifications beyond the outsiiiide text he’d gotten from Jake before the party started. Through Instagram stories, Heeseung watches the night play out from the perspective of people who are enjoying themselves while ignoring the voice in his head that tells him he could be one of those people if he tried.

Maybe he was a fool for believing that tonight would go differently and that the boys would keep their ‘bro’s night’ promise for longer than it took to cross the threshold—but it’s not like he blames them. Maybe he was a fool for believing he would find more company than his somewhat abandoned bottle of Peroni that watches him mockingly from the glass table.

He grimaces after taking a sip from it, remembering that he was only ever carrying it around so his friends wouldn’t feel the need to load him with shots. Now he’s not so sure that would’ve been a bad thing, seeing as he’s completely sober and aware of the tightness in his chest as he scrolls through the text thread he’s had pinned for years. Its end came abruptly; revived only by an ignored blue bubble saying: i heard you’re back home for the summer..

Seeing it now, he regrets hitting send even more than he did two weeks ago. Heeseung hates himself for believing the boys when they said it was a good thing that you opened the message right away. “Means she’s thinking of u 2 dude,” was Jake's message to the group chat (along with four bicep emojis and two red exclamation marks). Jay replied: i hope you guys can talk things out! And Sunghoon didn’t say anything.

All your conversations bring up memories that hurt more than the last but he has to take a break when he reaches a text you sent last January: i had so much fun tonight, hee, idk how to thank u enough :((( i hope ur not in too much trouble.. i love you i love you and i’ll love you forever !!!

He ended up getting grounded for three weeks and lost car privileges for months after staying out four hours past curfew, but he’d do it a million times over if it meant he’d get to see you as happy as you were that night on the two-hour drive back, running your fingertips over the Sharpie autograph of your favourite author on the book’s front page—“Heeseung?”

His jaw falls slack and his whole body stiffens. If you don’t count old videos in his camera roll, Heeseung hasn’t heard your voice in over a year. The back door slides shut and when he finally lifts his head, he wants to throw up. Even without the glow of the kitchen lights on your face, he’d still be able to make out the cute point of your nose, and the slight curve of your soft lips. Unfortunately, the breakup only seems to have made you even more beautiful and he hates himself for wishing you were having a hard time too.

“Hey,” you say. “Can I sit?”

Regaining his mobility, he moves his shoulders in a stiff shrug. The sound of your chair scraping the concrete makes him cringe and he hates that you chose the seat closest to him.

“I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

Heeseung scoffs, his brows furrowing defensively. “You didn’t think I’d be at my friend’s party?”

You set your jaw. “Okay.”

An unbearable silence follows, so heavy he can feel it sitting on his shoulders, weighing him down. There’s no way to know how much time has passed but he feels less tense when you start to hum, drumming your fingers against the table to the beat of whatever song the kitchen door is struggling to muffle. If he doesn’t think too hard about the lingering quiet, it feels like everything is okay between you two.

His heart races when you giggle. “You still do that?”

“Do what?”

You smile before mirroring his expression, puffing up your cheeks and exhaling dramatically a few times. Due to the heat, nothing comes of it but you laugh anyway. “You always liked when it was cold enough out to see your breath. I remember having to nudge you every night of summer to get you to stop.”

To Heeseung, there’s something sinister about the fact that you can so easily bring up a memory you share with him. About the fact that even after what happened, his cheeks heat up just from seeing you grin. He deflates, unable to look at you, finding interest in the label on his bottle instead. It’s slightly curled up at its edge, and he runs his thumb over it a few times before peeling it off completely—with some struggle, leaving a sticky patch in its wake. Under your loaded stare, he folds it a little to make a square before trying to craft a swan or a crane (you were the one who knew these things) from the sticker.

Your hands are just as soft as he remembers when your fingers touch his, though it shocks him so much he drops the label, immediately withdrawing his hands and, for lack of a better option, sitting on them. Even softer than your hands is your voice when you say, “I don’t want things to be so tense between us.”

It must be easy, he thinks. For you to say something like that after dumping him. Heeseung wants to laugh, to let his head fall back and cackle from sheer disbelief; you really must have some nerve. Instead, a bitterness, raging and sour, works in his chest, choking the laughter into silence. It pushes his lips into a scowl as he lifts his head to look at you. You’re shivering with your arms crossed over your chest and Heeseung softens. Without thinking, he shrugs off his flannel to drape it over your shoulders, almost regretting it when he fixes his tongue to scold you playfully like he used to. Still too hot for a jacket, right, baby? he wants to say. This is the last time I’m doing this for you, next time you’re on your own. Heeseung figures that somewhere, in another reality where you’re still together, a version of him says these things but continues to give you his flannels and jackets anyway.

He’d give anything to be that Heeseung instead.

Over the last year, he’s been replacing the clothes in his wardrobe. He noticed that during your time together you steadily wore every t-shirt, flannel, and hoodie he owned. Now, as you thank him with a sincere smile, he realises he’ll have to donate his new favourite shirt too.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask, reaching in to find out. A bleak carton of cigarettes sits full in your hands as you look over at him with wide eyes. “You smoke now?”

“No.” Heeseung shakes his head. “Never.”

Back and forth between your hands, the box and its contents rustle. “Really? Because this—” You pause to pull a lighter from the same pocket. “—and this tell me something different.”

“Sunghoon’s quitting again,” he explains, with air quotes around the word quitting.

“Oh.” You let out a laugh, nodding fondly. “He’s on, like, five weeks or something by now, though, right? Surely you don’t still need to carry these around for him.”

His head tilts so quickly he hurts his neck. With knitted brows, he inspects you. Nothing about your expression seems like you’re trying to hurt him, in truth, you look like you’re being quite sincere; your eyes are wide, curious, and your lips are quirked up at the corners with an amusement he adores. “Six,” he corrects. “How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“You guys still talk?”

A shoulder-dropping sigh falls from your mouth as you put the cigarettes and lighter back in his pocket, raking a hand through your hair. “You’re the only one who doesn’t talk to me anymore,” you say in a small voice.

The five of you stuck together in high school — where he and Jay first met you, Jake, and Sunghoon — and he knew it would be unreasonable for him to expect your shared friends, especially the youngest two whom you’d known longer, to turn on you. He also figured, given how close you’d grown to Jay, and his undying rationality, that his best friend would outright refuse to shun you on Heeseung’s behalf. Even though they didn’t need his permission, he told them that he didn’t want them to feel like they had to pick sides and that he was perfectly happy for them to keep talking to you. On one condition: that none of them tell him anything about you or your life without him unless you’re hurt—a condition they’ve clearly carried out more faithfully than Heeseung expected them to.

Bile rises in his throat thinking about all the things your friends have kept from him about your year away. His heart twists over mundane details like your class schedules and favourite things to eat for lunch, and his eyes sting with tears over the important stuff like new friends and, worst of all, new partners.

Heeseung jolts out of his chair, knocking the table so hard with his thighs that his bottle tips over. You’re quick to catch it. “My mum’s calling,” he blurts out, overwhelmed.

“Heeseung.”

“I really have to go.”

“Heeseung!” you call out, but he’s already back inside.

You don’t follow him.

But that was in June, and now it’s September.

While his friends complain about the chill of autumn, Heeseung’s just happy he can comfortably wear hoodies everywhere again. In a cool lecture hall, home to his Ethics and Responsibility class for the next few months, he relishes the feeling of soft cotton against his ears as he copies the course reading list into the first page of his notebook.

“Is someone sitting here?”

Heeseung’s stomach sinks to the floor. Reluctantly, he lifts his head, and through the gaps in his bangs, he sees you and the way your face falls when you see him, instantly looking around the room.

“Oh,” you say, eyes blown. “I’m sorry, I’ll just..” you trail off.

He scans the room, chewing his lip when he realises that, despite the lecturer not having arrived yet, the seat to his left, with his backpack on it, is the only empty one. “It’s okay,” he says, trying to seem nonchalant as he takes his bag from the chair and puts it on the floor.

“Thanks,” you mumble, frowning a little as you sit down.

In the light of day, he really sees you and a lone butterfly, one he was sure had died with the rest last year, flutters lazily in his stomach—wings buzzing against the lining, tickling him. Even with messy hair and tired bags under your eyes, you’re just as beautiful as the first time he saw you. It’s unfair, he thinks. That you could be dealing with this and still manage to look presentable. Jealousy kills the butterfly, stirring a pit in his belly at the thought that you were able to break up with him and continue with life as normal on the other end of the country, making new friends and new memories as if nothing happened.

Even when Dr. Kim comes in and starts the class, Heeseung can’t take his eyes off of you. You haven’t lost any of your mannerisms, he notices when you stick your tongue out a little while typing notes as the lecturer says them, barely looking up from your laptop to see the slides.

At the end of the lecture, all he has to show for it is the reading list and a couple of bullet points that seemed important as he copied them from your screen. Side by side, you silently walk down the stairs to leave the room, and the sight of Sunghoon through the doorway pulls a relieved sigh from Heeseung’s chest.

Sunghoon’s brows raise seeing you together and he clears his throat when you’re close enough. “Hey, you two! My little study buddies,” he says in a strained voice. “First day back! First day for you, YN, what was that like?” He sounds like he’s reading from a script as he walks between you.

Heeseung lets you answer, listening to your voice as he walks behind you down the stairs. He wonders if things will be this way forever, briefly contemplating throwing himself over the bannister so he doesn’t have to find out. If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t show it, talking excitedly with Sunghoon about the class, mentioning things Heeseung hadn’t even heard, despite having sat through the same hour-long introduction lecture as you. He trails behind the two of you all the way to the library, where Jay is sleeping with his chin on his arms and Jake is staring at the table of contents in his textbook. You cut yourself off, jogging over to the table they’re sitting at to wake Jay. As soon as you wrap your arms around him, he flinches, waking up with his brows pulled together.

“What are you doing?” Jay mumbles, trying to shake you off.

As Heeseung sits beside Jake, he skims over the front page of the textbook, trying to remember what tensile strength means. Sunghoon stands at the end of the table looking at his phone, and you sit next to Jay, pulling your seat a little closer and letting him rest his head on your shoulder. Heeseung looks away, trying to bury the unease building in his stomach.

Sunghoon breaks the silence. “Can we go get food?” And suddenly, you all stand up, filing out of the library towards the Tesco Express down the road.

Jay and Sunghoon take the lead, picking up their lunch without much thought before waiting in line at the self-checkout, while you, Jake, and Heeseung spend an ungodly amount of time weighing up options in front of the meal deals. Heeseung gets the same thing every time but looks at every single sandwich, drink, and snack option just in case before picking up his food.

“Just cheese is crazy, bro,” Jake says, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with you?”

Heeseung shrugs. “It’s reliable.”

“It’s absurd.”

You hum between the two of them, tilting your head thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I think it’s cute.” Your shoulders rise and fall in a casual shrug, almost as if you haven’t just paid Heeseung a compliment for the first time in a year and three months.

Jake’s eyebrows raise, a grin playing on his lips as he glances between the two of you when you step forward, pulling a just cheese sandwich from the shelf too. “Cute,” he repeats. “Sure.”

Outside, Jay and Sunghoon are sitting on a half-finished brick wall, and while normally, Heeseung would say something to interrupt Jay’s never-ending lecture series on making the most of your meal deal, he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself or the small smile he’s struggling to keep off his face.

“Hoon, think about it,” he says, resting his giant can of Red Bull on the stepped brick next to him. “A meal deal costs £3. You get a sandwich, a drink, and a snack, all for £3. You, foolishly, bought a sandwich, a snack, and a bottle of water, you gave them money.”

“Yeah, man, anyone who shops anywhere gives money, that’s, like, an entry-level requirement.”

“But I’m taking money from Tesco, you get it?”

Jake sighs, taking a seat next to Sunghoon. “You’re technically right, but you still paid for your food under a promotion Tesco created. If you really wanted to take from Tesco, you should be stealing your lunch. Also, the sandwich he got was £2.85, and there’s more water in his bottle than Red Bull in your can, so I actually think Hoon got the better offer today.”

Beside Heeseung, you roll your eyes, wrestling with a packet of crisps while juggling everything in your hands. Seeing your struggle, he reaches over, taking hold of your drink and sandwich. “Thanks,” you mumble, smiling. You glance towards Jay and Sunghoon, then back at Heeseung. “Are they always like this?”

He nods with a slight frown. A tiny laugh comes through your nose as you nod too.

During the walk back to campus, as you split your sandwich with Sunghoon, Heeseung has an unsettling realisation. If he wants to get you back, he’ll have to start out being your friend. He’s not too sure what that will look like, seeing as the two of you were friends for six weeks — that he spent hopelessly in love with you — before he asked you out. All he knows is he wants to be the one you share your lunch and link arms with unthinkingly. While he assumes that your shared friend group and three out of four classes will naturally lead to friendship, things might go better if he makes an effort.

He doesn’t.

Not today at least. The second and last class of the day ends much like the first, with a heading in his notebook, and slowly reviving butterflies in his stomach every time your knee bumps into his under the desk. Again, neither of you says much as you leave the class to go meet Jay in the library. He’s awake this time, grinning at the girl across from him.

“They’re so cute!”

“They’re talking.”

“Yeah, in a cute way. Look at the smile on his face,” you say as if anyone could miss Jay’s grin or the way it widens when he notices you and Heeseung staring.

Yunjin immediately looks over, waving before getting out of her seat to come over. She greets Heeseung with a hug before flinging her arms around you, gushing about how it’s been so long. Heeseung feels his brow raise when you giggle and say, “We hung out two weeks ago.”

She loosens her hold on you, looking down into your eyes with a shocked look. “Yeah, two weeks too many. What are you doing later?”

It feels like Heeseung skipped a chapter and his stomach hurts when he realises he has—a whole year's worth of the contents of your life. Of course, Jay already introduced Yunjin to you, of course, you’re already friends.

Leaving you with Yunjin in the library, Heeseung and Jay walk back to their flat. They take the long route home, through the winding bike path and over the creaky footbridge by Sunghoon’s old apartment. Jay is eerily quiet, only responding in nods and hums—this silence means one of two things, he’s either too exhausted to speak or he’s saving his words to reprimand Heeseung at home.

Outside their flat, Jay hesitates, gripping the handle tightly before turning to Heeseung. In his eyes is a familiar look, the one he typically wears before telling someone off and Heeseung bites his tongue lest he pisses Jay off even more. A few times, Jay opens his mouth but doesn’t speak, exhaling a deep sigh as he rests his head against the door. “I want you to know I’m on your side, sort of,” he says. “If it’s too hard being around YN, we can always hang out together instead, just us.”

Jay’s key clicks in the lock and Heeseung watches, shocked. He didn’t expect that at all.

“It’s not like it’s hard, just weird, you know?” Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, leaving his shoes by the door while Jay locks it before following him into the living room and sinking into the couch. “We have the same friends, so I can’t avoid her, but I don’t think I want to.”

“Like I said, we can just hang out on our own if we’re on campus.” Jay pauses for a beat, clearly pleased by whatever he’s thinking about as a smile spreads on his face. “It might do you some good being around her though, like, to see why none of us want to date her.”

The offer is generous and Heeseung spends a while considering it. But as Jay said, it probably would be a good thing to hang out with you if he wants to build the friendship he finds himself craving.

“It might also do you some good to, you know.. start looking nice again. It’s been a year, dude, and she’s back now, don’t you want her seeing what she’s missing out on?”

Heeseung cocks his head to the side, surprised and honestly a little offended. “Are you saying I’m ugly now?”

“No, I’m saying it probably wouldn’t hurt to put some essence in your hair, touch up your roots, and, you know, use deodorant.”

Reflexively, he grabs the pit of his hoodie, bringing it to his nose and sniffing furiously. The only thing he can smell is fresh detergent and he looks at Jay with a frown. “So you think I should change everything about myself basically.”

“I hate to be the one to say it..” Jay trails off, head falling back in contagious laughter. “Seriously though, if you want her back or, at least, want her to miss you, start putting some effort in.”

Heeseung’s eyes are wide as saucers. “She doesn’t miss me?”

“You spent the whole day together, why would she miss you?”

“So she doesn’t.”

“I didn’t say that.” Jay shrugs.

Outside, a cloud moves away from the sun, letting it shine right through the window and into Heeseung’s eyes. He squints a little, groaning before bringing his arm over his face to shield himself. Jay laughs and Heeseung flips him off. “You didn’t really say anything.”

“Are you crying?” Jay coos.

“Sure.”

“Too bad, I’m taking a nap. Club later?”

Heeseung grunts in response, considering taking a nap too.

A dramatic sigh tugs its way from Jay’s chest. “Look, it’s not my place to say, but she told me a few months ago she was miserable in first year, something about wanting to see some guy she dated in high school.”

“You knew she was coming back?” Heeseung practically jumps in his seat, sitting up straighter. “You knew I’d see her today and you let me leave the house looking like this?” It’s not like he looks bad in his oversized black hoodie and sweatpants but he might have taken the time to do more than run a hand through his hair this morning if he knew.

Jay holds his hands up defensively. “You said you didn’t want to hear anything about her unless she died. I was just doing what you told me to.”

“I think it goes without saying that that would’ve been a nice thing to know.”

“Noted.” Jay nods. “Club later?”

Despite saying no, Heeseung finds himself at the club anyway, having a friendly dance battle with Jay while you hype them up, filming blurry videos with your finger over the camera lens. Jake and Sunghoon came out too but went off to find girls.

Heeseung spent all of pres and the journey to the club worrying about being drunk around you. Or rather, worrying about being drunk around drunk you. Drunk you who typically gets clingy and oversentimental just looking at a bottle of vodka, or brings up old memories and uses pouty, gloss-coated lips to say things without thinking of the consequences. For better or for worse, you haven’t done any of that yet.

Between knocking back drinks and rivalling the club photographer, you find time to make a look of disgust every time a guy comes near you, immediately shaking your head and pressing yourself against Heeseung before mumbling an apology in his ear each time, even though he tells you it’s okay. Your admirers start to dwindle when he dances with you to a song you like, letting you hold his hand and pull him closer, all while wishing he’d stayed asleep on the couch.

It’s only when the fifth guy shows up with a stupid smirk on his face, that Heeseung speaks up. His arm finds your waist and he holds you close as he looks at the stranger. “Dude, leave her alone,” he says, angling his shoulder to him in an attempt to shield you. “She’s not interested.” The weight of his words is lost on him until the guy rolls his eyes, shrugging and mumbling whatever as he leaves.

He saw how uncomfortable you looked after being approached and hated how long it took for you to start enjoying yourself again, so in the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. To look after you. But now, as he stands with his hand on your waist, his skin touching yours at the hem of your shirt, he’s starting to feel like he’s crossed a line. It’s the worst possible time to freeze in place but there’s nothing he can do about it, and Jay staring at him, with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, isn’t exactly helping.

With embarrassment burning his cheeks and neck, Heeseung finally looks down at you. You look almost as shocked as Jay for a split second before letting your hand rest on his chest, smiling. The moment feels endless until you lean up to his ear and Heeseung has to bend down a bit. “Thank you, Hee,” you say, still smiling when you pull back.

All he can do is nod, smiling too.

Over your head, he sees Jay grinning and the heat returns to his cheeks. As if suddenly aware of your position — your hands now resting on his shoulders, chests held together by your grip on each other — the smile falls from your face as you take a huge step back, bumping into Jay while Heeseung’s hand slips from your body.

“Let’s get more drinks!” you yell to Jay, slinging an arm over his shoulders to pull him away.

On his own, Heeseung dances to three whole songs, only stopping when Yoo Jimin wraps her arm around him, holding him in the world’s tightest hug. “Lee Heeseung, did I just see you all over a girl?” The interaction takes him by surprise, seeing as he hasn’t actually spoken to her since before summer. “Let’s go for drinks soon, to say congrats on finally moving on!”

This, of course, is when you and Jay finally return. Jimin notices before he does. “Be good to him,” she yells, smiling, and never letting go of Heeseung. “Bad breakup!”

You stand there, holding two drinks so tightly your hands start shaking, causing one to spill over your fingers. A strained smile spreads over your lips as you nod. “Right! I’ll try!”

As quickly as she appears, Jimin vanishes with a smile on her face, pleased with herself. You visibly relax, handing Heeseung his drink and swaying to the music again. Just like at high school parties, you let Jay sling his arm over your shoulders as you dance together. Back then, you’d dance with all of your friends while waiting for Heeseung to return, usually with a cup of water for you to drink, but tonight, with Heeseung standing there, it seems like he’s as good as dead according to you.

It’s around 2 a.m. when you and Jay decide you’ve had enough, with Jay struggling to keep his eyes open. After failing to locate Sunghoon and easily finding Jake with his cap on backwards and makeup all over his mouth and cheeks, the three of you let him know you’re going home.

As seems to be the unspoken rule amongst your friends, Jay walks between the two of you while trying to convince you both that if you had fun tonight, there’s no reason to regret having gone out. Even if it means you’ll be sitting in class holding your eyes open. Heeseung ignores him, conspiring out loud about Sunghoon’s whereabouts—getting lost on his way to the restroom or finding an ice rink out back.

For a while, you entertain him before sighing. “I saw in the chat, he said he’s out talking to a girl he saw wearing a band shirt—Nirvana.”

The notion is so surprising that Heeseung almost stops in his tracks. Jay voices his shock with a raised brow and an incredulous tone. “Hoon listens to Nirvana?”

“No, but she’s pretty. I had to send him a screenshot of their popular songs on Spotify when one of her friends came over looking for a lighter.”

At Jay’s request, you and Heeseung spend the rest of the walk back to your flat trying to name fifteen Nirvana songs. By the time you reach the lift in your building, you’ve successfully listed nine and the three of you stand inside while you look for your keys. On your doorstep, you pull Jay into a tight hug, whispering something in his ear that makes him laugh as he pats you on the back and says, “You probably could.”

Pathetically, Heeseung hopes you’ll hug him too. With no hesitation, you do, arms locking around his neck, leaving him with flushed cheeks and a racing heart. “Thanks for looking out for me,” you whisper, lingering by his ear before burying your face in the base of his neck.

Heeseung holds his breath, counting to twelve before you lean away from him, your arms in place as you look up into his eyes. “I’m always going to look out for you,” he manages to say. He can already hear Jay teasing him about it when they’re alone, but the smile on your face is worth it.

In your doorway, you wave goodbye and they wait outside until they hear your lock clicking before heading home, where Jay doesn’t tease Heeseung at all.

Turns out, getting home at 3 a.m. when he has a class at 10 o’clock doesn’t fit in amongst any of his better ideas, but still, he gets out of bed and gets ready, heeding Jay’s advice and scheduling a hair appointment on his way to class.

As soon as he sits down, he gets a text from Jay: thinking of getting smth pierced later, come with?

Heeseung: what is smth.

Jay: cartilage probs

Heeseung: im getting my roots done at 5

Jay: okayyyyyyy good shit man !!! tmrw?

Heeseung: 👍👍👍

It shouldn’t surprise Heeseung that you look good, but the sight of you walking through the door in your zip-up hoodie and jeans almost knocks the wind out of him. You’re holding your notebook to your chest, stopping in the middle of the stairs and sighing when the white strap of your tote bag slips from your shoulder to the crook of your elbow. You apologise to the people behind you before rushing up the stairs to Heeseung’s row, putting your things down and slumping into the seat beside him. The room suddenly feels warmer when you take off your hoodie and next to you and your bare arms, his heart starts to race.

“Do you have, like, an interview or something?” you ask, doodling in the margin of your notebook, filling the space with pretty butterflies that make his heart race.

Heeseung, who hasn’t looked for a job in two years, panics. “No?”

“Oh.” You nod slowly, looking away from him. “A date? Maybe?” There’s something in your voice that makes him want to say yes and see your reaction, but the look on your face makes his stomach turn.

“No, ne—just no.”

“You can tell me if you’re going on a date.”

“Why would I go on a date?”

You shrug, gesturing to his outfit. Heeseung looks down at himself and the cream-coloured cardigan he’s wearing. “You just look nice, that’s all,” you mumble after a while. Suddenly, Jay’s Prada loafers squeezing his toes doesn’t seem so bad and Heeseung sits through the whole lecture with a smile on his face.

The leaves yellowed on October first, and unfortunately for Heeseung, the last two weeks didn’t play out how he hoped they would. Of course, he knew that you flinging your arms around him and confessing your love was probably a far stretch. But this is torture. You only talk to him when the rest of the boys are around, and even then, you only say things like, what time does class start? and do you have a pen I can borrow?

His nice outfits don’t let up, but his hair is so long these days that you don’t take any notice of the throbbing hole through his cartilage that Jay somehow convinced him to get. Or so Heeseung tells himself because his ears stick out as far as his shoulders.

Today marks the first time he’s sat in the library during the day for more than ten minutes, and it’s surprisingly busy. Most of his library trips take place in the early hours of the morning, playing his way through the Papa’s Gameria franchise on the computer next to Jake, who spends several minutes at a time staring at his fancy engineering software before clicking the mouse and staring again. So seeing the steady flow of students come in and out, setting up camp at their tables with headphones and thick binders, while groups of friends whisper amongst themselves, leaning back in their seats and gasping every now and then feels like a culture shock.

There’s about an hour until your class finishes, and he’s been sitting here for two hours already since his Music and Identity class ended, wondering if he’s making a mistake by waiting for you. Especially because he knows you’re not expecting him to. He’s at a table right by the library’s entrance, so you’ll see him on the way out and it can feel like a chance encounter. Uncharacteristically, he’s used this time quite wisely, deciding to go through the reading he was given on the role music plays in maintaining cultural identity among diaspora communities and making notes in the margins of his handout until your class is done.

Impatience starts to settle in after thirty minutes so he texts you to see to ask if your class is over yet. Immediately, your response lights up his screen: yeah about an hour ago but i stayed home lmao what’s up :)

Staring down at the message, he sighs, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he tries to come up with something to say. This goes on for a while until he realises what he’s doing and his heart clenches. How did you go from spending every waking moment texting each other to clutching at straws for a valid reason to talk?

At the very least, the smiley face you sent is doing wonders for his declining mood.

Heeseung settles on, “i just left office hours and wanted to know if anyone was still around haha,” before hiding his face with his hands.

oh nooooooo :( sorry dude, you reply. how’d it go?

In the six years he spent by your side, he’s never known you to use the word dude—at least not with him. By the looks of things, it seems like your time away was spent studying Jake’s texting patterns or a secret other thing that makes his head hurt when he thinks about it.

Sighing, Heeseung types back: good! had a couple questions after sem but it went well!

You react to the message with a heart but don’t reply. He doesn’t have enough time to think about what that might mean because Mark approaches the table, clutching the straps of his backpack with a grin on his face that makes Heeseung feel at ease, like a wide-eyed first year riddled with anxious excitement.

“You look good, man. You going somewhere nice later?” Mark asks, dapping him up.

Heeseung shakes his head. “Just home.”

“Nice.” Mark nods, gasping after a beat. “Did you hear? I made captain!”

“That’s major, dude, congrats! I knew you would.” If anyone deserves to be team captain, it’s Mark Lee. He was captain of the basketball team in high school and vetoed his spot to Heeseung when he graduated. Two years later, when Heeseung came to college, Mark had been enthusiastic about him joining the team too.

“I’ve been thinking that my first official act as captain should be getting you back on the team?” Mark’s voice tips up at the end, his brows raising hopefully.

The last time Heeseung was on the home court, he cried with the ball in his hands because he overheard someone in the crowd saying they didn’t think he could make the shot—they were right. He laughs, shaking his head. “Way too much pressure in uni basketball. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“I’m not giving up on you,” Mark says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, I hear your birthday’s coming up, can I host?”

“Host what?”

Mark’s hands clap soundlessly as he laughs. “A party, obviously! Twenty’s a big one! I’ll text you the deets, alright?” he asks, though it doesn’t sound like Heeseung has a choice because Mark’s already walking away, still laughing to himself.

In Heeseung’s eyes, there’s nothing better than knocking back (more than) a few bottles of soju with friends and singing your heart out in the four walls of a karaoke room. Worried about killing the mood, he enjoys from a distance, staying glued to the booth, ad-libbing for the boys and polishing off their drinks as discreetly as he can. The table is adorned with a collection of empty bottles and buckets of feasted-upon fried chicken that still envelop the room in a mouth-watering aroma, while a green strobe light pierces the air as Jake and Sunghoon wrap up their cover of Party Rock Anthem.

By the time Jay manages to convince Heeseung to sing something, he’s four bottles in and searching for the most heart-wrenching ballad he can find. Sofa by Crush has always been his favourite karaoke song. Even when it first came out and he was in a happy relationship; even at home, alone in the kitchen, using a broom handle as a makeshift microphone, singing until his voice went hoarse and tears stained his shirt.

It feels like fate when the song’s title flashes across the screen in big bold letters and he knows there’s no real way to ignore destiny, so he chooses it and stands up from his seat. Weighed down by alcohol and an aching heart, he stumbles to the front of the room to stand with his back to his friends. Clutching the mic until his knuckles turn white, he takes a deep breath, letting the intro wash over him before singing. He gets through the first half of the song before practically caving in on himself, too moved by the lyrics to stay on two feet. To Heeseung’s credit, he’s always had a beautiful voice, so he’s not exactly tanking in that respect, but if he was even a tiny bit more cognisant, he’d scrape himself up from his knees and finish the rest of the song in the same light-hearted way everyone else had.

The lights shift through red and blue, casting a pretty glow over the dim space and streaking purples and pinks all over the walls—aesthetically, the room is as moody as Heeseung feels. If he had eyes on the back of his head (or picked himself and his dignity from the floor) he might notice the way everyone else in the room is struck by his sadness, with all three boys sitting in solemn silence as a drunk Jay records the whole thing.

Tired of watching his friend fall apart, Sunghoon gets up from his seat, muttering dick at Jay for filming before taking the phone from his hands and cutting off the recording. He lifts Heeseung at the armpits like a baby and takes the mic. Clearing his throat, Sunghoon half-heartedly finishes the rest of the song while Heeseung cries into his shoulder. Their duet scores them 63 points and Jay spends the next few minutes texting. Heeseung appreciates Sunghoon’s efforts, crying more as his emotions oscillate from love for his friend to yearning for you, all while Jake attempts to lift the mood with a genuinely moving performance of Highway to Hell. From the way he’s air-drumming and bouncing his leg to the song, anyone could tell that Sunghoon is desperate to join in, but holding back for Heeseung’s sake. With a hiccup, Heeseung wipes his tears with his sleeve and throws himself out to the front, accompanying Jake with an air guitar. It’s only during the start of the second verse that Jay and Sunghoon join in, and a full-fledged rock band moment falls upon them as if gifted from heaven.

After another hour of singing and drinking, Heeseung and Jay race up their apartment building’s stairs. Panting heavily, with his heart beating in his throat, Heeseung’s knees ache when he reaches the top — though caught up in catching his breath and the sight of you sleeping against the doorframe — he can’t even celebrate his win.

“Huh,” Jay says when he joins him. “How’d she get here?”

Heeseung can only shrug in response.

Suddenly self-conscious in your presence, he stands up straighter, pushing some of his hair off his forehead. Jay moves from behind him, approaching you, but Heeseung’s too hung up on the way you hold your jacket tight around your body to do the same. He wants to though—wants to help you out, pick you up and hold you in his arms, kiss your forehead and lovingly scold you for staying out in the cold. But he’s not drunk enough to convince himself you’ll take that well.

Instead, he remains glued to the spot, watching Jay wake you up, only mobilising when you’re on your feet, stretching your arms above your head. To you, the sliver of skin peeking out where your shirt ends and your jeans begin is a fleeting detail, lost entirely under a veil of just-risen drowsiness. Yet, to Heeseung, it’s everything. It’s enough to make him want to beg you for a second chance right then and there. But he’s not drunk enough to convince himself you’ll take that well either.

You’re talking with Jay and there’s a crease in your brow when Heeseung reaches you. Your voices were too quiet to make sense of with the distance but now he hears you loud and clear. “You told me almost two hours ago that you guys were leaving soon,” you sigh, rubbing your neck.

Jay snorts, missing the keyhole a few times before catching it. “Should’ve just joined in, stupid.”

“It was boy’s night and you made it very clear that I don’t count. And when I asked what bar you guys were at, you just said doesn’t matter, leaving in ten, and, by the way, none of it was spelt correctly. It felt like you were using code.”

“Caesar Cipher, perhaps?”

“Pig Latin, more like,” you scoff, leaning against the wall.

A mischievous grin spreads over Jay’s lips and Heeseung already hates whatever he’s about to say. “Ixnay on the Eeseunghay.” Yeah, Heeseung hates it. He glances between the two of you, picking up on the smile you can’t hide as you roll your eyes.

Your gaze finds Heeseung’s and your lips curl into a frown as you look back at Jay. “Otgay ityay.” You nod firmly.

From context — and memories of numerous private conversations the two of you used to have in his presence — he figures it’s Pig Latin, a linguistic puzzle more intricate than any the English language has ever thrown at him.

After a beat, you nod towards the open door. “Get inside.”

You follow the boys in and lock the door when Jay hands you his keys. He quickly heads to his room, leaving Heeseung shifting his weight from one foot to the other in the living room, staring at you. Save for Jay’s bedroom, all of the lights are off. The only light shines through the open blinds, a vivid orange beam coming from a streetlight outside, casting a harsh shadow over the room. The terminator line is stark—a clear partition between Heeseung, who’s standing in the shade, and you, who stands in front of the window, backlit by the warm light. You’re glowing. Or, at least, the lighting makes it look like you are—outlining all your edges in soft orange.

Absently, he plays with the zipper on his jacket—unsure of what’s going on or why you’re here at all. It takes a while, but the words finally escape him. “What are you doing here?” Simultaneously, you ask if he’s okay.

Even in the dark, your smile warms the room. For you and Heeseung, speaking in unison like that isn’t anything new, so it’s not enough to rouse a reaction from him—nonetheless, he smiles too. Whether by way of drunk optimism or his own sudden acceptance, Heeseung’s starting to feel as though maybe just being by your side, making you smile, might be enough for him.

“Jay texted me, and I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”

“What did he say?”

“That you were having a hard time.”

Heeseung nods slowly.

“Actually, he said—” You pause to check your phone. “—Jay said, worried but hyung he is m let down. I think he meant meltdown?”

“Hyung,” Heeseung repeats, tilting his head as if the word is foreign to him. A crease runs along his brow, Jay is way drunker than he let on.

“Huh,” you utter, tilting your head too. “I actually thought m let down would’ve gotten a bigger reaction out of you.”

A moment passes, and then another before Heeseung says, “You can sit if you want. I don’t know if you’re going to stay long or anything, but you can always sit here.”

You smile and he can hear it, watching you take your coat off before sitting on the couch. It’s a bit of a stretch from where you’re sitting but you reach over to turn on the lamp in the corner and Heeseung sits too, as far away as he can. You look comfortable, like you’re supposed to be there and the thought warms his heart.

“You didn’t have to come here. I’m happy you did but you didn’t have to,” he says after too long.

A frown tugs your lips down. “Of course, I did. I care about you, Heeseung, you know that.”

Now doesn’t seem like the time to argue, so he makes a mental note to mull over this later. “I know,” he lies, his voice nothing more than a mumble as he nods.

“Did you guys have fun?”

Deciding it best to pretend his Crush cover went well, he nods again, smiling as he thinks about the nice parts of boys’ night. With your encouragement, he talks happily for a while about their song choices and the way they all came together in the end. “I feel like we’d get on pretty well as an AC/DC tribute act.”

“Do you know what room you were in? There’s got to be a way for me to pull the security footage and see for myself.”

“I actually think Jimin works there, she might be able to hook you up.”

“Jimin?” you repeat in a different tone. The shift is so subtle that Heeseung barely picks up on it, never mind placing it or knowing what it might mean. If he were any more delusional, he might think you’re jealous, but the curiosity in your voice tells him to get out of his head.

“Yeah, this one girl in the year above,” he explains. “She transferred to humanities so we had a couple classes together last term.”

“Oh, cool.”

He really can’t work out your tone and it’s disconcerting. Maybe he should talk about Jimin some more. “She’s like mega smart, and really nice too. She was actually at the club that night! The girl I was talking to when you and Jay went to get drinks,” he says, suddenly remembering.

“Good for Jimin.”

“I think you’d like her.” He smiles. “You know, if you’re looking for friends or anything.”

You only nod, pressing your lips together and leaving Heeseung at a complete loss for words. He watches you chewing on the inside of your cheek, playing with the thread bracelet on your wrist. “I’ve always loved your voice,” you mumble, looking down.

“I know.. You used to beg me to stay up on the phone singing for you.” Heeseung presses his lips together after speaking, mentally locking them and throwing away the key.

You nod with a smile on your face that makes his stomach flutter. “You’re, like, the best guy ever.”

That makes sense. That Heeseung could be like, the best guy ever but not quite good enough to stay with. He mulls over your words and contemplates setting himself on fire. Standing up from the couch, he goes over to his room. From the doorway, he says, “You can share Jay’s bed, it’s too late to go home by yourself.”

Heeseung closes his door with plans to stay inside the whole night, but only manages an hour before he gets sick of the stale taste in his mouth. He leaves quietly, and in the light from outside, he sees you sleeping on the sofa with your hands tucked under your head. His heart sinks. Without much thought, he carries you to his room, tucks you in and runs away before doing something stupid like kissing your head to go and brush his teeth. Unlike you, he’s not afraid to wake Jay up, pushing the boy over to make room for himself on his bed, where he lays awake for hours trying to figure out what went wrong with you two until his head starts to hurt.

In the morning, Heeseung doesn’t see you before you leave, but he spends the better part of an hour with his ear pressed against Jay’s door, eavesdropping on your conversation. If you weren’t talking about him he might feel guilty about this, but you are, so..

“I just feel bad, you know? I don’t know how to fit into his life and I feel like I’m only making things harder for him by being here,” you say. “Harder for everyone.”

Heeseung grips the doorframe until his knuckles turn white. He’s spent too much time thinking about how to be your friend without actually trying to be, too caught up in his own feelings to see how he’s affecting everyone else. The corners of his lips droop at the thought.

“We’re happy to have you back, Heeseung too. He’s just.. hurting, you know? I’m not sure if you heard but he kind of got blindsided and dumped by his high school girlfriend,” Jay says.

You laugh drily and he pictures the way you roll your eyes. “Hey, uh, random Q, what do you know about Jimin?”

Jay’s quiet for a bit. Or he’s whispering. Heeseung presses his entire body to the door as if it’ll help. “Yoo Jimin?” he asks.

“Probably. Heeseung’s friend.”

“She’s cool,” he answers simply. “You’d like her.”

“So I keep hearing. What’s going on with them?”

“Nothing really. They met at some party last year, both pretty drunk, and somehow ended up in a random bedroom where she tried hooking up with him.” Jay’s words strike Heeseung like a jolt, his heart pounds and his stomach twists. It takes a lot for him and the knot in his stomach not to burst out of the room and clear things up. The main thing stopping him though, is that Jay’s telling the truth. “But he misread the whole thing and ended up detailing your entire relationship for two hours,” Jay adds after a while.

“And now?”

“Why do you care?” Jay’s tone is teasing but the question makes Heeseung spiral.

His mouth starts to dry up at the thought of you admitting that you don’t care, that you’re over him and just being nosy. Panic swells in his chest and he jumps away from the door as if it’s red hot, scrambling back under the covers of Jay’s bed and falling back asleep.

In the following two weeks, Heeseung finds himself mastering the art of avoidance. He fills his evenings with pick-up basketball games with Mark on random courts in the neighbourhood and rushes out of class before you have the chance to talk to him. Playing with Mark is fun, but he can’t ignore the regret festering within him, a persistent thorn in his side. Fortunately for him, Jay, whether knowingly or not, presents him with a potential turning point. He’s invited you and the boys over for pres before his party, instructing Heeseung to get his shit together and acknowledge your existence.

On the night before his birthday, the apartment echoes with your voice, yelling at Jake to get off the floor. Sunghoon’s cackles only get louder, filling the space. Behind his closed bedroom door, Heeseung catches a panicked glance of himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his bangs. He lingers in his room as long as he can, trying to put off seeing you.

Jay opens the door without knocking, a lazy grin on his face and a slight sway in his stance that tells Heeseung he’s drunk already. “What are you doing? We’re waiting.”

“I don’t know,” he admits.

Rolling his eyes, Jay lets out a tired groan. It’s an unspoken scolding that Heeseung heeds immediately, following him into the kitchen, where Jake is messily pouring shots on the counter. He doesn’t see you anywhere, but Sunghoon distracts him, cheering and wrapping his arms around him—also drunk already. “She’s in Jay’s room, Yunjin called,” he says. “Oh, yeah, happy almost birthday, man. Twenty is crazy.”

By the looks of things, Sunghoon’s on a mission to kill Heeseung. Twenty shots for his twentieth birthday doesn’t sound like as much fun as Sunghoon thinks it does, it sounds like a punishment or a death sentence. Heeseung — put off by the smell of vodka — manages four shots before tapping out, deciding that he’d quite like to remember tonight and wake up on his birthday without a headache.

Heeseung’s eyes widen when you show up in the doorway, a confusing sense of surprise washing over him. It’s not like he didn’t know you were here; he heard you earlier. It’s just that your sudden presence catches him off guard. His heart skips a beat and a sudden rush of nerves courses through him. He takes in your appearance, his eyes tracing every inch of you before meeting your eyes. As you run your hand through your hair, you smile at him, so pretty and genuine that he can’t help grinning back.

Your dress is beautiful, of course—black satin, he thinks, with pretty pink ribbons tied into perfect bows on the top, and you’re the only girl Heeseung’s ever wanted in his life.

A whispered whoa falls from his lips, which seem to rest in an ‘o’ as he stares at you. You’re looking away from him now, focused on the tequila puddle Jake’s left on the counter, grabbing some paper towels to mop it up. Jay snorts beside him, nudging his ribs hard. “You’ll catch flies, Heeseung. Come on—decorum, please.”

Heeseung clears his throat, running a hand through his hair and wiping his palms on his pants, but he doesn’t make any moves towards you.

“Do something,” Jay mumbles.

He nods in response, repeating do something, over and over in his head until he finally approaches you. “Hey,” he says, breathless. His heart hammers in his chest when you look up at him, beaming.

“Heeseung,” you say. “Happy almost birthday. How’re you feeling?”

Before he has a chance to respond, you wrap your arms around his waist, and like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his arms fall around your shoulders, holding you close. It’s perfect. Some combination of your warm scent and alcohol causes the butterflies in his stomach to rage, fluttering so frantically he thinks he might be sick.

“Insane,” he admits.

He can hear you laughing, feeling your chuckles against his chest. “You know, what?” You lean away from him, arms still around his waist, eyes locked on his and a soft smile on your lips. “Me too.”

An odd weakness settles in his knees, a dizzying flutter alighting his entire body as he nods. Over his shoulder, Sunghoon calls for him, chanting, “More shots! More shots!” For a while, Heeseung ignores him, watching you until he feels his ears heating up at the top.

“I think I have to go,” he mumbles, eyes locked on your lips. They curl up into a crooked grin, and you use a hand to pat his chest.

“Good luck.”

Heeseung takes a deep breath when you let go of him, taking shaky steps towards his friend, who’s grinning widely enough to show his fangs. “Sorry to interrupt, I think you could use the help though,” Sunghoon says, holding out a shot glass to him.

He shakes his head at the shot, taking it from Sunghoon’s hand and placing it down on the table. “I need a minute.”

Sunghoon only shrugs, taking the drink himself, knocking it back with no visible reaction, and Heeseung thinks he must be a monster. “I really think you could fix things tonight,” he says afterwards, pouring another.

Instead of taking this in stride, Heeseung decides to pretend you don’t exist after hugging you—it’ll be easier that way. To him, this looks like staring at you in your pretty dress and snapping his neck in the opposite direction when you look over at him.

To appease Sunghoon, he takes another three shots and has to sit down, overwhelmed by the way his cheeks burn and how the kitchen starts to tilt around him. His mouth is oddly dry; a sensation that has nothing to do with you or the way you look in your dress. This time when you catch him staring, he smiles.

Even in his beyond-tipsy state, Jay manages to ensure everyone leaves the flat before requesting an Uber. Heeseung finds himself sitting cross-legged on the pavement, for some reason, scrolling through his camera roll.

“Car’s here, get up,” Jay eventually mumbles, nudging his back with the tip of his shoe.

With some stumbling, Heeseung stands up, dusts off his pants and heads to the car. Jay holds the door open for you, and as you slide across the backseat, your dress rides up. Heeseung screws his eyes shut, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, like resetting an etch-a-sketch. Jay’s hand claps his back as he instructs him to get in, which he does. Hesitantly, he slides into the middle seat, glancing to his right to see who’ll be joining you.

“You’ll thank me later!” Jay calls out, closing the door.

Before he even has a chance to shift over, your hand lands firmly on his knee, silently urging him to stay put. With a pounding heart, he complies. The back of his hand brushes against your thigh as he fastens his seatbelt, and the feeling of your soft skin against his leaves him breathless. He feels afloat when the car starts moving. A few minutes pass before you take your hand from his knee, mumbling an apology as you place it on your lap, idly playing with your fingers.

Mark lives about twenty minutes away, leaving Heeseung with something close to sixteen minutes to think of something to say. R&B from the early 2000s rumbles through the speakers in the car, vaguely explicit lyrics alluding to something he’s craving fill the space around the two of you, wrapped up in your warm vanilla scent and the fresh peppermint gum you’re chewing. To put it simply, there’s not a coherent thought in his head he could express that wouldn’t get him into trouble.

“I didn’t know you were on the basketball team,” you say after a while. “Well, I did know, but you know.”

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly because he has no idea what you’re talking about.

A beat passes before you speak again. “How was your day?”

The first thing on his mind is what falls from his lips. “You look beautiful,” Heeseung blurts out, trying to ignore the tinge of anxiety that’s irritating his stomach. “Your dress is.. It’s really pretty,” he adds, feeling as though he won’t lose anything by putting everything on the table.

“Thanks.” You smile. “You look beautiful too.”

Heeseung’s breath hitches in his throat and he looks down at his outfit in the dark. If Jay hadn’t interfered, he’d be wearing a hoodie and sweatpants right now, but he’s happy with the simple striped shirt and loose pants Jay suggested, even if it leaves him a little chilly. “It’s, uh, it’s actually my birthday party tonight,” he supplies uselessly.

You laugh, and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. “I kind of just meant in general.”

“Me too.”

The car falls silent as he lets his head fall into the space between the headrests and closes his eyes. When you reach Mark’s house, he opens them and finds you staring with a smile. “I thought you fell asleep,” you say.

He shakes his head, sliding over the backseat and opening the door. He didn’t expect you to leave from the same side as him, but he likes the heat on his cheeks as he closes the door for you. Wordlessly, the two of you go through the gate and join Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon who are sitting cross-legged on the porch, giggling around a shared joint. He has no idea how they arrived before you did.

Heeseung isn’t sure how he loses you guys but it’s not until his third round of beer pong that he actually notices. Lee Jeno and his red eyes are a poor shot, barely managing to throw the ball without hitting Heeseung’s chest or dropping it before he gets to aim. He almost feels bad for the guy when he sinks another one of his cups, watching Jeno frown before pinching his nostrils shut and taking a big gulp.

Jay’s sudden presence startles him, though he’s quick to grin at his best friend. The smile isn’t returned. Instead, he leans up to Heeseung’s ear, yelling that YN’s crying before nudging his way out of the room. His heart sinks and he offers no explanation to Jeno, following Jay upstairs and into the bathroom where he finds you, sitting on the floor, crying into Sunghoon’s shirt while Jake watches with a frown, picking at his nails.

“What happened?”

Jake talks with a hushed tone while Sunghoon helps you up before leaving. “She didn’t say anything, she just asked us to go to the bathroom with her and started crying.” He opens his mouth to continue but Jay yanks him out of the room, closing the door.

“I’m not, like, upset or anything,” you say after a while, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry. I really didn’t want to ruin tonight for you so I told Jake not to say anything, but obviously, he didn’t listen.”

“Jake did the right thing telling Jay, none of us want to see you upset.”

“I’m not upset.” You hit Heeseung’s chest with a weak fist, crying more. “Why does everyone think I’m upset?”

“It might be the tears,” he offers, feeling good about making you smile.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Are you using a new liner? Mascara? You still look good.”

You take a look in the mirror, resting your hands on the edge of the sink. “Yeah, I discovered waterproof makeup in first year.”

“Is it harder to take off?”

“Definitely, but it’s worth it, I think, for nights like this.”

“Yeah, right.” Heeseung nods, watching you carefully as he sits on the edge of the bathtub. It’s like being in high school, seeing you like this. Most of the parties you went to were spent in the bathroom, with Heeseung holding your hair back and trying to calm you down after throwing up. He misses all of it except the vomit. “Are you okay?”

Catching his gaze in the mirror, you nod but look down at your hands when he says your name. “It’s just a little harder being back than I thought it would be.”

“Oh.”

You sigh, playing with your hair as you sit down next to him. “Obviously it’s great seeing the guys all the time, seeing you all the time, but everything’s fucked and we act like strangers and it’s killing me not being able to just..” you trail off. Heeseung is clearly drunker than he feels because it looks like your eyes are stuck on his lips. After a beat you slide away from him, moving until your back hits the wall. A mixture of frustration and something else colours your face. “I just don’t like treating you like a stranger and I don’t know how to fix it.” Before he has a chance to think or to say anything you ask him for the time.

“It’s 12:23.”

“Happy birthday!” you say, smiling. “Am I the first to say it?”

“You’re always first.” Even last year, you sent a text at midnight, so Heeseung’s not sure why there’s a surprised look in your eyes or why it’s making him want to kiss you more than usual. “You don’t have to treat me like a stranger if you don’t want to,” he says carefully, trying to get you both back on track.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you.”

His voice is soft when he says, “Honestly, neither do I.”

“I wish I never left.”

“Everything happens for a reason, I guess.” Despite the small smile on his face, he’s still trying to understand what reason you had.

An exhaled laugh comes from your nose and you nudge him. “Were you secretly trying to get rid of me?”

“You caught me,” he sighs, holding out his hands in defeat. “I had this whole elaborate plan. I was going to fake my death, but you saved me the trouble. Thanks for that.”

Both of you share a genuine laugh and the tension in the air eases up a bit. Heeseung’s eyes meet yours; a brief moment of silence follows. You clear your throat. “I’m sorry for leaving. I really wish things could’ve been different.”

It can’t be your intention to hurt him by saying that, but you do, leaving Heeseung feeling the full spectrum of his emotions. A pang of hurt, of longing—hurting himself even more as he thinks about the could-have-beens. He purses his lips, looking down at his shoes. “Me too.” Sick of the tension, of his feelings, he glances at you, sitting up a little straighter. “How about we start fresh? Clean slate?”

“Clean slate?” you echo, raising an inquisitive brow.

Heeseung nods, determined, extending his hand for you to shake. “I’m Heeseung.”

“YN,” you chuckle, taking his hand in yours.

He holds onto it, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Funny, you look just like my ex.”

Your eyes widen, amused. “Wow, Hee, you always know just what to say.”

The two of you sit quietly for a moment, but Heeseung’s just glad you’re not crying anymore. He feels lighter now, hopefully you do too. Standing up, he holds out a hand to help you get to your feet which you take, smiling up at him as you straighten out your dress.

“You know,” he says, clapping his hands together. “For a second there, I thought I’d need a manual on how to talk to you again, but I think we’re doing pretty well.”

Heeseung feels pleased with himself when you laugh, rolling your eyes and nudging his chest with your hand. “Shut up,” you say, light and playful.

“Are you ready to get back to the guys?”

You smile at him, nodding before quickly turning back to the mirror. “Do I look okay?”

It doesn’t make sense to Heeseung that a girl as beautiful as you could ever look just okay. Even with the slight swell to your glassy eyes, you’re the most perfect person he’s ever seen. But he can’t say that. So instead, he pulls a sharp breath through his teeth, tilting his head a bit and raising his hand in a horizontal gesture, his fingers wobbling as if balancing an imaginary scale. A non-committal sound escapes him, a soft eh before he laughs at the way your jaw drops.

You punch his arm. “Heeseung!”

“Come on, you know you look great,” he mumbles, looking away to hide the flush in his cheeks. The sound of your lips spreading into a smile makes his stomach flutter as he opens the door to find Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon sitting cross-legged in the hall in front of it.

“Birthday boy!” Jay yells, springing to his feet and flinging his arms around Heeseung.

“And YN!” Jake adds from his seat.

Heeseung hears you saying thanks to Jake before sitting next to him.

“So, did you two kiss and make up or what?” Jay’s attempt at whispering is futile and somehow Heeseung’s cheeks burn even more as he frees himself from his friend’s hold.

“Kiss, no. Make up, yes.”

“Playing the long game, I like it.” Jay grins, patting Heeseung on the back. “Sit down, let’s talk.”

Heeseung sits in the space next to Sunghoon, holding his legs awkwardly to his chest. He’s not entirely sure what’s happening and he feels like he’s not drunk enough anymore to fully relax into it, until you leave Jake’s side, crawling over to Heeseung and resting your head on his shoulder. In the dim hall, the boys shuffle around but it’s too dark to see what they’re doing—not that he cares much at this point, letting his head rest on top of yours and closing his eyes. It almost sounds quite pretty when they start singing Happy Birthday, and Jake has a tiny lunchbox cake in his hands when Heeseung opens his eyes. Its purple-frosted TWENT-HEE is disrupted by a half-smoked joint stuck in the centre which the flash on Sunghoon’s phone provides a makeshift flame for.

“Make a wish!” you squeal, clapping your hands.

It takes three attempts for Heeseung and Sunghoon to coordinate the timing between his exhale and Sunghoon turning the flash off, but the candle is blown out, and, right now. Heeseung has everything he’s ever wanted.

Almost.

Heeseung wakes up pressed against the wall with an arm wrapped around his waist. An embarrassing surge of excitement courses through him as he thinks about your conversation and puts his hand over yours. What he’s met with is less of the softness he’d anticipated, and more of the coarse skin and defined knuckles he’s come to recognise as Jake’s hand under the duvet. It only takes a look over his shoulder to make sense of why Heeseung’s nose is grazing his bedroom wall. Behind him is Jake, who’s being spooned by you, and behind you is Sunghoon who’s clinging onto your frame for dear life, even in his slumber. Evidently, Jay’s had a successful night and with his unwavering loyalty to Yunjin, it’s not hard to figure out what happened in the room across the hall.

With his eyes pressed shut, desperate to clutch some more sleep, he hears you mumbling. “Park Sunghoon, if you don’t wake up and let go of me, I’ll kill you,” you say with a tone that frightens Heeseung and sets off a flutter in his stomach. The yelp and thud that follow seem to wake Jake up and he crawls over you to get out of bed, stretching his arms out above his head and making no effort to step over Sunghoon on the floor. You roll over in the bed, wrapping an arm around Heeseung’s waist and pressing yourself into his side. “Happy birthday,” you say through a yawn before getting up.

He manages to mumble a thanks, butterflies running wild in his stomach and a flush creeping up his neck as he watches you leave the room, eyes stuck on the way your hips move in last night’s dress. He gets out of bed, sighing, untucking his shirt to cover the tightness in his pants before joining his friends in the kitchen.

Hungry but unmoving, you and the boys occupy the three seats at the small kitchen table, harping on about the different things as Jake whines, begging you to keep it down.

Heeseung’s first intense emotion as a sober twenty-year-old is betrayal. There are used dishes lying in the sink, plates, mugs, and pans — two of each — staring up at him, wafting the scent of a cooked breakfast, with no leftovers in sight, up to his nostrils. He sighs, wondering if it’s his responsibility as host, and eldest friend, to make more food for everyone, or if, as the birthday boy, he should sit around and wait for someone else to take action. Settling on the latter, he sights up on the countertop, sure to keep his back to you so he doesn’t have to see the low neckline of your dress.

Finally, Jay comes back, whistling an unfamiliar tune and twirling his keys on his finger when he reaches the kitchen. “Hello,” he says simply, leaning against the doorjamb as if he hadn’t single-handedly ruined Heeseung’s birthday.

Sunghoon rubs his eyes, looking in Jay’s direction. “So now, if I want a nice breakfast after a night out, do I have to fuck you?”

Jay’s cheeks flush as he looks at his feet. “I mean, I planned to cook for you guys when I got back.”

“I don’t want your sloppy seconds,” he scoffs, slumping in his chair.

“I do, Jay. Cook for me,” you say, gesturing toward Jay’s general direction making grabby hands at him.

With a gentle smile, he crosses the room and pats your head. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything,” you mumble into his shirt.

Jay nods, going over to the fridge. He stands in front of it with his hands on his hips, completely still for almost two minutes and Heeseung only approaches him because he’s worried about the outside heat getting on all the food through the open door.

“What are you doing?” he asks, uttering his first sentence of the morning.

Jay clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck as he leans towards Heeseung. “I, uh, finished the eggs, milk, and bacon.” A nervous look covers his face before he continues. “And we ate your Hello Kitty pancake mix,” he adds, mumbling like he doesn’t want to be heard.

Unfortunately, he is, and Heeseung’s mortified. “My Hello Kitty pancake mix?!” He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “YN got that for me, we were supposed to make those together.” His voice is as whiny as his volume will allow, and he struggles not to stomp his feet.

“Oh, you were? How’d that work out?” Jay’s words are cutting.

“Okay, ouch.”

“Dude, it was expiring next week. Plus, Yunjin just looked so cute when she saw it—I had to.”

“What if I wanted to make them this week?”

“You’ve had the box for two years,” Jay reminds him. “Think of Yunjin.”

With a sigh, Heeseung actually does think of Yunjin. Although the girl he envisions is different from the one Jay wants him to imagine.

They met on the first day of university. She had a guitar strapped to her back, and a huge amp in hand when she approached him. Her eyes were wide with nervousness or excitement; Heeseung couldn’t tell which. Immediately, she extended her free hand for him to shake. “Yunjin,” she said.

“No.” He shook his head while pointing at himself. “Heeseung.” From the way she laughed at his stupid joke, he knew she was the next girl Jay would fall for.

Jay had a habit of falling in love with the first girl to do something nice for him on any given day. And then the next girl. But after hearing Yunjin talk about her gap year, spent learning guitar seriously, Heeseung had a feeling things were going to change for his friend. He was right.

The memory, along with the satisfaction of having figured those two out from the beginning, brings a warm smile to Heeseung’s face. “You owe me.”

“Yeah, whatever. I owe you,” Jay scoffs, though the slight furrow in his brow suggests genuine remorse. “Just so you know, they weren’t special or anything.. just pancakes, you know?”

Heeseung chuckles despite himself. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Maybe a little,” Jay shrugs. To his credit, it works.

At least until Heeseung’s stomach grumbles, a noisy reminder of why they’re standing there in the first place. He also learns the hard way that the fridge starts to beep when you leave it open too long. Jay laughs through his nose, closing the door with his elbow.

“What are we eating?”

Jay seems to think about this for a minute, tilting his head and suggesting McDonald’s.

If asked, Heeseung probably wouldn’t have said he pictured spending the morning of his twentieth birthday squished between Jake and Sunghoon in a sticky booth, but he’s here and can’t find anything to complain about as he inhales his breakfast. Too caught up in the way his hoodie drapes over you, he listens half-heartedly as you all quiz Jay on his night. It seems like he’s being pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing but the dreamy grin on his face is hard to miss.

Eventually, you all pile back into Jay’s car, with Heeseung sitting shotgun as a birthday gift, that he doesn’t get to fully enjoy because he falls asleep as soon as the car starts moving. He sinks into the front seat, a contented smile playing on his lips as the warmth of the sun and his full stomach lull him into a peaceful nap.

At home, he thanks Jay before crawling into bed where he replies to messages before letting his head fall into the pillow.

His eyes don’t even close all the way before you come into the room. “Can I nap in here?”

Heeseung nods, watching you get comfortable under his duvet. In a matter of seconds, you’re just an arm’s reach away, softly snoring with your back to him. Meanwhile, he spends four hours laying completely still, trying to convince himself that the heat radiating from your sleeping form doesn’t make him miss you more.

At around 3 p.m. when everyone wakes up, you and the boys hurry away for various mumbled reasons, leaving Heeseung home alone, trying to practise his surprised face for whenever you’re all back with cake and a gift.

You don’t return until Heeseung’s hair has started to dry after his shower, but you waste no time shuffling around the kitchen before coming back with a pretty cake and real candles with a real flame, singing for him again. With the way Jake’s rushing him, Heeseung can’t come up with a wish in time, so blows out the candles with a clear mind.

“Woo!” Jake cheers, clapping around a wrapped present that he immediately thrusts into Heeseung’s hands. “Open it!”

He barely gets to peel the first piece of tape before he jumps off the couch and kneels down next to him. “It’s LEGO! The Infinity Gauntlet, you know? And the best part is..” Jake pauses dramatically. “You get to put it together with your best friend, Jake! Right now!” His excitement is endearing even though he’s ruined the surprise. “The others can help too, I guess.”

You frown at him. “I paid for the kind lady at the LEGO store to gift wrap that for us.”

“Yeah, and she did great!” Jake grins. “Can I help you open it? Please, Heeseung, please. You’re taking forever.”

With a smile, Heeseung hands the box to Jake, letting him open it carefully before Sunghoon joins in, tearing the paper to shreds all while Jay records the whole moment like a proud father. All five of you are sitting on the floor now, covered in wrapping paper while Jake holds the LEGO set up like it’s his, blinking hard at the camera with a smile on his face, and it’s Heeseung’s favourite birthday yet.

my girl: who wants to take me on a date?

Heeseung knows he should probably change your contact name but the notification still makes his cheeks burn in a way he thinks he likes.

jake: heeseung probably

jake: idk tho

my girl: ok heeseung come to the museum with me for class

sunghoon: next time open with the museum thing holy shit.. i almost fucking volunteered

heeseung: when?

my girl: i would have rejected you hoon

my girl: whenever ur free !

Heeseung’s schedule always has a way of clearing up when it comes to you, and he skips pick-up with Mark to pick you up at your door that evening. You answer right when Heeseung knocks, sliding some rings onto your fingers with a smile on your face, saying, “Hello.”

“You..” Heeseung swallows, nodding his head. He’s doing his best not to check you out but he really can’t help it when your jeans seem to fit like they were made for you. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hey.”

He clears his throat, finally managing to unstick his gaze from your thighs and gestures in the direction of the stairs. “Shall we?”

At the train station, you don’t object when Heeseung pays for your ticket, he didn’t mean to, his finger just clicked through for two tickets instead of one. He’s happy when you don’t make a big deal about it, only smiling and thanking him when he hands you the ticket. He stands close behind you, protective, letting the peak-time commuters nudge past him instead of you as you wait in line for the only working ticket barrier. You go through first and Heeseung quietly follows, trying to keep his eyes off your ass and praying that the rest of the day goes by more comfortably than it’s started.

The train is packed too, so you stand by the doors and, again, Heeseung stands maybe a little closer than necessary, his arm above his head gripping the yellow handrail. “Why did you want to go to the museum anyway?” he asks, gulping when you look up at him.

“I’ve always liked museums.” You shrug, playing with the buttons on your cardigan.

“I know, it’s just.. You said earlier you wanted to go for one of your classes.”

“Right. It’s a requirement for one of them. Visualising Culture,” you explain, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly nervous, he doesn’t trust his voice to speak so he nods, keeping his gaze fixed on yours. “Museum and Exhibition Studies.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.” You nod and turn your head from him, looking through the window.

Your eyes are stuck on the trees outside, blurring into each other, and his eyes are stuck on the side of your face, staring shamelessly for the rest of the journey. A tinny voice announces the name of the station you’re approaching, and you nudge Heeseung gently, a silent signal that it’s time to leave. Silence seems to follow you out of the station and into the museum, but he tells himself he doesn’t mind.

For the last hour, you’ve been looking at artwork without taking note of anything or making comments, all while Heeseung observes you, wondering what you’re supposed to be doing for class. “What’s the point of this trip?” he finally asks.

Without backing away from the painting, you turn your head to look at him, raising a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what’s your task?”

You chew on your lip for a bit before looking back at the painting. He can’t help but wonder if in all your time away you’ve been flexing some sort of elitist muscle, or if it’s come about as a result of your fancy exhibition studies class that you had to take a test to be accepted into. Finally, you lean away from the painting and use your phone to take a picture of the blurb before looking at him again.

“I wanted an excuse to get someone to come to the museum with me and I wanted it to be you.”

Your words are so cute and so honest that his heart warms in his chest, even as he ignores his sadness about the fact you felt like you needed an excuse to hang out. “You could have just asked me.”

Considering his words, you frown, tilting your head at him. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy, or it should be, it’s us,” he says unthinkingly. Clearing his throat, he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, that’s, like, the whole point of having friends, right? To hang out with them?”

“Well.. yes. I just.. I don’t know.”

Somehow, this makes perfect sense to Heeseung who only nods his head, moving on from the frame when you do. It’s nice watching you admire the art, to watch the soft smile that develops as your eyes scan the canvas.

You like looking at the paintings when no one else is, to get up close and try spotting the brush strokes. You like imagining the artist and how they might have felt as they painted, and when the paint is thick, protruding from the canvas, when you can see streaks of yellow peeking through a sludgy green. You have a lot to say about the paintings and how they make you feel, and how they don’t make you feel, finding something you like in all of them.

After a while, you grab Heeseung’s hand and excitedly pull him through all the Ancient Egypt stuff, and he’s too happy that his fingers are locked with yours to worry about his aching feet anymore, and you’re so cute with your wide grin that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’d like to sit down. He hates you a little when the two of you take turns writing your names in hieroglyphs, and you somehow manage to maintain your neat handwriting. But you make up for it by writing his name too, drawing a pretty butterfly at the end that makes his heart race.

You start rambling about shabtis and how people were typically buried with a few, depending on their wealth and status, but Tutankhamun was buried with something like four hundred, and some of them were even painted to look like him. “Look at how pretty this one is,” you say, grinning while holding your phone in his face with a picture of one. Your excitement peaks when you reach the big sarcophagus, and you let out a squeal when you open it and three kids run out, bursting into a fit of giggles. You’re excessively cute when you ask him to take a picture of you, and then make him take a video opening the front while you're ‘dead’ inside it. Which takes a few attempts because you’re laughing each time.

You tell him to delete those takes. He doesn’t.

Right when he’s expecting you to get out, you grab him by the wrist and pull him in with you, closing the front of it before letting go of him. Heeseung is certain he’s lived this exact moment before, but he was seventeen and you were giggling like crazy, feeling around in the dark for his shoulders to wrap your arms around before kissing him. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do or what you want him to do, and the feeling of your breath fanning his neck in the tight space isn’t helping.

Silent minutes pass by like hours until a kid pulls the sarcophagus open. The light is blinding but Heeseung steps out, relieved, almost thanking the kid for saving him. You’re fiddling with your necklace and struggling to meet his eyes. When you do though, you shoot him an easy grin, laughing to yourself about nothing.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Drinks maybe?” you ask after a while, playing with the zipper on your jacket.

Heeseung takes you to a restaurant where university students he’s only seen on Instagram walk around like they own the place. A tired-looking guy comes to take your orders before you even have a chance to take your coat off so Heeseung asks for a minute and the waiter leaves. There’s something in his demeanour though that makes it seem like you only have one full minute to make up your minds.

“What do you want to drink?” you ask, holding the drinks menu out to him.

Heeseung closes it, sitting it on the table. “Probably a beer.”

You laugh at this. “You don’t have to act all manly in front of me.” There’s a soft look in your eyes like you mean it.

“I actually like beer these days.”

Your brows raise and your jaw drops before you utter the word whoa.

“What?” he asks, suddenly self-conscious.

You shrug, collecting yourself. “You’re just.. different now.”

The very prospect of being different is shocking to Heeseung who prides himself on being pretty consistent with his behaviour. His brows knit together as he tilts his head. “Because I like beer?” he asks, scoffing slightly at the mere suggestion.

“I mean, that’s part of it.” To his dismay, this seems to be the end of your sentence. He gives you a little nod, hoping you read his mind and elaborate like he wants you to. “You bleached your hair, pierced your cartilage, what’s next? Are you going to tell me you have a tattoo?”

Heeseung feels his breath catch in his throat when you say the word tattoo but you don’t seem to notice. “It’s been a year,” he points out, folding the corner of his napkin, pressing his thumb against it with enough pressure to leave a defined fold and have it stick up a little when he lets go.

“I know, it’s just.. weird, you know?” Your voice is small when you speak, soft and quiet, barely anything above the noise around you both.

Heeseung nods. He does know.

“You’re weird too.”

“How?” There’s a defensive tone to your voice that makes him chuckle.

“You’ve always been weird.”

A dramatic frown curves your lips and the waiter is back before you can object. Leaning forward slightly, he orders for both of you, the sharing platter of fried chicken, your French Martini, and his controversial draught beer. He doesn’t miss the way you raise your brows when he orders the beer, as if you’d been waiting to catch him out or something. After the waiter leaves, Heeseung meets your gaze briefly, matching the gentle smile on your lips before looking away.

The drinks only take a few minutes and you thank the waiter before looking over at Heeseung, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you slide your cocktail over to him. “Do you want to try?”

He nods, lifting the glass and moving the straw out of the way to take a sip from the rim. Nodding his head, he hums in approval, eyes widening. “It’s good.”

You lean back in your seat, twirling the straw when he hands the drink back to you. “Yeah?” you ask, smiling triumphantly as if you made it yourself. “A normal person would’ve used the straw.”

Heeseung can’t help but roll his eyes, liking the way you laugh. “Are you acting out because I called you weird?”

“A little.”

The waiter places the platter at the centre of the table with a small smile, that you match, clearly hungrier than you’d been letting on as you lick your lips at the sight of the chicken. Heeseung’s stomach grumbles quietly as the scent hits his nose and he feels like he hasn’t eaten in days when a plate lands in front of each of you. A comfortable familiarity settles over him when he lets you pick first, and he knows you feel it too from the sweet smile you give him before eyeing the food. You take a while considering every wing, even though all of the pieces are scarily identical, before picking one and Heeseung follows, choosing with much less care than you, but enjoying it nonetheless.

Under your light-hearted scrutiny, he orders a cocktail the next time the waiter comes around. It’s much better than his beer, and so quickly, one cocktail turns into two until both you and Heeseung are four drinks in, laughing over nothing and putting in an effort not to slur your words together.

Time seems to pass at the same rate as your drinks, though neither of you seems to notice until you check the time on your phone and your mouth falls into a gasp. Heeseung does the same when you show him your screen, you only have ten minutes to make the fifteen-minute walk back to the station so you can catch the last train.

He gets up to settle the bill as quickly as humanly possible before you grab him by the hand and book it out of the restaurant. Though breathless, he knows he can’t let up, running as fast as his legs will carry him as he tugs you along behind him. Somehow you still have it in you to cackle every time either of you trips up.

Out of breath, you both slump into the first seats you find, sobering up a little after the run. He looks at you and feels his heart snag in his chest. “You okay?” he asks, huffing out a breath that pushes his bangs into the air.

“No,” you whine, pouting and resting your head on Heeseung’s shoulder. He lets his head rest on top of yours reaching his hand out to grab your own. He squeezes it gently, in a way he hopes is comforting. You lock your fingers with his before he can pull away and Heeseung’s heart starts pounding again.

He doesn’t realise you’ve fallen asleep until the train reaches your stop and you don’t react. He doesn’t want to wake you up, nor does he want to let go of your hand, but he knows he has to. Heeseung nudges you gently, rousing you from your sleep. “Let’s go,” he mumbles.

Stretching your arms above your head, you nod while yawning.

You take tired steps alongside him on the short walk back to your apartment, not saying anything until you reach your doorstep when you yawn once more, looking up at him. “I actually had fun today, thanks for hanging out with me.”

“Actually?” Heeseung raises a brow. “Did you think you wouldn’t?”

You shrug, chewing on your lip. “I thought it might be awkward.”

“It kind of was.”

“Maybe,” you admit with a nod. “It was a pretty successful first date though.” Your eyes are like saucers as your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “Not in that way. I’m only saying ‘date’ because that’s what I said in the chat—I would’ve called it a date if Hoon came with me, you know? I didn’t see this as a date if that’s what you’re thinking. Because it wasn’t. And I didn’t.”

“Mhm,” Heeseung hums with a sceptical look on his face, finding amusement in watching you scramble to correct yourself. “First dates are always awkward, baby, don’t worry.” The endearment slips out before he can help it, his heart stopping in his chest until he sees you smiling.

“Well, yeah, but this wasn’t a date, baby.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you made me pay for your train ticket, I paid for dinner and drinks. As far as first dates go, I’ve been a perfect gentleman all night.”

“That you have.” You nod once, firmly. “I’m not going to pay you back or anything. And this is hardly our first date.”

Heeseung grins despite himself. “Is this your way of saying I can bill you for our other dates? Do you have savings?”

Your head falls back in laughter, the sound infectious as it falls from your lips. You sigh softly, straightening up after a beat and nudging his shoulder with your fist. “Stop making me laugh or I’ll do something stupid like kiss you.”

His heart races in his chest, caught between your laugh and the thought that maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “I feel like if we pulled up a typical date timeline we’d be right on track for that, don’t you think?”

“Heeseung,” you mumble, face softening. It doesn’t seem like you’re finding this funny anymore. Your gaze locks on his lips — a hyper focus that makes him press them together nervously — before snapping up to meet his eyes. You gulp. “Goodnight, thank you for today.”

“Anytime.”

“Don’t say that or I’ll take you up on it.”

Heeseung shrugs. “You say that like I’d have a problem with it.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Never.”

A small laugh comes through your nose as you smile up at him. “I’ll see you, let me know when you get home.”

“Got it.”

Wordlessly, you open the door, crossing the threshold before saying goodnight again. Heeseung says it back, watching you shut the door and waiting for the lock to click before he leaves.

He’s never drinking with you again.

Heeseung feels like he’s settling into the role of your friend quite well. So well that he can spend time alone with you without the discomfort he felt in September. Maybe he’s taking liberties, bending the word friendship to suit him, but as you lie in his bed together, your head on his chest as you nap, he can’t bring himself to care too much. He knows he’ll get hurt by this at some point, but for now, he’s just happy to play with your hair and try his best to fall asleep too. You don’t stir when Jay opens the door, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight before him, tilting his head before closing the door quietly.

Sleep never reaches him, but he pretends to yawn, rubbing at his eyes when your alarm wakes you up, making a point to stretch his arms over his head and only respond to you in a lazy mumble when you speak. “Whose idea was it to nap between classes, again?”

“I think it was yours.”

“Damn,’ you mumble, yawning again before laying back down, head returning to his chest as if drawn by a magnet. “I think ten more minutes, fifteen, and then we wake up and go back.”

“Or we could skip?”

The suggestion makes you jolt upright, fully awake now. You let your eyes drag over his face, and maybe Heeseung’s being hopeful or straight-up imagining things, but your gaze lingers on his lips for more than a few seconds before you gulp and meet his eyes. “Lee Heeseung trying to skip class? I never thought I’d see the day.” A smile spreads over your lips, turning into a laugh as you throw your head back. “That was funny, Hee. Let’s go.’

Heeseung’s brows furrow, watching you stretch your arms out in front of you. Was it so hard to believe he would skip class if it meant spending more time with you? His lips settle into a pout. “I’m serious.”

“No, you’re scaring me. Come on, let’s go,” you say, making no attempts to get up.

To prove a point, Heeseung shifts under the covers, lying on his side with his back to you. “You go ahead, I’m staying.”

You sigh but don’t get out of bed, only lying down next to him and draping an arm over his waist. “Ten more minutes.” You press yourself against his back and he feels his heart racing. As quickly as he feels it, you stiffen behind him. “I’m not crossing a line, right? Holding you like this? It’s always been easier to sleep if you’re next to me,” you say into his shirt.

Remembering the way you would cuddle into his side during sleepovers, his heart aches, wondering if you had endured the same sleepless nights as him. Heeseung only lifts your arm to turn onto his back, pulling you onto his chest like you had been earlier. “Fifteen,” he says.

Seeing as neither of you bothered to set another alarm, you sleep through class, only waking up when it’s dark out and Jay comes back. “I bought dinner, come eat,” he says, leaving the door open on his way out.

Wordlessly, you both peel yourselves from bed, dragging your feet to the kitchen to wash your hands before joining Jay in the living room. Heeseung sits cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table while you and Jay sit on the couch. He’s not awake enough to fully register your conversation over the rustle of plastic takeout bags and his sudden overwhelming hunger, but you’re telling Jay to shut up, mumbling something and he lets out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest when Heeseung turns around to hand over your food.

With his elbows on the table, he takes a bite from his burger and has to suppress a moan. Most of your conversation with Jay goes over his head and he doesn’t realise how much time has gone by until you’re standing at the door pulling on your shoes. Given the way Jay’s lying on the couch, Heeseung assumes he’s on walking-you-home duty and grabs a jacket before stuffing his feet into Jay’s slides.

The conversation is light as you walk together, Heeseung making sure he’s on the edge of the pavement the whole time and letting you talk about your friends. The walk has become so natural now that he only realises you’re approaching home when you take out your key to open the door to your building.

“Do you want to meet before class tomorrow? To go over the slides we missed today?” you ask, with something behind your eyes that Heeseung sleepily interprets as hope.

He nods, smiling at you and waiting for you to lock the door before he leaves.

Jay’s awake when Heeseung gets back home; he can’t say he’s surprised. Heeseung only nods at Jay, who sits on the couch, but he knows his flatmate well enough to know there’s a conversation coming because the TV is off and his laptop is shut. Heeseung makes it all the way to his door before Jay says anything. “You’re in way over your head.”

Heeseung sighs, not in the mood. “Okay. Night,” he says, opening the door.

By the time November arrives and Jake’s birthday approaches, everything is back to normal again. Turning nineteen, Jake celebrates with a modest pub crawl that spirals into a three-day bender, leaving him bedridden for nearly a week due to dehydration and fear of a test he’d forgotten to study for.

In standard Jake fashion, he manages to bounce back and sits across from Jay at his favourite restaurant only six days after his actual birthday. Considering the state he was in, it’s a wonder he can stomach the smell of alcohol, let alone down four cocktails without a pause. Jay and Sunghoon exchange sighs, each supporting one of Jake’s sleeping arms on their shoulders to carry him home.

“Cover the bill and let me know the amount. I’ll transfer you in the morning,” Jay mumbles before they leave.

You shake your head when Heeseung asks if you want to go home as well. “Unless you want to,” you say, all of your words blending together. “If you want to go home, we can. I don’t want you sitting here bored or anything.”

Heeseung smiles. “I’m not bored, we can stay as long as you like.” You seem to take this to heart, nodding and flagging down a waiter to order more drinks. “Let’s maybe slow down a little though,” he suggests.

He pours you a glass of water and makes you drink the whole thing, withholding your alcohol until you’ve finished the cold tteokbokki in front of you. Gradually, you become more coherent, wiping your face with your hands and sitting up a little straighter. You thank him when he pours soju for you and take tiny sips from the glass here and there, telling Heeseung about some of the friends you made while you were away. There’s Yizhuo—sweet, funny, and down-to-earth. And Minjeong—a quiet girl who needed a while to warm up to new people. You tell him about meeting her for the first time, how unsure she seemed when Yizhuo introduced you two, but by the end of the night, she was falling asleep next to you in bed with her arms and legs tangled around you.

“Do you miss them?” It’s a stupid question, anyone could tell from the fond smile on your face that you do.

A beat passes while you think about it before shrugging. “Not as much as I missed being here.” If he wasn’t watching you, or looking you straight in the eye, he probably would’ve missed the longing in your gaze.

He’s never known you to be subtle after a drink, and Heeseung knows he needs to nip this conversation in the bud before either of you says something you can’t take back. “How are you getting on with your research task?” he asks, while at the same time you say, “I’m so happy to be back.”

A short laugh slips out of you, a hand falling to the table before wrapping around your glass. You bring it up to your face but don’t drink, only looking down into it as if it’ll tell you what to say. “Are you happy I’m back?”

“Sure,” Heeseung says noncommittally.

You sigh, sinking into your seat a little. “I loved you. I still love you,” you mumble. “Even after all that.”

He’s not sure what to make of this, of anything you’re saying. It’s not like you had a messy breakup or anything. At least, he wouldn’t describe his long-term girlfriend breaking up with him and asking if they could be friends after as messy. Even in heartbreak, Heeseung was a reasonable person, and any reasonable person would’ve said no. Like he did.

“I still.. You’re still the one for me.”

His stomach lurches violently. “Don’t say that.” He gets out of his seat quicker than he means to and leaves you at the table, tapping his foot as he waits in line by the bar to pay the bill, praying he’s right about the two of you sitting at table ten when the cashier asks. With a folded receipt in his pocket and too much to think about, he returns to the table, only putting on his coat and mumbling, “Let’s go.”

For some reason, you don’t seem to mirror his urgency, only finishing off the drink you had left in one go and sitting for a bit longer. He takes your jacket from the back of your chair and holds it open for you, helping you into it when you finally stand up. “Thanks,” you giggle.

Heeseung says nothing.

The silence and fresh air outside are sobering as he watches an Uber driver through the app, very slowly moving from two minutes away to one before arriving. Maybe if you hadn’t said what you said at the table, he might have warmed to the idea of a forty-minute walk alone with you, but you did say those things and even the thought of this fifteen-minute car ride is unbearable when John (4.9 stars) pulls up on the curb outside. You thank Heeseung quietly when he opens the door for you, and against his better judgement, he walks over to the other side of the car and sits in the middle seat like he used to.

Slow R&B murmurs through the speakers as the driver pulls off while Heeseung hums along. His thigh is pressed against yours but he does his best not to think about it, only chewing his lip when you rest your head on his shoulder. He lets his head rest on top of yours before regretting it.

He doesn’t move.

It feels a little bit like the driver is playing Heeseung’s playlist, as every song he knows and loves seems to come on one after the other, steeping him in an odd comfort in the backseat of this car.

Your hand falls onto his knee so clumsily he’s sure it’s a mistake, so sure you’ll move it back into your lap that he’s genuinely surprised when you don’t. Unsure what to do, he chooses not to acknowledge it, acting like you sitting so close to him, like the feeling that no time has passed, doesn’t make his heart clench. Slowly but surely, your hand inches up his thigh—a motion Heeseung stops as soon as he realises, his hand falling heavily over yours and pushing it back to his knee. He thinks about keeping it there, but when he feels his thumb stroking your skin, he moves his hand immediately. You’ve obviously gotten the wrong idea. For a moment, he wonders if you’ve actually gotten the right idea. You have. But it can’t happen like this. After a few minutes, you move your hand again, and like before, Heeseung pushes it back, keeping his hand over yours and reminding himself not to move his thumb.

You’re drunk. This will pass.

Finally, the driver parks outside your building, and Heeseung’s sure his “thank you so much” holds the world’s sincerity in it as he unbuckles his seatbelt and practically leaps out of the car. He opens your door and has to undo your belt for you, helping you out and thanking the driver again.

There’s a couple leaving the building when the two of you reach the door, and with your arms wrapped around his, he thanks them when they hold it open.

The lift takes forever to come and Heeseung pushes the up button five times before it arrives. He lets the girl in fleecy pyjamas with a takeout bag in her hand go in first before following, pressing the button reading 7 before relaxing a bit. Under the protection of a stranger, he knows you won’t do anything. The journey to your floor feels like hours as the lift drags its way up the shaft—why does nothing share his urgency?

You don’t say anything until the elevator door swooshes shut behind you. “I love you, Heeseung. You know I love you.” You’re saying everything he’s been wanting you to say for ages, but the words make his words sting.

“Do you know where your keys are?” he asks, though you still have a ways to go before you reach your door.

“My pocket,” you mumble.

Heeseung finds your keys, unlocks the door and helps you in. As much as he wants to leave, he knows if he does, you won’t take your makeup off or change, so he holds your hair back for you as you brush your teeth and wash your face in the sink quietly.

In your bedroom, you search through your drawers, pulling out something to wear. He turns his back to you and ends up face-to-face with an old photo of the two of you from school.

“You can look, Hee.”

Drawn to the picture, he doesn’t reply. The boys are in it too, but it feels like you two are the focus. Everyone’s smiling at the camera except Heeseung, who — with his arm around you — stares at the side of your face with a lopsided smile. Happiness radiates from his being, lighting his eyes and face.

“I want you to look.” The softness and desperation in your voice tug his heart.

“Come on ba—” Heeseung sighs. “Just get dressed, yeah?”

You don’t say anything but he can hear the rustle of your clothes as you change.

Jealousy blooms in his chest, looking at himself three years ago. Happy and full of love for you and your friends, for life. Everything was so easy then. His chest tightens and he has to close his eyes.

Heeseung feels you next to him, hears your jewellery falling into the clay holder on your dresser and opens his eyes, looking at you. You’re in a t-shirt he’s sure belongs to Jake and struggling with the clasp on your necklace. He knows you want him to help but he feels like he can’t move.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I really do want to be with you,” you say when you finally get the necklace off. “And I know I’m too late, but I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t want to be with you.”

You’re so close the peppermint on your breath hits him like a wave. A distinct smell of citrus and summer, of Jake, comes from your body, mixed up with the scent of you in a way that makes him uneasy.

He gets a headache trying to make sense of your words, if it wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with him, then what was it? Even back then, you didn’t elaborate, you just repeated his name and the words: it’s not your fault, over and over until they sounded made up. Heeseung can’t entertain this conversation, not now. Not when you’re drunk and looking up at him with longing in your eyes. “I think we need to get you to bed,” Heeseung mumbles, taking a step back. “I’ll get you some water.”

“But I’m here now and we can be together again.”

“You moving was never the problem. You know that wasn’t the problem.” A tear slips down your cheek and he softens immediately. “I wanted to go with you, I was going to go with you.”

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, frowning. “This university was your dream. How could I let you give up your scholarship for me?”

“You were my dream,” he admits. “And it wasn’t your decision to make.”

“You would have made the wrong one.”

Heeseung scoffs. “Do you think breaking up was the right one?”

Your silence is brutally telling. You squeeze your eyes shut as if trying to magic yourself out of the conversation, but it only makes more tears fall. A realisation hits him like a truck: you’re thinking about it. A painful lump forms in his throat. How could you have anything to think about? How was breaking up with him, not the single worst decision you’ve ever made? He can’t believe you could have let go so easily if you loved him. Long distance wouldn’t have been easy, but surely if you loved him, you would have made it work. You would have tried. Heeseung wishes he hadn’t asked at all.

“I do,” you say finally, opening your eyes to look at him.

His heart is heavy in his chest. “Okay.”

“Heeseung.”

“What?”

A stomach-churning sob falls out of you. “I don’t know.”

Another silence weighs the room down and Heeseung knows what he needs to do. He sighs. “Let’s just.. I should go.”

You don’t put up a fight, you don’t say anything, only letting your shoulders droop before you sigh and lead Heeseung to the front door. He says goodbye as he puts his shoes on and all you do is watch as he leaves your apartment. He waits for you to close the door and lock it before walking away.

Heeseung walks all the way home and only cries when he closes his door, sliding down the back of it like something from a movie. With tears in his eyes, and his knees to his chest, he pulls out his phone to text you. I hope your hangover isn’t too bad, he types. Let’s only talk when we need to.

The two of you manage to hold this up, with you finding others to sit with during classes, and no one seeming to question Heeseung’s skipping plans or new close friendship with Mark’s group who he spends time with between classes instead. But as always, things have a funny way of going different to how Heeseung expected them to.

After three weeks of near radio silence, Jay barges into his room with his face scrunched up. “What are you doing?”

“Right now?” Heeseung asks, confused. Standing by the bed with the corner of his duvet in his hand, in nothing but his underwear, he thinks his plans look a little obvious. “I’m about to jerk off.”

Jay rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know what I mean.”

“Evidently, I do not.”

“Why don’t you hang out with us anymore?” he asks, squinting at Heeseung.

“We’re hanging out right now.”

“Forgive me if I don’t count an impromptu circle jerk as hanging out.”

“I don’t.. want to do that.”

Jay clutches his chest. “I’m crushed.”

Heeseung studies his expression. Serious, an inch of concern pooling in his eyes. “We dated for six years, she dumped me, I turned into a shell of myself, but she moved back home and we’re all friends again, so I think things are looking up for me.”

A deep sigh leaves Jay as he sits on the bed. “What happened at the bar with YN three weeks ago when we all left?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What exactly counts as ordinary for you two?”

Heeseung’s still trying to figure that out. He shrugs. “Making the right decisions.”

“So you’re okay?”

“Never better.’

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know?” There’s a sincere look on Jay’s face as he leans back on his hands.

“Which is why I’m being honest.”

It doesn’t seem like Jay’s going to let this go, but to Heeseung’s surprise, he smiles. “Perfect,” he says, standing up from the bed and walking over to the mirror where he checks himself out. “Because she and the guys are going to be here in ten. Put some clothes on.”

He does just that, pulling some shorts over his hips and a shirt over his head before pulling the two bean bag chairs stacked next to the couch to sit in front of the TV, claiming one of them with his body by sinking into it. The cosy material is soft against his thighs and he wonders why they don’t use them more.

Ten minutes go by like seconds when Jay gets up to answer the door, laughing at something one of you says before leading you all into the living room. He’s watching some show Jay left on, greeting you and the boys with a wave before turning back to the TV. Behind him, the four of you laugh and talk on the couch but Heeesung’s too wrapped up in an argument on screen to join in. His attention only falters when he reaches for the open six-pack on the coffee table. It’s barely out of his reach, so he turns around to take a beer, trying to ignore the way his heart sinks in his chest seeing you and Jay cuddled up together. It’s friendly, he knows that. Jay’s with Yunjin and you’re.. He’s still not sure, but it hurts nonetheless. You’re bickering over a bowl of popcorn and he only laughs when you throw a handful at him.

The red speaker Sunghoon’s holding chimes three times when he turns it on, a Frank Ocean thudding out of it that drowns out the show he’s watching, leaving him to follow along with the subtitles instead. But he can’t focus.

Heeseung tries to settle his heartache, comforting himself with the thought of the two of you in another reality. One where it’s him instead of Jay. Or one where you come over and sit with him, curling up in his lap, pouting because Jay’s being mean. He pictures himself stroking your hair and kissing away your pout, holding you into his chest when Jake and Sunghoon start teasing you. In this reality, however, he watches you peel Jay’s shirt from his chest and dump a handful of popcorn in the gap, cackling to yourself at the clear frustration he doesn’t verbalise. Heeseung sighs, looking back at the TV and taking a sad sip of his sad beer.

After a while, you fall into the beanbag next to him, sprawling out over the whole thing and looking at him. “Hey, Heeseung.”

“Hello.”

“I’m sorry about that night.” Your voice is quiet, clearly apologetic if the way you don’t meet his eyes is anything to go by.

“Okay.” Heeseung nods and a beat passes. “I meant what I said, what I texted you.” It hurts to say but it’s for the best. He stands up out of the beanbag, making a show of stretching his arms and legs before sinking into the couch next to Jake. Over Jake’s slouched form, Jay shoots him a look, arching a brow. Heeseung only stages a chuckle, shrugging before looking at the TV again. He can’t make sense of anything on the screen.

Sunghoon emerges from Jay’s room with a grin on his face, asking when you’re going to eat. In standard fashion, the four of you stand around Jay in the kitchen, bothering him by telling him what to do like he’s a child as he puts frozen pizza and some garlic bread in the oven.

“The middle one’s the timer,” Jake says, pointing at the knobs above the oven door. “It’s there so you can set how long the food needs to cook for, and after you set it, it’ll go off so you know it’s ready.”

“But it’s all up to you and your discretion. You can open the door whenever you want to check on everything,” you coo, patting his shoulder.

If Jay’s actually annoyed, nothing about his smile gives it away as he nods with a clenched fist, closing the door and sitting next to Heeseung on the countertop. Heeseung’s almost too busy focusing on the way his beer heats his stomach to notice the way you watch him with a small frown from barely an arm’s length away. Sunghoon picks up on your declining mood and thrusts an open bottle into your hand. “We like to drink with—” He’s cut off by Jay taking the bottle and setting it behind you on the counter, mumbling cut it out, dude, and tugging you out of the kitchen by the arm when he notices the tears in your eyes.

He hears Jay’s door close and nobody says anything until the timer goes off and Jay comes back alone, filling a plate with food and going back to his room.

“Thanks for dinner,” Jake says to the back of Jay’s head, offbeat and half smiling as he washes his hands in the sink.

Sitting at the table, he watches Jake and Sunghoon eat while pretending nothing’s wrong.

At the end of the night, when everyone’s gone home, Heeseung gets into bed, barely managing to pull the duvet up when there’s a knock at his door. “Yeah?” he calls out. Jay appears with his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says quickly.

Jay regards him with a frown. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“Yeah.” He nods, and Heeseung prepares himself for a lecture. “I was going to say, I’m going home next week, for Christmas, so I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

The holidays go by in a soju and tteokguk-filled blur, with Heeseung choosing to stay at home until the day of his first class of the second semester so he doesn’t have to be around you. He tells himself it’s for the good of your friend group, as he watches you all make plans in the group chat through notification bubbles, so he doesn’t leave a read receipt.

The commute is more jarring than he realised. What had been a twenty-minute drive turns into an hour-long journey, including a thirty-minute walk to the train station ‘near’ house, fifteen minutes on the train into the city centre, and another fifteen minutes on foot to campus. He’s drenched in sweat despite the below-zero temperature and has to make a stop to the bathroom to sort himself out.

He arrives early at least, finding the room where his Ethnography: Theory and Practice 2 class is set to start in fifteen minutes. The only indicator that he’s in the right place is the lecturer’s name and contact information written in the top corner of a whiteboard, and Heeseung picks the seat furthest from the door. It’s an elective class and, judging by the nine empty chairs next to him, not a very popular one. He’s relieved at least that he’ll be able to start off the semester without running into anyone he knows, least of all you. As seats start filling up and the lecturer arrives, he’s feeling unusually lucky.

So, of course, you show up, running a hand through your hair as you walk through the open door, apologising for being late even though there are still two minutes until the class is scheduled to begin. Of course, the only empty seat is the one next to him, which you sit in without looking at him, making an effort to angle your body away from him. Of course, the lecturer assigns a presentation for two weeks time, pairing the class with the person they’re sitting beside. Neither you nor Heeseung say a word to each other, but you raise your hand when prompted to pick a topic to cover. He can’t help his irritation at you for making the decision without asking him, but you look so nice in your hoodie with your hair tied up that his annoyance settles before it has a chance to bloom.

“YN YLN and Heeseung Lee, we’ll do music and cultural expression,” you say, picking the topic he wanted to do anyway.

When class is over, you’re quick to get out of your seat, pulling on your jacket and stuffing your laptop back into your bag before leaving so quickly that Heeseung has to leave his stuff behind to go after you. You don’t stop walking when he calls out your name, and too scared to make a scene, he overtakes you, leaving you with no option but to stop in front of him.

“We should go to the library, get the research and shit out of the way ASAP,” he suggests.

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, okay, I’m going to get my stuff.”

You follow him back to class, watching from the door as he puts his things in his bag before putting on his jacket. You don’t say anything on the walk to the library, when you get there, or when you browse the Cultural Studies section. Heeseung glances at you and you’re chewing on your lip, crouching a bit to read the spines of the books on the lower shelves. “Are you alright?” he asks with genuine concern.

You look up at him, nodding.

“Are you sure? Because you haven’t said anything in an hour.”

This makes you straighten up, your brows furrowing in an expression he can’t figure out. “Sorry, Heeseung,” you say, your voice weak. “I’m just trying to figure out if you think I need to talk right now.”

“Obviously, a paired project is a situation where we need to talk.”

You sigh, muttering oh, my God, before you look at him. “You know what, I’m going home. Let’s do this tomorrow.”

“We have class in twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, I’ll read the slides when I get in.”

Unsure what to say, he watches you walk away, deciding that he should just go home too.

At the flat he hasn’t seen in five weeks, Heeseung feels slightly out of place, going straight to his room and into bed, not even getting up when he hears Jay coming home. Jay opens the door without knocking, his mouth falling into an excited ‘o’ shape. “Hey, stranger,” he says. “I thought you weren’t coming back, so I started advertising your room on Gumtree.”

“Any offers?”

“No one as good as you.” Heeseung doesn’t have to look at Jay to know he’s smiling. “Move over,” he mumbles, lifting the duvet.

Lazily, he rolls over in bed, making room for Jay who makes himself comfortable under the covers.

“What are you doing, Heeseung?”

“Trying to sleep.”

“Talk to me, help me understand.” Jay sighs and Heeseung’s lips curl into a frown. “You’re my best friend,” Jay says quietly, with a tenderness that strikes him.

“You’re my best friend,” Heeseung repeats like an affirmation.

“So why won’t you talk to me?”

There’s a subtle hurt in Jay’s voice that upsets Heeseung, who shifts around to lie on his back. “I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you that YN hasn’t already.”

“She only told me that she fucked up.”

Hearing it from someone else’s mouth makes it sound drastic, especially considering he’s the one who left. Again. But he’s too bitter to say that out loud so he bites his tongue. “Seems to be the theme in our relationship.” The words taste rotten when he says them.

“Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean you get to be a dick,” Jay says. “What happened?”

It takes some time but Heeseung explains everything, letting Jay ask questions and make comments until the end when he looks away, pressing his eyes shut and saying, “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t think I get it. Boy loves girl. Girl loves boy. Why can’t you just be together already?”

Everything sounds painfully simple when it’s put like that. But there’s too much between you both for it to go that way. It’s not like he didn’t want to be with you when you confessed, it’s that he didn’t know how he could without knowing why you left him in the first place. Without knowing what he did that was so terrible you couldn’t stand to be in a relationship with him, never mind the same area code.

A beat passes before Heeseung speaks. “There was something wrong, and instead of trying to fix it, she just.. gave up. I would’ve done anything she asked me to. I could’ve changed, could’ve fixed things, but she didn’t even tell me.”

“Maybe she didn’t feel like she could. I don’t think she wanted to hurt you, Heeseung.”

“But she did.”

“Yeah,” Jay admits, sympathy lacing the word.

“How can I be with her knowing there’s some awful part of me she hates?”

“It’s not like that, not really.”

“What’s it like then?”

“I’m not sure it’s my place to say.”

Heeseung laughs, shaking his head. “Do you keep my secrets as dutifully as you keep hers?”

“Are you kidding? She doesn’t even know you have secrets.” Jay sounds exhausted as he speaks, and it’s the last sound to come from him until a few minutes pass and Heeseung hears him snoring.

You didn’t reply when Heeseung texted you asking to meet in the library before class, but you show up anyway, pulling out the seat across from him and dumping your bag on the table. “I don’t know if you saw the email, but the partner work is just for the presentation.”

“Cool.” he nods, relieved.

“I think after that, I’ll start hanging out with Yunjin instead, so you’re not uncomfortable.”

Heeseung frowns, shaking his head. “I’m not uncomfortable around you,” he says. “I just don’t.. get you. You dump me and move as far away as you can. Now you’re back and what? You love me again?”

You furrow your brows, inspecting him for a moment before you speak. “I don’t love you again, Heeseung. I’ve loved you this whole time.”

“So why didn’t you choose me? I just wanted you to choose me.” He’s too anxious to know the truth to worry about how desperate he must sound. Until he notices that the guys sitting at the other end of the tables are watching him, their brows arched sharply in a mixture of shock and curiosity. Heeseung runs a hand over his face, hoping the motion might wipe away the flush burning his cheeks.

“You wanted me to choose you over my future?”

“I could’ve been your future, part of it. I’d never ask you to choose me over university, you know I wouldn’t. I’m saying you could’ve had both.”

“It wasn’t as easy as that.”

“Why not?”

“Heeseung,” you say like it’s an answer.

“Just tell me why you didn’t want me. That’s all I want to know.”

The following silence makes him consider packing up abruptly and faking an emergency. He’s sure he could probably fake his death if he slumps in his chair slowly enough.

You sigh heavily, interrupting his train of thought—now, he’s wondering if he even wants to know. “Because you would’ve put me first,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “If I stayed here or moved away, I would’ve been your top priority and I couldn’t let you throw away everything you worked for, for me.”

“I loved you, of course, you were my top priority.” He can’t believe he even has to say it, can’t believe you might have thought you weren’t the single most important thing in his life.

“Heeseung, you were sacrificing your life for me. You missed your cousin’s engagement party to help me study for a history test, you deferred your scholarship entry by a year just so we could go to college at the same time. How could I keep letting you miss out on your life?”

“Deferring my entry wasn’t just for you,” he lies. “And it’s not like I missed the wedding.”

“But I think you would’ve if I stubbed my toe.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

You sigh again, shaking your head. “Do you hear yourself? You can’t keep living like that, you can’t just throw everything away. You’re such a hard worker, Heeseung, and I’d hate to see you waste that over some girl.”

“But you’re you. You weren’t just ‘some girl’ you were my girl.” He doesn’t mean to say it but it’s true. “We were in high school and I was studying constantly; it didn’t matter back then. And you were so far away, it’s not like I could feasibly drop everything and go to you every time something happened.”

“Heeseung.”

“You had a choice.”

“Heeseung.”

The way you’re saying his name reminds him of your breakup—the pink walls of your childhood bedroom and the pictures of the two of you stuck up all over them, in frames on your desk, and stickers on your light switch. How they seemed to close in around him as he put all of his energy into staying on two feet, instead of falling to the floor and begging you on hands and knees to stay with him.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? I’ve spent the last year and a half wondering what I did wrong, I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.” We could’ve tried, he wants to say. I could have changed and we could’ve tried.

“I didn’t want you to lose that. I felt really lucky that you loved me like that, and I didn’t want to rob someone else of it, you know. I thought maybe you’d find a balance with someone someday, but I didn’t think that person would be me.”

Heeseung has to put in an effort to stop his jaw from dropping. How could there ever be someone else? How could you ever think he could have someone else? There’s so much he wants to say, to ask, but he can tell by the way you press your lips together that you’re done with the conversation.

“It’s not too late.”

You tilt your head at him. “What?”

“In your room that night, you said you were too late,” he explains. “I love you.”

“Still?”

His heart shifts uncomfortably in his chest at the tone of your voice and the way your eyebrows shoot up. “Always,” he says.

A smile starts to curve your lips, but it slips before it has a chance to bloom, stifled happiness that you cover with your hands, hiding your face completely. “I don’t think we should talk about this here.” Your palms muffle the words but not their impact; you’re right and he knows it.

It’s been a year—the longest of his life, and the hard part is already over. He knows now and he’ll do anything he can to fix it. “Right.” Heeseung nods but you’re not looking at him. He’s going to fix it. For now, though, he says, “What’s our research topic again?” Despite having had Music and Cultural Expression typed into the search bar since before you arrived.

With Heeseung’s work ethic and your commitment to being the best, the presentation goes quite smoothly. You make no mistakes, and Heeseung, distracted by how pretty you look in professional attire, manages to stumble through the script he’d rehearsed. The two of you even win the first place prize — satisfaction that you got a perfect score — and celebrate with coffee afterwards.

Between the four walls of the campus café, you and Heeseung sip lattes that taste like temperature — still too hot to have a real flavour — and laugh with each other about something Jay said when you all hung out last night. Neither of you mentions your conversation from two weeks ago, deciding instead to fall into the patterns of your first term together: napping in his bed after class and coming up with excuses for alone time. He makes an effort to follow through with his commitments, even when you ask him to hang out, to show you that he’s different now. If you’ve noticed, you haven’t said anything about it, but Heeseung tells himself it’s a good thing while missing shots on the court with Mark, too hung up on you to focus on anything else. The only thing left is to figure out a way to be yours again and do everything he can to make sure he doesn’t lose you.

Over your shoulder, through the window, the sun slips below the horizon, casting long shadows around the café. He takes a deep breath when he looks at you, smiling down at your phone as you take a picture of your half-drunk latte and the milky swirls still peeking through your coffee. A tangible determination settles in his chest as evening’s first stars appear in the sky, he knows one thing for sure: he has to grab the chance to be yours again with both hands, and once it’s his, he won’t let go this time.

The café may be clearing out, but his heart is full of hope and for the time being, sitting with you as a friend is.. fine.

You’d often imagined what it would be like if you hadn’t broken up with Lee Heeseung.

Most of your first year was spent daydreaming about him in all of your usual hangouts. Sometimes, at drinks with your friends, you envisioned him showing up, a smile on his face as he apologised for being late. He’d slide into the booth next to you, wrap his arm around your shoulders and kiss your cheek. Other times you imagined him showing up to surprise you, sitting on a bench in the quad and grinning when he saw you leaving. He’d run up to you with open arms and a bouquet in his hand, wrapping you in a hug and whispering that he missed you too much to wait another day to see you. You would even fall asleep thinking about FaceTime calls that stayed on overnight or drunken texts after the club, misspelt I love yous and can’t wait to see yous filling your text thread.

You didn’t tell your new friends much about him, briefly mentioning a partner you’d watched some film with or an artist he liked if they came up, and most nights were spent begging Jay to send you Heeseung’s social media posts and tell you every detail of the day they had without you. Based on accounts from Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon, it seemed like he was getting on well, a fact that — while hurtful — pushed you to try and do the same. After a month of avoiding your flatmates, you finally managed to connect with them, going to various social events around campus and rolling your eyes any time a drunk guy complimented you.

This is why it took you by surprise to see him at Mark Lee’s party in the summer—sitting alone in the garden, in sweatpants and a flannel, looking at his phone with a deep frown etched over his lips. When you think about it, it feels like so long has passed since then and it’s hard to believe it wasn’t even a year ago.

Being back in Heeseung’s life has been more challenging than you thought it would be when you filled out your transfer application. Especially in the weeks since you finished your presentation together, since you suggested the library might not have been the right place for the conversation you were having and never followed up on.

Now doesn’t seem like the right time either—you’re sitting on the floor in Jake and Sunghoon’s living room with your back against the couch, sharing a blanket with Heeseung. Jay left about an hour ago to go to Yunjin’s, leaving the four of you to your own devices. You know you can’t bring it up with Jake and Sunghoon around, but you’ve had plenty of opportunities to over the last month.

When you finished your celebratory lattes, Heeseung walked you home. The sky was a perfect inky black, and it was cold enough to see your breath, just the way he liked, so cold he offered you his jacket to wear. He didn’t say anything about it, only shrugging it off and setting it gently over your shoulders, shocking you so much that you stopped walking. The scent of his cologne, dark and woody, was overwhelming as you slid your arms into the sleeves, zipping it up and after three paces without you, Heeseung turned his head with wide eyes. You could have said it then, you wanted to say it then, but you bit your tongue and thanked him instead. He smiled, gulping when you closed the gap, you should have kissed him, he was close enough, his lips just a tip-toe and tilted head away, but you hugged him instead.

After that, the two of you had all the time in the world together. Between your shared classes and going for meals alone. All the time you’d spend in his living room together, cosy on the couch when Jay would go to sleep. So many moments to talk, to get back together, but the words would die in your throat every time you thought them. It all seemed too cheesy or not cheesy enough, too dramatic or too casual, you couldn’t strike a balance and had no idea how to even find one.

Last night was probably the most jarring occasion. Yunjin and Chaewon had been trying to convince you to go the club all week but you just weren’t in the mood. They seemed happy enough when you suggested hosting pres—but now you think they’d been hoping you’d be so drunk you’d just agree to go out. Yunjin brought half a litre of vodka and Chaewon brought a soup flask with enough murky cocktail in it to feed a small family. Together, the three of you drank and gossiped around the small table in your living room, with Chaewon’s phone in a glass to amplify her playlist. After taking a whiff of whatever she brought, you and Yunjin decided — for everyone’s wellbeing — to hide her flask and take shots of vodka, finishing off the cider you had left in the fridge.

“Please come out,” Yunjin begged. “I’ll feel bad leaving you here, all pretty and drunk by yourself.”

“I’ll feel bad too!” Chaewon added, clasping her hands. “Not bad enough to stay with you, but I’ll probably have less fun.”

You shook your head. “I don’t even have an outfit.” The words were like music to their ears and you regretted them as soon as you said them. Both girls grabbed you by the hand, tugging you to your room and flinging open your wardrobe. Yunjin looked for a top and Chaewon for a skirt, though both of them gasped when they saw the dress you wore for Heeseung’s birthday. Chaewon pulled it from the rack, holding it out in front of her.

“We won’t pay for anything if you wear this,” she squealed before she and Yunjin started chanting: Free booze! Free booze!

You sighed, thinking of Heeseung and shook your head again. That dress, though beautiful, hadn’t been enough for him to lose all composure and skip the party in favour of fucking you into the mattress, and you didn’t love the idea of guys that weren’t him ogling you all night. “Anything but that dress.”

Yunjin and Chaewon seemed sad, but you were able to distract them by bringing out the disaster cocktail the oldest girl brewed earlier, pouring each of them half a glass and ordering an Uber to come and take them away. You promised them you’d go out next time, locking your pinkies with theirs and closing the door behind them.

Alone in your room, with nothing but thoughts of Heeseung to keep you company, you called him. He answered right away. You can’t remember exactly what you said but you remember the soft sigh he let out when you said it. You could practically see him tilting his head, weighing his options.

“I’m trying to get a paper finished, it’s due Monday,” he said finally.

“But it’s Thursday.”

“Yeah, and I want to have my weekend free. If you’re still up when I’m done, I’ll come over, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Heeseung hung up after that and you got out of bed to clean up, hoping the time would fly. It didn’t, but your flat was clean again so you pretended not to mind.

He called you after midnight. “Do you still want me to come over?” he asked, breathless.

“Please.” There was a knock on your door after you spoke and you mumbled hold on before going to check it. Warped by the peephole, you saw Heeseung standing there, holding his phone to his ear and playing with the zipper on his jacket. He hugged you when you opened the door, asking if you were okay. “Perfect,” you said, looking into his eyes.

His pretty face scrunched up and he pinched his nostrils shut with his fingers, turning his head. “Well, you smell like a distillery.”

Heeseung stood in the doorway of the bathroom while you brushed your teeth, grinning every time his eyes met yours in the mirror. Tell him now, you thought. You have to tell him now. Those thoughts nagged you as you gargled mouthwash, plagued you when you hugged him again and tortured you when he carried you to bed.

He stiffened when kissed his jaw. “You can’t do that,” he mumbled, setting you down under the duvet. “Not now.”

Then when? you wanted to say. “I’m sorry,” you said.

Heeseung sighed, shaking his head. “No, it’s just.. It’s okay.”

Neither of you spoke after that, you made room for him on the bed and he lay down next to you, let you rest your head on his chest and played with your hair until you fell asleep. He was gone when you woke up in the morning but he left a glass of water and some paracetamol on your end table, along with a note.

I had to go to class and you wouldn’t wake up :( We’ll talk about everything soon, we have to. See you at Jake and Sunghoon’s later?

— Your Hee.

If you hadn’t been drunk he might have been okay with the kiss, he might have looked down at you and kissed you properly. You might have talked last night, fixed things—you’ve never regretted drinking so much in your life.

Things are better tonight at least. You’ve been nursing the same can of cider since you arrived a few hours ago and Heeseung’s only had two sips of his beer, so hopefully, if you get some alone time, the two of you can finally talk. You’re still not sure what you should say, if you should apologise for waiting so long, for leaving in the first place. It seemed like a good idea at the time, applying elsewhere. You didn’t even think you’d get in but you knew you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t at least take the chance. It seemed like a sign when the acceptance letter reached your inbox before the term had finished, an unconditional offer to a high-ranking university, you couldn’t pass it up. And knowing Heeseung as well as you did, you knew he’d do anything to be by your side when you needed him, you knew he’d drop everything to move with you if you let him. You’d owe him forever. It wouldn’t be fair on either of you.

You called Jay in tears after a month away, telling him you made a mistake, that you needed to come back and had already filled out a transfer application. He convinced you to at least stay until the end of term, to actually make friends with the girls you were living with and see how you felt. A week later, he, Jake and Sunghoon showed up on your doorstep with chocolate and booze, hoping your room was big enough for all of them to stay for the weekend, it wasn’t, not really, but for three nights, the four of you slept head to toe in your bed after eating your body weights in pizza and ice cream. There was no talk of Heeseung, even though you begged them, and by the time they left, you felt much better. At the end of your first year, you quietly submitted your transfer application and shared a tearful goodbye with Yizhuo and Minjeong before finally flying back home. The boys seemed happy to have you back, even if it meant sneaking around to hang out with you—A nudge pulls you out of your thoughts, Heeseung.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

When you look at him, it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. His eyes are brimmed with concern, wide and beautiful, a deep brown you’ll never get sick of. His lips are curved into a soft pout, a crease running along his brow that you want to smooth out.

Heeseung relaxes a little when you nod, but he seems unconvinced. “You sure?”

You reach up to poke his cheek, grinning when he turns his head, trying to fight a smile. “I’m good,” you say, pressing a dimple into his cheek anyway.

He holds your finger in his hands, unclenching your fist and locking his fingers with yours. A wide grin stretches over your lips as you plead with your cheeks to stop burning. Jake’s hand interrupts the moment, falling from the couch, limp and curled into a fist that smacks the back of your head. He’s fast asleep, not stirring at all even when Heeseung laughs.

Unfortunately, you lose rock, paper, scissors and have to wake Jake up. He shifts a little on the couch when you shake him, whining at you to stop and scrunching up his face at you. Heeseung and Sunghoon eventually sigh, grabbing him by the arms and legs to carry him to bed.

Both boys return, laughing about something and Heeseung sits down next to you again while Sunghoon leans in the doorway, yawning. “You two can have my room,” he says, cutting his eyes at you. “No funny business though, I just changed my sheets.”

You chuckle nervously and Heeseung makes a show of hiding his face in the crook of your neck, much to Sunghoon’s visible dismay. He clutches the doorframe so hard you see his knuckles paling and uses his free hand to point a stern finger in your direction. “I mean it,” is the last thing he says before leaving.

“Sorry,” Heeseung mumbles when the door closes. “It’s just so funny teasing him.” He’s grinning when he lifts his head and runs a shaking hand through his hair. “Anyway, you still haven’t told me about your group project.”

A sigh curls out of you, dramatic and loud as you let your head fall back against the couch at the thought of it. You brought it up in passing on Monday after class and spent the rest of the week pretending it didn’t exist.

“Damn,” he mutters. “That bad?”

You don’t have many friends in your Archaeology class, but you always look forward to it — because you’re covering Ancient Egypt — and enjoy it. But this morning, you slept in, arriving late, to find your lecturer assigning groups for a project weighing 25% of your final grade. She put the groups together based on where people were sitting, which left you, standing in the doorway fighting for breath, being added to a group of boys you shared a seminar with last term. They never contributed, and rarely showed up, constantly sending messages in the class Whatsapp group to ask if anyone had the tutorial answers. The sinking feeling that your project was doomed before it began plagued you throughout the lecture and all the way to lunch with Yunjin afterwards. Even though it doesn’t have anything to do with the story, you tell him in meticulous detail about your time with her that day. Thankfully, you’re sober so don’t admit that you spent a lot of the meal exchanging increasingly ridiculous ideas to get him back.

Heeseung is just as beautiful and good at listening as always, nodding his head and uhm-ing and ah-ing at all the right parts. Until his gaze changes for a split second into something so soft and so sweet that it leaves a mark on your heart. “I was pissed about it earlier, but now I’m here, with you, and I want you to be my boyfriend again,” you say, jaw hanging open as soon as the words come out.

His eyes widen, lips parting in shock. Then his brows furrow, pushing a crease into his forehead.

“I know what you’re going to say and I’m sorry.” You start running damage control and pray that Jake or Sunghoon will wake up and come back. “I really didn’t mean to say that, especially not now when we haven’t talked about everything. But you looked at me, Heeseung. You really looked at me just now and I can’t pretend I don’t want to be with you. I’m sorry, really, but it’s your fault I said that.”

Mortified, you cover your face with your hands. “Can you say something now?” you ask, mumbling into the heels of your palms.

All he says is your name and a pit forms in your stomach. “God, anything but that,” you groan.

Heeseung chuckles, which you think is a good thing. “Would it be better if I called you baby?”

“In what context?”

Holding your breath, you watch as he presses his lips together, humming as he tilts his head. “Term of endearment between a girlfriend and her boyfriend.”

You lift your head, separating your fingers to see him properly through the space and the pit in your stomach dissolves into something live, butterflies fluttering in a frenzy from the look on his face. The gentle curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes, and the slight flush on his cheeks all make your head spin.

“Really?”

Heeseung nods so hard his hair follows the movement. “Yes, baby.”

“Can we kiss now?”

“Maybe if you move your hands out of the way.”

“I don’t like maybe.”

“Definitely if you move your hands out of the way,” he corrects.

You can’t bring yourself to move, worried that the sudden motion might disrupt something, might knock you out of the moment. Heeseung laughs, so softly it sounds like an exhale, as he takes your wrists in his hands, tugging gently. With your face in full view, his eyes flit over your features for a beat before he cups your cheek in his hand, dragging his thumb over the soft skin of your lips.

You don’t even realise he’s leaning in until his lips touch yours. There’s a rush of something in your chest, an intense warmth surrounding your heart. His lips are softer than ever, gentle as he kisses you like you might break—you think you might. Nothing is better than this, better than having Heeseung’s lips on yours after all this time. You lean into him completely, pressing your body impossibly close to his and twirling your fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you,” he whispers, barely pulling away. “I love you so much.”

You can’t bring yourself to reply, emotions too close to the surface, tears too close to spilling. Instead, you smile into the kiss, somehow holding him closer and hoping he’ll understand. He pulls back, just enough to gaze into your eyes with a look of pure affection. He doesn’t press for words, a reassuring smile tugging his lips.

He understands, Heeseung always understands.

Sunghoon’s sheets are soft against your skin when you wake up, tickling your nose with the scent of detergent and Heeseung’s shampoo—fresh and light. Your hand finds its way into his hair, fingers curling around the strands as Heeseung watches you with a soft smile, eyes scanning your features, taking you in. He lets his hand rest on your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there and his eyes flick up to meet yours. You feel like a teenager, a giddy smile gracing your lips, giggles tumbling out at the tickly feeling of lovestruck butterflies rumbling in your stomach. Heeseung beams, nuzzling into the touch of your hand as his eyes flutter shut.

“If we’re going to work out this time—I want us to work out, but we need to talk,” you say after a beat.

Heeseung’s brows raise like he can’t believe what you’re saying, his lips pushing into a pout. “We are going to work out, of course we’re going to work out.” His voice is still raspy from sleep, a deep hoarseness that’s too sexy for the cute way he’s chewing on his lip, doe-eyed and sweet as his eyes scan your face.

“I know, baby, I want that.” You nod, using your hand to push his hair out of his face. It’s so long now it’s starting to cover his eyes, the soft blond strands curling into his eyelashes. “But you have to say no to me, you know? I want you to have a life of your own, we both should.”

“No.”

“No?” You press your eyes shut, sighing. “What do you mean, no?”

“I’m starting now.”

“I’m serious, Hee, this is serious.”

He pouts for a second before nodding. “I’m serious too. I can say no to you, I will say no to you.”

You can’t help your scepticism, raising your brow at him as you inspect his face. There’s nothing about his expression that suggests he’s not being serious, nothing in those huge eyes seeming insincere. But you know Heeseung, you’ve been with Heeseung, and you know better than anyone, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do if it meant spending time with you, so you have to ask. “So from now on, if I text you when you’re in class or out with friends, and I tell you I want to see you, what are you going to do?”

Heeseung sighs. “I’m going to text back and say that I’m.. busy.” His lips curl into a frown. “My heart will be super heavy though.”

“But you’ll do it? You won’t see me until you’re free?”

“I’ll do it, I won’t leave or anything.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yeah, baby, I promise.” When you smile at him, Heeseung leans in to seal his promise with a kiss, his lips meeting yours softly.

You flinch when the door opens and Heeseung chuckles against your lips, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. Over his head, you see Sunghoon standing in the doorway, hair dripping water on the floor with a towel wrapped around his hips.

Sunghoon sighs, loud and dramatic, his head falling back. “I specifically said no funny business,” he mutters. “Quit looking at me.” He comes into the room and lifts the duvet over your heads.

Under the covers, Heeseung pulls away, poking his head out and laughing. “We’re just kissing.”

“Yeah, with your shirt off. Why is your shirt off?”

“She wanted to wear—”

Sunghoon cuts him off with a gasp, pulling the duvet back. “Wait, why are you kissing?”

“I can’t kiss my girlfriend?”

The word makes your cheeks burn and you hide your face in Heeseung’s chest. His lips find the top of your head, kissing you as he wraps his arms around you.

Sunghoon groans at the sight. “I haven’t missed this at all,” he says. “Who else knows?”

“Just you so far.”

You can hear Sunghoon grinning when he drops the duvet back over your heads and shuffles around the room, getting ready for skating. Heeseung calls you cute and holds you closer. “I’ve missed you so much, missed this,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you.”

Dating Heeseung again is better than anything you could have imagined, even if it has only been two weeks. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and even the simple things he does make you smile so hard your face aches. Like when he picks up snacks for you after class or sends you pictures of sweet things he wrote about you in his old diary. Chaewon and Yunjin comment that you seem happier, that you’re glowing, and you can’t help the giggles that always escape and the flush that burns your cheeks when you mention your boyfriend, Heeseung.

Even under the pressure of taking on a group project by yourself, you find yourself fighting a grin in the library just thinking about him. Your class finished an hour ago and you’re doing research in the computer lab while waiting for him so you can go back home together. With a crease in your brow, you try to make sense of conflicting articles on the origin of the Great Pyramid of Giza, happy when your phone lights up with a text.

hee: we should go on a date tonight !!! how does the fair sound?

you: sounds good :D

hee: ❤️

As if sensing that plans have been made without him, Sunghoon sends a message to the group chat asking who wants to go to the Spring Fair in the city centre tonight.

you: hee and i are alr going :/

sunghoon: awesome i can meet u at hee’s in a few hours?

You really can’t find the heart to tell Sunghoon it’s a date so you decide not to say anything, only feeling worse when Jay replies.

jay: sounds good :D

hee: it’s a date dumbass, you’re not invited.

sunghoon: ok.. i can still go

jake: time?

With your date set and whatever else the boys are planning in the group chat, you manage to finish up your work in time for Heeseung to show up with a grin on his face as you pack up your notebook. Excitement stirs in your stomach when he locks his fingers with yours and you’ve never looked forward to the sticky heat of a night in spring as much as you are right now.

“How was class?” you ask, squeezing his hand.

Heeseung grins at you, swinging your hands between your bodies as you weave through tables to leave the library. “Turns out I focus really well when you’re not sitting with me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm.” He nods, biting his lip.

“I can sit with other people if it’ll help you focus.”

“No!” he whines, loud enough to draw side eyes from the students around you before the tips of his ears burn red and he pulls you out of the library at lightspeed.

When you reach his flat, Jay’s sitting on the couch grinning at something on his phone, so distracted he doesn’t even realise you’ve arrived until you sit down next to him. He’s got a lot to say about his mock trial and tells you everything, all while you’re cuddled up to Heeseung, with your head on his shoulder.

You blink and the sun’s gone down, Jay isn’t around anymore and Heeseung’s arms are around your waist, holding you close. “Hey,” he says when you stir. “The boys left already, you just looked so cute sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you.”

There’s a wet patch on his sweater where your mouth was that you try to wipe away. It doesn’t budge. And a burning flush attacks your cheeks and neck when Heeseung uses his thumb to wipe some of the drool by your mouth. “So cute.” He chuckles. “Should we get going?”

You spend the whole journey to the city centre with your hand in Heeseung’s, trying to fight the butterflies in your stomach every time he smiles at you. It’s weird. To have been with him for so long, yet still feel giddy when he looks at you. This is new though, you suppose, to live away from home and see him whenever you want. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder and you can’t help the grin on your face at the thought of spending infinite nights like this, with him.

The Spring Fair is alive with laughter and squeals of delight that you can hear from around the corner. Winking lights spill onto the pavement in rapid succession, somehow showing the whole spectrum at once. Heeseung is bursting with excitement, running down the street with you in tow, desperately trying to keep up with his stride and regulate your breathing. His eyes are huge when you reach the gates, scanning the area for the churros he’s been talking about for the entire walk and he gasps when he sees the stall, pulling you along with him. You have to weave through the crowd, dipping and dodging tired locals and excited tourists as you call out apologies to everyone Heeseung bumps into. The first night is always packed like this, so full it’s hard to believe the fair runs for six whole weeks.

You share a heart-shaped churro and pose for the photos he wants to take, your heart swelling with affection as you pretend to be embarrassed when he buys matching character headbands for you both. Two years ago, Heeseung would’ve told you that headbands aren’t a good use of your money and bought them anyway, but today, he spent fifteen minutes trying on and taking photos with each character before finding the perfect pair. You can’t help but grin as he puts the headband on for you, a sense of excitement blooming inside you, so great it’s overwhelming.

Heeseung buys a blue raspberry slushy in an obnoxiously large reusable cup with two straws, and as he clutches his head with each brain freeze, chuckles pour out of you, only increasing when he pouts.

At every opportunity, the two of you take selfies, and the grin on his face in each one warms your heart. He posts his favourite to his story, showing you all the compliments he’s getting in his DMs, all aimed at you. He seems so proud and excited to be with you, and butterflies go mad in your stomach as he reads some of them out to you, agreeing with and adding to the messages.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. I think I might delete the picture,” he says, frowning as the story replies pour in.

The look on his face makes you laugh, struggling to talk but trying anyway. “But I love it.”

Heeseung puts his phone away, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I love you,” he says, using his free hand to tip your chin towards him. He grins when you say it back, tracing his thumb along your jaw. An odd stillness hits you, in the midst of vibrant chaos. Flashes of multi-coloured LEDs dance in orange and purple strobes over his face and your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes are pretty and wide, flicking from your eyes to your mouth a few times as a flame starts to burn in your stomach, low and scorching.

“I love you,” you repeat, tip-toeing to close the gap.

You kiss him, slow and sweet to savour the sugary taste on his lips as they move against yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss and the taste of syrupy artificial fruit, leaving you craving more, craving him. A pop goes out in the air and you flinch in Heeseung’s arms. He chuckles against your lips before he pulls away, looking up. Trails of pink and gold paint the sky above, vibrant sparks spreading everywhere as a few more go off. If you weren’t so busy trying to catch your breath, you might appreciate their beauty, but you are and the next pop only startles you too.

Heeseung looks down at you, his slightly swollen lips curving into a grin. “How are you so cute?” he coos. “And don’t most people want fireworks to go off when they kiss someone?”

“It’s probably a sensation thing, Heeseung.” You know it’s a sensation thing. The first time he kissed you, it felt like you were floating on air, as if Sunghoon’s basement, cold and dark, was the most romantic place on Earth. You were sweaty and nervous, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Heeseung while the boys were sleeping. He was the one to lean in and he kissed the tip of your nose by accident.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Come here.” His voice is so deep and raspy that it spurs the flame on, burning higher, hotter, until it’s the only thing you can think about. His hand finds your jaw again, pulling you towards him to kiss you. Of course, you can’t resist; he’s Heeseung.

The kiss is rife with neediness, whether from you or Heeseung you can’t tell, but you’re tugging at his hair and he’s clutching at your t-shirt, both of you struggling to get enough of the other. You nip at his bottom lip with your teeth and a heady sigh falls from his mouth into yours, brewing a storm in your mind, a thick fog obscuring everything but thoughts of him.

At the sound of a forced throat clearing, you break away from Heeseung, seeing an elderly lady with a steaming cup in her hand and a disgruntled look on her face. She extends an arm, gesturing behind you. When you follow the direction of her hand, you see a bench that you’re standing right in front of. Heeseung grabs your hand, mumbling an apology and tugging you as far away as possible. You struggle to stifle a laugh at the redness of his ears against his hair.

A huge ride swings and spins into the air, catching your attention, though Heeseung seems to be more interested in the way Jake stands by the entrance with a scowl on his face. Jake waves you over when he sees you, grinning and hugging you both like it’s been years since he saw you.

“Jay and Hoon are..” he trails off, using his arm to vaguely gesture towards the sky.

“Man,” Heeseung whispers, pointing a reverent finger to the sky, “R.I.P.”

Countless fireworks shoot up noisily, painting the dark sky, and Heeseung’s arms fall heavily around your shoulders, his body warm against your back. If not for the way Jake’s flinching next to you, covering his ears with his hands and ducking slightly at the bang of each one, it might feel like the two of you are alone in the moment. Alone despite the chatter, the laughter and squeals. Just you and Heeseung.

And Jake.

Heeseung is amazing at fair games, especially the ring toss. But a tired-looking man in a business suit wins the Hello Kitty plush you’d been eyeing for the snotty toddler wrapped around his leg, so you settle for the Kuromi plush instead. Heeseung says it’s cuter. You agree.

His voice is soft when he asks, “Maybe we can go on the Ferris wheel later?” This is a far cry from the boy of sixteen who fainted at an amusement park just from seeing the drop on the biggest ride there. When you look up at him, his eyes are wide, boring into you, holding the stars in his pupils with a grin across his blue-stained lips, and how could you say no to that face?

The platform by the Ferris wheel is sticky under your shoes, making you cringe with every step you take towards the front of the line. Heeseung’s grip on your hand is tighter than you think it’s ever been when he realises that you’re next to get on. This might be the most scared you’ve ever seen him, your poor boyfriend with his overpriced Kuromi headband shivering beside you.

You frown at the sight, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “We don’t have to do this, Hee,” you say.

He tries to play it cool, shrugging with a nonchalance that doesn’t match the fear in his eyes. “I want to,” he assures, though his voice lacks conviction.

“Are you sure?” The way he flinches when the ride operator opens the gate gives you his answer, but Heeseung is firm in his words as he pulls you towards the cart, despite wincing when the operator locks you in. “Baby,” you whisper, touching his cheek. “It’s not too late to get out.”

In what appears to be a display of his bravery, he makes a show of rocking the carriage — only to be told off by the operator (who can’t be older than sixteen) — and cheering (with no conviction) about nothing in particular. You can’t help but laugh, the cart shaking slightly as you let your head fall back and you only laugh harder when Heeseung gasps because of it.

He flinches again when the ride starts moving, an unsettling creak sending you forward just enough to allow the next victims — according to Heeseung — to get on the ride. When the last of them board, the wheel sets off in a slow spin and he spends the entire first rotation with his eyes clamped shut, only opening them after a while when he thinks the ride is over.

The wheel creaks more than what you think is necessary and he only grows more and more outwardly uncomfortable, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and gripping the safety bar above your laps until his knuckles turn white.

“Would it make you feel better if I held your hand?” you coo, holding your left hand out to him.

He rolls his eyes but takes your hand in his, holding it between his palms. Seemingly at ease, Heeseung shifts slightly in his seat to close the tiny gap between you, pressing his knee into yours.

Even in the distance, the fair’s LED lights are beautiful, melting away into flashing bokeh before your eyes as the carriage inches higher and higher. You almost forget your company, leaning over the edge to get a better look, only for Heeseung to put his arm on your arm, mumbling, “Stop it.”

His skin is warm despite the slight chill that comes with your increasing altitude, and you wish the carriage was smaller—cramped even, forcing the two of you together so tightly that you have no choice but to become one. You sit in the quiet of the night, excitement on the fairground growing quieter as the wheel spins, agonisingly slow, until eventually it’s just the two of you—you and Heeseung: the only people in the moment.

The only people in the world.

“Why are we even on this thing?” you whisper, squeezing his hand.

Heeseung shrugs his shoulders as gently as he can manage so as not to rock the carriage. His eyes are big when he looks at you, holding your gaze intently. “I wanted to be romantic.”

Oh, Heeseung, you think, pressing your lips into a frown. He’s the sweetest person in the world and just the thought of it makes your stomach flutter. “You’re plenty romantic,” you say sincerely.

He scoffs. “Yeah, because pretending you didn’t exist for a year is romantic.”

“Yes! Very!” You chuckle, nodding your head.

Again, he rolls his eyes at you but he uses his hand to hold your face, pulling you in. His kiss tastes like candy floss and the blue raspberry slushy you shared earlier, lips soft, relaxed against your own. Your hand reaches for his thigh, meeting instead with the squished plushy between your bodies and you can’t help but laugh.

With your presentation out of the way, you and the guys are all sitting in Heeseung and Jay’s living room for the first night of Spring break. You’ve just about reached your limit, cuddling into Heeseung’s side with your eyes closed, sleepily listening to the conversation. It’s unintelligible, more laughter and wheezes than anything else.

You shift your way into Heeseung’s lap after a while, moving around to get comfortable. It only takes two movements for him to grab you by the waist, holding you still. You try again, and his lips catch the shell of your ear. “Relax, baby. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you admit, moving around again until he sighs, relieved, you think. A wicked grin spreads over your lips when you feel him getting hard, grinding down on him a little and liking the warmth that spreads in your stomach from having him pressed against you.

“Stop it,” he whispers, kissing the spot behind your ear.

You heed the warning but can’t help the thoughts filling your mind, though you try to ignore them, laughing at something Sunghoon said about Jake’s ugly hat and shoes. Jake doesn’t find it as funny as the rest of you seem to.

Another hour passes by in the same way before the boys stumble into Jay’s room, calling out a slurred goodnight to you and Heeseung on the couch. You stand up first, holding out a hand for him to take and giggling when he presses a kiss to the back of it.

In his room, he stares at a spot on the wall as you close the door, a contemplative look on his face. “Are you okay?” you ask, but he doesn’t look at you, only nodding his head with a crease along his brow.

You kiss him, a featherlight touch of your lips against his. It’s soft for a while, sweet and sincere until he clutches your shirt like his life depends on it. Heeseung’s hands are all over you, stroking and squeezing every part of you he can reach. Overwhelming heat burns your skin under his touch. He inhales sharply through his nose when you reach for his waistband, tugging the drawstring free but he grabs your wrist, stopping you. He keeps kissing you, keeps trying and frowns when you pull away.

“You don’t want this?”

He tilts his head, looking down at you with concern flooding his wide eyes. “Do you think we’re going too fast?” His voice is quiet and he chews on his lip after speaking.

“We’ve been together for six years.”

“A month,” he corrects, looking at his feet.

As badly as you want him, you don’t want him doing anything he’s not ready for, so you wiggle your arm free from his grip, dropping it at your side. He lifts his head to look at you, brows knitted together, the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “I don’t want to rush you.”

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head with wide eyes. “I just don’t want us doing anything you’ll regret.”

“I’m not going to regret this, I don’t regret anything we’ve done, Heeseung,” you say, holding his face in your hands.

He closes his eyes, nodding.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Never,” he whispers and the word has you falling to your knees.

It’s hard to see his exact expression in only the dim glow of the streetlights outside, but you can clearly see the way he’s watching you. The way his eyes are lidded as he chews on his bottom lip, watching you reach for the buckle on his belt. Heeseung threads his fingers through your hair, groaning, and for a few seconds, you’re hypnotised. Too wrapped up in tipsiness and lust to move your fingers, completely focused on the way his breath starts to pick up before you’ve even done anything. You’re starting to think it might be enough for him just to see you like this, on your knees for him, wide-eyed and eager.

Whether on purpose or not, Heeseung tugs on your hair gently, pulling you from your trance. His blunt fingernails scratch at the back of your head as you undo his belt, tugging his jeans down. He steps out of them as soon as he can, smiling when you toss them behind you. Too worked up to wait, you push your face against him. You take a minute to hold his covered cock between your lips, shuddering at the feeling of the damp spot at the top of it. Heeseung grunts, bucking his hips. He looks like sin when you lock eyes with him, licking a strip to the top of his waistband, sucking and nipping at the skin and coarse hair there.

“Quit teasing,” he says, still keeping control of his voice.

You blink up at him sweetly, shaking your head. “I’m not,” you mumble, pulling his underwear down.

Heeseung’s dick smacks his stomach with a wet sound that makes you clench around nothing, and you sit back on your heels to admire him. Maybe it’s from time, or your unbearable desire, but he looks bigger, thicker, and much prettier than you remember. When you finally drag your eyes from his dick, you notice a mark on his hip, right above where his thigh starts. It’s a smudge of something dark, inky almost. You furrow your brows, licking the pad of your thumb to try and get rid of it. He practically flinches when you touch it, moving away from you. The increased distance between you and the low lighting only further obscures it—when you rub at the mark it doesn’t budge.

“What is this?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, sitting down on the bed and covering it with his hand.

If it was anyone other than Heeseung, you might have thought it was a tattoo, but you can’t make sense of the thought so it slips your mind as soon as it occurs. You reach for the lamp on his bedside table, flicking it on, losing your breath at the sight of his skin glowing golden in the light, and the tip of his cock is a tempting, glossy red. You can’t help but take him in your hand, stroking him slowly.

“Tell me, baby.”

“It’s a bruise,” he manages through a gasp, licking his lips.

Your thumb swipes over his slit and he crumbles. “Heeseung.”

“Butterfly, it’s a butterfly.”

A fuzzy warmth starts to bloom in your chest, overwhelming you. “Lay down,” you say, voice as soft as it’s ever been.

Heeseung obliges, linking his fingers with yours when you move his hand from his thigh. Under the light, you can see it clearly, dark strokes of ink forming a pretty butterfly, tiny, and heart-achingly familiar.

“Is it..” You trail off, moving your lips around words that you can’t get out as tears sting your eyes. “Did I draw this?” Leaning over him, you get as close as you can, using your finger to trace the shape.

Sitting up on his elbows, he looks down at you with a worried look on his face as he nods. “Do you hate it?”

“I love it.. it’s perfect.” You let go of his hand, using the back of your fingers to wipe at your eyes.

Heeseung sits up, letting his hand cup your cheek and looking at you. He uses his thumb to wipe some of the tears you missed before leaning down and kissing you. His lips move slowly with yours, he’s being gentle, so gentle that you hear your heart thudding in your ears.

“Come sit,” he mumbles against your mouth, helping you up and guiding you into his lap, a whine falling out of him when you sit on his cock and you mumble an apology that you don’t mean.

“When did.. Why did you..”

His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “My first birthday I spent without you. I just wanted to have something for you.”

You’ve seen it and you’ve heard it from him, but you still can’t make sense of it. “But you’re.. you’re Heeseung. You’d never get a tattoo, you told me that.”

“I’ll probably never get another tattoo, it hurt like hell,” he says, frowning.

“You’re such a sweetheart.” You cradle his face in your hands, gazing into his eyes, your sweet Heeseung. So different yet so incredibly similar. “You’re, like, obsessed with me.”

There’s a loud adoration in his eyes that makes your stomach turn. “How could I not be?” His smile is wide even though his lips are smushed a little by the way you’re holding his face.

Heeseung tilts his chin towards you so you kiss him, the two of you passing moans and whines between your mouths as you grind on him, his hands gripping your waist under your shirt. He shudders under you, rutting his hips against yours with a groan. He’s harder than ever underneath you, his cock hot between your thighs, pressed up against your core in the most maddening way. It can’t be comfortable for him, the friction from your underwear but he seems like he’s enjoying it just as much as you, maybe more, you think, when he starts throbbing.

Conscious of the boys across the hall, you try your best to be quiet, though Heeseung doesn’t share your concern, his lips parting too wide to keep kissing you and his head falling back as he lets a whine out into the air. His nails dig into your skin, hips speeding up more than you can keep up with as he trembles, clearly so close to the edge that you moan at the sight of him all fucked out in front of you. You chew on your lip, watching his whole face scrunch up before falling to your shoulder, his cum leaking out all over your panties and the tops of your thighs. A grin covers your lips while your pussy aches from the heat of his release and the feeling of his staggered breath hitting your skin. When he finally sits up, sweat slicks the column of his neck and chest, a nervous look in his eyes that he can’t quite bring to meet yours.

“This is j—” Heeseung cuts you off by covering your mouth with his palm.

“I remember. You don’t have to say it, baby, I remember.”

“You were so cute that day,” you say when he moves his hand. Butterflies fill your stomach when you think about it, the first time you ever did anything with each other, with anyone. He was fifteen, with cute round glasses perched on the end of his nose and teeth too big for his mouth, finishing in his jeans with you in his lap.

“You don’t think I’m cute anymore?” he asks, frowning.

“You’re always cute.”

Heeseung grins at your words, so wide and sweet your heart races. He kisses you gently and slips his hand into your underwear, his finger trailing the length of your pussy slowly, groaning into your mouth at how wet you are. You whine into the kiss when he strokes your clit and gasp when he pushes a finger into you easily. Gradually, he adds more fingers, fucking you open on his knuckles and watching as you fall apart.

His lips move from yours, falling to your neck so he can kiss and suck the sensitive skin there. “You feel so good, baby. My sweet girl,” he mumbles, breath searing your skin. The words make you clench, your stomach fluttering relentlessly as he uses his thumb to press on your clit, the pressure enough to make you spiral. It’s all too much too fast and before long, you’re squirming and mewling in Heeseung’s arms, finishing all over his fingers.

Immediately, an excruciating flush burns every inch of your body as you hide your face in his neck to catch your breath. His arms wrap around you and he whispers sweet nothings into your hair while stroking your back.

Ever since that night in his room, all your senses feel heightened when Heeseung is around.

And it doesn’t help that you spend every waking moment with him. Whether in his flat or yours, you’re joined at the hip and it’s near impossible not to pounce on him. In your stomach blooms a heat you haven’t felt in years. An all-consuming flame that makes you hold your breath when he cuddles you; makes you look away when he strips before showering.

He’s taken a liking to shirtlessness, only seeming to remember that the garments exist when he has to leave the house—which isn’t often now that classes have ended. This sudden cotton allergy plagues you, burning the image of his ever-increasing muscle definition and the tattoo on his hip into your memory, so deeply they’re the only things you see when you close your eyes at night.

Even when Heeseung’s being romantic, cooking dinner for the two of you and almost burning his finger with a match while lighting a candle, you’re thinking about him fucking you. When he goes out with the boys and stumbles into your flat, drunk, with a crushed bouquet in his hands, you’re thinking about what might have happened if you’d gone out too. If he’d finger you in the back of a taxi or take you against the door when you got back.

Weeks go by like this until you finally reach your limit.

There’s nothing overtly sexual about the way Heeseung’s sitting. About the way his lashes kiss his cheeks when he blinks, or the way his hair sits in a sleepy mess on his forehead. But it’s Heeseung. So these things existing on him drive you crazy.

Given the lack of privacy in your family homes — by way of an open-door rule when visiting each other — you and Heeseung didn’t have many opportunities to have sex that didn’t involve being tangled around one another in the backseat of his car. And even those occasions were few and far between.

With the only three brain cells that seem to function around your shirtless boyfriend and your head on the doorjamb, you begin to scheme. It doesn’t have to be elaborate—just a way to get Heeseung to fuck you without you having to bring it up.

“What’s up, baby?” he asks, finally looking over at you. His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, with a raspiness to it that makes your thoughts run wild. From head to toe, his eyes drag over your body, his tongue coming out to run over his lips.

Clearly, a very delicate, well-timed conversation is in order and the gears in your mind scrape against each other, turning egregiously as you try to figure out how to start the conversation. “I want you to fuck me,” you blurt out. Not the most delicate approach, but the way Heeseung’s eyes widen suggests you might be on the right track. “I didn’t mean to say that,” you admit sheepishly.

He chuckles deeply in a way you haven’t heard in years. “So you don’t want me to fuck you?” There’s a challenge in his question, evident from his raised brow, the setting aside of his phone, and the way he sits up straight. The movement forces the duvet to slip a little, falling from above his belly button to his hips in one fell — effortlessly sexy — swoop.

In spite of this, you can’t help but roll your eyes at him. How could you be standing there, in nothing but his t-shirt, asking him to fuck you and he’s caught up on semantics? “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“What are you saying?” When you don’t say anything, Heeseung lifts the duvet from his body entirely, grinning when your gaze locks on his hips. His pyjama pants are sitting low enough to show off the waistband of his underwear, and they don’t do anything to hide the way his hard cock pushes against them.

Heeseung towers over you, overwhelming you and the space of the doorframe as his mouth quirks up at one corner. “You want it, baby?” he asks, his voice soft as he cups your face in his hand, using his thumb to trace your lips.

His face dips down to yours and you can’t resist reaching up to kiss him, whining at the contact as you move your lips in sync with his. The sounds he’s making are dizzying, deep groans you feel in your chest. His hand grips your waist, pulling you as close as possible so you can feel him, hard and thick, pressing against you.

You whimper when he pulls away, chasing his kiss, but Heeseung only chuckles. “Say the word and I’m yours,” he whispers, looking down at you with those big eyes.

“I’m not going to beg.”

He smiles sweetly, a soft curve of his lips summoning butterflies. “Suit yourself,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the base of your neck and leaving the room.

Flustered, you follow him, flinging your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his back. “Okay, I’m going to beg.”

“I’m listening.”

“I need you,” you mumble into his skin.

“You have me.”

Even though his words and the way his lips audibly split into a grin make your heart race, you can’t help your frustration. “Heeseung,” you say, pleading with him.

He frees himself from your grip, turning around. When you look up at him, he’s watching you closely through lidded eyes, his lips parted in a soft pout that makes your heart melt. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close enough to feel him pressing against you. “I’m all yours, baby. What’s up?”

“Why are you torturing me?”

This makes him smile as he shakes his head. “I’m not.”

“Please.”

He brings a hand up to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek and you can’t help but nuzzle into his palm. “Please what?”

“You know what I need and I can’t go any longer without it,” you mumble into his hand. Heeseung only raises a brow and you sigh. Somehow, your want for him is greater than your embarrassment so you sigh, looking him in the eye. “If you want to, please, please, fuck me, Heeseung. Any way you want, baby, just promise me you’ll do it. I need it, need you.”

A shit-eating grin takes over his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Was that so hard?” he asks, frowning when you don’t reply. “Don’t get all moody, baby, talk to me.”

Heeseung picks you up, holding you close as you wrap your legs around his waist. Both of his hands are spread over your ass and you’re too embarrassed to say anything, chewing your lip and staring at the little mole on his forehead.

“Need me to fuck you ‘til you can talk again?” There’s a roughness to his voice that makes your cheeks flush, but you can’t help but laugh, head falling back in a fit of cackles.

“What are you talking about?”

His pretty lips come together in a pout before he speaks. “I don’t know.” He shrugs, the tips of his ears burning red as he carries you to his room, using his foot to close the door behind him. “I’m rusty.”

You shake your head before kissing his forehead. “You’re perfect.”

Heeseung sets you down on the bed gently, crawling over you. “I like seeing you in my shirts,” he says, clutching the fabric in his fists, tugging a little.

“Someone has to wear them.”

A breathy laugh falls from his lips. “What?” He tilts his head, leaning away from you to sit back on his heels. “You don’t like seeing me like this?”

It’s hard to find a balance between missing his warmth and looking at his body. Staring at the definition that marks his chest and stomach and the way his muscles stick out over his biceps, you can feel yourself leaking at the sight of him. Your eyes catch on his waistband, on the strip of hair that’s cut off by the start of the fabric before falling to the bulge in his pants.

“You’re looking at me like I’m your next meal,” he mumbles, leaning back over you with a deep flush on his cheeks and neck.

“I think I want you to be.”

“You think?”

You nod eagerly, anticipation swirling in your stomach.

“Anything I can do to make you certain?” Heeseung’s voice is thick with something you think could be enough to make you finish.

“Whatever you want,” you say, desperate.

He chews on his lip, considering you for a while before kissing your cheek. Once more, he sits up, tugging at your waist. “First, I want this shirt out of my way,” he says with a smile.

Immediately, you lean off the bed to let him take it off, tossing it behind him. “Anything else?”

Heeseung’s too busy staring to speak, taking you in hungrily with a jarring combination of lust and adoration behind his eyes. You thought you’d feel shy about him seeing you after so long, but you’ve never felt more comfortable in your life as he reaches down to lock his fingers with yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “You’re so pretty,” he says against your skin.

There’s no stopping the flutter in your stomach or the smile that spreads over your lips. You tell him you love him and he says it back as he leans back down to kiss you slowly, his tongue licking into your mouth at an agonising pace, a line of saliva connecting you to him when he pulls away.

“I want to get my head between your legs,” he mumbles, letting his hand dip between your spread thighs. “So wet already?” he asks, dragging your slick up to your clit, rubbing it with a featherlight touch that leaves a whine slipping from your lips. “Will you let me?”

You nod.

Heeseung smiles and you match it before he dips his head into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin there for a minute. His breath and wet mouth are hot, burning a trail down to your collarbone and chest, where he gets distracted, pulling one of your nipples between his lips.

Your stomach twists at the sight of him, his pretty, pouty lips sucking and biting at your sensitive skin, the way he’s moaning against you, using his thick fingers to tug and pinch your other breast. It takes him a while to move on but you don’t complain, even when he presses tickly kisses to your stomach.

When he reaches your legs, he gets off the bed, kneels on the floor and hooks his arms around your thighs to pull you towards him. You feel exposed when he uses his thumbs to spread you, staring at your pussy with wide eyes, his lips parted a little until his head falls back with a groan.

“Missed this pussy. Been thinking about it so much, all the time. So beautiful, baby.” He manages to drag his gaze from between your legs to lock eyes with you. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” His lips touch your thighs, kissing the soft skin there, sucking marks into it and biting softly. The sting is subtle but it makes you clench, a movement that isn’t lost on him. “You’re so needy, huh? You want me that bad?” he asks, looking up with a tilted head.

You mumble the word ‘no’ and shake your head. “Need you.” The words come out of their own accord, nothing more than a desperate whine that makes Heeseung press his eyes shut. You watch as he shifts on the floor, leaning in and giving you the attention you deserve.

Heeseung’s nose grazes your slit and you gasp at the sudden contact, flinging your head back into the pillows when he licks a strip from there to your clit, giving it a quick peck.

You card your fingers through his hair, gripping at the strands so hard it must hurt, but he doesn’t seem to mind, going slow despite the way you’re trying to rut against his face. He kisses the spot above your clit, his tongue poking out to lick at the skin there, only hitting the bud a few times and the anticipation is enough to make you spiral.

Time stands still, all concept of it demolished when, finally, he wraps his lips around your swollen clit, running his tongue over it with a pressure that leaves you shaking against the sheets. Moans pour out of you like water from a faucet with nothing but pleasure and Heeseung’s sweet mouth crossing your mind.

It doesn’t seem like he’s ever going to stop, only coming up for air for a brief moment before sticking a finger into you and attaching his mouth to your clit, burying himself in your wetness. The stretch is minimal, barely registering in the waves of pleasure crashing over you, until he adds a second finger, thick and rigid as he works you open for him. By the time his third finger enters, you have to pull him away by his hair, struggling to find the words to say and settling on a whiny cry of his name.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you, face covered in slick that shines on his chin and nose, shoulders rising and falling heavily, but his fingers don’t let up, curling towards your belly button torturously slow.

“Want to cum with you inside.”

Heeseung’s eyes darken and he licks his lips. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, and I don’t want you using a condom either, want you to fill me up.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod. “I’m still on the pill and you’re the only person I’ve ever been with.”

Heeseung wastes no time standing up from the floor, watching hungrily as you sigh at the emptiness, moving up on the bed. He uses his fist to pump his cock slowly, sighing when he drags his thumb over his tip. A beat passes before he grins, boyish and handsome while crawling over you again. His face softens and his eyes burn into yours as he cups your cheek in his palm. “You sure about this?”

“I’m sure, Heeseung, you’re all I want,” you whisper, pecking his lips.

“Me too.”

He uses his free hand to reach for his cock, rubbing his tip over your clit and chewing on his lip. He lets his cock split your folds, grinding his length against you, rubbing your cunt with a wet sound that fills the room. Heeseung straightens up and you moan when he spits into his palm, stroking himself before pressing the head of his cock to your entrance. You hold your breath, bracing for the stretch and crying out when he pushes in. His head falls forward with a sigh, his hair tickling your forehead.

“I missed you,” he groans when he bottoms out, his thumb running over your lips. A moan slips out of him when you open your mouth, running your thumb over the pad of his finger and sucking on it. “Missed these pretty lips, this pussy. Don’t know how I got on without it.” His words and the feeling of him inside after so long only make you dizzy, knowing that he wanted you like you wanted him. He watches you with parted lips, rocking his hips tenderly against yours.

“Faster, Hee,” you whisper. “Harder.”

Heeseung’s brows knit together and he slows to a pace that lets you feel single vein and inch of him as he bottoms out before pulling almost all the way out. “Can you take it?” he asks, a jarring tone to his voice that you think is a challenge.

You nod desperately. “Please.”

The word flips a switch for him and he speeds up, thrusting so hard, so deep that your back arches off the bed as his tip nudges your g-spot each time. Just when it all starts to feel too much, Heeseung lifts one of your legs, hitting deeper than he has before and tangling up a knot in your stomach.

“You’re so good, baby, so good for me.” His eyes are dark and lidded, full of all the love in the world as he gazes into yours, a tangible love that overwhelms you, eating you alive along with his praise.

Sweltering heat stretches through every part of your body at the drag of him inside, the push and pull of his cock along your stuttering walls. It’s enough to make you shiver and a cry of his name rips out of you when he starts rubbing your clit again, pushing the bud in slow circles that make you screw your eyes shut.

“That’s it. Cum for me, baby, make a mess,” he whispers and that’s as much as you can take.

Stars flash behind your closed eyes as every single part of your body sets alight, dazed by Heeseung’s whines and the feeling of being full, finally being full, until both ends of the knot tug and tug, leaving you with nothing but a hoarse moan that dies in your throat as your orgasm hits you like a truck.

A lewd squelch accompanies each of his thrusts as they get sloppier and sloppier, losing their rhythm and intensity. It seems like he’s right there with you though when he collapses on top of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck and his moans slipping out like music to your ears.

It’s hard not to fall apart under him, but you try your best, dragging your nails over the toned muscles of his back while telling him you love him over and over until he finishes. Both of you are trembling, fighting for breath and whining as Heeseung sloppily fucks you full of his cum. The sound is downright pornographic, loud and wet as your cum mixes with his for the first time in so long. An inexplicable intimacy so thick it hangs in the air, perching on your shoulders as he looks into your eyes.

Heeseung slows down after a while, stopping completely but not pulling out yet, keeping you full and aching around him. When he catches his breath, he gives you a dreamy smile, thanking you before pressing soft kisses to every part of your face he can reach.

You whine when he pulls out, missing him as soon as he’s gone. Despite your sensitivity, you want to beg him to come back, to slip back into you and stay forever, though Heeseung has other plans. He sits between your legs, dragging a lazy finger up your slit and watching with a smile as cum leaks out. You squirm against the sheets, pushing your head into the pillow when he uses two fingers to push it back in.

“Wish I could keep you full like this forever,” he mumbles absently, curling his fingers.

All you can do is sigh happily. Long minutes go by until he takes his fingers out of you, reaching behind him for his shirt to wipe you up before leaning down to your face, mumbling against your lips to come and shower with him.

You’ve never showered with Heeseung before and a voice in your head tells you to press your cheek against the tile and let him have you again, but you’re way too sleepy for that. The warmth of the water and his big hands roaming your body do nothing to help, only forcing your eyes to fall shut as you lean back against Heeseung’s chest, willing yourself to stay awake.

Once you’re all showered and clean, you only feel sleepier, standing on the plush bath mat in front of the steamed-up mirror. Droplets of water trickle down your skin and you can’t help but revel in the warmth of the room around you. Wrapped snugly in a soft, fluffy towel, you find yourself too tired to follow Heeseung out, slathering some of the expensive moisturiser Jay keeps in the bathroom over your skin. You peer into the mirror, though you don’t see much, and for a moment, it’s just you and the steady trickle of water from the showerhead. The bathroom smells like Heeseung’s minty shower gel and you miss him already, but you take your time anyway, savouring the moment and everything that came before it.

You find him in his room when you’re done, tucking the last corner of a fitted sheet around his mattress.

“You want to nap, baby?” he asks when he sees you, holding out a clean shirt for you to wear.

“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head and dropping the towel so he can put the shirt over your head.

“Let me just fix the pillowcases, yeah?”

You nod, slumping into his desk chair and watching the muscles in his back shift and flex as he moves around the room, dumping the dirty bedding into his laundry basket and slipping the clean linen over his pillows. He pulls the duvet back and pats the mattress, grinning when you shake your head and make grabby hands in his direction,

Heeseung stretches his arms above his head and comes over to you but you stop him before he can pick you up.

“I’m going grocery shopping with Yunjin later and I need a pound for the trolley, do you have any?” you ask through a yawn.

He scratches his chin, thinking about it. “If I do, they’re in my wallet,” he says, reaching for it on the desk and handing it to you before taking a seat on the end of his bed.

When you pull on the zipper to open the coin slot, you find a shiny pound coin and a folded piece of lined paper. You leave the coin where it is and hold the paper between two fingers for him to see. “What’s this?”

Immediately, he hides his face with his hands but you can still see the flush on his ears. You’re not sure what reaction you were expecting, but despite your curiosity, you won’t look at it if he doesn’t want you to. “Sorry, baby,” you say, putting it back. “Forget I asked.”

Heeseung sighs, looking up at you through the gaps in his fingers. “You can look if you want, it’s nothing bad, just mildly humiliating.”

Nervous anticipation settles over your body and you can’t help but laugh a little, feeling your breath catch in your throat when you unfold the crumpled and creased paper. It’s blank. You arch a curious brow at Heeseung, who, though still slightly embarrassed, gestures for you to turn it over.

What meets your eyes on the other side leaves you stunned. There, inked in blue with delicate care yet bearing the natural imperfections of a hand-drawn butterfly, was a familiar image. It’s the very same butterfly you drew in your notebook on a spring date with him four years ago. Your fingers tremble as you trace the lines, your heart racing as you remember how he’d torn it from the page, eyes full of appreciation for the simple drawing.

Tears well up in your eyes when it dawns on you. It’s the very same butterfly he has tattooed on his hip, a permanent reminder of your love that endured separation and time.

Your voice is weak as you look up at him, quivering with emotion. “You kept it after all these years,” you whisper.

Heeseung smiles, his eyes full of love. “I never let go of what matters to me.”

permanent taglist: @asahicore

#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen scenarios #heeseung scenarios #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #heeseung oneshots #heeseung imagines #enhypen hard hours #fic.heeseung

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destructive-path · 5 months

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could you imagine ellie in heat fucking you god knows how many times in one day…

(18+) MDNI smut

- your day would start being woken up by ellie shaking next to you in bed, whimpering, drenched in sweat curled up in fetal position bc everything aches so much she can barely move:((( she needs to release so bad and she hasn’t even opened her eyes yet.

- “ellie? baby?” you shake her awake and as soon as her eyes meet yours shes pulling you into her body, grasp is so tight and she squeezes you so hard that you can tell she couldn’t function if you weren’t touching her at all times during her heat.

-as soon as she gets a whiff of you this close her ache doubles and her pussy practically starts gushing. “b-babyy” she whines “please…” its pathetic, if her face wasn’t buried so deep in your chest you could swear she was crying.

- ellie is burning up, the covers had been discarded but both of your clothes stick to your increasingly sweaty bodies. “ellie you need to take these off honey.” her response is a open mouth moan as you drag her panties down her slick porcelain thighs, theres a pretty pink hue radiating off them making you hum at the sight.

- once you both remove your clothes ellie cant stay still any longer, she can practically smell your cunt once you are shed of your underwear and it ignites something in her, she needed you. to taste you, needed your pussy on hers, she needed to consume you whole in hopes you could aid her painfully erotic symptoms. ellie takes it upon herself to flip you flat on the bed, smoothing her hands down your body landing on either side of your inner thighs, pushing them apart not too fast and not too slow, enough for her to savor the sight of you.

- the moment she sees your pussy it overwhelms her, the sight sucking out all strength from her for a moment, causing her head to fall against your chest, biting her lip as she takes one hand inbetween your legs and uses her 3 longest digits to swipe up against your sticky folds. “ffff-uuuuckK.” she stutters out in awe of your slick forming a connecting string to her finger tips.

- its not long until ellie is straddling you, humping your cunt at an agonizing pace. its fast, wet, sloppy and horribly sensitive. you cant remember how many times you have cum, but it doesnt matter. ellie is so lost in pleasure during this moment you cant look away. you know its because of her heat but you had never seen anyone fucked out. so dazed.

- “it fucking hurts baby…cant get enough of your pussy…feels so….perfect….” she babbles sweet nothings the whole day. normally a touch of degradation would leave her during acts so sensual as this but not today, today praise is all that leaves her lips while she fucks you senseless, using your body as a mere tool. “…..so beautiful letting me fuck you all day…”

- ellie in heat is a mouth watering sight. you cant help but admire her above you. her entire body blushes red. her perky tits bounce with each roll of her hips, “ah…ah…ah..” you both moan in sync wrapped up in the feeling of one another. you ogle at how sharp her jaw is as she leans her head back in pleasure, hair falling effortlessly and sticking to her face due to the sweat.

- ellie in heat cant not give you hickies. marking what is hers is something that relieves her knot deliciously. she craves the taste of your skin,sucking purple marks anywhere she can teasing you with the occasional bite of your skin. “oh god ellie…..”

- ellie in heat who loves kissing you sloppy. pecks considered trivial, she searches for something more wet. she places her lips parallel to yours and rubs your puffy pink lips against hers circling your bottom lips in a slippery dance. her tongue explores every part of your mouth with intention, it feels so calculated and careful you cant help but shiver. ellie swears she has never tasted anything so sweet.

- for most of the day ellie finds it hard to look directly in your eye. too dazed and drunk on you while chasing relief she struggles to keep focus on anything for too long. she flips and fucks you every which way before she finally comes to her breaking point. only then can she zero in on your eyes, determined to finally release to the point of comfortability. its only in your eyes does she find that sweet sweet euphoria. “baby.” she ruts into you at the sight of your eyes on hers, climax building. ellie moves her hips faster the closer she is to release.“baby……baby…. baby…babybabybaby-“

- when ellie comes its extremely vocal. but theres not a coherent sentence that leaves her lips. Heavy breathing, grunts,growls,whines, whimpers,moans, screams. at her peak it’s all guttural and her hands are all over you. her naked drenched body falls atop of yours and her face finds a home in the crook of your neck. the only clear word that leaves her lips is your name, over and over as she creams white on your sensitive and swollen pussy.

<3 idk what came over me…….

#ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams oneshot #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fic #ellie x masc reader #ellie smut

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celestie0 · 3 months

Text

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere.

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him.

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.”

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already.

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it.

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead.

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk.

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?”

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says.

You glance at the time. 11:56am.

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.”

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.”

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest.

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.”

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings.

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you.

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them.

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed.

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately.

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible.

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before.

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks.

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks.

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.”

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase.

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby.

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you.

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you.

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded.

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you.

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.”

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself.

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long.

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing.

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before.

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.”

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door.

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously.

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm.

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?”

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?”

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest.

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands?

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious.

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him.

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how.

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it.

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters.

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly.

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.”

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been.

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly.

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too.

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you.

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.”

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly.

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck.

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area.

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.”

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?”

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says.

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.”

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.”

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him.

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back.

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear.

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake.

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though. by the way! i'm starting a choso x reader zombie au series, if you'd like to read more about it and/or be added to the taglist, you can reply to this post here also if you want to be added to taglist in general, i'd recommend making sure your tags are on!! since i've noticed a lot of people have them off

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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gatheringbones · 1 year

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[“The barbers, on the other hand, were kind. They were prisoners, too, though they’d been trained as cosmetologists for their prison work. They could see my pain. They could feel my body tense, sense how anxious the whole thing made me. I’d freak out every time and start telling the barber that I didn’t want to do this, I couldn’t bear it again. They went slow, talking me through it very carefully. “I know,” they’d say gently. There was no judgment.

They’d get me talking about something else, anything else. Sometimes, they’d wash my hair, to make it feel more like a beauty appointment than a ritual shearing. And each of the barbers made sure, very carefully, that he left my hair at two inches every time—the longest length allowed. One barber asked if he could shape my eyebrows; he said he wanted the practice. And so from then on, he’d thread my brows into a feminine shape, a small thing that made me feel more like the person I knew I was. It touched me deeply.

I wasn’t the only trans person in our housing unit. In late 2013, the dining facility was closed for renovation, and we ate in the gym. Everything was temporarily socially scrambled, our usual table arrangements thrown into chaos. There was a break from territoriality, the usual de facto segregation. A person from the Latinx group sat down next to me and began to talk quietly about my transness. “I feel the same way,” they said. “I have these feelings, and I never got a chance to deal with them.” Not long after, they were transferred to a medium-security facility in Texas. (Texas was a jurisdiction where prisoners couldn’t legally change their names, which meant that a trans person couldn’t do what I’d done in Kansas.)

Most of the prisoners now called me by feminine pronouns and used my last name or called me Chelsea. Even the transphobes at least largely respected me. But there was one guy—white, blond hair, glasses, lanky—who’d been convicted for murdering civilians. He came into the dining facility one day not long after he’d arrived and began needling me about my gender. If this guy thought he was doing something original that was going to cause some kind of fresh pain, he was extremely incorrect. Being an out trans person had quickly thickened my skin. I was surrounded by people who say the meanest possible things to you, so you learn to be twice as hard, and twice as ready to rip someone apart. I went straight back at him. Look at you, you skinny-ass glasses-wearing little general. I wonder how many pencils you’ve broken today. He was momentarily stunned. Everyone else reacted. Oh, I hope you got a sterile dressing for that burn. He was mortified. He had been taken down by a trans girl, and nobody let him forget it.

The other inmates were supportive of my pursuit of gender reassignment, not necessarily because they believed deeply in trans rights, but because compelling the government to allow me to take hormones was fighting back against the prison. A victory for me would be a victory for all prisoners.”]

chelsea manning, from readme.txt

#chelsea manning #trans literature #currently reading

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oopsdevil · 6 months

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COD + Tropes

which trope do they fall into when it comes to you.

SIMON GHOST RILEY + FWB TO LOVERS

i have said it before but simon really struggles when it comes to relationships.

he insisted that this was a casual thing but soon realized that's not true. from the way his heart beats faster when you rarely cuddle, to his trouble sleeping wondering if maybe you were with some other bloke. his insecurities got the best of him and he would end up saying something mean out of jealousy. when he saw you took offense to it he decided in four seconds that he was not gonna lose you. he confessed his feelings (in a sentence or two) and since then he has no problem with everyone knowing you are his.

KYLE GAZ GARRICK + THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

kyle was always a romantic. outspoken, proud romantic. you guys probably met in high school and just fell in love. you both knew you were it for each other but everyone kept insisting it was just a first love kind of thing. it was not.

circumstances brought kyle into the army and leaving you was the hardest of it all. you both also decided staying together was just gonna be painful so you broke up.

a couple years later kyle came home and got his life together as an adult. after seeing the reality of bills, rent, taxes and just life, he realized maybe he doesn't wanna do it at all without you. a call and a few tears is all it took for admitting you are still each others soulmates.

JOHN SOAP MACTAVISH + FAKE DATING

look at me in the eyes and tell me this is not HIS trope. it was simply meant to be. maybe he saw you in a bar and some guy was being too insisting for his liking, maybe johnny got sick of his family asking about a future wedding or maybe gaz told you guys you couldn't pull it off and you took the bet. doesn't matter, but it happened.

after months of intense eye contact across the room, flushed faces when realizing you were holding hands but there was no one around and holding you by your hips for group pictures, johnny felt his stomach turn when you mentioned something about going on a date with some other soldier for real.

next thing you knew he was kissing you against a bathroom door. really kissing you, not like those pecks for the public that always left you wanting more. in breathless sentences you both decided to be together like you always wanted (probably in a quick to be continued kinda way so you could keep kissing)

KÖNIG + SLOW BURN

it took him years. years.

from the moment he saw you in base he was thankful his hood could hide his red face when he developed a crush in about 15 seconds. he was also very surprised when you just talked to him.

könig kept you as a friend for years and himself busy with missions, it wasn't until you were thinking about transferring when he decided you wouldn't do it. you can't just go, right?

the only condition to staying was a very long conversation with him, where you admitted being in love with him for the longest time, and thinking maybe he felt the same way. but after that many years you needed to have him now, or just try to move on.

i don't think könig ever felt that relived. he mumbled something in german, suddenly ripping his hood off and kinda tackled you to the bed in a hug. you laughed and decided yeah, this is gonna work.

JOHN PRICE + FORCED PROXIMITY/ SECRET RELATIONSHIP

having a new secretary in his office was the last thing john needed.

he was sure it was about the fact that it was someone new in his personal space, someone who knew nothing about his routine.

it obviously had nothing to do with the fact that he looked at you longer than he looked at papers. or about your accent being so distracting to him that you had to say most things twice.

being trapped in an elevator with him was the last thing you needed.

again, its about the fact that you have so many things to do for your impatient boss (not about his cologne being intoxicating and his shoulders looking a little too big right now)

neither of you knew how it happened, but it did. and you were sure he pressed you against every inch of the elevators walls while kissing you like a mad man.

the truth is everyone else on the team knew the reason why you drove each other crazy, and john was more than grateful when the person who opened the elevator doors and saw the state of you was simon.

after fixing your clothes and an awkward apologize to simon, you talked about it.

having a secret relationship with him didn't last long, this man likes to move fast. but after the elevator incident, you were more than okay with that.

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ghost-bxrd · 2 months

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Just an idea:

As a result of the lazarus pit jason is now immortal he doesn't ageand he cant die, realizing this he fakes his own death. Would love to hear your take on this idea

Ah alright so I can’t go full sad because I’m very much incapable of writing angst where one person has to watch all their loved ones age and die, but I can do an element where… none of them age. But Jason thinks he’s the only one thanks to the pit (his immortality still works different).

So… he fakes his death.

And it’s good. He goes the whole nine yards. Fake body, DNA samples, footage of himself frantically trying to escape yet another warehouse rigged to blow, the panicked call to the rest of the Bats to “Please, please, not again please, get me out of— please, i don’t want to burn again-“ that has everyone in a mad scramble trying to save him him…

But they arrive “too late”. Again. (Jason’s last hurrah at Bruce for the shit he pulled since his return).

And then Jason Todd is… dead.

He watches them from the shadows. Sometimes from continents away (but he can’t escape Gotham. Something pulls him back time and time again, no less than once a year.)

And at first.. it hurts. It hurts watching his family grieve him. But it’s better this way. He can’t stay and watch them age out and die. It would destroy him. But this way— this way he can focus solely on keeping them alive. To give them the longest life possible in their line of work. No more dead Robins. (No dead Batman.)

It hurts, but he makes it work. Watches years pass in which Tim grows up first. Then Damian. And then… it just stops?

After a decade Bruce still only has that faint shimmer of silver to his hair, movements neither slowing nor becoming sloppy with age.

Dick still survives on an unholy cocktail of sugar topped with more sugar, in peak physical condition despite it all.

And finally— finally Jason catches on that something might not be quite right here.

(And they still mourn him. Acutely aware of the loss of one of their own. Of the empty space at the dinner table. Of the silence down the comm line they still keep open religiously. Just in case. Just in case….)

#hey you know what would be fun #if Jason’s undercover persona was the Arkham knight #and suddenly there’s this new player on the board #with all the dramatics of Jason #and the batfam desperately tries not to #but man do they HOPE #Jason: it’s not me #Jason:… I mean it’s not HIM #jason todd #batfamily #dick grayson #batfam #robin #bruce wayne #tim drake #red hood #batman

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janaispunk · 2 months

Text

sun is going down

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, blood, guns, i think that’s it?

a/n: i’m ridiculously nervous about sharing this story, it has been on my mind for over a year and i’ve been too intimidated to start working on it for the longest time. i really hope that someone likes it haha

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The alarm goes off in the middle of the night. You shoot up, your body on high alert, your heart beating rapidly, before your mind is even fully awake.

Probably just a false one, you try telling yourself as you make your way to the office. You’ve never had a false alarm, but– one can hope, right?

The place is plunged into darkness, no windows for any moonlight to seep through. You turn on the camera feed, squinting at the grainy screen. There’s movement in the living room, two people, from what you can make out. Not infected, judging from the way they’re moving, but one of them seems to be injured. Please don’t be raiders. There isn’t much to loot in the house, but the anxiety is already settling in your chest, threatening to crawl up your throat.

You turn on the sound and a panicked girl’s voice rings through the room as if you were standing right next to her.

“Fuck, Joel, wake up. Joel, please–”

It’s eerily similar to words that you’ve said once, the memory still fresh, even now. You wonder if your voice was as thick with tears then as that girl’s is right now.

Not again. Not in this house, not while you’re watching, unable to do anything. Not again.

You still hear it, the echo in your mind clear as ever. Keep them safe. Promise me. The promise you failed to keep.

Unblinking, you stare at the screen, your mind running a mile a minute. This could be a trap. They could have been watching, could have somehow figured you out. Or, the tiny voice in the back of your head insists, or they really need help.

The girl is pleading for the man to hold on, to not fall asleep. The desperation in her tone is tearing at you, urging you into action. Fuck it, you have to do something.

You grab your gun from the wall and slowly make your way up the stairs, ignoring the anxious trembling in your hands. Maybe this is how you die.

Leaning your back against the wall, you take a deep breath, a fruitless attempt to calm yourself, and switch on the lamp outside. You can’t hear them anymore, but knowing that the living room is now bathed in light, you’re certain that they’re on high alert now. Shit shit shit. You steel yourself, undo the complicated lock and push the heavy door open.

Please don’t let it be a trap.

They’re both staring at you, a young girl standing in front of a man, lying on the ground, taking panting breaths. She’s pointing a gun straight at you, as if she’s trying to shield his larger body with hers. The weapon looks much too big in her hands.

The memory of a similar image tugs at the back of your mind, but you shove it away. Stay in the present, stay right here.

You clear your throat, raising your hands slightly. You don’t remember the last time you spoke to another living person. Your voice cracks.

“I– I don’t mean you any harm. I live here, I saw you on– on the cameras.”

The girl furrows her brow, her eyes flitting across the room.

“They’re hidden, you won’t– Listen, I just want to help, I promise.”

The sound of your voice wavers, almost unfamiliar to your own ears. The girl lowers her gun a fraction, but the distrust is written all over her face. You can’t blame her. You clear your throat again, willing your hands to stop shaking.

“Your dad, is he– has he been bitten?” Please say no, please say no, please say no.

She shakes her head quickly. An expression that you can’t place flies over her features. Thank god.

“He’s not my– no. He got– he got stabbed.”

You can tell that she tries to sound strong, brave, but you recognize the panic in her eyes. You see it often enough when you look into the mirror.

You take another steadying breath. You can do this.

“Okay. I can help with that, if– if you want. I have medicine, bandages…”

Hope flashes over her face, mixed with the obvious conflict of not trusting you.

“You can come downstairs, it’s safer there. I– I should turn the lights back off.”

You’re painfully aware of how bright the house must shine through the darkness, from how far away it’s probably visible right now. Your nerves are fluttering anxiously.

“I don’t mean to hurt you, I swear. Just– let me help you.”

She swallows, hard, and fixes you with a stare.

“It’s just you down there?”

You nod in silent confirmation, not trusting your voice on this. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to admit it to anyone but yourself.

The girl sighs, her head turning between you and the man behind her a few times, surely seeking guidance from him, but his eyes are halfway shut, his lips trembling. Your gaze falls on the dark red stain on his shirt.

Don’t look, don’t think- Just focus on this, right now, right here.

You tell her your name, promise again that it’s safe. Finally, she nods timidly.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You nod back at her, give her a small smile that she doesn’t return. “I’ll come closer now, we’ll carry him, alright?”

The girl looks at the man again. Her body tenses when you near them, but together you manage to get him back on his feet and half walk, half carry him. You push the door open wider and heave him down the stairs.

In the back of your mind, you take note of the sound of multiple feet walking down the steps, and how long it’s been since… No. Stay in the present.

You prop him up on the couch, where the girl keeps hovering by his side while you rush up again to close and lock the door and turn off the lights. Next, you throw open the bathroom cabinet, gathering all the material that you might need.

You return and crouch down beside him, lying your things out on the table, and take a closer look, your fingers halting over him. He’s watching you through lidded eyes, a sheen of sweat on his pale face.

“What’s his name?” you ask, looking up at the girl.

“Joel,” she answers reluctantly. “I’m Ellie.”

“Hi, Ellie.” You hope your smile looks sincere, not betraying how nervous you are right now. How shaky the sight of his blood-soaked shirt makes you feel.

“Okay, Joel?” you address him directly. He only manages a tired hum in return. “I’m gonna clean this and try stitching you up. It’s gonna hurt, I have painkillers, if you–”

But he shakes his head, humming again.

“Alright,” you sigh, and get to work.

You explain what you’re doing with every step, to calm both their and your own nerves. You know how to do this, you’ve trained for this. The wound doesn’t look too deep and you pray that there’s no organ damage involved, because you don’t have the means to treat that properly, but it doesn’t look like it. There seems to be an infection spreading though, so you gather some antibiotics as well, hoping that they’ll still work the way they’re supposed to. Joel inhales sharply a few times, but seems to be out of it for most of the time, which you’re grateful for.

“How did this happen?” you ask, looking up at Ellie who’s still standing beside you, watching intently over what you’re doing.

“Raiders,” she mutters. “It was a broken baseball bat, I think.”

“Jesus,” you sigh. You wonder how they got out, your thoughts circling back to the gun in her hands, and you suppress a shudder. “Are you injured too?” you ask, deciding not to press her about the attack.

“No,” comes her quiet answer. You don’t catch the way she averts her eyes.

“Alright,” mumble eventually and straighten up. You’ve cleaned and bandaged the wound to the best of your ability and now you just have to hope that it will be enough.

“Do you want something to eat?” you ask the girl, who has taken to sit beside the couch on the ground, now that you’ve moved away from it. Her face lights up at the question and she nods eagerly.

You get two bowls of the soup that you’ve had for dinner for the both of you and she has already had a few spoonfuls before she eyes you warily.

“It’s not poisoned or something, is it?”

You huff a laugh and keep eating yours, holding her gaze with raised eyebrows. “Does it look like it?”

“Um, no…” she trails off, swallowing another spoonful and sighing at the taste. You wonder how long it’s been since they ate something. “You could have poisoned only mine though.”

“Well I didn’t,” you grin. It feels foreign, talking to another person, another child, but a warmth is slowly spreading through you that has nothing to do with the soup.

She wakes Joel and gets him to swallow a little soup as well as some water before he collapses back on the couch, his eyes closed and his breath evening out.

“Why do you… have all this?” she asks eventually, setting her bowl down on the table and looking around the room, the wood-covered walls and the multiple doors.

“My dad built it,” you reply, forcing your voice to stay neutral. “B–before.”

She hums in acknowledgement, her eyes still full of wonder.

“You’re welcome to stay,” you hear yourself say, “until he gets better, I mean.”

You don’t know if you’re being reckless, if this will be the thing that finally gets you killed, but it seems too elaborate to be a trap. And maybe, just maybe you like the idea of not being alone down here, even just for a short while, a little too much. She thanks you, her expression just as weary as you feel.

You offer that she can wash up if she wants, use the shower, that you could give her some clothes of yours. You’re still not sure if you’re doing the right thing, or if you’re just being incredibly stupid, but the sight of her worn down shirt and the way her hair is matted down with dirt makes your heart swell with the wish to care for her.

Her eyes flicker nervously between Joel and the bathroom door a few times, but eventually she agrees. While the shower runs, you settle down on the armchair across from the couch, sinking into the cushions, your knees pulled up to your chin, your eyes resting on the sleeping man. He’s huge, taking up the whole length of it, his feet dangling over the armrest, overwhelming even in his unconscious state.

You really hope that they’re good people. He could overpower you easily, there’s no doubt of that. You might not be a terrible fighter, but you don’t think that you’d be a match for him.

Your gaze lingers on his face, the strong shape of his nose, the pout of his lower lip, his brow furrowed even in his sleep. His fingers are twitching, one wrist adorned with a broken watch.

Ellie exits the bathroom again, clad in your old clothes, her damp hair dripping into the neckline of the t-shirt, like a younger version of you. It makes your heart ache.

Now that the adrenaline is rushing from your body, you realize how weird all this really is. You haven’t spoken to anybody in years and now there’s two people here, in your space. Maybe you’ve finally lost it for good.

You show her to the biggest of the four bedrooms, the only one that no one has ever slept in. It’s easier, opening this door, than the two other ones that you keep shut. You debate moving Joel from the couch to the bed, Ellie mumbling about his back, but ultimately you decide against it.

“Okay,” you hesitate, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m in the room right next to you, if you need anything… Just– please don’t murder me in my sleep, okay?”

She mirrors your wry smile. “I won’t if you won’t.”

You nod and leave the room, praying that you’re making the right call here. You’re doing something good, right? And no one would plan an ambush like this. Would they?

You heave a sigh and retreat to your own bedroom, your gun clutched tightly in your grasp. You doubt that it would save you, not against that man who’s currently softly snoring on your couch. Still, it makes you feel a little better. You turn the lock on your door too, just in case.

When you sink back under the covers, eyes still wide open and staring into the darkness, a small smile creeps onto your lips despite your worries.

It’s not the way it was, it will never be that way again. But not being the only soul down here fills you with the ghost of a warmth that you had thought you’d never feel again.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#janas fics #fic: safe and sound #joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

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velvetsainz · 4 months

Text

summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] corsica continues to inspire, even when away from the heat of the sun. part of the hot monaco nights series.

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), a lil hint of plot, use of explicit language, unprotected sex (plan appropriately, folks), p in v, creampie, oral (f!receiving), google-translated french (i cannot and will not be stopped), em dashes strike back, once again time is a social construct

a/n: more horny fuckers in corsica (crowd cheers)! longest one yet!! struggled getting this written but ultimately happy with how it turned out, so hopefully y'all are, too. my biggest thanks as always to @lecrep @leclerc-hs @multiseb21 for their support & encouragement 🤍 enjoy, bbys! xx

As always, this was Charles's fault.

Well, kinda.

Okay, not at all, but, like, that’s beside the point.

What the point actually was that this was your favorite way to have him.

His hands gripped tightly into the plush of your hips, thumbs guiding the way your pelvis lazily drew patterns. His cock was hard and hot and buried deep inside you, and the Monégasque was fighting all of his instincts not to roll the two of you over so he could find a way to sate the burning heat in his own core.

“Chérie,” he whined, hazel eyes still heavy-lidded as he’d only awoken a short while before. Other parts of him had been awake for much longer, though, given the way he’d been grinding his cock against your ass before you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Relax, baby,” you chided with a heavy sigh, one hand on his toned chest while the other toyed with your pearl. “You’re on holiday—enjoy it. We don’t have anywhere to be.”

“But this is torture, mon cœur,” the man groaned, hands trying to urge you faster. Still, you resisted and shot him a devilish look.

“This,” you rolled your hips tightly and flexed your walls around his throbbing member, “is nothing. I can make it torture if you’d prefer that, though, hm?”

He let out a frustrated sound through his nose, a groan stifled in his throat. His hands traced over the tanned expanse of your thighs before trailing to the small of your back under the faded oversized shirt of his you’d donned after he’d fucked you within an inch of your life the night before.

“At least let me kiss you, hm? Donne-moi quelque chose, s'il te plaît,” Charles nearly begged, the French tumbling from his lips as you ground yourself in slow, lazy circles. He needed more—more friction, more skin, more touch, anything. He wasn’t one to beg, usually, but he was more than willing in this instance.

“So needy,” you teased, but the way his hands tangled in your hair and his tongue slid against your own had your hips bucking in such a way that gave away your hand; you had a straight flush but his was royal. A choked sound left the back of your throat as you moved your hips quicker, one of the hands in your hair moving to grab the flesh of your ass to urge you on.

As you pulled away for a moment, Charles didn’t waste his chance and used his other hand to pull back the hem of the t-shirt you wore and latch his plump lips to one of your pert nipples in a way that made your toes curl and your eyes close tight as stars sparked.

“Fuck,” you swore, “I–”

“So needy,” he teased like an absolute little shit before you swatted at his head and he took his golden opportunity.

Banding an arm around your back, the driver pulled you tight to his chest and planted his feet into the bed before driving his hips up into your own in a way that made your insides feel like molten lava. With a filthy cry, you grabbed tight to the sheets on either side of your boyfriend as he set the new pace.

“Je pensais que je te l'avais enlevé hier soir,” he grunted in your ear as he speared against something blindingly delicious within you, and his hand palmed at your ass with your tits pressed tight against his chest. You knew it was good for him, too, when he started slipping into Italian, blurring the lines between the languages he knew so well until they were practically an unintelligible mess.

“Charles–I’m gonna—ah!,” you started to warn as the edges of your vision blurred and the heat in the pit of your core started seeping through the cracks in your bones.

“Je sais, minette,” he grit as he felt your cunt spasm tightly around him, his own orgasm careening towards him at a blinding speed like an avalanche in the Dolomites. “Putain–,” he swore as his hips bucked spasmodically into you, pressing into the wet velvet heat as far as your core would allow as every part of him chased whatever would bring him closer to his completion.

You felt him shudder beneath you as his hands held you tight against him; he wanted to feel all of you, and you certainly were in no place to complain as your own orgasm started to recede. You basked in the warmth of one another, the way your hips slotted so perfectly against his, how your hearts pounded against each other’s chests.

Part of you didn’t want to break the blissful quiet of the post-orgasm glow, but your pride had other qualms. “You’re a sore loser, you know that?,” you teased as you rolled partway off your partner, hissing as you lost the comfortable stretch of his cock inside of you.

Chuckling softly, he shrugged as he turned his head to the side to see your heavy eyes. “I have no idea what you are talking about—I was simply exercising a-a new strategy!”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You are unbelievable, Leclerc.”

“Unbelieve...ably good?,” he asked with a stupid grin that made you roll your eyes once more before you leaned in to kiss him once again.

“Unfortunately yes–”

“Say no more!,” he beamed before shooting out of bed, reinvigorated. He disappeared for a few moments, your eyes closing as sleep tempted you once more.

You heard him pad back in and around to the side of the bed you’d rolled to, something warm and wet touching the inside of your thigh. Gently, he cleaned you with a warm washcloth before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Sleepyhead,” he teased gently as you popped your eyes open for just a moment to peek at him as he went about the room, tidying up from the night before. You two had gotten a bit…wild, to put it mildly.

“I resemble that remark,” you quipped, eyes closed once more as you raised a finger in the air. Soon enough, though, you were drifting back off to sleep, only to wake several hours later in the late afternoon.

There was a note on top of your phone on the bedside table, scribbled in his surprisingly neat half-print, half-cursive handwriting. “Out for a run,” it read, a little heart and smiley face with its tongue sticking out accompanying it. Unsure when he’d be back, you finally convinced yourself to slip out of bed and into a much-needed shower. You smelled like a mix of salt and chlorine and citrus—heaven, to Charles, but the grit of it was a bit much to take. Besides, you needed to wash your hair as the two of you had plans for the evening, and your hair had become a mess over the past few days.

Stripping out of the shirt you’d haphazardly thrown on the night before, you ducked under the warm spray of the shower once you’d managed to settle on a half-decent playlist. Humming to yourself, you didn’t hear Charles come back as you neared the end of your shower.

Sitting on the bench at the end of the unmade bed, he watched you through the half-fogged glass of the shower as the scent of your soap drifted through the air and the warmth of the steam lingered at the threshold between the two rooms. He shouldn’t want you as badly as he does, but there’s something about your connection that was more intoxicating than any alcohol or drug could ever try to rival. Everything about you drew him in, pulled him closer and closer like he was caught in a whirlpool; you’d bewitched him—mind, body, and soul—and under no circumstance did he want the spell to be broken.

You caught sight of him as you stepped out and began toweling off, asking, “Good run?”

He nodded as he stood, finally kicking off his shoes and shucking himself out of his shorts and briefs. “Not as good as this morning,” he wrinkled his nose at the qualifier, pecking your lips before restarting the shower so he, too, could join you in your newfound cleanliness. “Good shower?”

“Not as good as this morning,” you conceded in teasing as you watched him slip under the water with a laugh.

As he showered, you went to work at the vanity, going through your neglected skincare routine and brushing the tangles from your freshly washed hair. By the time it was wrapped in a towel and on its way to drying, Charles had finished his own shower and was drying off with the lone clean towel you’d left him (you desperately needed to do some laundry tomorrow).

Towel wrapped around his waist, he took up his seat on the bench once more, scrolling aimlessly on his phone to distract himself from how you leaned over the vanity as you carefully applied your makeup. You’d abandoned the towel that had been around your body, tired of having to fight the damn thing to stay secured every two minutes. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you naked before.

Charles, of course, did not mind this, but it certainly made it difficult to keep his focus on anywhere except the peek of your slit between your thighs and the curve of your tits every time you lent closer to the mirror in inspection. It was dizzying, the way the blood rushed from his head to his…other head just at the mere sight of you.

Twitter half-held his attention for another five minutes, but that was all he could muster before he was stalking back to you and on his knees no less. With a start and a gasp, you felt the heat of his tongue where you loved it most, eyes rolling back before you could catch yourself. He hummed in response to the pitiful keening that left your lips.

“You are—fuck,” you started, caught off guard by the earnest press of Charles's thumb against your clit, “insatiable. How do…how?” You had no idea where he pulled the stamina from, but you certainly weren’t complaining nor upset.

Stubbled open-mouth kisses pressed their way up your spine until he was standing behind you, caging you in with a hand on the vanity counter on either side of your hips. “Quelque chose sur vous,” he breathed into the nape of your neck before planting a searing kiss there. “I don’t know,” he shrugged with a groan as he rested his brow against your shoulder.

“Like I said earlier,” you teased softly as you turned in his arms, in the small cage he made with his arms against the countertop, “so needy.” The smell of his soap was still strong, but there was also something uniquely Charles, something you yourself could never get enough of.

He laughed at that, and you could feel the rumble of it where your abdomens met. “Maybe,” he relented with a devilish twinkle in his eye, “but something tells me you are just as–”

You tutted, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare finish that thought. At this rate we’ll never make it out tonight if you keep trying to fuck me,” you warned with a tilt of your head.

“But–”

“No buts.”

“Not even this one?,” he smirked, thinking himself something of a genius as the little shit fully palmed each cheek and pulled you in closer to press tightly against his toned body.

“Especially not that one!,” you swatted at his hands before he started running away from you and your faux-outrage, leaving you alone in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

An hour later he peeked his head in once more, dressed in a linen outfit perfect for a hot, humid, night on the Mediterranean. (Of course, this was something you’d helped him pick because Lord knows this man couldn’t be left to his own devices when it came to style; he had the style sense of a 14-year-old boy, and yet you loved him despite it—you were truly a saint.) “Almost ready?,” he asked, eyes raking over the mid-length sleeveless silk dress you’d chosen, hair pulled into a messy French twist with simple gold accessories. It wasn’t until he saw the slit clear up the middle of your thigh that he let out an exasperated sigh. He was in for a long night.

Turns out, it wasn’t the worst thing ever. Because by the time you’d made it back to the villa, you were both half-drunk on sangria and unable to keep your hands off one another…or, at least, more so than usual.

You’d gone to dinner and afterward, a small club where, in the darkened corner away from the flash of colored lights and drunken laughter of other revelers, you two made out like you were teenagers again. He whispered naughty things in your ear, hot insistent hands slipping under your dress to grasp at the skin he so badly wanted to be pressed against—especially with how you’d toyed with him all night. If you thought you were going to get away with grinding your ass against him, trailing the toe of your sandal up his legs during dinner, and whining in his ear with no shame…you had another thing coming.

With you bent over the back of the sofa, Charles shoved your dress over your hips where he chuckled in disbelief. You smiled a Cheshire grin, knowing what he’d finally discovered for himself: you weren’t wearing any panties.

“You dirty girl,” he tsked in your ear as he pulled your back flush with his front, a strong arm around your middle in a way that was reminiscent of your midday fuck. His hand smoothed over the plane of your belly and dipped into the sacred heat of your cunt to draw a whimper from your lips that he’d been desperate to hear all evening. “So needy,” he teased as he ground his hard length against the curve of your ass and into the small of your back.

“Please–,” you pleaded with him, your sangria-addled mind having one desire and one desire, alone.

“Ne t'inquiète pas, chérie,” he hushed you as you bent back over and started arching your back for him: you were going to make this an offer he couldn’t refuse. Groaning at the sight, he pressed the tip of his cock against your soaked entrance before slotting his pelvis against your own in one fell press of his hips.

He cursed, dropping his head down to rest against the space between your shoulder blades. You wiggled your hips in desperation, needing friction—needing anything—to ease the ache between your legs. Hissing at the sensation, Charles nipped at the skin over your spine before soothing it with his tongue. “Je sais, minette,” he groaned before starting a truly punishing rhythm with each stroke. His hands gripped tight at your hips, only stopping for a moment to help you hitch one of your legs onto the back of the couch you were bent over which allowed his cock to grind against something deep within you.

You were hurtling fast and hard to your climax, and you could tell your partner wasn’t far behind with how his praises and curses tumbled from his lips in equal measure. The Monégasque was a talker in bed, you’d come to learn, but even more so now that his mind’s filter had been soaked in shitty sangria.

“So close–Charles, pl-please,” you whined pitifully before a hand entwined in your now-ruined bun and tugged, wrenching a choked gasp from your throat. You babbled half-incoherently as he held you against him once more and his other hand snaked around the front of your hip to rub tight circles over your pearl with that perfect rasp of much-needed friction.

“Jouis pour moi, chérie,” he gritted in your ear, and you didn’t need to be told twice as waves of pleasure crashed over your body. Warmth spread from your core to the tips of your toes, breath caught in your throat as you rode the earliest waves. Your hips bucked insistently against him, his own losing their rhythm at the feeling of you clenching so tightly around him and pulling him headfirst into a blinding high of his own.

With a choked gasp and your name on his lips, you felt as he came inside you just moments after your own orgasm. Panting and positively fucked out, you dropped down over the couch once more, slowly but surely floating back down into your body. Charles draped over you in exhaustion, catching his own breath as one of his hands found yours and traced over it mindlessly with gentle fingers.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to figure out I wasn’t wearing any underwear,” you pondered aloud like the thought of your bare cunt under that dress hadn’t just resulted in the fuck of your life. You were a tease—and an unabashed one, at that.

“Mon Dieu, chérie.”

final note: one more part for our stay in corsica before we depart the island! hoping you guys will enjoy it! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes where i reblog inspo & recs!

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dumplingsjinson · 1 year

Text

List of “102 different types of kisses”

Kisses in the rain

Those kisses that leave them craving for more

Character A laughing against Character B’s lips when they pull away before they go in for anotherkiss

Those kisses that leave them out of breath, mind reeling endlessly

Tearful kisses

Rough kisses

Soft kisses

Soft kisses turning rough

Rough kisses mellowing out into a softer kiss

Kisses that make them melt

Kisses of reassurance

Forehead kisses

Cheek kisses

Kisses on the crown of the head

Feather-light kisses on their knuckles

Kisses on the back of their hand

Thigh kisses

Neck kisses

Kisses all over the face

Sudden kisses

First kisses

Kisses that leave them all hot and bothered

Goodbye kisses

Good morning kisses

Hello kisses

Lazy kisses

Kisses that indicate they want to do more than just kissing

Kisses littered all over the body

Kisses of appreciation

Kissing just for the hell of it

Kisses that shouldn’t mean anything (but end up meaning more than they’d care to admit)

Shoulder kisses

Tip of the nose kisses

Kisses on the eyelids

Kisses of apology

Kisses after a love confession

Kisses that shut them the hell up

Character A pressing Character B against the wall and kissing them senseless

Collarbone kisses

Chaste kisses

Kisses done in secret

Character B kissing Character A while Character B is dying in their arms

Kissing away tears

Kisses that they can never get enough of

Almost kisses

Kisses that are interrupted by an unsuspecting party walking in

Smiling/laughing into the kiss

Kisses that make them wonder

Pecks on the lips

Kisses that mean nothing

Kisses that mean the world

Kisses that have their knees buckling under them

Hesitant kisses

Corner of the mouth kisses

Kisses that involve a lot of touching as well

Long kisses

Awkward kisses

Accidental kisses

Character A staring at Character B’s lips before leaning in to claim them

Character A staring at Character B’s lips after they kiss them senseless. “Your lips are so red,” they whisper, eyes flickering up to meet theirs, a lustful glint in them

Slow kisses, like they’ve got all the time in the world

Kisses for the sake of practice

Unexpected kisses

Unexpected kisses that get all hot and heavy

Kisses that cross the line they’ve both been dancing on for the longest of time

Character A kissing Character B while they’re fucking to keep the noises they’re both making at bay

Angry kisses

Character A kissing the Character B and then pulling away because Character B’s too shocked to respond, but then Character B’s pulling them back in and kissing them hard

Soft murmurs between kisses

Kisses that have them moaning against each other’s lips

Kisses that make their cheeks flushed

Kisses they can’t stop thinking about

Kisses that have them falling in love

Kisses that mean everything to one party and nothing to the other party

Playful kisses

Kisses all over the face

Intentional kisses

Innocent kisses

Kisses that have them both pulling away and bursting into giggles

Kisses to calm the other down

Desperate kisses

Firm kisses

Kisses to confirm whether they like them or not

Drunken kisses

Kisses that are done for the sake of a show

Curious kisses

Kisses where they both have no idea what they’re doing

Kisses which involve too much tongue

Kisses which have Character A pressed flushed against Character B

Sloppy kisses that have them both pulling away and giggling

Accidentally bumping noses when kissing and laughing about it

Kisses used in place of a verbal love confession

Blowing a kiss from afar

A “how about we ruin this friendship?” kiss

Knocking glasses askew when kissing

Eager kisses

Soft continuous pecks on the lips that have the other party giggling softly between each one

Kisses trailing from the neck to their navel, then Character A looking up at Character B and saying, “Are you sure want this?” The eager nod Character B give them is enough of a sign

Kisses that burn; hands in their hair, on their waist, their hips, their neck, their shoulders, their arms, under their shirt because they need to feel every inch of them under their palms

Hateful kisses; all teeth, bruising, hair tugging, being pinned against the wall, low groans, heavy breathing, knees separating thighs — but both of them need more. Even better if the kisses are shared between former lovers turned enemies

Suggestive kisses

The soft “Can I kiss you?” and the “Yes. Yes, you fucking can” before they meet in the middle

#long post #kissing prompts #kiss prompts #otp prompts #writing prompts #writing scenarios #dialogue prompts #come get your kisses!#prompts #i've had this list in my notes for so fucking LONGGGG #a lot is me self projecting #i need someone to kiss me before i go fERALLL

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doobea · 6 months

Text

✰⋆⁺★ I SURRENDER ALL OF ME ─ CHOSO KAMO

synopsis: choso takes a lot of things seriously - this includes childhood promises and vows.

contents: very fluffy, sfw, no curse AU, childhood friends to lovers, gn!reader, death jokes thrown around, umm just imagine the rest of the curses as humans LOL, sorry mahito - ur interesting word count: 1.4k a/n: bye this meant to be a small drabble but ended up being semi lengthy... sorry i havent been active as much ;;

Two fruit punches, a full bag of grapes, and four sandwich halves in a colorful lunch box sit between you and Choso. It isn't until it's down to one fruit punch, half of bag of grapes, and three sandwich halves left that you decide to build up the courage to blurt out a burning question.

"Do you want to get married?"

Your best friend doesn't bat an eye at your inquiry as he finishes the remainder of his drink and rips off a piece of crust from his meal, tossing bits of it into the pond in front of him. The moment a flock of ducks fight over the the pieces, he answers.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Yeah, but—" Heat rushes to your cheeks as you force the next words. "Do you want to get married to me?"

This time, Choso turns his head and tilts it, eyebrows creasing and the birthmark on his nose scrunches just ever so slightly. The eight year old looks mildly offended that you even asked that.

"I only want to be with you," he proclaims with all the vigor that a child has. Then, with another chunk of crust thrown in the pond, Choso continues with all seriousness. "But you need a ring to propose, right?"

"I..." you trail off, fumbling with your empty juice box as you try and search for the right words.

To be honest, you didn't expect that response from Choso. If he isn't interested, he would've your question, and that would be that. It isn't like you two can actually get married anyway. And yet, watching Choso fiddling around with the patch of grass next to him, examining and ripping the longest blade he can find, you can't help but to anticipate a response from him.

Choso looks satisfied with himself when he raises the makeshift ring in your face. You only had a split second to inspect the 'jewelry' before his voice rings in your ears. "Will you marry me?"

You find yourself answering without much second thought. "Yes."

Both of you hold onto your breaths as he slides it on. It's not the perfect size, a bit too big for your finger, but there's a little bow at the top that's tied with a small yellow dandelion. Your chest swells with happiness and did the next thing that an eight year old would do - you lean in and press your lips to Choso's cheek, the way you've seen your parents do to each other hundreds of times. When you pull back, Choso is staring, cheeks inflamed.

You smile brightly at him.

You're going to kill Satoru and Suguru.

They just had to decide that a maid and butler themed cafe wasn’t going to raise enough money for the college fundraiser this year. They both just had to decide to set up another booth, and not just any booth — a kissing booth.

And Satoru, for some reason, thought it would be funny to put you in charge.

You're not entirely sure how the rest of the elective board approved of this idea. And you're still not entirely sure why you have to wear a stuffy uniform along with it.

You're going to kill Suguru first, and then give Satoru a slow painful death.

"Pfft, oh my god!"

No, scratch that. You're going to kill every student that comes up to this dumb booth. The first victim starting with Mahito.

Your stomach churns as you watch him and his little group of friends trail behind him, edging closer to the booth with a wide grin plastered across his face.

It takes every fiber in your body to not physically lunge forward and punch him. Getting this booth shut down not even ten minutes in would have you running around the track field as part of Suguru's punishment. You're ignoring the sweat trailing down the back of your neck and pray that Mahito isn't serious about putting his lips anywhere near you.

"Fuck off," As long as it's not physical, you plan to verbally assault him as much as you can.

You force yourself to look pass Mahito and sneer at the rest of his friends. It doesn't surprise you to see all of their lips quivering, trying their best to not just burst out laughing in the middle of the campus courtyard, which they're all failing miserably at. All of them are giggling to themselves like middle schoolers but one man.

His eyes catches yours, looking mildly unfazed before tired eyes suddenly widening at recognition. You have to do a double take and, upon closer inspection, you let out a small noise at the sight of the distinguishable birthmark on his face.

"Choso?" You haven't seen him since he moved away several years ago. Who knew he would've ended up at the same university as you, let alone hang out with an annoying guy like Mahito.

Before he could even respond back, Mahito begins fishing for something in his bag. Then, your worst nightmare comes to life as he pulls out a fucking wallet. You're mentally preparing yourself to throw up on the spot, then calling your club presidents announcing your leave as treasurer, then killing yourself. That is, until Choso slams down a couple of bills of his own.

You take a moment to process what just happened before staring bewilderedly at your childhood friend, who just kept a straight look.

"What the fuck?" The voice comes from Mahito.

"That's cheating," Choso begins and now you're really confused.

"You guys are dating?" Another voice chimes in, you think it belongs to Jogo.

With a firm head shake, Choso responds, "Married, actually."

You can't tell if this is his way of protecting you from Mahito but you go along with the act anyway.

"Married." Mahito repeats slowly.

"Married." Choso confirms.

Then, the other male points a finger at your direction. "Since when?"

You smile. "Since we were kids."

You awkwardly clear your throat, stuffing your uniform in your bag as you stride out of the bathroom back in your regular clothes. Choso greets you right outside with a subtle smile, signs of his friends from earlier gone and the small shoebox in his hands, the one specially for today's event, has a total of twenty dollars. Twenty of his dollars and zero kisses were made.

According to Suguru math, that's, like, ten miles around the track field.

"Thank you, I don't know what I would've done if you weren't there," you finally speak after he offers to walk you back to your dorm.

"Technically it would've been cheating," Choso jokes nonchantlanly.

You snort, shoving the male just slightly along the empty gravel path. "Well, you're a terrible husband because I haven't heard from you in over a decade."

Choso winces, rubbing his neck and mumbling a soft, "Sorry, I forgot to ask for your house number before my family moved."

Choso has always been relatively quiet as a kid, and even now you can still see that he keeps to himself by some of his habits, but your days spent throughout middle school to high school were relatively much quieter without him by yourself. Thankfully, he saved your ass today, so you suppose you can spare Choso's life for now.

"Social media is free, you know?" You tease back.

He laughs. "Didn't get my first phone until second year of high school, and that year I found out I had a half-sibling."

You stretch your eyes wide, almost tripping over your feet, and then your gapping mouth evolves into a smile. "Okay, wow—that's huge news, I guess I can forgive you for that."

"He's a senior in high school, might be thinking about coming here next year."

"He similar to you?"

Choso shakes his head and looks fondly ahead. "Livelier. Kinda like jock but one of the nice ones."

After rounding a corner, you speak again, eyes now glued to his messy pigtail buns. "Your hair is cute, you've always kept it down as a kid."

Choso self-consciously runs a hand over his scalp, tints of pink paint over his face. "Thanks."

You decide to be bold and interlock your arm with his. You watch closely as his body flinches at the contact but he doesn't pull away, doesn't say a word.

Your stomach does a few threatening somersaults. "I thought about you almost everyday, you know?"

For a moment, Choso says nothing and you're starting to wonder if you're going to be left in suspense but, after he reaches to the steps of your dorm building, he says, "Me too."

You elicit a sigh of relief and tug his arm closer. "So, you planning to start walking me to classes and getting lunch every day now?"

Choso brushes the hair out of your eyes before resting his forehead against yours. "If that's what will make me a good husband, then yes."

#doobea writing #choso x reader #choso fluff #choso kamo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #MY BOYFRIEND <3

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feyascorner · 2 months

Text

11 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. In his honest opinion, the artist who drew your portrait should be fired, even if he’s no expert in the arts. Your softer features are far too sharp, and your sharper features are far too soft, in what he supposes is an effort to ‘enhance’ your appearance, but now it just looks plain uncanny. They also forgot to take into account the scars of battle on your skin, a part of your hair that he remembers sticking out more, the sheepishness of your smile looking straight at the painter, the two puncture wounds on your neck…

Ah. He wonders if you still have those. The last time he saw them, they’d nearly faded. And nowadays, you make it a point to keep your neck tucked under your collar, which leaves everything to his imagination.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. it's been a while! this isn't the longest of chapter but it's to kick my creative juices back into gear :) thank you sm for your patience friends <3

He knows he hasn’t returned your cloak yet. Unfortunately for you, Astarion has taken a special liking to the dull fabric.

Despite its dreary grey shade and the tears from being worn relentlessly, it’s of surprisingly good quality. It’s the only reason it's survived this long, he reasons, and also why the sun can never pierce through its sewing job and burn into his own skin.

When he felt the tadpole leave him, he thought he would never see the sunlit streets of Baldur’s Gate again. But this cloak of yours has brought him a new sense of freedom he hadn’t had before—free of Cazador, free of an unwelcome visitor in his skull, free of the looming fear of death…and most importantly, free of his fear of the sun.

Being “stuck” in your home has given him too much time. Too much aimless staring at a book he’s already read four times over. Moreover, the others have become somewhat accustomed to his presence again…meaning some (Gale, specifically) don’t mind leaving Astarion by himself. And as much as he hates admitting it, Astarion would rather Gale’s incessant lectures rather than the boring silence you leave behind at the break of dawn.

An outing or two couldn’t hurt, surely.

So he embarks. Where to, he doesn’t know. But he leaves the house, making sure to lock the door behind him when he remembers how Shadowheart had scolded you for the mistake of not doing so. It’s not that he’s afraid of the cleric, of course. He’s a damn vampire, for heaven’s sake. He’s only being cautious.

The cloak makes it feel as if he were in an oven, especially with the weather becoming more sunny by the day, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he’s finally standing in the middle of a bustling street, staring unblinkingly while others rush past him, all seemingly having a place to be. A newspaper boy here, a maid there, a circus performer somewhere there. He suddenly feels surrounded by too much life, and it’s not much help when he begins noticing fleeting glances in his direction. Wearing a thick winter cloak in the middle of the summer isn’t exactly common, after all.

“Baldur’s Mouth? They just started printing papers again, if you’d like a peek.”

Astarion glances down at the newspaper boy with squinted eyes, and his voice sounds snarkier than intended—not that he cares. “Who in the hells would pay two silvers for a newspaper that sucked up to Gortash just a few months ago? Does anyone really pay for this abomination?”

The boy frowns, crossing his arms. “If you didn’t want one, you could’ve just said so.”

“Really? Your incessant yelling around the market says otherwise,” Astarion snatches one of the papers, much to the boy’s distaste. He eyes the front cover for a split moment before realizing the very front page has a supposed ‘Exclusive Interview from the Hero of Baldur’s Gate! Never seen before!’

He finds himself reading.

“Mister, if you’re going to read, you have to pay!”

Though Astarion gives him a sharp glare that has the boy swallowing the lump in his throat, he relents, tossing one silver coin in his direction. Not without a click of his tongue, however, and the coin lands in the boy’s palms with a plop. “It’s two silvers.”

“I’m fully aware, don’t worry.”

The Baldur’s Mouth is full of cheap stories, surely paid off by its snotty writer as always, but Astarion acknowledges improvement where it’s due. Gortash’s death must’ve struck some sort of moral chord in the newspaper because a few of its columns are filled with mundane updates on the rebuilding of the city, even if they don’t provide as much entertainment as it surely could’ve if they stretched a few truths. He doesn’t read much into them, though, because he’s soon found himself a corner in Elfsong Tavern where he’s practically boring holes into the damn paper. The cover, specifically.

In his honest opinion, the artist who drew your portrait should be fired, even if he’s no expert in the arts. Your softer features are far too sharp, and your sharper features are far too soft, in what he supposes is an effort to ‘enhance’ your appearance, but now it just looks plain uncanny. They also forgot to take into account the scars of battle on your skin, a part of your hair that he remembers sticking out more, the sheepishness of your smile looking straight at the painter, the two puncture wounds on your neck…

He wonders if you’re ashamed of them as he’s ashamed of the ones on his own neck.

Astarion tears his attention away from your portrait and resumes reading the actual paper.

The questions the interviewer asks are laughable, almost. They’re painfully boring or painfully intrusive, with nothing in between, resulting in awkward short answers or whatever filler the writer put in place of your answer. Half your words, at the very least, must’ve been altered, as they don’t sound much like you.

One question catches his eye.

‘So what does the hero of Baldur’s Gate plan to do after the city is rebuilt?’

Astarion lifts the paper closer to his face.

‘’This city is my home…but I don’t think I could stay here any longer than I have to. I’ve made some precious memories here, but I’ve also made ones that I’d rather move on from. People I want to move on from. For that reason, as much as I love this city, I’d have to embark for elsewhere.’’

His eyes widen. You’re leaving? When the hells did you decide that?

‘Truly a sad day for the citizens to see their beloved bard leaving. Knowing our readers must be curious as to what their next step is, we made sure to discuss more on this matter.’

‘’Where will I go? I mean…I guess I’d just wander. Explore. Faerun is a vast continent. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to do. Plenty of people to meet.’’

Astarion’s gaze reaches the end of the page. The rest of the sentences babble on in flowery language praising you, which he doesn’t even bother reading before shoving the newspaper into one of the pockets of your cloak. He’s not sure if he would’ve preferred simply not reading the damn paper, but he tells himself that this is an improvement. A reason for celebration, even! Without you, he won’t have to tiptoe around the city any longer, nor will you need to worry about having to continue a months-long argument with him.

This is exactly what the two of you need. Space. For a while. Maybe forever. He stares at the beer stains on the table. Forever sounds like a long time, even if it’s only a few years to him and the rest of your life to you.

Forever sounds too long, yet not long enough.

He’s always wanted to be immortal. Even before he’d grown fangs and his eyes turned red. Sure, the path he took to get here…left a lot to be desired, but with Cazador gone, he supposes it’s not so bad, being a vampire—-besides the whole ‘not-being-able-to-see-the-sun’ fiasco. Sure, he has nightmares every other night about his time spent under his master, but without him, he’s essentially invincible as long as he doesn’t find a cleric who specializes in radiant magic. Sure, wine tastes like vinegar. Sure, he has to wear this suffocating cloak everywhere, but is it really so bad?

He sighs. It could be worse. He could be dead, for all he knows. Actually, dead.

Astarion stands to leave. This damn tavern is even more suffocating than his cloak, especially filled with patrons already half passed out from booze before noon. There’s a reason why he’s always preferred wine over whatever’s filling their cups.

He paces toward the door, but just as he’s halfway there, it swings open. And much to his horror stands a familiar cleric who nearly chucked a fork into his eye just this morning.

“Shadowheart,” the bartender smiles, ceasing his hand midway, polishing a cup. “What brings you here this morning?”

She certainly won’t miss her mark this time if she sees him out in public.

Astarion immediately turns on his heel and heads for the stairs. He practically shoves through multiple patrons in the process, but he manages to get there just as Shadowheart joins Alan at the bar, her arms looped around two large fabric bags as she greets him. They’re just within earshot, even as the spawn scrambles to get upstairs. “Just picking up our attire for the celebration and your tavern was on the way back. My friends and I do apologize for our inconsistent appearances…”

He doesn’t wait to hear the rest of their conversation because he’s already trying the doors to each of the rooms to figure another way out of the building. Most doors are locked shut, but there’s one he tries that slides right open.

Much to his distaste, it’s occupied.

He slams the door back shut just as the woman shrieks.

He peeks out the window. He could jump down, technically, but there are far too many people on the street in broad daylight to go unnoticed. And if there were to be a commotion, no doubt the damn cleric would come rushing out, thinking it’s another attack. So, instead of returning downstairs, he opts for the ladder leading to the rooftop, higher up into the building.

The warm air of the summer breeze hits him like an axe to the face.

Still, he climbs out, grateful to even managed to have escaped the same room as Shadowheart. Thank the heavens. And for a moment, he thinks he’s alone, until there’s another shrill voice rushing at him.

“There you are, Tav! I’ve waited days to see you here agai—" the tiefling stops, her smile dropping. "You’re not Tav.”

Way to state the obvious.

Clearly, he wants to spit back. But he’s too occupied trying to figure out why she looks so familiar to do so. He merely squints at her, which some might consider rude, but she doesn't seem to mind at all. Noticing his confusion, she blinks. “Wait, you’re Tav’s friend!”

Friend. He hasn’t been considered your friend in a long while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on house arrest?” she tilts her head. “Did you maybe make up with Tav?”

Ah. You must’ve told her about his—peculiar arrangement.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Alfira. We met at the grove and Last Light Inn, didn’t we?” she offers him a smile, which he doesn’t return. She doesn’t wait for an answer either. “I wasn’t expecting you here…Did Tav send you?”

Astarion scrunches his nose as she squints at him, hands on either of her hips as she gauges how he seems to sink further into your cloak, hesitating to kiss the sun’s radiant glow. She doesn’t seem to think much of it, though, as she taps her foot impatiently. “Well?”

“I—yes,” is all his damn brain can spit out.

“Oh,” her face softens, and a soft small stretches across her lips. How gullible. It wasn’t even a particularly good lie. “You should’ve just said so. In that case, I must ask you how they’re doing…I haven’t seen them in weeks. Are they well? Have they started reading up on my lyrics? Have they got a message for me? Ah, scratch those, where are they right now?”

Hells. He’s already itching to jump off the roof.

“Does your head ever implode with all those questions racked inside of it?” he grumbles. “And I’m afraid I don’t know half the answers. Sorry to disappoint.”

Alfira’s shoulders relax as she leans back on her heel, eyes falling to her shoes before she looks back up. “...Well, that’s a shame. Then, what brings you here?”

This time, he’s prepared.

“Seeing the state you’re in, my appearance was warranted. They only wished for me to ensure they’re doing well. It’s a busy time of year, you see, and they haven’t had the time to indulge your—-outings up here.”

“That’s good to hear.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air like a deathtrap, and he wishes he could say something—anything else about what you’ve been up to, but it comes up empty. It’s not like the two of you are on terms to sit down and have a chat every week over tea, but he’s not sure if he knows any more about what you’re doing than this bard standing right before him. You don’t play music anymore. You don’t frequent the bars as much as you used to. You don’t do a lot of things anymore. But what do you do?

It irks him: not knowing, that is.

He only realizes moments later that the bard has been talking this entire time.

“---and I’d really appreciate it if you could take it to them. I can’t imagine anyone else using it as well as they did,” she reaches behind her bag perched against the stair rails, and lifts something in his direction. He’d be a fool not to recognize it anywhere. It’s a pretty thing, the lyre. Your lyre. “I don’t know how I managed to find this at the market, but I like to think it’s fate. Tell them it’s a gift for helping with my songs.”

Astarion stares at the instrument. He runs the tips of his fingers against its familiar strings, taking note of indents he’s all too familiar with and the chips from months running in the wild. The last time he’d held it like this, it felt like it brought him closer to you. Now, it only feels like the cold dead wood it is.

“Were you looking for it?”

“No. Like I said, it must be fate.”

How cheesy.

His lips quirk downward even further, if that’s even possible, as he narrows in on a multitude of new dents and cracks in the wood. The lyre is yours, without a doubt, but it’s clearly seen a different level of care than what you would’ve given it even while fighting to the death. He glares at a particular blemish, and Alfira sighs.

“It’s seen better times, I know. But I’m sure they’d appreciate it even if it’s not how they left it.”

Wouldn’t you? No. He doesn’t know if you’d appreciate it. Why would you? You don’t even play the damn thing anymore, much less produce any music. He contemplates just tossing the object, but the second Alfira sees the glint of hesitation in his eyes, she pounces, shaking her head.

“Please,” she pleads. “Give it to them.”

His brows pinch.

And because he doesn’t want to entertain this tiefling any longer than he has to, and because he’d much rather get out of the sun and no other reason, he huffs. “Fine. I will.”

The smile she gives him doesn’t prompt him to do the same.

Months prior, he could see himself in the reflection of the gloss glazing over the wood. At least, that’s what he thinks because he could see your own expressions reflecting off it when you played it in the sun. It doesn’t hold a glow anymore, much less a reflection.

The lyre weighs heavily in his hands.

“I won’t pry,” Alfira says. “They never really told me what happened between the two of you…I respect your privacy, so I won’t ask. But whatever it was…I do hope it won’t happen again.”

It’s a weak one, but it’s a warning. He’s had plenty of those to figure it out.

“It won’t,” he mutters.

He’ll be long gone before it can.

Sleep is a luxury you can't afford nowadays.

Surely, the bags under your eyes are enough of an indication if it weren’t for the sluggishness of your every step. Still, you manage to offer your guest a lopsided smile out of respect. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, I’m alright. Thank you, though,” Yevir says, eyeing you up and down, obviously noting your disheveled state. “Is now not a good time?”

You shake your head, straightening your back against the dining room table with a cough. “It’s alright. I’m only tired. With the preparations for the celebration next week, I’m a bit overwhelmed. I was meaning to speak to you again anyway.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but you can’t be bothered to deny your exhaustion further.

“You’ve been busy. I’ve seen the dead spawn that they retrieved from the Blushing Mermaid.”

Quite frankly, you feel terrible for the folk who own the place. A hag and then a horde of vampires in their basement in the span of a few months? You think it’d be a sign to close the tavern down.

Your tone remains grim. “Were any of them the woman you were looking for?”

He shakes his head, and a breath of relief escapes your lips. “No, she’s…I still haven’t found her.”

And maybe it’s the fatigue getting to your head, but your mouth moves before you can stop it. “You would think she’d try to meet someone she was so close to.”

It’s insensitive, and you wouldn’t blame him if he promptly stood to leave, but all he does is hang his head, dragging his hands over his face. He doesn’t seem like he’s gotten much rest recently, either. “Trust me, I’ve been wondering that for weeks now.”

“And have you come up with anything?”

“No. None. Zero. All I get are nightmares that I might get to one of my patrol shifts, and I’ll find her dead body lying on the ground somewhere,” he groans. “Well, deader body.”

“Maybe she’s afraid.”

“Of what? Me? Who in the hells would be afraid of me? Certainly not her, I must assure you. She’s always been stubborn, and she’s far more determined than myself, believe it or not.”

“Not you, but of herself. Vampire thirst surely can’t be so easy to control, and let’s be honest…” you point at your own neck, and the place where two puncture wounds should be on your wrist burns. “You’re practically a blood pot being offered to her.”

He frowns. “Is it so hard to control their thirst? I will admit that I don’t know much about vampire spawn aside from the obvious…”

You half snicker to yourself, almost in disbelief. “Believe me, they’re beasts when they’re ravenous.”

“Beasts?”

“Do you blame them? To them, blood is essentially liquid gold,” you shrug. “It tastes nothing like actual blood on their tongue. Sure, it might be a bit adjacent to drinking iron, but if they get their hands on prey, they really like…it tastes sweet to them. Would you deny a treat if you spent decades cooped up inside a dungeon cell, starving?"

Yevir’s face pales.

“See?”

His brows furrow as you sigh into your chair. “I’ve done my own share of research, but books seem to overexaggerate things most of the time…Can I ask how you know so much about them? Even if I manage to find her, I’d want to find some way to make her new life more tolerable…it’s not much, but it’s the least I could do.”

You blink.

Shit. You’ve said too much.

What are you supposed to say? You dated a vampire? Let him ravage you on the forest floor and spent months in his tent? That you kissed him just weeks prior, and he’s living just beside your own room? That he told you what your blood does to him, and reveal the bite marks on your skin?

You stand, your chair legs scraping against the ground.

“I have a book you might like. Let me grab it for you. And some tea, maybe,” you smile almost too widely. Fortunately for you, Yevir only nods.

“I’d appreciate it.”

You essentially grab whatever vampire-related book you have shoved under your bed and rush back downstairs to the kitchen. There isn’t much to learn from the thing with how much you already know, but you’re sure it must contain something that he might consider helpful. You know how horrible it felt to be kept in the dark about vampirism, even more so when you realized just how terrible the relationship between master and spawn tended to be…so a small push certainly wouldn’t hurt. Especially with Yevir's own problems with his beloved spawn. This is how you reassure yourself as you pour whatever tea Gale’s left on the stove into a cup.

If you were in Astarion’s shoes, you’d think becoming a spawn would have been the worst turning point of your life. And for a while, you thought he’d felt the same. A part of you thinks he does. But in the time you’ve spent with him and the stories he’s told you sparingly of his life before Cazador, your gut tells you differently. Especially when he’s drenched in the blood of your enemies, holding the immortality he’s long wished for with a sickening smile stretching on his lips. Guilt pools in your stomach for even bringing up the thought, but you can’t deny it, either.

You wonder if it hadn’t been for Cazador’s leash tying him down, he would’ve turned out differently. More twisted. That he would’ve indulged in the most corrupt parts of him as a magistrate. That maybe he wouldn’t have learned the value of a life. That he would’ve become more alike to him—the man he would’ve become if he’d ascended.

That small voice in your head is what stopped the ascension, for you feared he would lose everything he’d gained in his time as a spawn, no matter how trivial he believed it to be.

You hear the front door opening and snap out of your self-tangent. No use dwelling on it now. What’s done is done. No matter how strange the situation between you and the spawn is now, you’d rather have this than what could’ve happened if you hadn’t listened to your gut. You remain firm, no matter how much he hates you for it.

You pour Shadowheart an extra cup.

But as you step back into the living space, you realize the occupant doesn’t drink tea at all.

Astarion stands in the middle of the room, eyes wide as he stares at your guest with an undeniably bloody sack clutched in one hand. His large, red eyes seem glued to the ones of your guest, who stares back even more appalled as he takes one look at Astarion’s pale skin, the shade of his eyes, and the very bloody bag containing what you assume to be his dinner.

You drop the two cups onto the ground, tea splashing against your feet.

“You—Is he—” Yevir stumbles over his words, yet his instincts as a guard have him reaching for his weapon. “He’s—”

Astarion sneers, though his expression strains as Yevir’s hand reaches his sword. “Now, let’s not do anything that could ruin the wonderfully tasteful furniture in here...”

The Fist snaps his head in your direction. “He’s a spaw–!”

The back of a sword hilt hits the side of his head with an audible ‘thud,’ and he’s out like a light.

You stare at the unconscious body slouched over your dining table for a brief moment in utter shock before you gawk at the culprit. Of course. Lae’zel huffs, awfully pleased for someone who just caused a concussion to an innocent man. “Your soldiers are such children.”

Astarion barks a laugh, though it sounds more of a mix of disbelief and amusement.

You wish you could go one day in this house without another headache to add to the growing list.

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#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #tfbu #astarion x oc #tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader

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viastro · 1 year

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to live again | yoon jeonghan

ミ★ synopsis: it’s been years since your last milestone birthday; a time when everything still felt right in the world with youth and ambition. now that you’re older and times have changed, would you dare take a chance to save someone else in the past at the cost of your own future?

ミ★ genre: time travel!au, childhood friends to lovers!au, slow burn, angst, some fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, and brief(?) major character death

ミ★ word count: 38,765 (what in gods name.)

ミ★ pairings: jeonghan x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: omg hey... long time no see haha .... okay i’m sorry for not posting for five months it’s my fault but uh this was supposed to be my three year anniversary gift and then i failed as a human being KSHGRKDHK i’m so sorry it’s so hard balancing writing and university :,)) but i’m offering my longest oneshot ever as both a peace offering and a three year anniversary gift! i hope you guys enjoy this one, and PLEASE make sure to read the warnings! i love you all, thank you for your endless support even tho i’m not as active anymore </333

ミ★ update 6/22/23: here is the sequel of to live again, dear dream

You’re sitting at the table, a small smile on your face as your friends sing you a happy birthday. You glance at each of their faces, from Dokyeom’s bright smile, to Seungcheol breaking out into laughter, there’s nothing but joy around you in the celebration of your birth.

“Happy birthday to you~” Seungkwan sings loudly, making sure to prolong the last note as you grin softly. Chan leans over and nudges him in the ribs, making the blonde cough as he falls back into his seat. The brunette gestures to you after patting Seungkwan on the back as an apology, “Make a wish, yn.”

You bite your bottom lip at his words, glancing at all of them as the one wish you’ve made every year since you turned 18 comes to mind. You turn your head towards the chair in front of you, letting out a breath when you see the blonde haired boy sitting there, staring at you with a small smile as he waits for you to blow out the candle.

Closing your eyes, you quietly wish,

I wish for Yoon Jeonghan to have a second chance.

You open your eyes and gently blow out the candle, glancing back up at the chair across from you, seeing it now empty as your friends around you cheer loudly.

Ah, that’s right, you think to yourself when Jun pulls out the cake knife to start cutting slices for everyone. You swallow the lump in your throat and bow your head as a thank you when Wonwoo hands you your cake, eyes still trained on the empty chair as you hear the chatter of your friends around you.

Jeonghan’s dead.

“Did you enjoy your birthday?” You look up from your phone to see Minghao walking over to you from the bathroom, drying his wet hair with his towel as he plops down beside you on the couch. Nodding your head, you give him a small smile, “Yeah, it was fun seeing everyone again.”

Minghao snorts, “You say that like we don’t see them every other week.”

“Is it a crime to miss my friends?” You ask with a laugh, to which your roommate just gently nudges your head with his before pulling out his phone. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, the sound of Minghao ruffling his hair with the towel heard occasionally as he scrolls through his phone. However, you’re too occupied with your own thoughts to watch videos with him as you stare aimlessly at the wall.

You and Jeonghan were born in the same year, something you learned the moment you two met as children.

You turned 21 today.

But Yoon Jeonghan will always be 5 months and 14 days away from turning 19 years old.

“Yn, are you thinking about him?” You’re snapped out of your thoughts when Minghao’s voice chimes from beside you, and you turn to see him looking at you with a concerned gaze. You press your lips into a thin line and turn away, nodding your head in response.

He lets out a breath from beside you, “You shouldn’t be blaming yourself for his death.”

“I could’ve done more. I could’ve spoke to him, invited him to eat lunch with me, offered to be his partner in group projects–”

“None of those things would’ve stopped him from making the decision that he did that day.” Minghao interjects, and you shake your head. “You’re wrong.”

“Yn–”

“I can’t help but constantly think that maybe if I had acted earlier, then he would’ve come to my birthday instead of ending his life. He would’ve still been here.” You mutter, and the black haired beauty just stares at you quietly as you swallow the lump that’s growing in your throat. Biting your bottom lip, you stand up from the couch and walk towards your bedroom without another word, leaving Minghao by himself in the living room.

You shut the door behind you and lean your back against it, shutting your eyes tightly as you slowly slide down until you’re sitting on your bedroom floor. You raise your hands up to your face, letting out a shaky breath as you remember that day.

You’re staring at that familiar head of blonde hair, the envelope sitting inside your desk as your teacher continues to ramble on about the quadratic formula. You blink when you feel a tap on your back, and you glance back to see your friend looking at you with a mischievous smile.

“Want to buy snacks with me during lunch?” Yeji asks, and the corner of your lips curls upwards. Nodding your head, you quickly whisper back, “I just need to do something really quick before we go.”

She gives you the okay! sign, and you grin before turning back towards the front. The sound of the bell is heard soon afterwards, and almost all of your classmates immediately stand up to start running to the cafeteria for lunch. You take out the envelope and turn back, peering over the top of everyone’s heads, and let out a breath when you see a flash of blonde.

Nervously, you walk over towards the front of the class, the feeling of your classmates’ eyes on you as you do so. You come to a stop when you’re standing beside his desk, staring at the top of his head as he quietly draws in his journal. He halts his movement when he senses someone standing beside him, and he slowly glances up until his eyes are locked on yours.

You don’t fail to notice the confusion that immediately floods his face, with you being the last person he’d expect to come and talk to him.

He blinks, “Yn?”

“Jeonghan, hi.” You say with a small smile, one that he doesn’t return due to the fact that he is still very confused as to why you’re talking to him. Biting the inside of your cheek at the feeling of all the eyes on you and the pretty boy, you finally hold out the envelope in his direction.

He slowly takes it from your grasp, almost as if he thinks it’s just a prank. You watch as he opens it up and takes out the card that’s inside, and he blinks down at the invitation.

“Come to my birthday party this Saturday. It’s just a small gathering of my family and a couple of friends. You can even invite your family to come since our parents have known each other for a long time.” You explain, feeling your face grow hotter the longer he stays quiet. He finally looks back up at you with an indecipherable look in his eyes, and you internally wonder what’s going through his head.

“We haven’t hung out since we were kids, why are you suddenly inviting me?” Jeonghan asks in a quiet voice, and you let out a small smile.

“Because I want you to come.”

The blonde haired boy stares at you for a moment longer, letting your answer sink in as the two of you stand in silence. You watch as he finally looks down at his journal, a hint of a smile appearing over his pretty features as he finally responds,

“Okay, I’ll make sure to be there.”

You let out a sigh and slowly lower your hands from your face, blinking slowly as you remember the small smile he had on his face when you left the classroom to go get lunch. You rest your head back against the door, about to close your eyes when the sound of something sliding on the floor catches your attention.

You glance down beside you, just to bite the inside of your cheek when you see a birthday card sitting there. The sound of Minghao’s soft voice rings out from behind your door as you lift up the card,

“Happy birthday, yn.”

You open up the card once you hear Minghao disappear off to his room, and a quiet chuckle escapes past your lips when you see the numerous small paragraphs written from each of your friends inside. From heartfelt messages like Chan’s, to short but sweet messages like Jihoon’s, you feel a bit of your heart mend itself together as you stare at the electronically lit candle on your card.

Ever since you met the 12 of them in university, they have come to learn of the guilt you feel whenever your birthday season rolls around. They never tried to ridicule you for it, or try to belittle your feelings like others have. Instead, they do their best to make sure you always smile on your birthday.

Your eyes fall onto your alarm clock, seeing the bright red numbers stare back at you in the darkness of your room.

11:59 PM

Your gaze trails back down to your birthday card, and you let out a dry chuckle at the shining birthday candle drawing. Your eyes linger on the one empty space that doesn’t have any writing from the 12 boys, and you press your lips into a thin line.

Glancing at the battery operated candle on your card, you close your eyes and quietly whisper to yourself,

“I wish for Yoon Jeonghan to have a second chance.”

Opening your eyes, you blow on the candle seconds before the clock strikes midnight. You watch as the candle turns dark, and the corner of your lips quirks upwards at the cute birthday card. A yawn escapes past your lips a moment afterwards, a sign that it’s time for you to go to bed.

Standing up from the floor, you walk over to your bed and place the birthday card onto your bedside table. You bellyflop onto the covers, rolling over so that you’re staring up at the ceiling with tired eyes. Your thoughts are all over the place as fatigue slowly takes over, but a single tear escapes past your eye as the memory of Jeonghan’s blonde hair walking down the halls comes to mind right before everything turns black.

You’re startled awake by the sound of your alarm going off, and you let out a groan as you quickly reach your hand out and slam it down on the clock to silence it. Rolling over onto your side once the ringing stops, you can already feel yourself beginning to fall back asleep when your bedroom door suddenly slams open.

You let out a groan, “Minghao, I swear to God–”

“Minghao? Who the hell is Minghao?!” Your eyes snap open at the sound of your mother’s voice, and you quickly sit up in bed and turn towards her. “Mom? What are you doing in my apartment…”

Your voice trails off when you quickly realize that you, in fact, are not in your apartment. You’re in your childhood bedroom, except it’s different from when you moved out. It doesn’t have the same decorations it used to have. The polaroids that used to adorn the walls are replaced with posters of the kpop group you liked in high school, as well as old family photos.

“What the fuck?” You mutter with wide eyes as you gaze around your room, only to get whacked in the face by a pillow.

“Language! Now get up from bed or else you’ll be late for school again.” Your mom tells you, and you can only blink at her as she steps out of your room. Once the door shuts behind her, you immediately raise your hand up and slap yourself in the face.

The sound resonates through your room, and as you rub your cheek to soothe the stinging sensation, you find the pit in your stomach growing when it slowly starts to sink in that this isn’t a dream. You’re in your childhood bedroom, with your mom shouting at you to get ready for school—something she hasn’t done since you graduated high school.

“Wait.” You murmur once the thought comes to mind, and you reach out to grab your phone off your night stand. Turning it on, you stare at your lock screen as the date flashes in your eyes.

January 15, 2019

Your phone falls from your hands and lands onto the floor with a loud thud, but you pay no mind to it as you quickly get up from bed and walk to your closet. You yank out your school uniform and hurriedly start to strip out of your pajamas and into your school uniform, needing to get to school to see for yourself if this is really happening.

If you really came back in time.

“Yn! Great job at the final game on Friday!”

“Your hair looks so cute today, yn!”

“Yn!”

You ignore all the calls of your name as you walk through the hallways of your high school, the sound of your heart beating against your chest is the only thing you can hear as you head straight towards your classroom.

You had forgotten how well known you were in high school.

Just when you’re about to turn the corner towards your classroom, a hand reaches out and grasps your wrist, spinning you around so that you’re face to face with them.

You find yourself staring into the eyes of the guy who had the biggest crush on you throughout the entirety of your senior year, and you watch as the corner of his lips quirks upwards.

“Hi, yn.”

“Jaehyun, I’m a bit busy right now. I’ll talk to you later.” You say with an apologetic smile, before gently removing your hand from his grip. You quickly turn around and run towards your classroom, feeling the eyes of everyone around you as you leave the school’s heartthrob standing alone in the hallway.

Once the sight of your classroom’s sliding door comes into view, you immediately reach out and slam it open. The sound resonates throughout the room, gaining the attention of your classmates as they all turn in your direction with surprised expressions on their faces.

“Yn, you good?” Yeji asks from your desk, but you pay her no mind as you frantically search the classroom for that blonde head of hair. Your heart falls when you don’t see him anywhere, and you reach down to pull your phone out of your pocket, checking the date again to make sure.

“It’s January, where is he?” You mutter to yourself, and you quickly move to turn around to search for him again, only to almost immediately slam into the person behind you.

“I’m so sorry—” The rest of the apology dies in your throat when your eyes latch onto the person’s name tag. You blink at the sight, before your eyes trail down to their hands that are resting on your arms as a way to steady you. Hearing your own heartbeat against your ears, you slowly look up until you’ve locked eyes with the boy you’ve missed most in the last three years.

Jeonghan is staring into your eyes with an inquisitive gaze, his pretty blonde hair resting softly over his forehead. You remember the day he had dyed his hair, having made him stick out among the crowd due to the brightness of the color. While others around you may have giggled or whispered about it, you had stayed quiet about how beautiful he looked with blonde hair.

“Are you okay?” Jeonghan asks in a quiet voice, but you can only stare at him in disbelief as tears prick the back of your eyes at the sound of his voice. You watch as concern floods his gaze when you don’t give him an answer, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you lower your head towards the floor to hide your glassy eyes.

“I-I’m okay.”

He continues to look at you for a moment longer, before nodding his head and letting go of your arms. You slowly tilt your head up so that you’re looking at him again, only to pause when you see how uncomfortable he appears as he glances around the room behind you.

You turn around to find the eyes of all your classmates trained on you and Jeonghan, with expressions ranging from shock to genuine confusion. Frowning slightly, you turn back towards the blonde haired boy, just for him to avert his gaze to the floor as he steps around you.

“Glad to know you’re okay.” He mutters, before walking over to his desk without another word. You watch him with a dazed look in your eyes, still unable to believe that this is happening as Yeji rushes over to you and grabs your arm.

“Yn! Everyone’s staring, let’s go to our desks.” She hurriedly whispers to you as she grabs your arm and drags you to your seats. You plop down in your chair, unable to ignore all the eyes on you as you glance over in the direction of the pretty boy. He’s staring down at his journal, foot tapping against the floor while listening to your teacher explain the lesson plan for the day.

A small smile takes over your features, even though you know this is far from over, or that this could be a dream. You allow yourself to feel the slightest bit of relief at the fact that he’s here, the boy you’ve missed all these years.

Your eyes trail over to the calendar pinned to the wall beside the whiteboard, staring at today’s date as you drown out the lecture your high school teacher is teaching.

January 15, 2019

Three months. That’s how long you have to prevent Jeonghan from doing what he did.

You let out a shaky breath, before pulling out your journal and pencil to start jotting down a plan. You fail to notice the blonde haired boy shooting a glance towards you, silently wondering what’s going on in your mind as you vigorously write into your notebook.

“Okay, yn. What was that earlier?” You glance up from your lunch tray to see Yeji placing her food down in front of you and sitting down. You place a piece of pickled radish into your mouth, chewing it as Yeji waits for you to answer. Once you swallow the vegetable, you simply shrug your shoulders as you look around the cafeteria, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You and Yeji aren’t that close in the present time, the consequence of going to different universities after graduating high school. There’s still the occasional texts greeting each other happy birthday! or asking how the other has been, but it never progresses past that.

Your gaze trails back to your high school best friend when she reaches out and smacks your arm, and a small smile forms on your face at the fact that you get to experience this again. She squints at the grin on your lips, and she lightly hits your arm again, making you pull away with a slight frown.

“Why do you keep hitting me? I’m just trying to eat my lunch!”

“Because you’re trying to act all coy! Now tell me why you ran into the classroom looking like a crazy person, and what you were aggressively writing in your notebook for all of math?” Yeji asks, picking up a piece of pickled radish and shoving it into your mouth because she knows it's your favorite. You chew the vegetable, feeling your heart warm a bit from the small act of kindness shown from your friend even though she’s annoyed with you.

Maybe I’ll get the chance to make sure we don’t drift apart in the future as well, you think to yourself as you swallow the pickled radish. You just wave a hand at her, “I just had a weird morning, thought I was going to be late to class.”

“That doesn’t explain how violently you were writing in your notebook.” Yeji points out with a raised eyebrow, and you roll your eyes. “What if I wanted to write notes because I thought the lecture was interesting?”

“Your memory is insane. You hardly ever write notes.”

“I heard that writing notes helps you retain information even better, so I decided to start taking notes.” You tell her with ease, gazing around the cafeteria in hopes that you’ll find that bright head of blonde hair. Yeji presses her lips into a thin line at your answer, before sighing in defeat as she gently kicks your shin to get your attention. “You know that I worry about you easily.”

“I know, but don’t worry. I’m just trying to make sure I look competitive for the universities that I apply to.” You say with a small smile, to which the brunette returns. Feeling like you’re in the clear, you shove the last of the rice into your mouth and stand up from the table. Chewing on the last bite of food, you gesture over towards the exit, “I’m going to start heading to class. I want to study a bit.”

Yeji wrinkles her nose at you talking with your mouth full, and waves you away with her hand. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

With one last smile, you wave at her and walk over towards the doors. Placing your tray where the dirty dishes are, you hurriedly step out of the cafeteria and head in the direction of your classroom.

While eating lunch with Yeji, you came to the realization that Jeonghan was nowhere to be found. When you started thinking back on memories of lunch at school, you quickly came to the conclusion that you never actually saw the pretty boy eat in the cafeteria. You only ever saw him in class and in the hallways when you’d pass each other, but nowhere else at school.

You stop by the vending machine outside of your classroom and slip in a coin, before inputting the code to the coffee. You bounce from foot to foot while you wait for the drink to come out, and you quickly snatch the can out of the dispenser before hurrying to your classroom.

You slide the door open once you’ve made it outside of the class, only to blink when you find the room to be empty. You slowly walk up to Jeonghan’s desk, finding no lunch box in sight. Letting out a breath, you glance up at the time to see that there’s only around 15 minutes left of lunch.

“Where could he have gone?” You murmur to yourself, looking down at the canned coffee you bought for him. You roll it in your hands, before pressing your lips into a thin line and stepping out of the classroom. Walking down the hallway, you hold the coffee close to your chest as you think of the possible places Jeonghan could go to have lunch.

“There’s the field, but the weather isn’t that nice today. I don’t think he’d eat in the library, either.” You mutter to yourself as you sneak a peek into each room you walk past to see if he’s in one of them. Clutching the can of coffee, you’re about to turn back and head to the classroom when you freeze at the sound of a song coming from the stairwell.

You blink at the soft voice you hear, and slowly start to walk towards the stairwell. Your heart thumps against your chest when you begin to recognize the angelic voice, having not heard it since you were a child.

Taking quiet steps into the stairwell, you stop when you see the back of that bright blonde head of hair. You watch in silence as he sings an unfamiliar song, a small smile beginning to play on your features when you see him tapping his foot to the beat. He doesn’t appear to notice you at the entrance, his headset blocking his sense of hearing to the outside world.

You don’t mind, though. You can see how content he looks sitting by himself, singing softly to a song that he likes while he waits for lunch to be over.

It’s only when he stops singing that you finally take a few steps towards him and sit down beside him on the step, promptly scaring the shit out of him when he shouts.

“JESUS CHRIST!” Jeonghan exclaims when you plop down beside him, hand clutching his chest as his heart beats loudly against his ears from the scare. You give him an apologetic smile while trying to stop the laughter that threatens to escape your lips, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He sucks in a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm down, even patting his chest to try and make his heart stop beating so loudly. Running a hand through his blonde hair, he turns back to you, “Did you want to sit here? I can leave.”

You shake your head immediately, making him blink in confusion. Giving him a small smile, you hold the canned coffee out towards him, which he just glances at before looking back up at you. You wiggle the drink in your hand a bit, signaling him to take it from your grasp. He takes one more hesitant glance at the coffee, before reaching out and taking it from you.

“Why did you get me this?” He asks quietly, now back to the closed off Jeonghan you remembered from the past. You shrug your shoulders, resting your cheek on the top of your knees as you face him, “Just thought about you when I was getting a drink at the vending machine.”

He blinks at you, a habit of his that you’ve quickly come to notice. Biting the inside of his cheek, he turns away from you and stares down at the canned coffee you bought for him. You turn away as well, being reminded of the days you sat at the top of the stairs for months after he passed.

Back then, you had no idea that this was where he’d spend lunch.

Silence falls over the two of you, with sounds of your classmates’ conversations and the occasional laugh ringing from afar. You don’t find it to be suffocating like you would with anyone else though. There’s something about the silence between you two that’s comforting.

It’s only a moment later when Jeonghan finally speaks, a single word that’s spoken so softly you almost miss it.

“Thanks.”

You glance at the pretty boy beside you, watching as he pops open the can and takes a long sip of the coffee you bought for him. You’re unable to fight the smile that takes over your features at the sight, and you just nod your head as you murmur in response,

“Of course, Jeonghan.”

“Yn! Are you going to the group dinner tonight?” You shut your locker to find your teammate, Chaewon, looking at you with an inquisitive expression on her face. Giving her an apologetic smile, you shake your head, “No, sorry! I’m busy after school—I already made sure to let the others know.”

“What? How come I missed your text? That doesn’t matter, yn! I want you to be there for our celebratory dinner after wrapping up the season!” Chaewon whines, wrapping her arms around you in an attempt to convince you. You chuckle at her theatrics and pat the top of her head, “I’m sorry, Chae. I promise I’ll be at the next one, and I’ll make sure to sit beside you.”

Chaewon pouts at you in a last ditch attempt, but you remain strong and just stare at her quietly. She lets out a huff of defeat and removes her arms from around you, to which you just smile and pat the top of her head again.

“Alright, but you promised! You can’t break it!” She says while pointing at you, and you laugh with a nod of your head. You gesture down the hallway, “Go, you don’t want to be late.”

Your friend lets out a breath and nods her head, sending you a wave before hurrying down the hallway. You watch as her short hair sways back and forth in time with each step she takes, and you press your lips into a thin line before turning away.

“Time to find Jeonghan—”

“Yn!” You turn your head to find Jaehyun walking up to you with a grin on his face, and you give him a small smile in return. “Hi, Jae. How was class?”

“It was alright. It was kinda nice to learn how to properly create a resume.” He tells you, and you chuckle with a nod of your head, remembering how genuinely helpful that class was for you in the future. He leans against the locker, a warm look in his eyes as he asks, “Do you want to go to the arcade with me? I heard from Yeji how you’ve been trying to win that Snorlax plushie from the claw machine.”

You bite the inside of your cheek at the reminder of your obsession of trying to get your favorite pokémon from the rigged claw machines at the arcade, having completely forgotten about it when you grew older. In the past, you agreed to go with Jaehyun since he offered to help you get Snorlax, but you both just ended up losing $30 to the claw machine and got boba instead.

But you didn’t come back in time to entertain Jaehyun and waste your time trying to win a plushie at the arcade.

You came back in time to save Yoon Jeonghan.

Giving the brunette an apologetic smile, you gesture towards the hallway behind you, “Sorry, Jae. I promised my mom that I’d help her clean up our garden after school.”

You don’t fail to notice the slight disappointment that washes over Jaehyun’s face at your answer, and you almost feel bad for turning him down because of this. He quickly puts on a small smile, his dimple appearing as he waves his hand at you, “It’s okay, yn. No worries, we can just go some other time.”

Not giving him a response, you just send him a smile and a wave, before turning around and hurrying towards the exit of the school. Stepping through the doors, you look around at all of the students leaving campus, trying to find that familiar blonde head of hair.

Your eyes widen when you finally spot the blonde, and you practically run after him. Calling out his name once you’re close enough, you let out a huff when you see that he has an airpod in each ear, and take a few more steps until you’re walking right beside him.

He blinks when he notices something in his peripheral vision, and right when he’s about to turn his head, you pop forward so that he’s staring directly into your eyes. He practically chokes on a scream and rips out an earbud, hand resting over his chest as he looks at you.

“Hi!”

“You scared the fucking shit out of me!” Jeonghan exclaims as he takes out his other airpod and puts it into its case. You give him an apologetic smile and shrug your shoulders, “You were listening to music so you didn’t hear me shouting after you almost a block away.”

“Is your way of greeting me to scare the shit out of me? First you jumpscared me in the stairwell yesterday, and now you pop out of nowhere like a jack in the box. I am not a fan of this technique.” Jeonghan tells you as he runs a hand through his hair, beginning to walk down the sidewalk again while you follow after him. Nudging his shoulder with yours, you chuckle, “Maybe if you didn’t listen to music at full blast then you’d be able to hear my presence when I’m nearby.”

“I’m just used to listening to music like that.”

“Why? So you can ruin your hearing and have similar hearing to an elderly man at the ripe age of 17?”

“No one ever really talks to me, so I don’t see a reason to not wear my headphones unless I’m in class.” Jeonghan says with a light laugh, when what he said is something that shouldn’t be laughed about. You feel your heart weigh with guilt at the jokes you were making, and look down at the pavement as the two of you walk.

“I’m sorry.”

Jeonghan shrugs his shoulders, “No need to apologize.”

“Well. Try not to blast your music that loudly from now on, okay?” You say, turning to him to gauge his reaction. You watch as the blonde blinks in confusion, turning to you with a curious gaze as he tilts his head, “Why?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you give him a warm smile, “Because I want you to be able to hear me when I talk to you.”

With that, you turn away and start looking up at the sky as silence falls over the both of you. You can feel Jeonghan’s eyes on you for a moment longer, before he turns away to look down at the sidewalk as the two of you continue to walk home.

It’s a few minutes later, when he finally responds,

“Okay.”

“Yn, this is Jeonghan. He’s the son of your favorite auntie—your mommy’s best friend, remember?” You look inquisitively at the small boy in front of you, staring into his big eyes in silence as the two of you make each other out.

“The two of you are both 6 years old, why not be friends?” Your mom says with a big smile, reaching out to pull Jeonghan a step closer to you. You look up to see your auntie giggling to herself at your mom’s attempts to make you and her son friends, and your gaze falls on the sleeping baby strapped to her chest.

“When’s your birthday?” You finally ask once you turn back towards him, and the boy before you tilts his head. “October 4th.”

You blink at his answer, before crossing your arms with a pout on your face. His round cheeks puff up a bit at your reaction, wondering what this could mean as you let out a sigh. He watches as your mom nudges you lightly with a quiet laugh, before she turns to him with a smile, “Yn’s just reacting like this because you’re a couple months older than them. Their birthday is on April 20.”

Jeonghan turns back to you, and you don’t fail to notice the hint of mischief in his gaze at this newfound information. He gives you a small smile and reaches out to grasp your hand, making your mom hold back a quiet squeal at the rapid development of your guys’ relationship. Your auntie gently slaps your mom’s shoulder with a smile, telling her to be quiet so that she doesn’t wake up the baby.

“Do you want to play games with me? My mommy recently bought the new GameCube.”

Your gaze lowers from the grown-ups and down to his small hand holding your own, before looking back up into his big eyes as he anticipates your answer. You wonder whether or not you should trust him when you remember the look in his eyes when he discovered he was older than you.

You don’t like it when people are older than you.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you decide to test him. Tilting your head, you ask, “Does that mean we’re friends?”

Jeonghan blinks at your question, before nodding his head with a big smile as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world, “Of course!”

Deciding to let go of your grudge at the sight of his pretty smile, you grin widely and nod your head.

“Okay, then let’s play!”

You smile fondly at the memory as you mindlessly doodle in your journal, completely ignoring the lesson that’s being taught on the whiteboard since you’ve already learned it before. You’re about to work on drawing a flower when you suddenly get a sharp nudge to the ribs, eliciting a squeak out of you as you turn to Yeji with wide eyes.

“What the fu—”

“Yn, care to solve this problem on the board?” Your head snaps towards the front of the room, seeing your teacher looking at you with an expectant look on her face. Biting the inside of your cheek, you realize that she noticed you were not paying any attention to what was being taught.

You do a quick look over the board, seeing the calculus formula written on it. Clenching your fist as you try to come up with the answer in your head, you stand up from your desk and slowly walk towards the front of the room.

Your heart is thudding against your chest, growing more anxious at the feeling of all the eyes on your back. In high school, you were known for being the smartest in your grade. You studied hard to get to that point. After every soccer practice you’d go and do homework until the early hours of the morning before finally going to sleep.

But it’s been years since you last had to solve a calculus problem.

You take a step past that blonde head of hair, and you press your lips into a thin line at the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of him when you ultimately end up with the wrong answer.

“4/3.”

You blink at the voice that whispers behind you as you reach out and take the piece of chalk that your teacher was holding out to you. Stepping up to the board, you turn your head to find Jeonghan scribbling in his notebook. You watch as he slowly lifts up his head and locks eyes with you, and he gestures towards the board before glancing back down towards his journal.

Biting back the smile that threatens to take over your features, you turn back towards the board and look at the problem presented before you. You stare at it for a moment, trying to see how Jeonghan got to that answer when it suddenly clicks.

You immediately begin to solve the problem on the board once you remember how to get to the answer, and you let out a breath of relief when you get the answer that Jeonghan told you. Setting down the piece of chalk, you glance at your teacher as she gives you a proud grin and nods her head at you.

“Great job, yn. You can go back to your seat now.”

Bowing your head towards her, you turn and walk back to your desk. Not without locking eyes with the blonde as you step past him, making sure to give him a small smile of gratitude. He just glances back down at his journal at the sight, and you’re practically beaming when you make it back to your seat.

“How did you manage to solve that problem when you weren’t even paying attention? I can’t even solve it and I’ve been writing notes!” Yeji whisper-shouts to you once you sit down, and you just giggle quietly and shrug your shoulders at her as your gaze makes its way back onto that blonde head of hair.

“Guess an angel wanted to help me today.”

You shut your locker with a small smile on your face, looking forward to walking home with Jeonghan again like you did on Friday. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you turn and start walking down the hallway towards the entrance, only for your small smile to widen when you see the back of that blonde head of hair glowing from the sunlight shining in through the windows.

“Yoon Jeonghan!” You call out, and your heart thumps against your chest when he immediately pauses at the sound of his name. He reaches up and removes an airpod from his ear, turning around and looking up from the floor so that his bright eyes lock onto yours. He blinks in recognition, and he puts his hands into his pockets while he waits for you to run over to him.

“You heard me this time.” You say with a smile when you finally catch up to him, and he shrugs his shoulders as the two of you start walking together. “I thought you wanted me to hear you.”

You nod your head, “I do, I just didn’t think you wanted to hear me.”

Jeonghan just scoffs at this, but you can tell he’s not actually annoyed based on the relaxed expression on his face. He pushes open the door, and you grin and walk out with him following after you. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the world around you being all that you listen to as you walk down the street.

You press your lips into a thin line when you think of your conversation with Jaehyun the other day, and a lightbulb pops off in your head when you suddenly come up with an idea. You stop walking and grasp Jeonghan’s wrist, making him stop and turn to you with growing confusion on his face.

“Yn? Are you okay?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and gesture towards the bus stop on the opposite side of the street, “Do you want to go to the arcade before we walk home? I’ve been trying to win this Snorlax plushie in the claw machines for a week or so now, and I have a really good feeling about trying again today.”

Jeonghan lets out a breath and glances towards the direction of your guys’ houses, “I don’t know, yn. I kind of just want to go–”

“Pretty please? I’ll pay for our meal if you come with me.” You try again, hope flooding your chest as you await his response. You watch as he looks down at the sidewalk for a moment, trying to think of his answer as you wait expectantly.

Running a hand through his hair, he finally turns to you and nods his head. He points towards the bus stop, “Okay. Let’s go to the arcade.”

You can’t help the big smile that takes over your features at his answer, and you immediately adjust your hold on his wrist and run towards the bus stop. A surprised noise escapes Jeonghan’s lips from your quick action, but he follows after you without complaint.

You fail to notice the way Jeonghan’s eyes trail up from your hand on his wrist, to the back of your head with a hint of wonder in his gaze.

“GOD DAMN IT!” You shout when Snorlax falls from the claw for the fifth time, and you slam your fist on the board where the controls lay. You bite your bottom lip in frustration, running a hand through your hair as you turn to Jeonghan. You see him trying to hold back the small smile that threatens to take over his features as he looks down at the floor, and you shoot him a glare.

“I see you.”

“See what?” Jeonghan asks, immediately covering up the grin by releasing a cough into his elbow. You squint at him and point to the game, “If you think my failure is so funny, then you win Snorlax for me.”

Jeonghan scoffs at this, and puts his phone into his pocket. He waves his hand at you to make you move to the side, and you bite back a laugh. Stepping away, you allow him to step forward so that he can play the claw machine.

“Watch and learn, yn.” The blonde tells you, and you let out a chuckle and gesture towards the claw machine. “Get me my Snorlax then, Yoon Jeonghan.”

You watch as the game begins to start, and the claw immediately moves towards the big pokemon plush that you’ve been wanting. Your eyes trail to Jeonghan’s face, and the corner of your lips quirks upwards when you see the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration.

“Don’t laugh, you’re ruining my concentration.” Jeonghan finally speaks, and you blink at him, absolutely flabbergasted.

“I didn’t even laugh!”

“I saw you smile out of the corner of my eye.”

“That is not the same as laughing–”

“Yn, I’m trying to concentrate…” The rest of his sentence dies in his throat when Snorlax falls from the claw, and the two of you can only stare at the big plush as it lands on its back. Jeonghan presses his lips into a thin line at the sight, before glancing down at the board to see that that was the final attempt.

He clenches his jaw, and reaches into his pocket to grab another dollar bill to try again. Your eyes widen, “Jeonghan! It’s okay–”

“I’m going to get him this time. I only failed because someone was distracting me.” Jeonghan says with a pointed glare in your direction, making you let out a startled laugh as you point to yourself. “Me?! I didn’t even do anything!”

“Shh! I’m going to get him on the first try, just watch.” The blonde tells you after inserting his money into the slot. You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch him let out a breath, before reaching for the knob to try again.

It’s three attempts later when you watch Snorlax fall to his doom for the third and final time, that you look back at Jeonghan to see him staring at the pokemon with a defeated expression on his face. Holding back the laugh that threatens to escape, you reach out and pat his shoulder, “It’s okay. I’ll still pay for our meal.”

Jeonghan’s lips form into a bit of a pout the longer he stares at the pokemon, and he squints his eyes and presses his finger into the glass to point at Snorlax.

“I’ll get you next time, Snorlax.”

With that, he turns and walks away from the claw machine. You let out a loud laugh from behind him, throwing your bag over your shoulder as you hurry to catch up with him. Reaching out, you grasp onto his wrist when you finally catch up, and he glances down at the contact before looking back up at you.

“I didn’t expect you to be so passionate about the claw machine.” You say with a giggle as the two of you step outside, and Jeonghan ignores the way your eyes sparkle at him by choosing to turn away. He shrugs his shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant as he responds, “I just hate capitalism.”

You stop walking at his answer, causing him to stop as well. He glances back at you to see your lips pressed together tightly in an attempt to stop the laugh from escaping. He raises his arms up to ask why you’re laughing, which makes you shut your eyes to try and calm down.

“There’s no way it’s that funny.” Jeonghan says lightly, no malice in his voice as he awaits your reaction. You shake your head, sucking in a deep breath and squeezing his wrist, “No, I’ve just never seen someone say claw machines are a form of capitalism.”

Jeonghan gawks at you, “Yn! How have you not heard about that? It’s too real. Do you realize that we’re literally victims of capitalism right now? That’s how they get you–”

Jeonghan’s tangent is cut off by you bursting into laughter, the sound of your light and pretty voice ringing through the night. The blonde feels the corners of his lips quirk upwards at the sight of your smile, and he turns away when you look back at him while starting to walk towards the bbq restaurant again.

“So you’re saying that by us playing the claw machine, we’re directly feeding into capitalism?” You ask through your giggles, feeling warmth flood your heart at the fact that this is the first time he’s spoken so much. It’s almost as if the first layer of the walls he’s built around himself is beginning to crumble, and you want to keep going. Jeonghan shoots you a glance, turning away as he asks, “Do you genuinely want to know?”

You smile softly, “Of course, Jeonghan.”

The blonde bites the inside of his cheek, before beginning to explain how claw machines are the ultimate form of capitalism and can even feed into the start of a gambling addiction. The both of you know that it’s a silly form of knowledge that he knows, but Jeonghan can’t help but notice the pure awe in your eyes as he talks.

It makes him want to keep speaking.

And so, the conversation continues all the way to the restaurant. The two of you seem to talk about everything and anything until you both make it back home, where you’re forced to end the conversation.

“Yn, honey! It’s time to sing Happy Birthday!” You hear your mom call from downstairs, and you turn to Jeonghan with an excited grin and nudge his shoulder. “Did you hear that? It’s time for cake!”

The pretty boy beside you presses pause on the game the both of you were playing on your Wii console, and he turns to you, a big toothy smile forming on his lips at the sight of your own excitement. He nods his head and stands up from the floor, before making a run for the stairs.

“Last one there is a rotten egg!” He calls, and you let out a squeal, standing up and hurrying after him. The two of you sprint past your family members, and you feel a rush of adrenaline flow through you when you see him start to slow down near the kitchen table. Taking your chance, you quickly shoot past him and jump into the chair that’s placed in front of your birthday cake.

“I win! You’re the rotten egg, Hannie!” You cheer, laughing happily as your best friend moves to sit down right beside you. He nods his head with a small smile, “I’ll be the rotten egg since it’s your 8th birthday today, but remember to be the rotten egg when it’s my 9th birthday.”

You pout at the reminder that he’s older than you, but it quickly disappears when your mom lights the candles on the cake placed before you. Your dad smiles and holds up the camera, already taking a video of you as everyone begins to sing happy birthday.

You smile happily as you look at everyone around you, before turning to look at Jeonghan, who is singing quietly while gently clapping his hands and looking at you. You bite the inside of your cheek when the song comes to an end, and you glance at your mom who gestures towards the cake.

“Okay yn, it’s time to make a wish.”

You let out an excited giggle and nod your head. Quietly thinking to yourself on what you want to wish for, you slowly turn your head so that you’re looking at Jeonghan, who’s watching you expectantly. He gives you a smile and points to your cake, as if to remind you that you still need to blow out your candles.

A smile takes over your features at the sight, and you turn back towards the cake and suck in a deep breath. Closing your eyes, you think to yourself,

I wish to always have Jeonghan by my side, even if he may be older than me.

Opening your eyes, you lean into the table and blow out the candles.

You slowly awaken to the light pouring in through your curtains, and you let out a quiet groan as you roll over onto your side. Your heart is warm from the dream, remembering that day like it was yesterday.

Who would’ve known that years down the road, you’d be regretting not keeping Jeonghan by your side when you entered high school. Stretching your arms above your head, you roll over and pick up your phone, and the date appears before your eyes.

January 28, 2019

“Two months. Around two more months to convince him.” You mutter to yourself, before unlocking your phone and going to your messaging app. Tapping on your messages with the blonde, you send him a quick text, and a small smile forms on your face when you receive a response moments later.

you: good morning jeonghan ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

jeonghannie: morning

Letting out a breath, you set your phone by your side and sit up in bed. You open your curtains, allowing the sunlight to shine into your bedroom as you look at the pretty Winter weather.

“I’ll make my wishes come true, Yoon Jeonghan.” You murmur to yourself, before finally getting out of bed to start preparing for school.

You’re standing in front of the vending machines, quietly wondering to yourself whether or not to buy Jeonghan a canned coffee or banana milk. Tilting your head, you finally decide to get him the canned coffee since you’ve come to notice the dark bags under his eyes.

“Yn!” You turn at the call of your name, only to blink when you find Jaehyun waving bye to his group of friends before jogging over to you. You give him a small smile and say hello in greeting as you reach down to grab the two canned coffees from the vending machine slot.

“I haven’t been able to talk to you in like, two weeks. You’ve been so busy.” Jaehyun says with a grin, and you let out a light laugh and nod your head. “Well, it is college application season. I’ve been busy trying to perfect my apps.”

The brunette nods his head in agreement as you start to walk in the direction of your classroom. He follows after you, taking note of the two cans of coffee in your hands. Clearing his throat, he lets out a chuckle and points at the drinks in your hands, “Didn’t sleep well last night?”

You shake your head at his statement with a kind grin, coming to a stop in front of your class as you turn to the handsome boy in front of you. You already know that Jaehyun has a crush on you, it was obvious from the moment the both of you were first paired up in biology together in your freshman year.

You never felt that way towards him, which he came to learn at the start of university. However, Jaehyun has always been kind. He was just glad to have you as a friend, and you hope it stays that way, considering the fact that you’ve been ignoring him completely since you came back in time.

“I slept okay.” You say, and he raises an eyebrow at your answer. “So why two coffees?”

You just give him a smile and raise a hand up towards him as goodbye, before turning around and entering your classroom. Feeling everyone’s eyes follow you as you walk away from Jaehyun, you step over to your desk and rest one of the cans on top. Ignoring everyone’s stares, you turn to find Jeonghan sitting at his seat in the front of the room, head resting on his desk as he tries to catch some extra sleep.

Grinning at the pretty sight, you call out, “Yoon Jeonghan!”

You watch as the blonde’s eyes slowly flutter open at the call of his name, and he sits up from the table. Rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand, he takes out one of his earbuds and turns towards the back to find you standing by your desk. He lowers his arm to his side, and you raise up his can of coffee with a bright smile on your face.

The corner of his lips quirks upwards when you wiggle the drink in his direction, signaling for him to take it from you. He raises up a hand and waves for you to come over, to which you groan but quickly oblige. His eyes follow you as you quickly make your way over, but he feels a shiver rise up the back of his neck, and he slowly becomes aware of all the eyes on him.

Jeonghan raises a hand up to the back of his neck, almost as if to hide the goosebumps from view as he slightly turns his head, only to make eye contact with a majority of his classmates. He blinks at all of them, not used to all the attention being on him when he suddenly hears,

“I bought you coffee out of the goodness of my heart, and you still want me to deliver it to you?”

Jeonghan slowly looks up to find you jokingly complaining about how he must view you as a glucose parent while you place the canned coffee down onto his desk. A bright smile forms on your face as you let out a soft laugh at the jokes you’re making, and he feels himself relax at the visual.

You turn to the blonde to find him staring up at you, a content look beginning to appear in his eyes as he does so. Feeling happy at the sight, you decide to point at the can and crack another joke, “What? Do you want me to open it for you too?”

Jeonghan blinks out of his trance, and rolls his eyes teasingly as he reaches out to grab the can. “I can open it by myself, you know. I also do not view you as a glucose parent—especially when we consider the fact that your card declined on the meal you were treating me to.”

You gasp at the mention of that, reaching out and gently slapping his shoulder in retaliation. He chuckles to himself at that, and he takes a sip of coffee as you start to complain about the fact that he promised to never speak of that instance again.

Glancing around the room as you rant to him, you squint at some of your classmates who are still choosing to stare at the two of you. You knew he suddenly realized everyone’s eyes were on him, and you tried your best to distract him—which thankfully worked. Your eyes trail over towards the doorway to the classroom, and you let out a breath of relief when you don’t find Jaehyun standing by the door anymore.

Looking back into Jeonghan’s eyes, you raise an eyebrow, “How would you feel if I just blatantly stated that you punched the claw machi–”

“Okay! Okay, I understand. I’ll never speak of it again.” Jeonghan cuts off immediately, and you let out a laugh at the fact that that was all you needed to mention for him to butt in. He rolls his eyes and opens his coffee, raising it up towards you slightly, “Thank you, yn.”

You shrug your shoulders with a teasing smile, “Of course, Jeonghan. I know you’re fighting to stay awake everyday during class.”

The blonde nods his head at this and takes a sip of his coffee, before placing it down on the desk. He’s about to talk to you more, only to stop when the sound of your teacher’s voice rings throughout the room. You stand up from his desk to see your teacher entering the room while discussing the lesson plan for the day, and you quickly wave bye to Jeonghan before rushing over to your seat.

You greet Yeji as you sit down, and she wiggles her eyebrows at you in response. Tilting your head at her greeting, she just nudges you in the ribs and gestures over towards the front of the room. You squint at her, wondering what she’s trying to say as you whisper, “What?”

She nudges you again, and you swat her elbow away with a frown growing on your face. Your friend giggles at your annoyance, before whispering, “What is going on between you and the pretty boy over there?”

You roll your eyes, “His name is Jeonghan.”

“Ah, how’d you already know I was talking about Jeonghan?” You pause at the question, internally cursing at the fact that she caught you. Turning to face Yeji, you let out a sigh when you see the smug expression on her face as she wiggles her eyebrows at you again. Without a word, you reach out and slap her shoulder, eliciting a squeak from her that captures the attention of your teacher.

“Yn and Yeji, either be quiet and listen to the lecture or spend an extra hour cleaning the classroom after school.”

You and Yeji quickly turn to face the front of the room, and you move to pull out your journal and pencil case from your bag. Seemingly satisfied, your teacher nods her head and turns back towards the board to continue the lesson. Looking up from your bag, you end up locking eyes with Jeonghan, and you squint when you see the mirth in his gaze.

Face the front, you mouth to him, to which the corner of his lips just quirks upwards in response. He turns back around in his seat, and you look back down at your journal and open it up to a new page. A hand darts out and scribbles a note on the top left corner of the page, and you bite back a laugh at the message Yeji had written.

This conversation isn’t over! We’re talking about it at lunch!

A hard slam of a lunch tray being placed in front of you makes you jump up in your seat, looking up to find Yeji standing across from you, a cheshire-like smile on her face as she moves to sit in the chair. You let out a groan at the fact that the conversation really wasn’t over like you were wishing it was.

“Now we can get down to business. Tell me why you’re suddenly so interested in the quietest boy in school?” Yeji asks, and you choke on your saliva, coughing into your arm to try and calm down. You reach out and desperately chug some water, before slamming the metal cup onto the table while shooting your friend a glare. “You really wasted no time, huh?”

Yeji shrugs, “I’m not the type to beat around the bush—you of all people know that.”

“You got me there.” You say, deciding to pick up your chopsticks to eat more of your lunch before adding, “Jeonghan and I were best friends when we were kids, and I wanted to rekindle that before we start applying to college.”

“You guys were friends? I can’t imagine you being friends with someone that quiet.” Yeji says through a mouthful of rice. You roll your eyes, pointing at her with your chopsticks, “Don’t speak with your mouth full! And why not? Some people are just quiet before you get to know them.”

Yeji hums in agreement with this, taking a sip of her water as she gazes around the cafeteria. After she finishes chewing the food in her mouth, she turns back to you, “Yeah, but Jeonghan is quiet. He doesn’t have any friends in this school, nor any social media for that matter. He’s practically a ghost—a handsome one, though. No one’s been able to get through to him since sophomore year, so this is the first time we’ve seen him talk to someone.”

You just shove a spoonful of rice into your mouth, feeling yourself growing more annoyed the longer the conversation goes on. Is this how your classmates viewed Jeonghan? It’s almost as if no one sees him as a human being, but some strange entity just because he’s quiet.

“I mean, you’d think with a face as beautiful as his, he’d be going around confidently like Jaehyun, or something. I remember him not being this quiet in freshman year, but something must’ve happened over that summer leading into sophomore year to make him so closed off.” Yeji recounts, looking off to the side in thought as she tries to remember more about Jeonghan. Your ears perk up at the mention of sophomore year, and your eyebrows furrow as you try to search your memories of the blonde.

Yeji claps her hands suddenly, making you look at her with raised eyebrows as she points at you with her spoon. “He bleached his hair suddenly in sophomore year too! I almost thought he was a trainee for an idol group, but I guess he just wanted to become blonde. He definitely captured a lot of peoples’ attention afterwards though, but everyone became uninterested when they found out how quiet he is.”

You tilt your head at this, suddenly remembering when you saw his bright head of blonde hair in the hallways for the first time. You may be a bit annoyed by how Yeji’s been speaking of him, but you were given some more insight into when Jeonghan first started to change.

Looking off to the side, you press your lips into a thin line and stand up from the table. Yeji looks up at you with a curious gaze, wondering why you’re attempting to leave lunch already. You gesture towards the exit, “I forgot that I need to talk to the teacher about my college essay. I’ll see you in class.”

Giving her a small smile, you turn around and walk away without hearing her response. You bite the inside of your cheek once you leave the cafeteria, feeling a bit guilty at how you definitely showed your annoyance towards the conversation with the way you abruptly left.

You’re frustrated. How could your classmates talk about Jeonghan like this when they don’t even know him? They don’t know what he’s going through, or if something’s wrong because they never reached out to ask. They just decided to make up stories and outcast him, which led to that fateful day…

You stop in your tracks, staring down at the floor as guilt washes over you.

You’re not frustrated at your classmates for gossiping instead of reaching out to Jeonghan when he needed someone the most, no.

You’re mad at yourself, because you were one of them.

You saw all the signs, you knew something had changed in your childhood best friend. Yet, you never reached out.

You only tried when it was too late.

A pained chuckle escapes you as you tilt your head up towards the ceiling, and you run a hand over your face as you mutter, “I’m such a hypocrite.”

Biting your bottom lip, you look down towards the ground.

This is no time for self-hatred, you think to yourself as you begin to head towards the classroom again. You came back for a reason. You wished every year since you turned 18 for Jeonghan to get a second chance, and you'd be damned if he didn’t get that because you started to focus too much on blaming yourself.

“I can do this.” You murmur as you turn the corner and enter the classroom, and you feel your heart stop within your chest at the sight before you.

Jeonghan is sitting on the windowsill, the sunlight peering in through the curtains and hitting his face as he stares out the window. His blonde hair glows underneath the light, making him look more ethereal than usual. However, above all else, he looks tired. From the dark bags under his eyes, to the look of pure exhaustion in his gaze as he looks out at the soccer field.

You quietly wonder how long he must’ve felt like this in the past, and how you just chose to overlook it. You haven’t seen this side of him since you started to commence your plan, but it makes you question what goes on in his head when the two of you aren’t together. Biting the inside of your cheek, you lightly knock on the desk to capture his attention.

He slowly turns his head in your direction, and you let out a small smile when the two of you lock eyes. You watch as an indecipherable emotion flashes past his eyes, and he raises his hand up to wave at you as he stands up from the windowsill.

“Did you eat?” You ask as you make your way over to him, and he nods his head while glancing out the window again. Slipping in-between the desks, you step over and sit on the windowsill right beside him, turning to see what he might be looking at.

You see a group of students playing soccer on the field, with your other classmates sitting on the bleachers either chatting or watching the impromptu game that happens during lunch every time the weather is nice. Leaning your head against the window, you turn back towards Jeonghan to see him looking at you instead, and you fight back the urge to suck in a breath from surprise.

“Yn, are you still bad at soccer?” Jeonghan asks suddenly, and your initial surprise turns into annoyance as you roll your eyes at the question. You notice the corner of his lips quirk upward at your reaction, and he rests his temple against the window like you.

“You know that I play forward in our school’s soccer team, right?” You respond with a raised eyebrow, and he just shrugs his shoulders. “All I can remember is you falling backwards when you attempted to kick a soccer ball for the first time.”

“I was ten! Ten years old! And I was just trying to prove you wrong since you were acting all cocky cause you joined the soccer team then!” You argue, eliciting a grin from the blonde as he waves a hand at you. You scowl at him, turning back towards the window to watch as some of your classmates dribble the ball down the field.

“I was cocky for good reason. You know that I was good when we were younger.” Jeonghan says, and you glance at him with a slight pout to your lips. There’s a sense of nostalgia from his expression as he watches the soccer game occurring on the field, and maybe even a bit of longing?

Does he miss playing soccer?

“I bet I’m better than you now.” You taunt, and he snorts, turning to you with an amused expression on his face. “Yeah?”

You nod your head, feeling a bit relieved that your method of challenging him might be working. Acting nonchalant, you shrug your shoulders and cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah, you don’t know how well I play now. Who knows? Maybe I can beat you if we play a match.”

The blonde stares into your eyes for a moment, before leaning in a bit more, and you instantaneously suck in a breath at the sudden close proximity. The corner of his lips quirks upwards,

“Alright. Let’s play 1v1 after school.”

And a victorious smile spreads over your face as you nod your head in agreement right as the bell rings, signaling that lunch is over.

“Get ready to lose, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“What the fuck. There’s no way… there’s no way you’re winning right now.” You pant, hands on your knees as you try to catch your breath while Jeonghan chugs water beside you. He lets out a satisfied breath after gulping the water, popping the lid back on as he turns to look at you with a grin on his face.

“Maybe you can pull a Praise Marty or something, I don’t remember the name.”

“Hail Mary, Jeonghan.”

The blonde lets out an, ah!, and snaps his fingers after you correct him. He nods his head and points at you, “That’s right! Wow, how could I forget?”

You roll your eyes jokingly and stand back up at your full height, stretching your arms over your head as you stare at Jeonghan’s goalpost. You turn towards the pretty man beside you and shoot him a glare as your arms lower back to your sides, “You’re being cocky again. What if I manage to get two points ahead of you and win the game? Then I get the right to be a cocky bastard.”

Jeonghan shrugs his shoulders and starts to head back towards the middle of the field, “You can try your best, cause I’m not going to make that an easy feat for you.”

“I’d be offended if you were being easy on me, so good.” You tell him, a chuckle escaping past his lips from that. Following him, you stand on the other side of the soccer ball, the two of you staring each other down with the competitive spirit clear in his gaze.

“You know if I make another goal then I win, right?” Jeonghan asks with a small smile ghosting his features, and you nod your head while feigning being hurt from his teasing. “Yoon Jeonghan, you’re damaging my pride by not knowing that I’m one of the best players on our school’s soccer team.”

“Maybe I just wanted to humble you.” The blonde replies, and you tilt your head at him.

Smiling, you say, “I think you’re the one that needs to be humbled.” before stepping past him and stealing the ball. You dribble the ball down the field, with Jeonghan following closely behind you to try and steal it back. You’re insanely focused on the game, feeling a rush of adrenaline flow through you as you relish in the feeling of playing your beloved sport again.

After Jeonghan died, you quit playing altogether.

Right when you’re about to make an attempt to kick the ball into the net, you let out a shriek when Jeonghan suddenly steals the ball from you and runs down the field with it. You quickly follow after him, trying to run past him to take it back when he suddenly makes a long range kick.

And it hits the top left corner of the net.

“YES!” Jeonghan exclaims, raising his arms up in victory as he cheers. You rest your hands on your knees to catch your breath as he celebrates, awe flooding you at the fact that he was able to make such a shot when he hasn’t played the sport in years.

“Jesus Christ, Jeonghan. Why aren’t you on the soccer team? Our school would’ve had twice as many trophies with you on the team!” You say with wide eyes, and the sweaty blonde just shrugs his shoulders as he lifts up his shirt to wipe the sweat dripping down his face.

“I’m not that interested in soccer anymore.” Jeonghan answers tiredly, and you turn to see the faraway look in his eyes at that answer. Biting the inside of your cheek, you let out a loud groan and raise your arms up to stretch.

“Maybe you don’t need to be humbled then. Maybe the smugness is deserved.” You joke in an attempt to distract him from his thoughts, and he snorts. He turns to you, eyes now filled with humor as he responds, “I told you so.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hotshot. Since you won this game of soccer, why don’t you go and fetch my soccer ball and then I’ll prepare our bags.” You say with a grin, and the blonde chuckles.

“You don’t want to walk all the way to the goal, do you?”

“Nope. My legs feel like they’re about to collapse, so you’re in charge of getting my soccer ball.”

Jeonghan just rolls his eyes jokingly at your teasing, but jogs over to the net to get the soccer ball. The corner of your lips quirks upward, before turning and heading over to the benches and picking up your guys’ stuff. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you snatch Jeonghan’s bag and sweatshirt and walk over to the exit of the field where he’s waiting for you.

“You want your sweatshirt? You’re looking pretty cold now that we’re not running around.” You ask as the two of you walk off the field, and the blonde nods his head as he places the soccer ball into your bag. You extend your arm and hand over his sweatshirt, which he gratefully takes and throws on. After he puts his arms through the sleeves, he takes his bag from your grasp and puts it on, before taking your bag off and throwing it over his shoulder.

Blinking in surprise, you point to your bag, “I can carry it—”

“I got it, don’t worry.”

Warmth floods your face at the act of kindness, and you can’t help the small smile that forms on your face as you turn away to look at your surroundings. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you head in the direction of your homes, with the sound of dried leaves flying across the pavement and cars driving by filling the silence.

“You know, you’re really good at soccer. I was struggling a bit playing against you.” Jeonghan tells you after a moment, and you let out a smile at the compliment. “It feels great to hear you say that, especially when you’re like, my biggest inspiration behind starting the sport.”

The blonde tilts his head at this, having not known this piece of information as he glances at you with a raised eyebrow, “Why am I your biggest inspiration when all I did was make fun of you for falling backwards while trying to kick a soccer ball?”

You scoff at the mention of your origin with the sport, and he chuckles at your reaction. He waits patiently for you to answer his question, looking at you expectantly as the two of you walk slowly underneath the night sky.

“I thought you were so cool when we were younger, I wanted to do whatever you did.” You begin, a small smile playing on your lips as you think of all the hobbies you picked up because of Jeonghan. He listens intently, waiting for you to continue as you let out a breath. “Whether it be Pokémon, WiiSports, or even you eating more vegetables cause you wanted to be healthier. I wanted to do it all, but when I went to your first soccer game when we were 10, I thought you were so cool.”

Jeonghan blinks at your honesty, watching as your eyes practically sparkle as the memory plays inside your head. He remembers that day too, all the way down to the bright red jersey of his you were wearing, and the flowers you were holding. The corner of his lips quirks upwards when he remembers you handing him the flowers, apologizing for how they looked since they lost all their petals because of how much you were jumping and cheering for him.

It’s one of the memories he cherishes most.

“I had never seen you more in your element than I did watching you play soccer. You were the coolest guy ever to me, and I was so inspired that I immediately asked my mom to sign me up for soccer lessons behind your back to surprise you.” You explain, and the blonde chuckles lightly as he turns to you with a teasing grin on his face.

“You don’t think I’m cool anymore?”

“Jeonghan,” You begin, and the blonde feels his heart stutter slightly in his chest at how serious you look after his question. Reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder, you give him a small smile,

“I think you’re the coolest person ever.”

Jeonghan stares at you in silence, and you watch as an indecipherable emotion flashes past his eyes. He bites the inside of his cheek after a moment, and turns away as he lets out a small cough into his elbow. You quietly wonder to yourself if that was too much all at once, or if you made him uncomfortable as the two of you start to walk in silence again.

Oh no, we’ve been making so much progress too, you think to yourself as you turn away. Your worries disappear shortly after, however, when Jeonghan finally mutters,

“Thank you, yn.”

And you smile softly to yourself when you glance at the blonde to see the tinge of red painting his cheeks as he tries to hide his appearance from you. Letting out a quiet giggle, you nod your head and glance back up towards the night sky, seeing the moon shine down onto the both of you,

“Always, Jeonghan.”

“Yn, do you think you can help me out this weekend?” You turn to Jeonghan with wide eyes as you lower the banana milk from your lips, blinking slowly as you let his question sink in.

This is the first time he suggested we hang out in the month that we’ve been getting close, you think to yourself as the blonde suddenly becomes very interested in the metal railings of the staircase. Realizing you haven’t answered him yet, you quickly swallow the milk, “W-With what?”

I stuttered. I fucking stuttered, you internally curse as Jeonghan shoots you a glance with a nervous grin. Running a hand through his hair, he points to his head, and you raise an eyebrow at what he’s trying to insinuate.

Your mouth suddenly drops open when a thought comes to mind, and you raise a hand to your mouth as you let out a loud gasp. Jeonghan blinks at you, and you point to him with your mouth agape, “Are you enlisting already?!”

The blonde sputters at your question, and chugs some of his canned coffee before violently shaking his head. With wide eyes he wipes the back of his mouth and points at you, “No! How did you even come to that conclusion?!”

“Because you just suddenly pointed to your head! I thought you were going to ask me to shave your head for you.” You say as you cover your mouth, feeling relief and a bit of embarrassment flood you as you stare at the pretty man before you. He lets out a sigh and nudges your knee with his, “I was going to ask you to help retouch my roots and color my hair, doofus.”

You blink, ignoring the name he called you to ask, “Color your hair?”

Jeonghan nods his head as he looks down the staircase, “Yeah, just a temporary hair color. I only need it for this weekend.”

“Is that good for your hair?” You joke, and the blonde nudges your knee with his again. He leans his head towards your face, and you feel warmth flood your cheeks when the faint scent of strawberries registers in your senses. He pats the top of his head, “You can feel my hair. I think it still feels pretty soft for someone who’s been bleaching it for the last two years.”

You snort at his statement, before tentatively lifting up your hand and patting the top of his head. He’s not wrong in what he said. His hair still feels quite soft for the amount of chemicals he’s used on his hair, but it definitely isn’t at its healthiest state either.

Too focused on your own thoughts, you failed to notice that you’ve been silently stroking his hair instead of just patting it a couple of times. Jeonghan slowly lifts up his head until he’s looking into your eyes, ready to tease you for initially thinking his hair wasn’t soft, only to freeze. Your hand stops its movement on top of his head as well when the two of you lock eyes, the sound of your heartbeat becoming the only thing you can hear.

You never failed to notice how ethereal Jeonghan is, it was something you knew since the two of you were children. And yet, you still find yourself in a state of awe whenever you end up looking at him from this close-up.

“Pretty.” You whisper subconsciously, and Jeonghan blinks at you in shock as heat immediately rises to his face. You blink as well, only to let out a quiet gasp and retract your hand. You scoot over a bit and grab your banana milk, practically chugging the whole drink to try and soothe your fast beating heart.

Setting the container down onto the step, you let out a cough into your elbow before standing up from the step abruptly. Jeonghan’s turned away from you, cheeks flushed pink at what just occurred. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you point towards the direction of the classroom,

“Just text me the details for this weekend. I’ll be, uh, taking my leave.”

Rushing up the steps, you walk down the hallway and repeatedly slap your forehead while cursing yourself out for letting that slip.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would you say that out loud? And who the fuck says I’ll be taking my leave?! Stupid!”

While Jeonghan remains on the step, blinking as the moment replays in his head on loop as warmth rushes up his face.

Jeonghan can practically hear his own heartbeat in his ears with how loudly it’s beating against his chest. He didn’t realize how close the two of you were to each other, but for some reason, he doesn’t want to pull away just yet.

Their eyes are so bright, he thinks to himself as his eyes gaze into yours. It’s something he’s noticed since he was a child. You always seemed to shine whenever he saw you, a characteristic that seemed to have stuck with you to this point.

He swallows the growing lump in his throat, staring at you as the cruel reminder floats into his mind.

Your light, he doesn’t want to take that from you.

Clenching his fist, he moves to scoot back when one word escapes past your lips, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“Pretty.”

Jeonghan slowly raises his hands to cup his hot face, and the smallest of smiles forms on his face at the memory.

The warmth in his heart lingers until it’s nighttime and he’s laying in bed, staring up at the night sky out the window as he compares whether the billions of stars in the sky are brighter than your eyes.

As he finally succumbs to sleep, he finds that the answer is you.

You’re brighter than all the stars in the sky combined.

February 9, 2019

You place your phone back onto your bedside table with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling as you silently think to yourself, two more months.

You have two more months to convince Jeonghan to stay, that he is more precious than he could ever imagine.

“I think I’m making progress.” You mutter to yourself as you sit up in your bed, scratching the back of your neck as you climb off the mattress and walk out of your bedroom. In the first month you and Jeonghan have been hanging out, it’s only ever been you asking him to do things and him obliging (with a little bit of encouragement from you).

Him asking you to hangout today is a big step in your eyes, because it’s something that he planned.

Picking up your toothbrush, you apply toothpaste onto the bristles and start brushing your teeth while making sure to send the blonde a good morning text like you always do. A small smile forms on your face when Jeonghan’s text comes in a moment later, and you set your phone down to continue getting ready.

you: good morning jeonghan ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

jeonghannie: morning yn

₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎

You ring the doorbell to Jeonghan’s home, letting out a breath to try and rid yourself of the anxiety you feel as you stand on his doorstep. You know his house better than the back of your hand, and he’s the same with yours. The two of you always hungout at each other’s houses when you were younger, so you shouldn’t feel so nervous.

Except, the last time you went to Jeonghan’s house was after he died.

Before your thoughts could go any further, the front door opens, and you find yourself staring into the pretty brown eyes of the boy you came back in time for. His long blonde hair is a bit messy on his head, and he’s wearing an old oversized shirt that has numerous colors painted on it from previous hair dyes. The corners of his lips quirk upwards slightly at the sight of you, and you raise your hand up to give him a timid wave.

“Hi.”

The two of you stand there for a second longer, before Jeonghan steps to the side and gestures towards the inside of his house. “Come in. I was preparing the bleach already.”

Nodding your head, you slip off your shoes and step inside the house. You put on the fuzzy slippers that he placed on the floor for you, and follow him down the hallway as you gaze around at your surroundings.

Almost everything is the same in the house from when you last visited in the past, but the atmosphere is different.

After Jeonghan passed, the air was thick within the space. The curtains were drawn so there was no natural light entering through the windows. All the photos with Jeonghan that were hung up on the walls were too painful to look at, and one glance would send someone into tears.

So you tried not to look.

But the one photo you were forced to see was the large framed picture of him taken from the funeral home. It was placed in the living room, a candle on each side of it with sticks of incense you could light placed before him.

It was a sight that made your heart stop, because you quickly came to the realization that he had taken this photo only days prior from the sight of his retouched roots.

“Yn.” Your head snaps away from the living room and towards the blonde in the kitchen. His eyes are filled with a bit of concern, and you quickly realize that he must’ve been calling your name for the last minute or so.

“Oh, sorry. I spaced out there, what was the question?” You ask as you hurry over to him, and he opens his fridge and pulls out a carton of banana milk. Waving it in front of your face, he asks, “You want some?”

He watches as your eyes brighten from the sight of the drink, and he holds back a chuckle when you slowly nod your head with a growing smile on your face. Handing you the drink, he gestures over towards the stairs, “We’ll bleach my hair in the upstairs bathroom. My mom doesn’t want me to use the downstairs bathroom in case I make a mess.”

Popping the straw through the seal, you take a sip of the drink and nod your head at what he said, “I mean, it makes sense since guests would use that bathroom the most.”

Jeonghan nods as the two of you start making your way upstairs, and he steps into the bathroom with you following after him. You crinkle your nose when the strong scent of bleach floods your sense of smell, and the blonde grins at your obvious disgust as he mixes the concoction.

“I know, the smell is too strong right?” Jeonghan asks, and you nod your head while giving him an apologetic smile. He gestures over towards the drawer, “I put a mask in there for you cause I felt like you’d want to wear it while doing my hair. I know that you don’t like strong scents like this.”

Lowering the banana milk from your lips, you feel your heart thump against your chest at the fact that he remembered something as small as that. Biting back a smile, you open the drawer and take out the mask, putting it on without a second to waste.

Setting your drink down onto the counter, you reach past him and take the pair of gloves that he laid out for you. Putting them on your hands, you wiggle your fingers around to get used to the feeling of the tight plastic, before looking at Jeonghan in the mirror.

He’s busy adding things to the mixture with a concentrated look on his face. Leaning against the counter, you take note of his hair being long enough to start curling around the back of his neck. Your gaze trails up his features, from the slight pout to his lips, to his pointed nose, and to the black roots of his hair beginning to appear on the top of his head.

His eyes glance up in the mirror and lock with yours, catching you staring at him. You blink out of your daze, and immediately turn away to point towards the chair behind Jeonghan, “Sit down so that I can start bleaching your hair!”

The blonde chuckles at you avoiding eye contact, and nods his head as he sits on the chair in front of the mirror. Sucking in a deep breath, you rest your hands on Jeonghan’s shoulders and look at him in the mirror, “You know that I charge $100 per hour, right?”

“Ah, your card is still declining, huh?”

You bite your lip at his joke, slapping his shoulder before reaching out and grabbing the bowl of bleach. He lets out a giggle at your reaction, before beginning to tell you that you have to clip up his hair in layers and apply the bleach from the bottom layer to the top.

“I should just bleach your eyebrows for that joke you made.” You say as you run your hands through his hair to start sectioning the layers. You watch as he looks down to hide his smile, and you reach under his chin to tilt his face up towards the mirror. He blinks at you, seeing the warm look on your face as you tell him, “Your smile is pretty, don’t hide it from me.”

Feeling warmth flood up his face, he turns away and picks up another hair clip for you. He places it in your hand without a response, and pulls out his phone as his cheeks begin to turn a pretty shade of pink at your comment.

Smiling to yourself, you put the last clip in his hair and pick up the bowl and brush again. Dipping the brush in the bleach, you start to place it on the roots of Jeonghan’s hair as a comfortable silence falls over the two of you. As you move through each section, you watch as the blonde plays a niche game on his phone while you occasionally ask a question about the game.

“So, essentially, you’re just a gorilla flying through trying to avoid the obstacles.”

“Mhm.”

“And you can’t hit the ducks, but you can hit the pigs. However, it’s better to avoid the pigs cause you don’t think you actually gain anything when you fly through the pigs.”

“Yup.”

“And you found out about this game where?”

“I got an ad for it online and thought it looked funny.” Jeonghan replies with a sigh after he accidentally flies into the duck. He looks up into his reflection when an ad begins to play on his screen, already seeing his roots turning into that initial orange color before the toner. You chuckle, silently thinking that that is a very Jeonghan thing to do as you start on the last layer of his hair.

“Why do you bleach your hair? I think your hair might need a bit of a break.” You ask as you place the chemicals on his roots, and you watch as his thumb freezes over his screen, causing the gorilla to fly into an obstacle. You let out a low whistle when his score pops up, seeing that he was close to beating his record before you asked the question.

“That’s my bad. That’s my bad for real.” Jeonghan lets out a quiet chuckle at your words, placing his phone down onto the counter so that he can look at his hair in the mirror. As you finish placing the bleach on his roots, you sneak a glance into your reflection to see a faraway look in his eyes as he stares down at the counter.

It’s the same look you noticed that day during lunch, when he was sitting on the windowsill staring out at the field.

“Do you remember my younger sister? How she always used to bother us when you came over because she wanted to do whatever we were doing?” Jeonghan asks in a soft voice, causing you to pause and look up at him in the mirror. A small smile graces your features as you remember his baby sister, and you nod your head. “How could I ever forget about Jisoo? She was the cutest baby I’ve ever seen! How is she doing now? I didn’t see her when I came in.”

The corner of the blonde’s lips quirks upwards at your questions, but there’s no hint of humor or happiness in his eyes. He fiddles with his hands as he quietly begins, “When Jisoo was younger, she always dreamed of becoming a hairstylist one day. My parents wanted her to strive to be a doctor or a teacher, but she was always more passionate about hair.”

He smiles softly at the memory, and you slowly begin to dread what he could possibly say as the smile begins to fall from his face. Biting the inside of his cheek, he confesses,

“She was diagnosed with stage 4 leukemia when she was 12 years old.”

You feel your throat tighten up at the news, disbelief flooding you as you silently wonder how you never knew of this before. Your parents and Jeonghan’s parents were still friends back then and in the present, how could you have not known of this?

Jeonghan presses his lips into a thin line, letting out a sigh as he gestures towards his hair, “When the doctors told us that the treatment wasn’t working and to prepare for the worst, I bleached my hair and started to grow it out. Since she lost her hair, I thought that the least I could do is become her canvas. Help her with her passion before…”

You watch as the blonde trails off, coughing into his elbow and shrugging his shoulders. The both of you know what he was going to say, but neither of you can bring yourselves to voice it out either.

Jeonghan scratches the back of his neck as he quietly adds, “It’s why I quit playing soccer. My family isn’t well off, but we make enough to be comfortable. I knew that soccer was an expensive sport, so I decided to give it up in order to help fund Jisoo’s treatment.”

You feel tears pricking the back of your eyes at his confession, the pieces of the puzzle slowly beginning to come together in your head.

All of the signs that you noticed but failed to acknowledge in the past. From his sudden blonde hair, to the slow descent of closing himself off to the rest of the world, to the pure exhaustion in his eyes whenever you saw him. It all must’ve gone downhill when Jisoo was diagnosed.

And you never thought to check in with him, only making an attempt when it was far too late.

“I-I didn’t know.” You choke out, your vision beginning to blur as you try to hide your emotions by burying yourself into bleaching Jeonghan’s hair. The blonde just shrugs again, an action you noticed he does often when he’s trying to act like everything is fine. “I didn’t tell anyone, and my parents have only told a few family members as well. Jisoo wanted it to be kept quiet, and I know if she was older, she definitely would’ve kept it from us.”

“Why do you think she’d do that?” You ask, reaching up to wipe away the tears in your eyes with the back of your hand. Jeonghan bites the inside of his cheek, a faraway look in his eyes as he quietly replies,

“It’s easier to let everyone think you’re fine in your last moments, rather than have them feel pain and worry.”

You’re unable to stop the tears from escaping your eyes at his words, and you quickly place the bleach concoction down onto the counter as you turn away from the blonde. Jeonghan glances up at you in the mirror, seeing you quickly wiping at your eyes and adjusting the mask over your face.

“Yn? Are you okay–”

“I-I’m fine.” You speak, and he feels part of himself crumble when he sees your red eyes and the wet marks on your mask. “Yn, you’re crying.”

Shaking your head, you raise your hands up to cover your face as you turn towards the wall when you hear the blonde stand up from the stool.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be crying when you’re the one who’s going through a hard time.” You say through your tears, wiping at your eyes to try and stop the tears from falling. You’re overwhelmed by all the emotions you’re feeling, the ones that you kept at bay in order to stay focused on Jeonghan flooding to the surface from his one sentence alone.

How much pain must he have felt before going through with what he did?

“I’m so sorry, Jeonghan.” You cry out, feeling the sobs beginning to bubble up in your chest, refusing to turn and look at him as you try to calm down. Jeonghan feels like his own heart is breaking as he watches you cry, unsure as to why you’re apologizing as he tentatively reaches out and rests a hand on your shoulder.

“Yn, come here.”

You shake your head, reaching up and covering your face as you make an attempt to suck in deep breaths. The blonde bites the inside of his cheek, before he finally just reaches out and wraps his arms around you from behind.

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, yn. You didn’t know.” Jeonghan whispers as he rubs your shoulders, trying to calm you down. You suck in a shaky breath at his words, feeling more guilt flood you as the tears continue to fall past your eyes.

With shaky hands, you reach up and rest them over his arms wrapped around you. You shut your eyes tightly as you feel his chest rise and fall from behind you, trying to match his breathing as he holds you.

You don’t know how you came back in time, or how this is even possible. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to even care about finding out the answers to those questions.

You’re standing here in this bathroom that reeks of bleach, being held by an 18 year old Jeonghan while tears slowly descend down your face. As the feeling of his breath hits your neck with the rise and fall of his chest from behind you, you allow yourself to soak in this moment of just how alive he is.

You slowly open your eyes and stare up at the ceiling, only one thought on your mind as you slightly squeeze his arms that are in your grasp.

Jeonghan is going to live. Whatever it takes.

“Are you sure she’d be comfortable enough to see me again? I know you said that you kept this within the family.” You ask the blonde as the two of you walk down the hallway of the hospital, feeling your heart beat a bit faster the closer you get to the room.

After you calmed down from your breakdown, you helped Jeonghan rinse and tone his hair. It was when you were combing through his hair that he had asked you if you wanted to come visit Jisoo with him, and you almost immediately said yes.

Now you’re feeling a bit anxious about having agreed.

“She always considered you as an older sibling when we were younger. I think she’d be surprised, but she’ll be happy to see you.” Jeonghan answers once the two of you stop in front of a room with a closed door. You bite your bottom lip, and turn to glance into the small window, just to feel your heart thump against your chest at the sight of Jisoo laying in the hospital bed.

Her once long beautiful hair that used to go down to her waist is all gone, now replaced with a warm beanie resting atop her head. She’s obviously grown up since you last saw her when she was a child, with the way she’s matured into her features. The exhaustion is evident on her face, one that reminds you of Jeonghan.

Except, the stars in her eyes when she was younger are still present now when she turns her head towards the two of you at the sound of the hospital door opening.

A look of surprise appears on her face when she makes eye contact with you, only to almost immediately be replaced by a bright smile as she shouts your name in excitement.

Relief and heartache floods you all at once at the pure joy on her face, and you quickly step away from Jeonghan to meet her halfway when she practically leaps off the bed to rush over to you.

You feel her frail arms wrap around your middle as you gently catch her in your arms. She’s practically shaking from joy at the fact that you’re here, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Jeonghan as the blonde walks past the two of you with a small grin on his face.

“It’s been so long! Oh my gosh, you got so pretty.” Jisoo says as she gazes up at you with a look of awe on her face. You feel warmth flood your face at the sudden compliment, and wave her off with your hand as a giggle escapes you, “Oh, please. I know when you were younger you always wanted to be a princess, but I think you’ve really grown to be as beautiful as one.”

The biggest smile forms on Jisoo’s face at your compliment, and you feel your heart pang against your chest as you gently pat the top of her head. You’re full of admiration for the youngest, the silent question of how she’s able to be so positive with her current situation floating at the back of your mind.

“Alright, Jisoo. You haven’t seen your older brother in ten million years and you won’t even give him the time of day. I see how it is.” Jeonghan jokes from the chair he’s resting on as he stares at you and Jisoo with an indecipherable emotion in his gaze. Jisoo chuckles and turns towards her brother with a raised eyebrow, “I saw you yesterday, Yoon Jeonghan. Yn? I haven’t seen them in years. I think it’s clear who I’d go to first.”

“Your coldness hurts, my dear sister. I should at least be receiving a thank you for bringing yn.”

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me when I’m the one who told you to talk–”

Jisoo’s quickly pulled away from you and towards Jeonghan, who immediately places his hand over her mouth and shoots you a sheepish grin as he gestures over towards the bag of temporary hair dye the two of you bought. “Yn, can you go grab the stuff? I need to have a word with my sweet sister.”

You bite back a laugh and nod your head, before stepping over towards the chairs, hearing the sound of Jisoo fighting back against the blonde’s hold. Reaching into the bag, you pull out the bottle of pink hair dye, before glancing back to find the two siblings arguing in hushed voices.

It’s a sight you haven’t seen in years, and one that you thought you’d never see again in this lifetime. There’s a warm smile forming on Jeonghan’s face as he reaches out and playfully shakes his younger sister in his arms, with Jisoo’s pretty laugh ringing in the air as she tries to swat his hands away.

You find your gaze locked on the genuine smile adorning Jeonghan’s features, one that you haven’t seen during the time you’ve been spending time with him. You fail to notice the shy smile on your face as you watch the two interact, only realizing it when the blonde’s eyes suddenly trail back to you, and you quickly blink at the fact that you got caught staring.

“Jisoo, let’s dye Jeonghan’s hair.” You say as you head towards the bathroom, warmth flooding your face when you can still feel the blonde’s eyes on you.

Jisoo bites back a sly smile at the way Jeonghan’s gaze follows you until you disappear into the bathroom, and she nudges her brother in the stomach before following after you wordlessly. While Jeonghan stands there for a moment longer, listening to the sound of yours and Jisoo’s giggles begin to fill the room as you prepare the hair dye together.

“Yoon Jeonghan! Come here, it’s time to make you really look like an idol.” Jisoo calls out from the bathroom, gloves on her hands as she shoots him an excited smile. He’s about to scoff at her joke when your head suddenly pops out from behind her, a smile playing on your lips as you gesture for him to hurry up. Letting out a sigh, he shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and walks over to the two of you.

It’s half an hour later when you and Jisoo are working on the last layer of his hair that he finally glances up into the mirror to look at the both of you. He feels the corner of his lips quirk upwards at the sound of your laughter pouring out when his younger sister explains the story of her dying his hair for the first time, his eyes flooding with an indecipherable emotion as he stares at you.

He looks back down at his phone when you suddenly glance up into the mirror and make eye contact with him, ignoring the way his heart thumps against his chest. He presses on the power button of his phone, silently staring at the date that flashes back at him.

February 9, 2019

Jeonghan could argue that Winter is his least favorite season. He decided on that cold January evening three years ago when the news of Jisoo’s illness reached him. However, as he sits in this hospital bathroom, laughing with you and Jisoo at old childhood stories, he can’t help but wonder why he feels so warm during what’s supposed to be the coldest season of the year.

“Yn, do you think you can pass this to Jeonghan for me?” You glare down at the fifth box of chocolates that’s been given to you today, and you boredly look up at the random student that’s not even in your class. Waving a hand at the hopeful looking girl, you gesture behind you, “I’ll make sure he gets them.”

“Oh my God, thank you so much!” You give the girl a half hearted wave, watching as she runs away soon after she bids you goodbye. Letting out a loud sigh, you turn around and walk over to your best friend’s desk, feeling bitter at the number of chocolates he had received today.

It’s not even close to the end of the day!

“Here.” You grumble, placing the fifth box of chocolates you’ve received onto the table next to the other dozens of chocolates he had received from those who are a bit more brave about their feelings. Jeonghan lifts his head up from the desk and runs a hand through his wavy black hair, lifting up the new box of chocolates to inspect the package while you move to sit atop the table.

You never would’ve thought that Jeonghan would become so popular when you both reached middle school, let alone the fact that he was going to have such an insane glow-up as well. Both happened though, much to your surprise. You didn’t have a particular instance when you looked at your friend and gasped at the realization that he’s gorgeous.

You had only learned on Valentine’s Day last year, when he had received over 15 chocolates from 15 different people, that your best friend is rather beautiful.

“Mm, here.” You glance down to see Jeonghan holding out the box of chocolates to you, and you scoff as you push his hand away. “I am not going to take your pity chocolates!”

“You know that I’m not even going to eat all of these anyways, just take one box.” Jeonghan tells you, placing the box of chocolates onto your lap instead as he moves to rest his head on his desk. You quickly shove the box of chocolates under his head before he reaches the desk, and he lets out a grunt at the crinkly surface.

He lifts his head back up and raises an eyebrow at you, “You know, you look awfully jealous for someone who says they don’t celebrate Valentine’s day.”

“And you look awfully lonely for someone who got so many chocolates.” You counter, to which your best friend sighs and opens up the box of chocolates. You watch as he tosses one into his mouth, a grimace appearing on his face as he chews the sweet treat. You fight back a smile at his expression, quickly realizing that the person must’ve gifted him with milk chocolate instead of dark chocolate. He takes a sip of water to wash down the chocolate, before grabbing another piece and holding it out for you to take. Glaring at him, he waves his hand in your face for you to take it, and you sigh before leaning forward and letting him feed it to you.

He stares at the furrow forming between your eyebrows as you chew on the sweet treat, and he rests his chin on the palm of his hand, “You don’t like chocolate?”

You shrug, “It’s alright.”

“What would you want instead of chocolates on White day?” Jeonghan asks as he sits up in his seat, reaching up and gently rubbing the furrow between your eyebrows until you relax your features. You shrug your shoulders again, glancing out the window as you murmur, “I’d much rather get a plushie or something.”

“Oh? Is my one and only child confessing to someone on Valentine’s Day?” You’re snapped out of the fond memory at the sound of your mom’s teasing voice coming from behind you. Feeling warmth flood your face immediately, you turn towards your birth giver and squint at her, “Shouldn’t you be heading to work, my precious mother?”

“I can spare a minute to tease my wonderful child that’s been single for almost 18 years of their life.”

Ouch.

“That was so unprovoked, and for that reason, I will not be giving you any leftover chocolates.” You say with a glare, before turning back to remove the dark chocolates from the heart and bear shaped molds you bought. The corner of your lips curls upwards when you see that the chocolates look perfect, and you start to carefully place the chocolates into their wrappers.

“You’re not even going to give me a name of who you’re confessing to?” Your mom asks with a grin as she reaches out and takes the chocolate you held out to her. You place the lid onto the box of chocolates and gently tie the bow, before turning to look at your mom, “Does it taste good?”

Your mom chuckles, “They taste perfect, honey. Now can I get a name?”

Your eyes trail over to the clock on the microwave, and you quickly step past your mom when you see that you have 25 minutes before school starts. Placing the box of chocolates into your bag, you quickly put on the straps of your backpack and wave to your mother.

“Bye mom! I’ll text you when I make it to school!”

“Can you at least tell me what letter their name starts with?!” Your mom calls out to you from the kitchen table, to which you just smile and shut the front door.

You can’t be late to school on Valentine’s Day.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, yn!”

“Happy love day!”

“Did you greet Jaehyun happy birthday?”

You just bow your head kindly at all of the greetings, deciding not to answer the last question that was thrown at you as you walk down the hall. You’re determined to get to your classroom to surprise Jeonghan with the chocolates you made, but you seem to have forgotten how many people would want to greet you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” You practically jump back at the sudden greeting, and glance at the person who had thrusted their box of chocolates out towards you. A small smile takes over your features when you see the rising blush to her face as she waits for you to take them, and you take notice of the way the box is slightly shaking in her hands. You gently take it from her grasp and bow your head at her, “Thank you. Happy Valentine’s Day to you as well.”

With that, you start heading towards your classroom again, but not without hearing the girl squeal excitedly with her friends. A quiet giggle escapes past your lips at that, already imagining how Jeonghan would react when you tell him about it later.

With a skip to your step, you hurry over and open the door to your classroom, a smile forming on your face when you catch sight of that blonde head of hair at the front of the class. You’re about to walk over to Jeonghan when a warm hand grasps your wrist, and you quickly turn to find yourself staring at those familiar dimples of Jung Jaehyun.

“Jae, hi. Happy birthday.” You greet with a friendly smile, and he lets his hand fall to his side once he has your attention on him. He smiles back and leans against your classroom’s door frame, “Thank you, yn. Wow, did you make those chocolates or did you get confessed to?”

You glance down at the box of chocolates that were given to you in the hallway, and you let out a laugh and shake your head at him. “Nono, an underclassman just gave them to me a few minutes ago. She was really happy when I took them.”

“What’s your answer to her confession?” Jaehyun asks with a knowing smile, and you shrug your shoulders. “I’m not interested, but I’m very flattered that she gave me chocolates.”

“Oh? Has someone captured the heart of arguably one of the most popular people in school?”

The question has warmth flooding your face, unable to bring yourself to answer who is supposedly the school’s heartthrob. In the past, you would’ve played into Jaehyun’s flirting, especially since the two of you had a lot in common.

However, you find your eyes trailing over to the front of the class. Jeonghan’s head is still resting on the table, eyes closed as the morning sunlight shines into the classroom, casting a faint glow over the angel’s features as he sleeps.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You murmur, a small smile forming on your face as you stare at the pretty blonde. You fail to notice the bit of surprise on Jaehyun’s face at your answer, and he follows the direction of your eyes. A sad smile forms on his face when he sees Yoon Jeonghan fast asleep on his desk, and that’s when he realizes that he doesn’t stand a chance with you anymore.

“Well, I won’t keep you from delivering your chocolates then.” Jaehyun tells you, and you blink, turning to him with wide eyes. “How’d you know I made chocolates?”

“From the look in your eyes, I think anyone can tell that you’re planning to confess. Whoever it is, they better realize how lucky they are.” The brunette says with a smile, and you giggle back and nod your head. You watch as he raises a hand up to wave at you, “I need to head off to class, but good luck. They’ll love the chocolates.”

You grin, “Thank you, Jaehyun.”

“Of course, yn. See you around.”

Once Jaehyun turns and walks away, you turn around and walk over to your desk. You feel Yeji’s eyes on you, but you choose to ignore the mischievous expression on her face as you place your bag down onto your desk.

“So, did Valentine boy confess to you?” Yeji teases, to which you just unzip your bag in response.

“Come on, yn. You don’t need to hide it, you literally have a box of chocolates on your desk.”

“An underclassman gave them to me in the hallway, not Jae.” You answer as you reach into your bag and pull out the carefully wrapped box of chocolates you made. Yeji’s eyes widen at the sight, and she lets out a big smile, “Oh my God. Are you confessing to Jaehyun?!”

You don’t respond, and instead walk over to the front of the classroom without another word even though she hisses out your name. Once you find yourself standing in front of Jeonghan’s desk, you bite back a chuckle at the traces of pink still in his hair.

“Yoon Jeonghan.” You state, and you feel your heart flutter within your chest when the blonde’s eyes slowly open from the sound of your voice. He blinks tiredly, and sits up from his desk while rubbing his eyes to rid himself of the exhaustion.

“Now why’d you bring out the full government name?” He asks with a teasing smile, and you suck in a deep breath to try and calm your crazy heart. Squeezing the box of chocolates you’re hiding behind your back, you sway from side to side as you try to muster the courage to hand them to him. “Just cause I knew it’d wake you up.”

“You already know that you can say or do anything and it’d wake me up.” Jeonghan tells you with a chuckle as he takes a sip of water, and you quietly count to five in your head before thrusting out the box of chocolates you had made for him.

“W-What’s this?” The blonde asks with wide eyes, and you gently shake the box for emphasis. “You know damn well what it is considering your track record for this capitalistic holiday in middle school.”

Jeonghan stares at the box in shock, before looking back up into your eyes. He takes note of the way you can’t seem to stand still out of nervousness, an emotion he’s hardly seen in you during the years he’s known you. He bites the inside of his cheek when he sees the hope in your gaze, the genuinity pouring from your eyes as you wait for him to take the box from you.

He tentatively reaches up and takes the box from your grasp after a moment, and he carefully takes off the lid. A breath escapes him when he sees the beautiful chocolates sitting in the box, shapes ranging from the standard square to teddy bears and hearts.

“They’re dark chocolate, I remembered that you weren’t much of a fan of milk chocolate when we were younger.” You murmur, silently cursing yourself for feeling so shy as heat floods your face the longer you stand in front of the blonde. You watch in silence as Jeonghan stares down at the chocolates, an indecipherable emotion in his eyes as he stays quiet.

He hates them, you think to yourself with embarrassment slowly flooding you. Biting the inside of your cheek, you move to tell him he doesn’t have to accept them when he finally looks back up into your eyes. You’re rendered speechless at the sight of his warm smile that you haven’t seen in years, and your heart thumps against your chest when he says in a soft voice,

“Thank you, yn. I love them.”

You’re unable to control the smile that takes over your features, and you shrug your shoulders to try and appear nonchalant. However, the bright smile on your face betrays you, clearly showing that you’re ecstatic by the blonde’s reaction.

“I’m glad. Happy Valentine’s Day, Yoon Jeonghan.” You greet him warmly, and Jeonghan lets out a soft giggle that makes your heart swell within your chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, yn.”

You lay on your bedroom floor, recounting the events of today with a small smile on your face.

After you gave Jeonghan the chocolates, your teacher came in shortly after and started going over the lessons for the day. You were unable to concentrate though, due to both the sight of Jeonghan’s content reaction at the taste of the chocolates you had made for him, and Yeji aggressively nudging you with her shoulder out of excitement and curiosity of the budding relationship between you and the blonde.

It was only at lunch when Yeji was finally able to grill you on why you suddenly became close with Jeonghan, and when you started liking him.

“Yn, answer this honestly. Why did you suddenly start talking to Jeonghan?”

A small chuckle escapes you as you place the spoonful of rice into your mouth, and you glance back up to see your friend waiting expectantly for your answer. Grinning, you shrug your shoulders and rest your chin on the palm of your hand, the sight of Jeonghan’s warm smile burned into the back of your eyes as you murmur,

“To fulfill my wish.”

Letting out a breath, you roll over onto your side and shut your eyes to try and ingrain every single detail of Jeonghan’s smile into your brain so that you won’t forget the memory. It’s something too precious for you to ever forget.

Just as you’re about to roll over onto your back again, the sound of your doorbell ringing throughout your house makes you sit up from the floor. Blinking confusedly, you get up from the floor and walk out of your room.

It’s a moment later when you’re standing in front of your door, that you slowly open it to find the blonde standing on your doorstep. His long blonde hair is tied back into a short ponytail, his frame covered by an oversized beige sweatshirt and black sweatpants. You raise an eyebrow at his hands placed strategically behind his back, and you glance up at him with a growing smile forming on your lips.

“Jeonghan, what are you hiding?”

“Wow, so you’re not even going to invite me in?” The blonde teases, to which you roll your eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t come in here like you own the place every other time.”

“This is true.” Jeonghan states, eliciting a giggle from you as you lean against the doorframe.

The two of you stare at each other as a comfortable silence fills the air. You’re staring at his hands behind his back, watching as he shuffles from foot to foot as he looks at you with a shy grin on his face. Biting the inside of your cheek, you’re about to ask him what he’s doing here when suddenly, a big tan and teal ball is blocking your vision.

Blinking your eyes to adjust, you let out a loud gasp when you realize Jeonghan’s holding out the big Snorlax plushie you were trying to win a month ago. You immediately take it from his grasp as you squeal excitedly, not feeling the least bit embarrassed by your reaction while you hold the Pokémon tight within your arms.

“Jeonghan! When?! How!?!” You’re unable to form a full sentence from how ecstatic you are over the Pokémon, and the blonde can’t help but giggle at you as he shrugs his shoulders to try and appear nonchalant. “After school today, I went to the arcade to win Snorlax. I got him in three tries.”

You smile brightly at him, warmth flooding your face at the fact that he went out of his way to win you the beloved Pokémon. Hugging the plushie close to your chest, you lean forward to tease him, “So you decided to feed into capitalism, your sworn enemy?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and leans against the railing of your porch as he stares into your pretty eyes, “So you’re telling me you don’t want your precious Snorlax?”

“No!” You exclaim, holding the Pokémon tighter to your chest when he reaches to take it away from you. He smiles at your reaction, before reaching out and patting the top of your head, making you halt. You stare at him with wide eyes, warmth flooding your face as Jeonghan slowly lets his hand fall back to his side as he murmurs,

“I thought I could feed into capitalism just this once if it meant I could see your reaction to finally holding Snorlax in your arms.”

You can only blink at the blonde as he grins at you, your mouth slightly agape as you try to process what just happened. Jeonghan chuckles, and raises his hand up to shoot you a wave as he moves to step off your porch, “Happy Valentine’s Day, yn. Thank you for the chocolates.”

And you slowly raise your hand to wave back at him, trying to fight back the dumb smile that’s fighting its way onto your face as you whisper back,

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Yn, you don’t need to bring me a gift every time you visit. You don’t even have a job!”

“Okay. First, that was unprovoked. Second, this gift is different from the others!” You tell Jisoo with a small smile, and she squints at you. A giggle escapes you as you gesture for her to cover her eyes, and her frown deepens. A sigh leaves your lips as you mutter, “It’s times like this where you remind me of your brother.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true.” You tell her, before gesturing for her to cover her eyes again. She huffs, before closing her eyes and raising her hands up to shield her vision.

It’s currently one in the afternoon on Sunday, and you came to visit Jisoo without the blonde. Jeonghan doesn’t even know that you’ve come to visit his younger sister, but this also isn’t the first time you’ve visited her without the blonde’s knowledge.

This time, however, is special. From the times you’ve come with Jeonghan on the weekends to help Jisoo dye the blonde’s hair to whatever color she requests, you quickly came to notice the slight sadness to her gaze whenever her hands raked through his long hair. With this, you saved up some of your allowance from your parents to buy Jisoo a wig.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you reach out and slowly take off the beanie that rests over Jisoo’s head. You take the wig of long brown hair out of the gift bag afterwards, and gently place it on top of Jisoo’s head. You take your time adjusting it to make sure that the bangs are perfectly placed, before taking a step back.

Reaching out to grab her bedside mirror, you hold it out towards her as you tell her to open her eyes. You watch with bated breath as her eyes that resemble that of her older brother’s slowly open, and a small smile forms on your face when you see her eyes fill with surprise at the sight before her.

“I know you like doing Jeonghan’s hair, but I thought you’d also like to do your own hair sometimes.” You tell her softly, watching as Jisoo raises her shaky hands up to trail her fingers through the brown hair. Tears flood the brunette’s eyes as she strokes her hair, before she looks up at you with a bright smile on her face.

“Yn, thank you.” Jisoo says with a shaky voice, and you nod your head. She bites her bottom lip, before stepping out of her bed and throwing her frail arms around you tightly.

“Thank you so much, for everything. For coming to visit me, bringing me gifts, and for taking care of my brother. Thank you, yn.” Jisoo tells you earnestly, and you blink away the tears flooding your eyes at her sweet words. Wrapping your arms around the youngest, you hold her tightly within your embrace as you stroke her back.

“Of course, Jisoo.”

After a moment, the brunette loosens her hold on you to take a step back and look up into your eyes. You reach up and cup her face to gently wipe away the tears on her cheeks, while she gives you a small smile. You smile back at her when she reaches up to wipe away tears of your own, but your smile almost immediately falls when she quietly says,

“I can die happy knowing that Jeonghan has someone like you to love him for all that he is, and all that he will be.”

You blink at her words, trying to comprehend what she just said when the door to the hospital room suddenly opens up from behind the two of you.

“Jisoo~ I got you your favorite food–yn?”

You glance back to find Jeonghan staring at you in surprise, a bag filled with takeout in his hand. You watch as his gaze trails over to Jisoo, and you feel your heart squeeze in your chest when you see numerous emotions flood his eyes at the sight of his younger sister with long brown hair.

Jisoo takes a step back from you and quickly wipes the tears from her eyes, before giving her older brother a shy smile, “Jeonghan, how do I look?”

The blonde stares at Jisoo with a warm look in his eyes, and he sets the bag of takeout down onto the table. He walks up to the two of you, and gently pats the top of his sister’s head as he murmurs,

“You look pretty. You always look pretty, because you look just like your older brother.”

Jisoo immediately groans with a roll of her eyes, slapping his hand away as she walks over to the bag of takeout on the table. Jeonghan lets out a laugh at her reaction, and you attempt to smile as well, but you’re still a bit shaken by what Jisoo had told you right before the blonde entered the room.

“I can die happy knowing that Jeonghan has someone like you to love him for all that he is, and all that he will be.”

You’re quickly snapped out of your daze, however, when a warm hand reaches out and grasps your own. You look up to find Jeonghan staring at you with a small smile, and he gives your hand a squeeze as he whispers,

“Thank you, yn.”

You nod your head, smiling back at him as you rub your thumb on the back of his hand. The two of you stare at each other in silence for a moment, unspoken words being said through your gazes alone.

“Alright, lovebirds. I’m going to eat all of this fried chicken if you guys want to keep being in love, or whatever.” Jisoo calls out from the table, and the two of you immediately let your hands fall to your sides as you turn to the youngest. She just gives you both a mischievous smile, and Jeonghan shoots her a glare as he walks over to her.

You watch quietly for a moment as the two siblings start to bicker, a sight that would usually bring you amusement, but you’re left with a slight feeling of dread as Jisoo’s confession continues to ring in the back of your mind.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!”

You giggle at your loved ones as they sing loudly around you, raising a hand up to your face as you feel warmth flood your face slightly. You’ve lived through the Happy Birthday song for 18 years now, but you still feel a bit shy whenever anyone sings it to you.

“Happy birthday dear yn, happy birthday to you!”

“Okay honey, make a wish.” Your mom says with a big smile, her phone held up towards you as she takes a video. You grin, glancing around the room to see Yeji and some of your soccer friends waiting for you to blow out the candles. You grip your knees underneath the table when you turn to look towards the front door, still having the smallest bit of hope that Jeonghan will come.

Sucking in a deep breath, you close your eyes and think to yourself,

I wish to celebrate my birthday with Yoon Jeonghan.

Opening your eyes, you blow out the candle, with cheers of your friends and family erupting around you. A small smile forms on your face as you look at everyone, but you can’t help but feel your gaze trail over to the front door again.

You waited a long time for him to come. It was only when everyone left and it was just you waiting by the window of your front door, that you accepted that he had never planned to show up in the first place.

You blink out of the memory at the sound of a notification dinging from your phone, and you glance down to find a new text from Yeji.

yeji: streets are saying that they’re serving katsu for lunch…

and by streets i mean the weekly school lunch menu on the bulletin board

You snort at the text, quickly replying that you’ll go have lunch with her today before putting your phone down on your dresser. Biting the inside of your cheek, you blink to rid your eyes of the tears that managed to pool on your waterline from the distinct memory that appeared in your mind.

It’s been close to a month since the day you and Jeonghan exchanged Valentine’s day gifts, and with each day that passes, you’ve slowly been starting to forget the reason that you’ve come back in time.

You and Jeonghan’s friendship has only been growing stronger each day, with him beginning to open up more, and you bringing him everywhere you go. Almost every weekend, you go with Jeonghan to visit Jisoo in the hospital, while continuing to “secretly” visit her by yourself. Whereas almost everyday after classes, you drag the blonde to go out to eat or play soccer together until your parents are both calling you to come home for dinner.

It’s like the two of you have fallen back into your old childhood routine, spending everyday together until your parents have to physically separate you in order to fulfill your basic needs.

You’ve even noticed more people trying to talk to the blonde in school, and it always brings a smile to your face when you see him reciprocating the attention. He’s even managed to bring attention to his soccer skills during P.E. when you sneakily instigated a soccer tournament with him knowing very well that he can’t just drop a competition.

The ping of your phone gets your attention as you’re throwing your backpack over your shoulders, and a small smile forms on your face when you read the text.

jeonghannie: good morning yn ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

“Yn!” Your head lifts up at the sudden exclamation of your name from behind you, and you turn to see Yeji looking at you with a mischievous smile on her face.

The seating arrangement in your class changed for the new month, with Yeji now sitting behind you and Jeonghan still sitting in the front row. Yeji was obviously a bit upset that the two of you were now separated, but she quickly got over it when she realized she could throw tiny paper balls at the back of your head.

At first it was annoying, now it’s just routine.

“Katsu.” You state, to which Yeji’s smile widens as she nods her head in response. Chuckling, the two of you both stand up from your desks to get started towards the cafeteria. As you’re about to pass through the door, you glance back to see the blonde getting up from his desk as he rubs his tired eyes.

He looks up and locks eyes with you, and the two of you share a secretive smile as you point towards the stairwell. He nods and shoots you a quick thumbs up, and you quickly send him the OK sign before hurrying after Yeji.

“You and Jeonghan talk in code now too, huh?” She teases when you catch up to her, and you quickly reach out to slap her arm. She lets out a squeak and rubs her arm, shooting you a glare, “Bitch?!”

“Mind your own, or else I’ll take your katsu.” You threaten, and she presses her lips into a thin line before shaking her head at you with a small smile beginning to form on her face. She lets out a sigh and wraps her arm around you, “When will you and blondie start dating? Everyone already knows you’re in love.”

You roll your eyes, internally cursing yourself for the warmth flooding your face at the idea of you and Jeonghan appearing in the back of your mind.

“I have other priorities right now.”

“How can anything be more important than you finally realizing your feelings for the man?” Yeji asks as the two of you enter the cafeteria, standing at the back of the lunch line. You bite the inside of your cheek to try and appear nonchalant, even adding a shrug.

“I need to make my wish come true first.”

You quietly walk into the stairwell to find Jeonghan sitting at the top step with his back against the railing, the sunlight from the window resting over his angelic features. His eyes are closed, airpod in each ear as he quietly listens to music. A smile forms on your face at the pretty sight, and you try to ingrain every detail of his beauty in your mind before making your presence known.

“Hi sleeping beauty.”

Jeonghan’s eyes slowly open at the sound of your voice through his music, and the corner of his lips quirks upwards when he locks eyes with you. He takes out an airpod with a grin forming on his face when you step forward and sit down across from him, back resting against the wall as the two of you stare at each other.

“So you think I’m beautiful?” Jeonghan teases, to which you roll your eyes as you hand him the can of coffee you had bought from the vending machine. He nods his thanks while still keeping his gaze on you, and you squint your eyes when you see the mirth lingering behind those pretty brown irises. Breaking eye contact first, you glance out the window to stare at the sun shining in through the window, with delicate white clouds floating past in the bright blue sky.

“What a beautiful day.” You murmur quietly, to which the blonde follows your gaze and stares out the window. He lets out a breath of content at the sight, “Yeah, it is.”

“Do you want to play soccer tonight?” You ask, turning to look at Jeonghan to gauge his reaction. He lets out a snort, taking a sip of the coffee as he continues to stare out the window. “You must really enjoy getting humbled, huh?”

You scoff and gently kick his foot, eliciting a chuckle from him as he finally turns to look at you. He shakes his head, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Never expected you to say no to soccer.”

“That’s because I already planned an outing for us tonight.” Jeonghan says in a quiet voice, and you blink. Then you blink again.

“You… you planned what?” You ask, clearly in shock by what he said. The blonde grins at your surprise, feeling satisfied at how he had managed to plan it all secretly. The bell rings before you can ask another question, signaling the end of your lunch break.

He lets out a sigh and stands up from the step, reaching out and gently patting the top of your head with a small smile on his face,

“You’ll find out the plan for tonight after class.”

With that, he turns around and coolly walks away towards your classroom. You watch his back as he walks away, still in a slight state of shock, before the tiniest of smiles begins to form on your face. Running a hand through your hair, you stand up from the step and slowly start to follow after him with a slight pep to your step.

“Our parents are going to kill us, Yoon Jeonghan!” You exclaim when he pulls you onto the bus that will surely take you two hours away from home. The blonde just waves a hand at you to signal that it’s fine as he pulls you into the seat beside him.

“You’re taking me to a place that’s two hours away from home on a school night. You know damn well our parents are going to murder us when we get back.” You say with wide eyes, and Jeonghan nods his head in silent agreement as he takes a sip from his water bottle. Letting out an exasperated sigh, you lean your head back against the chair and shut your eyes.

When did I start thinking like a 17 year old again? You silently think to yourself as you open your eyes, biting back a laugh at the fact that you’re worried about your mother’s wrath.

“It’ll be fun, don’t worry.” Jeonghan tells you as he puts in an earbud, taking the other and gently placing it into your ear. You chuckle, “I have no doubt that it’ll be fun, I’m just worried about the consequences of our actions after the fun.”

The blonde grins and shuffles his playlist, before leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes like you did earlier as the soft tune of a piano begins to play through his earbuds. Letting out a sigh, you close your eyes and adjust your position so that your head now rests on Jeonghan’s shoulder.

After a moment, you feel the blonde gently rest his cheek on the top of your head.

“Yn Yln, you know that it’s a school night! Where the hell are you going?!” You wince at the familiar sound of your mother’s screech, pulling the phone away from your ear as she starts to complain about you. You send an apologetic glance towards Jeonghan after the two of you hop off the bus, and he just chuckles at the sound of your mother’s voice.

“I’ll be home soon, I swear!” You whine, only for your mother to start shouting even more.

“Home soon my ass! Always going out after school, but it’s never to a cram school. Didn’t I teach you to try hard in your studies so that you can get to a good college?! I don’t ask for you to be first in school, just to have good grades!”

You roll your eyes at your mother’s nagging, and Jeonghan bites back a smile as he nods in agreement with what your mom’s saying. Your eyes widen, and you reach out to slap the blonde’s shoulder at his teasing. He grins, before reaching out and taking the phone from you.

“Hi auntie, it’s Jeonghan.”

You almost let out a shout of indignance when you hear the immediate change to your mother’s initial anger after Jeonghan takes the phone from you, to which he just shoots you a wink. You cross your arms in annoyance and look around as the blonde talks to your mother, and you feel your breath get taken away when the bus drives away, revealing the sunset beginning to fall beneath the sea.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve been to the sea, having gotten so used to the city life that you and your friends almost forgot to plan hangouts that venture outside of downtown Seoul. Biting back a sad smile, you find yourself missing your future friends for the first time since you’ve traveled back in time.

Oh, how Seungcheol would be so offended if he were to find out you only missed them now.

“Yes auntie, don’t worry. Yes, my mom knows that I planned this for today and knew she couldn’t talk me out of it.” Jeonghan says, and you turn away from the view before you to see the blonde let out a chuckle at something your mom must’ve said. Running a hand through his hair, he ends with, “I’ll have them home safe by 11. Yes, yes, I’ll also make sure to come visit you soon. I missed you too. See you soon, auntie!”

He hangs up the call and hands you your phone back, to which you raise an eyebrow at him. He simply shrugs his shoulders with a coy smile, “What can I say? Your mom’s always called me the son she never had.”

“She has never once said that!” You exclaim with a laugh, and Jeonghan gives you a look.

“She said it all the time, yn. Wow, that selective hearing of yours is impressive.” He teases as he starts walking towards the beach, and you roll your eyes before following after him. You adjust your bag over your shoulder as the two of you start walking along the sand, gazing at the sunset and the different groups of people mingling on the beach.

Since it’s a school day, it’s pretty empty. However, there are still some families with their young kids playing in the sand, as well as some couples taking walks along the beach.

“What did you even say to my mom to make her calm down?” You ask after a moment of silence has passed between the two of you, and Jeonghan laughs. “I was joking earlier, but your selective hearing is impressive. How did you completely tune out our whole conversation?”

You reach out and slap his shoulder at the teasing, eliciting a hiss from him as the two of you walk closer to the water. “I was busy admiring the view! I didn’t mean to tune out your conversation on purpose.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Jeonghan jokes once the two of you are standing in front of the water, with the waves crashing onto the shore almost reaching your guys’ shoes. You roll your eyes, before a mischievous grin takes over your features. As the blonde begins to talk about where the two of you should eat dinner, you wait for the waves to come crashing onto the sand.

“There’s a corndog place nearby, or we could have ramen…”

Jeonghan’s voice tunes out when the waves finally make an appearance, and you quickly shove the blonde into the water, to which he shouts in shock at the cold water against his ankles. Maniacal laughter pours out of you at the astonished expression on Jeonghan’s face as he stands frozen in place, before his eyes slowly trail up towards you.

He blinks at the sight of you laughing at his demise, with the orange light cast onto you by the sun setting behind him. He almost forgets the position he’s in because of you, with the ice cold water from the ocean soaking his shoes and pants. However, the sound of your sudden snort breaks him out of his trance, and he feels a smirk form on his face as he raises his arm up and points at you, mirth pooling his gaze when he sees your laughter begin to die down.

“You better run bitch.”

You squeak and immediately turn around to begin sprinting down the beach, screaming apologies with Jeonghan quickly following after you, shouting expletives at you for his now soaked pants.

As the sun starts to disappear behind the vast expanse of the sea, it’s almost as if time seems to stop for you and Jeonghan as the two of you run around on the beach. Not a care or worry in the world as the two of you play in the sand like you once did when you were children.

You sit on the sand, corndog in hand as you watch a few people down the beach shoot fireworks up into the sky. There seems to be a permanent smile on your face as you scarf down the last of your food, the sound of Jeonghan’s bright laughter while the two of you were fighting to push the other into the sea ringing in your ears.

The memory is halted when a hand is suddenly in front of your face, causing you to lean back to see the blonde standing beside you, two firework sticks in hand. You let out a quiet gasp and quickly stand up from the sand, “You bought fireworks for us? I thought you were just going to the bathroom!”

“I made a quick pit stop when I saw you staring at the fireworks shooting up into the sky.” Jeonghan tells you with a grin as he places the firework into your hand. Warmth floods your face at the fact that he had noticed your longing stare at the people playing with fireworks on the beach, and you gently nudge his shoulder with yours. “Thank you, Jeonghan.”

“Of course, yn. Now come on, let’s go shoot these fireworks before we head back.”

The two of you walk towards the edge of the beach, stopping where the waves meet the sand. You stare off into the dark water, quietly wondering why you hadn’t gone to the beach more often in the future. The sea was one of your favorite places to visit growing up, partly due to your summers spent here with Jeonghan, but also because you just love the smell of the salty waters, the feel of the sand beneath your feet.

The memories that were made here at this beach have always been timeless.

“Yn, hold yours out.” You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Jeonghan striking the match on the box, a flame immediately igniting as he turns to you and lights your firework. He reaches out and adjusts your hand on the firework, making sure it’s aimed upwards towards the sky. You jump slightly when the firework shoots out, eliciting a laugh from the blonde that makes you gently nudge him in the stomach.

A smile forms on your face at the sight of his beautiful smile, warmth flooding you at the fact that you’ve been blessed by some God out there to see it again.

“Thank you.” You murmur, and Jeonghan looks away from the fireworks shooting into the sky, just to find you staring at him with an indecipherable emotion in your gaze. He feels the corner of his lips quirk upward, and he tilts his head at you, “For what?”

“For being here with me.”

And you watch as something flickers past Jeonghan’s eyes at your answer, before slightly shaking his head and turning back to the fireworks. You grin and follow suit, watching in awe as the last of your firework explodes into numerous colors in the night sky.

“I missed you.” Jeonghan says quietly as he prepares to light his firework, making your head snap towards him. You reach up and stretch your earlobes, unsure if you heard him correctly as he focuses on striking the match. It’s only when the flame ignites on the match, and he lights his firework, that he turns back to you as the first firework shoots into the sky.

“I took you to the beach because I missed you.” The blonde tells you, and you can only stare at him in shock as a small smile appears on his face. “Every once in a while, I found myself suddenly remembering the times we were brought to the beach as children. From the sandcastles we built, to us running into the sea and accidentally inhaling some salt water—I thought of it all. And I missed it, I missed you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek at his confession, watching as Jeonghan turns away to look up towards the night sky while the fireworks go off. His face is illuminated by the numerous colors exploding in the sky. From red, to orange, to purple, an iridescence of colors are cast onto him.

“So thank you, yn. Thank you for letting me experience this memory with you again.” Jeonghan whispers, his voice so quiet that you almost miss it by the sound of his fireworks exploding in the air. Feeling tears flood your eyes, you already know that your voice will crack if you even try to answer him with words.

So, you respond silently.

You reach out and intertwine your fingers with his, hearing the faint sound of his breath hitching at the sudden skinship. Without looking, you step closer and rest your head on his shoulder, staring upwards as the last of his fireworks shoots up into the sky.

It’s only when the final firework explodes in the darkness that you quietly whisper,

“Always.”

You walk into school with a furrow between your eyebrows, fists clenched as you head towards your classroom. There’s numerous people greeting you as you make your way down the hallway, some giving a belated birthday greeting. You can only nod at them, though, because you have to talk to someone.

Yoon Jeonghan didn’t come to your birthday party on Saturday, even though he had promised he would.

Once your classroom comes into view, you pick up the pace and immediately slide open the door. You do a quick onceover of the people inside the class, just for your frown to deepen when you see Jeonghan’s seat is left empty.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you walk over and plop down into your desk. You don’t know why you’re so upset over him not coming to your birthday, it’s not like the two of you are as close as you used to be.

You reach up to rub the back of your neck at your petty thoughts, knowing deep down that you are guilty for your guys’ dwindling friendship.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t come, you think to yourself. It would make sense, he might’ve thought that you were just joking when you invited him. You couldn’t blame him, the two of you haven’t had an actual conversation since the beginning of Freshman year. If the roles were swapped, and Jeonghan was the one who suddenly invited you to his birthday, you also would’ve thought it was a joke.

You bite the inside of your cheek when the memory of his smile appears in your mind, his promise to be at your birthday ringing in your ears as well. Clenching your fist at your side, you look up when you hear your teacher’s voice entering the room.

“Class, before I get into the lecture, I have some news to share with all of you.”

You feel a foot kick the back of your chair, and you glance back to find Yeji raising an eyebrow at you. You shrug your shoulders at her, unsure of what the announcement could be either. Hearing the sound of your teacher clearing his throat, you turn back to see him looking a bit uncomfortable about what he’s going to say next.

“Your classmate, Yoon Jeonghan, sadly passed away on Saturday, April 20th. His family have requested to keep the information private, but have extended an invitation to his funeral. If any of you need to go to the counselor’s office…”

The rest of his words get tuned out by the sound of a sharp ringing in your ears, and your eyes slowly trail over towards the empty desk in the front of the classroom. Feeling your heart beat rapidly against your chest, your hand slowly crawls up to your neck as it starts to get harder to breathe.

This can’t be. It can’t be real.

You gasp for air as you clutch onto the front of your shirt, abruptly standing up from your desk in the middle of your teacher’s speech about your childhood best friend. Everyone’s eyes are on you as you struggle to breathe, and you quickly look over towards the exit and step away from your desk. Yeji is looking at you with concern pooled in her eyes, and she reaches out to grasp your hand, but you flinch out of her reach and stagger out of the classroom without being excused.

You stumble down the hallway and to the stairwell, trying to suck in a breath as you slam your back against the wall to gain balance. Raising your hands up to your hair, you clutch your head as you feel yourself beginning to hyperventilate. Slowly sliding down the wall until you’re on the floor, your eyes are wide as you stare down at your shoes, unable to believe what is happening as you struggle for air.

Your hands reach over to cover your face, and you pull back after they make contact, just to see the wetness to them from the tears you didn’t realize were escaping. You reach up to aggressively wipe away the tears falling from your eyes, but it just results in a sob escaping your lips as you curl up into a ball. Your hands grab at your hair, feeling a raw scream rip its way out of your throat as black dots begin to cloud your vision.

“Yn? Yn! Yeji, please go and call yn’s parents. Yn, breathe.” A familiar deep voice rings through your ears, hands resting on your shoulders to try and get you to look at him, but you’re unable to listen as you struggle to suck in a breath. You punch your chest in an attempt to get yourself to breathe properly, but you can only feel another sob escape you as you shake your head at Jaehyun.

“Yn? YN!”

Jaehyun’s frantic shout of your name goes unheard as the world around you finally turns black.

You gasp awake, sweat dripping down your back as you stare up at the ceiling with wide eyes. You reach up and wipe your face, only to pause when you feel the wetness to your cheeks. A shaky breath escapes you as your vision blurs, and you blink your eyes, feeling tears trail down the sides of your face.

“Jeonghan’s alive. It’s okay.” You murmur to yourself, before reaching out and grabbing your phone to check the time. You press your lips into a thin line when you see that you don’t have to be awake for another 4 hours, and you sigh as you place your phone back down onto your dresser.

You wonder why your brain decided to remind you of such a tragic memory after having such a beautiful day with Jeonghan. Is it because deep down, you’re still afraid? Is it to remind you that you still have a wish to accomplish?

You let out a huff and shake your head as if to rid yourself of your thoughts, knowing that overthinking the dream won’t do you any good.

“I need to sleep.”

Rolling over onto your side, the date flashes in the back of your mind as you slowly begin to drift back to sleep.

March 11, 2019

One more month.

You walk into the school with a pep to your step, a small smile on your face as you think of the possible ideas of what you and Jeonghan can do once classes are over. You’re greeted by some of your classmates in the hallways, to which you just shoot them a smile and wave in response, before continuing on towards the classroom.

You look forward to talking to Jeonghan in the mornings.

Stepping into the classroom, your eyes immediately zone in on Jeonghan’s desk, only for you to halt your movements.

His seat is empty, with no sign of him even being there.

You walk over to your seat and place your bag down, unzipping your bag to take out the canned coffee you had bought him on your way to school. You step over to his desk, and your grip on the beverage tightens when you don’t see his backpack or jacket on his seat.

“Yn!” Your head snaps up towards the doorway, and you lock eyes with a happy looking Yeji. Walking over towards her, you plop down in your seat as she sits on her desk behind you, “Good morning, yn.”

“Morning Yeji, have you seen Jeonghan?” You ask, and the brunette shakes her head as she spares a glance towards his desk. She shrugs her shoulders, “I haven’t seen him this morning, maybe he’s late? Him and I don’t really talk anyways, though.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you pull out your phone and open up your messages, and your heart falls when you see no response to your good morning message.

“Yn, are you okay?” Yeji asks, and you glance up to find concern in her gaze as she looks at you. Pouting her lips, she reaches out and rests her thumb between your eyebrows, smoothing out the crease you didn’t know was there. “You’ve been frowning since I got here.”

“I’m just… I’m just a bit worried that Jeonghan’s ruining his perfect attendance record.” You lie, and the brunette just stares, seeing right through your fib. Yet she doesn’t push it, and for that, you’re grateful for her.

“I’m sure he’s just making sure that you win that perfect attendance award since he knows how hard you’ve been trying to win that when we graduate.” Yeji tells you, squeezing your arm as a means to comfort you. You let out a shaky breath, and give her a small smile, “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.”

The brunette is about to comfort you more when your teacher enters the classroom, and you immediately turn towards the front of the class. You watch anxiously as he unpacks his textbook and notes for the lecture, trying to analyze his facial features to see if there’s a trace of sadness or discomfort. You clench your fists when he finally looks up at the class, opening his mouth to say,

“Alright class, open up your textbooks to page 88…”

You feel yourself letting out the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, immediately tuning out his directions as you rest your head in your hands. You try to do a breathing exercise to calm down your beating heart, but the unease is still present as you look up to see Jeonghan’s empty desk.

Sweat drips down your face as you run, but you can’t allow yourself to slow down even a little. Your heart is beating hard against your chest, and you’re practically gasping for air, but you’re so close to home already.

As soon as the bell rang signaling that school was over, you threw your backpack over your shoulder and sprinted out of there.

Jeonghan never answered your text.

Now you’re running home so that you can run up to Jeonghan’s door and aggressively ring the doorbell. You don’t care if you’ll annoy him or be a nuisance, as long as he answers.

That’s all that matters.

You gasp for air when you make it into your neighborhood, and you push yourself to run a bit faster as you turn the corner and end up in your driveway. You practically fall onto your knees as you practically dry heave, letting your backpack fall to the ground.

You’re about to get ready to stand up and rush to Jeonghan’s house across the street, only to pause when you see your parents stepping out of the house, dressed in all black. Your heart immediately plummets when you see the pained look in your mother’s eyes when she looks up at you.

“Mom, what are you—“

“Yn, honey, I need you to freshen up and then put on a formal black outfit.” Your mom tells you in as soft of a voice she can muster, and you feel your breathing turn more rigid at how familiar this all is.

This can’t be… I still have a month left, you think to yourself as you clench your fists.

“Mom. What are you trying to say?” You ask quietly, feeling your hands begin to shake at your sides as your father walks up to you and picks up your bag from the ground. He gently reaches out and grasps your shaking hand, giving it a squeeze, and you turn to look at him.

“Jisoo passed away in the night. Her and Jeonghan’s parents called to let us know while you were in school.”

You blink at your father, his words slowly starting to sink in until they hit you all at once like a train. Stumbling backwards, you flinch away from your father’s grasp, tears flooding your vision as you stare at the ground with wide eyes.

“T-This can’t be… I don’t remember this.” You whisper to yourself, your hands reaching up to grip at your hair as you try to recall any old memories of Jisoo’s passing. You feel your parents reaching out to you, making an attempt to bring you inside your home, but you can only step away from them as you search your brain for anything you could’ve missed.

But you can’t. You don’t remember hearing anything of Jisoo’s death before Jeonghan passed.

“Yn, we have to attend the funeral. We don’t want to be late.” Your mother tells you softly, grasping your arm and leading you into your home. You just let her bring you inside, sucking in shaky breaths as the tears continue to fall from your eyes.

How could I not have known? You think to yourself as you’re brought into the bathroom, with your mother promising to bring in your formal black attire to put on after you shower. Numbly, you strip out of your sweat soaked clothes, and step into the shower. As the hot water falls onto your body, you swallow the lump in your throat as guilt flows through you.

How could you have lived so ignorantly back then?

You and your parents step into the funeral home, and you take notice of a few people around Jisoo’s age sitting at the tables, eating small meals. Sucking in a shaky breath, you tighten your grip around your mother’s hand as she guides you to the room.

The three of you turn the corner and step into the room, where tears immediately build up in your eyes when you see Jisoo’s smiling face in the center of all the flowers. Your bottom lip quivers as you try to keep your emotions at bay as the three of you bow to Jisoo twice.

You slowly turn in place to face Jeonghan’s family, and you feel your heart break within your chest when you see the blonde standing before you. He’s staring down at the floor with an empty look in his eyes, not even realizing you’re here. The dark eyebags that had slowly started to disappear are now back on his face, and his lips are incredibly chapped.

Your family bows to Jeonghan’s, which they reciprocate. When you stand back at your full height, your parents immediately start to give their condolences to Jeonghan’s parents. While you take a step closer to Jeonghan, who is still staring down at the floor with a lifeless look in his gaze.

“Jeonghan.” You murmur, and you see the blonde stir slightly at the sound of your voice. He slowly turns and looks up at you, and you feel your heart break within your chest at how empty he looks. You haven’t seen him look like this since that one day a couple of months ago, when you caught him sitting on the ledge of the window, staring out at the field.

Jeonghan blinks when the two of you make eye contact, almost as if he’s just realized that you’re here. You manage to give him a small smile in greeting, and from the sight alone, tears immediately flood his eyes.

The blonde steps forward and wraps his arms around you without a word, tears falling past his eyes when your arms wrap around his waist. He nuzzles his face into your neck, the sobs that he tried to keep inside beginning to pour out as you hold him tightly within your embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Jeonghan.” You whisper, tears falling past your eyes at the sound of his sobs.

And all you can do is hold him tighter as he cries, trying to offer him the comfort that you tried to give too late in the past.

“I knew she was getting weaker as the days went on.” Jeonghan murmurs quietly, his eyes bloodshot and face swollen from crying. The two of you are sitting at the back of the room, staring at Jisoo’s smiling face while both of your parents speak with the guests outside. You sniffle and take a sip of water, knowing that your own face probably matches his from the tears that you shed.

“But she just kept acting like nothing was wrong, like she wasn’t living on borrowed time.”

“That’s Jisoo for you.” You tell him softly, and the blonde glances at you with curiosity. You wipe your nose, a small smile forming on your face at the memories flooding your mind, “Ever since she was a baby, she was always so positive. The only times I saw her frown was when you would trick her.”

The corner of the blonde’s lips quirks upwards at this, before his expression turns solemn again.

“If I had known yesterday was her last day, I would’ve stayed by her side.”

“Jeonghan, it’s not your fault.” You interject immediately, but the blonde just runs a hand through his hair in silence. He lets out a choked laugh as he shakes his head, “She was the one who told me not to come visit after classes were done. She told me to do something for myself instead of going to visit her, and she was very insistent on it.”

“Jeonghan…”

“I tried to argue with her, even tried to bribe her by saying I’d bring you, but she just kept telling me that I looked silly wanting to spend all my freetime with my baby sister instead of you. I still went to visit her for a little bit when we got back, and I–” Jeonghan chokes up at the thought, and swallows the lump in his throat to continue.

“I saw how tired she looked. I tried to play it off as if the treatment from the day before really took a toll on her, but it wasn’t that, and Jisoo knew it. She knew it was almost time, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. If I had known… I would’ve done everything differently. I would’ve argued back more. I would’ve spent the night at the hospital. I would’ve—“

“Jeonghan, you know how happy she must’ve been when you came to visit her last night and heard about your day even for that short span of time? You know your happiness is her happiness, and vice versa.” You say, watching as the blonde’s bottom lip quivers as tears begin to flood his eyes again. You reach out and rest your hand on top of his, giving it a squeeze as you murmur, “Jisoo doesn’t blame you for anything, she wanted you to be able to live happily even if she wasn’t there. Her wishes were answered when she saw you before she went to sleep last night.”

Jeonghan chokes on a sob, reaching up and resting a hand over his eyes as the second wave of tears cascade down his cheeks.

“She was too young, too precious.” Jeonghan whispers through his tears, moving his hand so that he can look at Jisoo’s smiling face again. You squeeze his hand again, feeling your eyes water as you swallow the growing lump in your throat. Nodding your head, you mutter, “She, of all people, deserved a full life.”

Jeonghan stares at Jisoo’s framed picture in silence for a moment, before muttering, “I don’t know what to do without her.”

You suck in a shaky breath at his words, silently realizing that this must’ve been it. This was his breaking point back then. He had almost no support system, having already isolated himself from others when Jisoo was diagnosed in sophomore year. No one except his family knew what he must have been feeling, and even they must’ve not known the extent of his depression.

And then there was you. The only other person in this world who knew Jeonghan from the inside and out, who didn’t decide to reach out until your 18th birthday.

You knew that something was off, that he wasn’t himself. Yet you stood idly by, only sparing him a few glances before going back to your other friends because you didn’t think you were close enough to reach out anymore. It wasn’t until it was too late that you tried to be there for him, and it wasn’t enough.

Turning your head to glance at the blonde, you stare at his angelic features that were shared with his beautiful sister. From his long eyelashes, to the slope of his nose, and to the pretty mole on his cheek. You feel your heart seize in your chest when a single tear slowly trails down his cheek as he stares at the photo of Jisoo, and you can’t help but think of how exhausted he looks. It almost feels like a punch in the gut when you realize how similar it is to how he looked right before he died.

As the days went on in March back then, the bags under his eyes became darker, his complexion slowly losing that warm glow, and his eyes. Oh, his eyes, the pure exhaustion that dripped from his gaze whenever you looked at him in class.

Jeonghan was alive, but he was an empty shell of who he used to be.

How could I have just ignored all the signs? You silently wonder to yourself as you stare at the broken boy beside you, feeling your heart break at the sight of the grief on his face. Turning away from the blonde, you quietly tell him,

“You live.” You feel Jeonghan turn his head to glance at you, and you whisper, “You live for her, for Jisoo.”

After the words leave your lips, you turn to look at the blonde right when the tears fall from his eyes. He presses his lips into a thin line, before a heartbreaking smile slowly takes over his features as he chokes out, “I don’t know if I can.”

Jisoo’s words to you from a month ago suddenly ring in your ears, “I can die happy knowing that Jeonghan has someone like you to love him for all that he is, and all that he will be.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, you tentatively raise your hand up towards his face, and without breaking eye contact, you rest it against his cheek. Wiping away his tears with the pad of your thumb, you return his smile with your own tears falling past your eyes, “That’s okay, because she and I know that you will.”

At this, Jeonghan bites his bottom lip to try and fight the next wave of sobs that threaten to pour out, turning away from you to hide his tears. However, you reach out and wrap your arms around him, pulling the blonde towards you until his face is hidden in your shoulder. You rest your cheek on the back of his head, gently rubbing his back as you hold back sobs of your own.

You slowly enter the funeral home with your parents on either side of you, your heartbeat loud against your ears as you look at all of the people sitting at the tables sharing a meal and a drink. You recognize a few as Jeonghan’s relatives, having met them before at family parties.

You come to a stop when you’re about to turn to enter the room, and your mother gives you a glance, “Yn, we have to.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you shake your head, “This can’t be real. None of this can be real.”

“Come on, honey.” Your father tells you, and without another word, your parents gently push you forward.

The three of you slip off your shoes and step up into the room, and a shaky breath escapes your lips when you see Jeonghan’s smiling face among the flowers surrounding the picture frame. You turn your head to see Jeonghan’s parents standing off to the side as your family steps up to the altar. You clench your fists when you see the dried tear tracks on his mother’s face, and the tired expression on his father’s as he stares at the floor.

The three of you light a stick of incense beside Jeonghan’s portrait, before bowing towards him. You feel numb each time you look up at his face, unable to believe that this is real.

That Jeonghan is dead.

When your family is done, you turn towards Jeonghan’s parents, and your bottom lip begins to quiver when you bow towards them. It’s when you’re standing back at your full height that you finally lock eyes with Jeonghan’s mother, and an overwhelming feeling of guilt floods you as a tear trails down her face.

She tentatively steps towards you, and with shaky hands, cups your face. You raise your hands up and rest them over hers, and her thumbs wipe underneath your eyes. The act brings you to the realization that you’ve been crying this whole time.

She attempts to give you a smile, and you bite back a sob as she murmurs, “You’re so grown up now, dear.”

Without another word, you step forward and wrap your arms around her, crying out your apologies as she holds you in her warm embrace. You feel her shaking her head at your apologies as she mutters that it’s not your fault, that no one knew this would happen.

But the grief overwhelms you as you hug her tighter, shaking within her hold as you shake your head at her. All you can do is sob, continuing to cry out apologies as you hear Jeonghan’s father start to cry beside you.

Eventually, Jeonghan’s mother can only hold you silently, knowing that no words of reassurance can relieve you of the guilt you feel.

“Yn.” You turn your head at the sound of your name being called, just for a small smile to form on your face when you see the blonde dribbling the soccer ball towards you. You twist on the cap of the water bottle, and rest it on the bleachers beside you, “Mm?”

Jeonghan kicks the ball over to you, and you stop it with your foot. He runs a hand through his blonde hair, and you notice how much his roots have grown.

It’s been almost three weeks since Jisoo passed, and it’s been a rough journey to get to where the two of you are now. Jeonghan didn’t attend classes for a week, opting to either just stay in bed or sit in the corner of Jisoo’s bedroom and hold her favorite plushie. Everyday after school, you’d go over to his house with a copy of your notes that you took during class, and either coax him out of bed or feed him his meals.

The second week, he was able to go to school. However, he didn’t talk much, and that was okay with you. You would either put on your favorite show and have him watch it from beside you, or tell him about anything and everything you could think of to distract him. After classes were over, you would drag him to the field and have him play soccer with you.

You found that the sport is what would bring the most relief to the blonde.

“What’s your opinion on mullets?” The blonde asks as he gestures towards the water bottle beside you, and you snort at the random question. Tossing the bottle to him, you reply, “I think they’re nice. Only some people can rock it, though. Oh! It also has to be a specific type of mullet.”

Jeonghan gulps down some water and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at you with an amused expression on his face. You raise an eyebrow, “What?”

“Didn’t know you had a PhD in mullets.” The blonde jokes, and you roll your eyes jokingly. Shrugging your shoulders, you remember how in the future, you meet one of the only people you know who looks amazing with a mullet.

“I kinda miss Minghao.” You whisper to yourself as you remember your roommate, having almost forgotten about the wonderful friend group you made once you got to college. You silently wonder if you’ll still be able to meet them after you change the past, or if your actions now are changing everything about your future.

Then again, you always did think that your group of 13 was missing someone.

“Yn.” Jeonghan calls out, and you look up at the blonde, just for him to gesture towards the sky behind you. Blinking, you turn around, and feel your breath get taken away by the sight of the sunset. The sun is a bright orange, with the sky painted in different pinks and purples. The clouds resemble that of cotton candy—delicate and soft.

“Didn’t think you’d want to miss it.” Jeonghan says as he sits beside you on the bleachers. You let out a small smile and spare him a glance, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

How can someone be more ethereal than the sky? You silently question as you stare at your best friend beside you. The light from the setting sun casts an orange glow over his features, highlighting his soft eyes and pretty cheekbones. Your gaze trails down to the dark circles under his eyes, and you press your lips into a thin line as you think that they might’ve gotten a bit lighter as the days went on.

Letting out a breath, you turn away to look up at the pretty sky again. As the two of you sit in silence watching the sunset beneath the horizon, you quietly murmur, “Thank you for another beautiful day, Jisoo.”

You hear Jeonghan’s breath hitch slightly from beside you at the mention of his sister, and you glance at him right when a single tear escapes past his eye as he stares at the sky. Biting your bottom lip, you turn away from the vulnerable sight, already knowing that he doesn’t want you to acknowledge his grief.

After a moment, you hear Jeonghan whisper,

“Thank you, yn.”

You stare at the calendar taped to your locker, eyes stuck on the current date.

Friday, April 12th

“Yn!” You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the call of your name, and quickly shut your locker, just to turn and find yourself face to face with Jaehyun. A smile takes over your features, and you raise your hand up to wave to the brunette, “Hi Jae.”

Since Valentine’s Day, Jaehyun got the hint that you weren’t interested and immediately stopped trying to win your affections. Except for the occasional greeting when you two cross paths, or the small talk you guys have when you’re at lunch, you haven’t really spoken in a while.

“I need to ask you a question, but the question isn’t about you.” Jaehyun breathes out, and you squint at the dimpled man suspiciously. “Is this going to lead into a your mom joke? If so, I won’t hesitate to punch you in the dick.”

Jaehyun blinks at you, and you don’t fail to notice him lowering his books over his private area, making you bite back a laugh. He shakes his head, “It definitely isn’t leading into a your mom joke, but I’ll remember that threat just in case I ever do want to pull a your mom joke on you.”

You grin, and the brunette chuckles. He gestures down the hallway towards your class, “Can I walk you to class while we talk?”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you misjudged him and he’s actually still motivated to win your affections. He can sense your hesitation, however, and waves a hand at you, “This is about Jeonghan, not me trying to get you to fall in love with me.”

Warmth floods your face at the bluntness of his statement, feeling embarrassed for assuming right away. Holding your books closer to your chest, you shrug your shoulders awkwardly, “Oh.”

The two of you start walking slowly down the hallway together, before Jaehyun jokes,

“Unless you want me to.”

You nudge him in the ribs for it, and he laughs loudly at your reaction. Shaking your head at him, a smile forms on your lips as you think about how grateful you are for Jaehyun’s kindness. You really hope that you can maintain this friendship in the future, especially since Jaehyun has always been a constant in your high school career.

“So what did you want to ask me about, dimple boy?” You ask, and the brunette smiles at the use of his nickname. He glances at you, “I saw you and Jeonghan playing soccer the other day.”

Your head snaps towards him in surprise, and Jaehyun chuckles at how quickly you reacted. He nudges your shoulder with his own, “He’s really good. It looked like you were fighting for your life every time you had the ball.”

“Woah, woah woah.” You interrupt, and Jaehyun laughs loudly at your quick defense. You wave your hands at him, “I was not fighting for my life. I’d say each side was equally struggling.”

Jaehyun smiles and nods his head at your words, showing that he’s agreeing with you. You know he doesn’t believe what you’re saying though, but that’s okay, because you’re lying.

Jeonghan is a fantastic soccer player.

“Well,” Jaehyun begins as the two of you stop in front of the entrance of your classroom. He leans against the wall as he looks at you, and you tilt your head at him to continue. He glances into your classroom to find Jeonghan fast asleep on his desk, before looking back at you, “It’s too late for him to join the school’s soccer team since it’s our senior year, but if he’s interested in trying out for SNU’s soccer team, then tell him to text me.”

A thrum of excitement floods you at the thought of Jeonghan playing the sport competitively. It’s something that he gave up for Jisoo, which didn’t go unnoticed by her, but you know she wanted him to get back into it again. All of you knew that he was fantastic at the sport, but his talent went unrecognized for years because he left it behind.

Now is his chance to play to his full potential.

“Really? Would they even try to scout him if he wasn’t on the high school team?” You ask, and Jaehyun shrugs his shoulders with a mischievous smile. “I can sneak him into tryouts.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You’re making Jeonghan a nepo baby?”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen in disbelief at your words, before he breaks out into laughter at your joke. You bite back a smile of your own as you turn away, looking into the classroom to see the blonde beginning to stir on his desk. Glancing back at Jaehyun, you reach out and pat his shoulder, “I’ll talk to him and let you know.”

The brunette smiles and gives you a thumbs up, before stepping away and beginning to walk down the hallway. Letting out a breath, you turn and walk into the classroom, and place your books down on top of your desk. You glance behind you to see Yeji looking at you with a mysterious grin on her face from her seat, and you squint.

“What?”

She wiggles her eyebrows, “So, you back with Valentine boy?”

You let out a sigh, before reaching out and slapping her shoulder, eliciting a squeak out of the brunette. She rubs her shoulder with a pout to her lips, “That hurt!”

“If you focused on your studies more than my love life, then maybe you’d have a higher rank in our grade.” You tell her, and her jaw drops. She reaches out to slap you back, but you quickly dodge and stick your tongue out at her.

“Yn!”

“Repent. You already know how I feel.” You say with a glare, and a cheshire smile quickly forms on Yeji’s face at your almost confession. She points at you and then the front of the classroom, which you already guess is her pointing at Jeonghan.

You just shrug your shoulders at her and sit down in your seat, turning around to find your eyes locked on Jeonghan’s. You blink in surprise at the eye contact, having thought the blonde was fast asleep atop his desk like usual.

He looks at you with a sleepy gaze, and raises his hand up to send you a tiny wave, a small smile on his face to match. Your lips curl upwards almost immediately at the sight, and you wave back at him as you mouth the words, Good morning, Jeonghan!

He smiles softly, before turning back around in his seat to rest his head on top of his desk again. Biting the inside of your cheek, you open your journal to begin doodling when you feel something small hit the square of your back. An amused smile takes over your features when you quickly realize who it is, and you glance back to see Yeji holding up a sticky note towards you. The message immediately rips a laugh out of you, no room in your heart to make you even the slightest bit annoyed at what your friend had quickly scribbled down,

YOON JEONGHAN ♡ YN YLN

You let out a victory screech when you kick the soccer ball into the goal, and Jeonghan huffs out a good shot as he practically dry heaves from beside you. You suck in tired breaths of your own, feeling like you’re trying to gulp the air as you rest your hands on your knees.

The blonde glances at you, and lets out a laugh when he sees your exhausted state. He gently pats your back, before walking over to go and get the soccer ball. Feeling your heart rate slowly begin to go back to normal, you stand up at your full height as you watch the blonde dribble the soccer ball over to you. Some pieces of his hair stick to his forehead from sweat, and his shirt clings to him a bit as well due to how long the two of you have been playing.

While that would be the moment during your soccer matches where you would start to feel uncomfortable from the feeling of your wet shirt, and the exhaustion beginning to sink in—you don’t see a trace of that in Jeonghan’s face. There’s a small smile on his lips as he does a few kick tricks with the soccer ball as he makes his way over, and his eyes are full of content when he looks up at you.

“Jeonghan.” You say when he’s finally standing in front of you, soccer ball resting at your feet as he runs a hand through his long hair. He tilts his head with a grin, “Yn.”

The corner of your lips quirk upwards as you softly nudge the soccer ball towards his foot, and he stops it with a raised eyebrow. You point to the soccer ball, “What if you tried out for SNU’s soccer team?”

You watch as a frown immediately forms on his face, before amusement floods his eyes. He shakes his head at you with a grin as he starts to dribble the soccer ball towards the middle of the field, “Good joke. Is this your way of trying to flatter me out of playing another round?”

You bite your bottom lip, having not thought that he would think you were joking when you asked him the question. Pressing your hands together, you take a step towards him, “I’m not kidding, Jeonghan.”

The blonde physically pauses, resting his foot on top of the soccer ball to stop it as well. He glances back at you with a furrow to his brows, and you give him a hopeful smile.

“Jaehyun spoke to me this morning.” You begin, and Jeonghan blinks at the name, waiting for you to continue. Squeezing your hands, you shrug your shoulders, “He told me he saw us playing the other day, and he said you were really good. He said that if you were interested in trying out for SNU’s soccer team for next year, then let him know and he can help out.”

Silence falls between the two of you after you explain what happened. You wait with bated breath as you stare at the blonde in front of you, watching as conflicting emotions flood his face at what you had just offered. After a moment, he turns to you with a serious expression.

“No.”

You blink at his answer, before a frown takes over your own features, “Did you just say no?”

“Yeah, my answer is no.” Jeonghan tells you, and turns around to start dribbling the soccer ball again. You blink again, before hurrying over and grabbing his arm to stop him from avoiding you. “W-Why? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Jeonghan–”

“Yn!” Jeonghan exclaims, making you jump slightly at the rise in his voice. He turns to look at you with wide eyes, and that’s when you notice the grief and anger deep in his brown eyes as he stares at you. “I don’t care if it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’m not interested.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, and he rips his arm out of your grasp to start kicking the soccer ball again. Clenching your fists at your side, you reach out and grab his arm again, ignoring the sigh he lets out at your persistence.

“You’re not interested?” You begin, anger slowly rising in you as the blonde refuses to look at you. Glaring at the back of his head, you hold his arm tightly as you continue, “I know that’s bullshit, Yoon Jeonghan, and you do too! Playing this fucking sport is almost like water and oxygen for you, it’s something that you love! You think I don’t see the longing in your eyes whenever you’re watching the soccer team practice outside on the field during class? Or the pure excitement in your gaze whenever I suggest that we play soccer after school?”

Jeonghan stays silent at your words, continuing to stare down at the ground as he keeps his back to you. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you gently pull his arm to try and get him to look at you.

“Jeonghan, I know that you want to get back into playing soccer competitively. This is your chance, why don’t you take it–”

“Once in a lifetime opportunity.” Jeonghan cuts you off in a quiet voice, and you suck in a breath when he finally turns to look at you, and you see the tears trailing down his face. He tilts his head at you, “Do you really think that it’s fair for me to take this chance, when Jisoo didn’t even get a chance to have a once in a lifetime opportunity?”

Your bottom lip quivers at the mention of his younger sister, and you quietly murmur, “Jeonghan…”

“Jisoo didn’t even get a chance to live out the rest of her life, and you expect me to believe that it’s fair for me to do that for her? For me to take all of these chances, and do all of these things, when she spent the remainder of her life inside of a hospital room? How is that fair?” Jeonghan rants, tears falling past his eyes as he stares at you.

He shakes his head as he sucks in a shaky breath, “Even… even when she was alive, I…” The blonde trails off, looking up at the sky as he tries to swallow the lump that’s forming in his throat. He looks back down at you with red eyes, “Even when Jisoo was alive, I wasn’t. I was waking up everyday, and living my life full of hate. I had so much hate and anger towards the world for what they did to my sister, and I was so fucking exhausted of living. I was in so much pain, but I tried to act strong for her, for Jisoo. I was a shell of who I used to be, and the only time I felt whole, was when I was with her.”

Tears flood your eyes at his words, finally hearing of the pain and suffering that Jeonghan’s been dealing with by himself.

“And yet, Jisoo was so full of life! Even with her diagnosis, she still smiled and laughed, still saw the good in this world no matter how much pain she was in from the illness the world bestowed upon her. She was so precious, too kind for this world. As the days went on, I watched her get weaker, and I felt so useless because I couldn’t do anything to protect her from it, but Jisoo was strong. I thought I was acting strong for her, when in reality, she was acting strong for the both of us. And there I was, her beloved older brother that she idolized, secretly planning his own death if the world decided to be cruel to Jisoo one last time.”

Jeonghan lets out a tired breath after the confession leaves his lips, and he tilts his head at you, “So tell me, yn. Tell me how it’s fair for me to live my life happily when my sister, who deserved it more than me, didn’t get the chance to?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, silence falling over the two of you as you simply shake your head at him. At this, he reaches up and wipes away the tears in his eyes, tilting his head up towards the sky as he sucks in deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

“It’s not fair that Jisoo’s life got taken away from her when she was so young, and had so many hopes and dreams.” You whisper, and the blonde turns to you. He stares in silence as you gently squeeze his arm, “But Jisoo left this world with one last dream she sought to fulfill... and it was for you to live your life to its full potential, even if she couldn’t be there to see it.”

You watch as tears flood Jeonghan’s eyes again, and you feel tears of your own begin to cascade down your face as you give him a heartbreaking smile,

“A few weeks before she died, Jisoo told me this, I can die happy knowing that Jeonghan has someone like you to love him for all that he is, and all that he will be.”

You watch as the last of Jeonghan’s will to appear strong completely crumbles at your words, and he lets out a sob as the tears fall from his eyes immediately. He rips his arm out of your grasp again and takes a few steps away from you, and you cover your mouth to silence your cries as you watch him let out an anguished scream up towards the sky.

He runs his hands through his hair as he cries out to the sky, and you cry quietly when he flings himself down onto the grass of the field. It’s after a few minutes when the two of you begin to calm down, that you walk over and lay down right beside him. The two of you stare up at the stars in silence, gaze stuck on a particularly bright star shining down onto the both of you.

“Yn.” Jeonghan mutters, voice hoarse from the screams he let out. You blink tiredly, and turn to look at him as you say, “Hm?”

The blonde blinks up at the bright star, and he raises his hand up towards it as if he’s trying to reach it. You watch in silence as his delicate fingers reach for the star, until he whispers,

“I think it’s time to get rid of the blonde.”

It’s hours later in the evening, after a quick trip to the convenience store to buy hair dye and gloves, that you spend the rest of the night with Jeonghan in your bathroom as you color his blonde hair while the two of you quietly talk about all of your memories of Jisoo.

It’s in the wee hours of the morning when the two of you finish, and you fall asleep on the floor of your bedroom beside a newly dyed Jeonghan.

The early morning sun that peeks through your curtains shines down onto the sleeping Jeonghan, highlighting his hair that’s now dyed a vibrant lilac, in honor of Jisoo’s favorite color.

“Jung Jaehyun!” You call out from the end of the hallway, and you watch as the brunette looks up, just for his eyes to widen slightly at the sight of Jeonghan’s bright purple hair. You giggle at the sight, and Jeonghan lets out a breath from beside you as you give his hand a squeeze, before making him walk faster.

“Dude, your hair looks sick. How does it still look so healthy too?” Jaehyun asks with an awestruck expression on his face, and you turn to see Jeonghan’s ears turning a bit red at the compliment, making you laugh quietly to yourself. The man at your side shrugs his shoulders, squeezing your hand as he replies, “I make sure to use good hair conditioning products.”

Jaehyun lets out a quiet, ah, that makes sense, before turning to you with a grin. You return the smile and nudge Jeonghan’s shoulder with your own, “He said he’s interested in trying out.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen in excitement at your words, and you watch as the two begin to converse excitedly about the sport and how the brunette will help Jeonghan get into try-outs.

You glance down at your phone to check the time, and your eyes linger on the date that flashes into your eyes.

Monday, April 15

Five more days until your birthday.

On this day in the past, is when you gave Jeonghan the invitation.

The same invitation that’s in your backpack that is at the forefront of your mind as you watch Jeonghan and Jaehyun converse, and you feel your heart warm at the sight of Jeonghan’s smile. It was a sight that was so rare only a few months ago, but is now a view that you’re blessed to see everyday.

Jeonghan’s changed in the months since you’ve traveled back in time, and you think that you were able to change the past. However, you don’t know for sure until Saturday comes.

You bite the inside of your cheek, knowing that you’re not contributing to anything that’s going on in Jeonghan and Jaehyun’s conversation. Yet, you’re awkwardly standing there, holding Jeonghan’s hand as you just watch them converse.

“I feel like a third wheel.” You murmur to yourself, and decide to take a step back and slowly remove your hand from Jeonghan’s grasp. As you do so, however, your heart thumps in your chest when he suddenly re-adjusts his grip on your hand so that his fingers intertwine with yours. You look up from your interlocked hands to find him smiling softly to himself, and you bite back a smile when he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Okay, I’ll make sure to update you when I get more information.” Jaehyun tells Jeonghan with an excited grin, and Jeonghan nods his head in agreement. The brunette turns to you, and you blink in surprise when he pouts.

“Why is Valentine Boy pouting at me?”

“Because you never invite me when you and Jeonghan play soccer together. This is the first time he and I have properly spoken, and he immediately invited me to the next time you guys play! You and I have been friends since Freshman year!” Jaehyun complains, and you teasingly roll your eyes, reaching out to gently push his shoulder. He chuckles and pats your head as he steps past you, “I’ll see you both tomorrow for our soccer date~”

“You wish it was a date!” You call out to him with a laugh, and he turns around to point towards yours and Jeonghan’s interlocked hands.

“I know when I’m a thirdwheel, yn.” Jaehyun tells you with a wink, and warmth immediately floods your face at the fact that he pointed out your public display of affection. He grins and waves his hand at you both, “See you!”

And with that, the two of you watch as Jaehyun disappears among the crowd of students. You let out a breath, before turning towards Jeonghan with a smile,

“So… are you excited to be the star soccer player at Seoul National University?!”

Jeonghan chuckles with a roll of his eyes, and just drags you to the classroom without answering your question.

“Are you and Jeonghan dating now or…” You give Yeji a look, and she raises her hands up, clearly exasperated by your expression. “What?! I feel like it’s a totally valid question to ask since the two of you came into class today holding hands!”

You snort at her desperation, and she lets out a whine as she reaches out to grasp your hands and shake them. Smiling at your friend, you give her hand a squeeze before standing up from the lunch table. Yeji whines even louder as she watches you stand, and you laugh as you pick up your lunch tray.

“Yn! Please, you have to tell me.”

You simply shrug your shoulders with a small smile, “Jeonghan and I are just… us. We’re Jeonghan and yn, yn and Jeonghan. That’s all.”

With that last remark, you turn around and walk over towards the garbage area to put away your lunch tray. You reach your hands up to cup your face when you exit the cafeteria, feeling the warmth to your cheeks as you head in the direction of the stairwell.

“Gosh, that girl. She should focus on her own love life instead of hounding me about mine.” You murmur embarrassedly, but the shy smile that threatens to appear on your lips shows that you’re anything but annoyed by your sweet friend.

Sucking in a deep breath after you enter the hallway, you reach into the pocket of your jacket and take out the envelope that holds Jeonghan’s invitation to your birthday party. Holding it behind your back, you walk over to the stairwell and stand at the entrance, watching as the lilac haired beauty quietly eats his lunch with his airpods in.

“You know, you could eat lunch with me and Yeji in the cafeteria instead of in the stairwell everyday.” You state, making your presence known. Jeonghan takes out an airpod and turns to find you standing there with a small smile, and the corner of his lips quirk upwards as he pats the spot on the step beside him. “It’s too loud in there. I enjoy my quiet lunches here.”

You chuckle and plop down beside him, hiding the invitation at your side as you watch him pick up a piece of kimbap with his chopsticks. You blink when he suddenly turns to you, an expectant look on his face as he gestures towards your mouth.

“Say ahh~” Jeonghan says in a singsong voice, and you roll your eyes but comply, allowing him to feed you the kimbap his mother made. You chew on the yummy food, having always loved his mother’s cooking since you were kids.

“So, has anyone confessed to you yet? I think the lilac hair makes you stand out more than the blonde did.” You tease, and Jeonghan scoffs as he places a piece of kimchi into his mouth. He points at you with his chopsticks, “Would you be jealous if I said yes?”

You squint, “No.”

“Well then, I’ll tell you that three people left me love letters in my desk—”

“THREE?!” You exclaim, and warmth immediately floods your face when the pretty boy in front of you starts to guffaw at your reaction. You bite your bottom lip and lean back, fixing your hair as you quietly correct yourself, “I-I mean, woah! Three people?”

Jeonghan continues to laugh at you, the beautiful sound ringing throughout the stairwell as you complain about him making fun of you. He just shakes his head as his laughter begins to die down, looking at you with an indecipherable emotion in his eyes as he reaches out and pats your head.

“Don’t worry, I turned them down.”

You press your lips into a thin line and turn away from Jeonghan, but he doesn’t fail to notice the small smile playing on your lips as you stare out the window behind you both. He grins and looks out the window as well, watching as the birds fly past the school in the bright blue sky.

You spare a glance at the pretty boy, and you feel your heart thump in your chest when you see the look of content on his face as he stares out the window. Biting the inside of your cheek, you reach for the invitation at your side, and softly say his name.

“Mm?” Jeonghan murmurs, continuing to stare out the window as his eyes follow the cloud that’s shaped like a flower. Smiling to yourself, you reach out and place the invitation on his lap, and he’s snapped out of his daze to glance down at what you’ve given him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow as he puts his lunch down beside him in order to pick up the envelope, “What’s this?”

You shrug your shoulders and gesture towards it, “You have to open it to find out.”

Jeonghan squints at you, then proceeds to gently open up the envelope. You watch in anticipation as he opens up the card, your heart thumping against your chest as he takes a second to look it over. He glances up at you after a moment, “I almost forgot that you aren’t eighteen yet.”

Relief washes over you almost immediately at his teasing response, and you reach out to slap his shoulder. He lets out a hiss and rubs the tender area while shooting you a playful glare, “Is this how you try to get people to come to your birthday parties? If so, this tactic is not good.”

You chuckle and nudge him with your knee, feeling a bit more serious as you ask, “Will you come, Jeonghan?”

“Do you want me there?” Jeonghan asks in response, and you feel your heart leap in your chest at the question. It reminds you too much of the past, when he didn’t believe that you would suddenly want him back in your life.

“Always.” You whisper, and the two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a moment. It’s almost like that day in the hospital when you were caught secretly surprising Jisoo, where all these unsaid words were spoken through your gazes alone.

Jeonghan’s the first to break eye contact, and he safely tucks away your invitation into the pocket of his jacket. It’s when he’s sure that your invitation is safe in his pocket that he finally looks back up at you, and a smile takes over your features when he softly says,

“Then I’ll be there.”

“Yn! Come on, we’re about to bring out the cake!” You hear your mom call out to you, but your gaze is locked on your front door as you wait for Jeonghan to come. Yeji squeezes your knee from beside you, and you turn to look at her, just to see a reassuring smile on her face as she tells you, “I’m sure he’s on his way, don’t worry.”

“He promised he’d come.” You choke out, feeling panic rise in your chest as all the possibilities flood your thoughts.

Maybe you were wrong all this time and you weren’t truly helping Jeonghan. What if he was just acting? Like he was just pretending to be okay in front of you so that you wouldn’t worry? What if you couldn’t change his mind after all?

What if I couldn’t change the past? You think to yourself, feeling a lump form in your throat as you contemplate leaving your own birthday party to go and find Jeonghan.

It’s when you’re about to jump up from the couch to sprint out the door that you see the knob of your front door turn, and tears immediately flood your eyes when you see that familiar head of lilac colored hair enter your house. You quickly stand up from the couch and run over to him, “Yoon Jeonghan!”

The man in question gives you a sheepish smile as he holds out the bouquet of flowers in his hand, “I’m sorry I’m late! I was having a hard time picking out what flowers to give you, so I had to get my mom to come with me and—”

His words are cut off when you suddenly throw your arms around him in a tight embrace, and he can only blink in shock when you let out a shaky breath into the side of his neck. He slowly wraps his arms around your frame, “Does this mean you’re not mad?”

You shake your head as you try to stop the tears from falling past your eyes when you tell him, “No, never. As long as you’re here, that’s all that matters to me.”

When you finally pull away, you take the bouquet of flowers from his grasp with a small smile. He watches fondly as you lean down to smell the petals, and he chuckles when your eyes widen in surprise at the smell.

“Oh my God, they actually smell really good! Usually flowers just smell like… earth.” You say, and he nods his head. “I remembered that you had a sensitive nose, so I wanted to get you a bouquet that actually smelled nice.”

Your heart thumps against your chest at the fact that he remembered such a small detail about you, and you smile widely at him. You’re about to ask him if he wants to help you pick out a vase to put the flowers in when you suddenly hear,

“Yn! It’s cake time!”

Jeonghan’s eyes widen when he sees your parents beginning to light the candles on your birthday cake, and he quickly grasps your hand and pulls you towards the table where all your loved ones are gathered. You let out a laugh as he places you in the seat directly in front of the birthday cake while taking the bouquet of flowers and placing it on the kitchen counter.

You watch as he moves awkwardly to stand beside your mother on the other side of the table, and you have to hold back your laughter when she fusses over him and makes the pretty boy sit in the seat directly across from you. The two of you look into each other’s eyes, and he pretends to move to blow out your candles, to which you shoot him a glare.

“Okay, time to sing happy birthday!” Your father announces, and you shyly smile as everyone around you begins to sing you happy birthday.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!”

You giggle at your loved ones as they sing loudly around you, and you raise a hand up to your face as you feel warmth flood your face. Yeji wraps her arms around you from the seat beside you, and you rest your head on top of hers as you clap your hands to the beat of everyone’s singing. Your gaze falls on Jeonghan, and you smile softly when you see the look of warmth in his eyes as he sings directly to you.

“Happy birthday dear yn, happy birthday to you!”

“Okay honey, make a wish.” Your mom says with a big smile, her phone held up towards you as she takes a video. Yeji releases you from her embrace, and you fix your posture as you look into the camera with a grin. You glance around the room to see all your loved ones waiting with excited smiles on their faces for you to blow out the candles, and you feel nothing but happiness when your gaze trails over to Jeonghan sitting in front of you.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, and you silently thank everything in this world for allowing you to have this moment. This chance to change the past and bring back the person that means the most to you in this world. The chance for Yoon Jeonghan to live out the rest of his beautiful life.

He gives you a warm smile and gestures towards the candles that are burning on top of your cake, ready to be wished upon. The corners of your lips quirk upwards at the sight, and you close your eyes as you silently wish,

I wish for Yoon Jeonghan to live a long and happy life.

And with that, you open your eyes and blow out the candles.

You tiptoe down the hallway and press your ear to your parents’ bedroom door, confirming whether or not they’re fast asleep. A grin forms on your face when you can hear the loud sound of your father’s snores, and you turn back down the hallway to shoot Jeonghan a thumbs up.

You sneak the pretty boy into your room, and quietly shut your bedroom door while Jeonghan grabs a pillow off your bed and plops down onto the floor. A smile forms on your lips at the sight of Jeonghan laying on your floor dressed in a pair of sweats and your old oversized middle school gym shirt.

“Damn, your parents fall asleep early.” Jeonghan murmurs from your floor, and you snort as you step over to your bed and pull off the throw blanket. “Tell me about it. They’re like an elderly couple who sleeps at 6 pm.”

You toss the blanket onto Jeonghan’s frame, and he gives you his thanks as he unfolds it and lays it over himself. Letting out a sigh, you take your other pillow off your bed and toss it down on the empty space beside Jeonghan’s head.

You plop yourself down onto the floor alongside the pretty boy, and he immediately adjusts the blanket so that it’s covering you as well. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as the moonlight shines in through your bedroom window, illuminating your room in a soft light.

“How do you feel being 18?” Jeonghan asks after a moment, with the two of you staring up at your white ceiling.

“It feels great.”

“Yeah, I agree. I’ve been 18 for months already, so I would know.” Jeonghan teases, and you roll your eyes. You gently nudge him in the ribs after a moment, eliciting a laugh from the pretty boy beside you.

“What did you wish for? It looked like you were really concentrating.” Jeonghan asks, and you turn your head to find him already staring at you. Warmth floods your face immediately at the close proximity between the two of you, while Jeonghan just smiles.

“Hi.”

“Now that we’ve got our greetings out of the way, tell me what you wished for.” He says, rolling onto his side so that he’s facing you. You chuckle and turn your gaze back up towards the ceiling, “You’re a nosy bastard. You know that saying whatever you wished for does not come true.”

“Well, if you just say one word of what you wished for, then it’s technically not saying the whole wish.”

“What if your wish was just one word?”

“Then that’s a lame wish.” You let out a laugh at his fast response, making a warm smile form on Jeonghan’s lips. Turning to him, you see him waiting expectantly for you to tell him your wish, and you let out a breath as you turn your head back up towards the ceiling.

You blink up at the white ceiling, before finally whispering,

“You.”

“Hm?”

“I wished for you.” You murmur quietly, turning your head so that you’re facing Jeonghan again. He blinks at your words, and a small smile forms on his lips.

Jeonghan’s different now. There’s little sight of the exhaustion that used to heavily weigh him down when you first traveled back in time—from the dark bags under his eyes, to the emptiness in his gaze whenever he had looked at you. Instead, there’s a sparkle to his eyes that you’ve never seen before, a sight that you can almost get lost in if you look for too long.

And there’s that emotion in his gaze whenever he stares into your eyes, the one you haven’t been able to make out for the last three months.

You feel your heart stop in your chest when Jeonghan slowly leans in after a moment, and you let your eyelids flutter shut when he presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead. You open your eyes to find him staring at you with a content smile on his face after he pulls back, and your heart soars when you finally decipher the emotion that was in Jeonghan’s eyes all this time.

Love. It was love.

“Happy Birthday, yn.” Jeonghan whispers as his eyes begin to close, and you watch as he lets his battle with sleep win. You smile softly as you reach out and tuck a strand of his lilac hair behind his ear, allowing yourself to drink in this beautiful sight.

“I love you, Yoon Jeonghan.” You murmur, your eyelids becoming droopier by the second as you stare at the precious boy sleeping beside you.

The last thing you see before the heavy blanket of sleep pulls you under, is the sight of Jeonghan sitting in front of you as you softly blow out your birthday candle.

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the sunlight shines onto your eyes through your curtains, and you let out a groan at the sight, turning over so that you can hide your face from the light. You feel your blood run cold, however, when you realize that the curtains you saw weren’t the pink ones from your childhood bedroom, but the blackout curtains from your apartment.

You sit up in your bed with wide eyes, frantically looking around your room as you realize that you’re back in your apartment bedroom. Blinking away the exhaustion in your eyes, you reach out and grab your phone from your bedside table, tears immediately flooding your eyes when you see the present date shine back up at you.

April 21st, 2022

It’s the day after your 21st birthday.

Tears fall from your eyes as you set your phone down, and you cover your face with your hands as sobs begin to wrack through your whole body at the fact that it was a dream. It was all just a drunken dream you had.

But it was real. It all felt too real for it to just be a dream.

You let out a pained laugh as you wipe away the tears falling from your eyes, hugging your knees close to your chest as grief floods you. You wonder if this was Jeonghan’s way of trying to give you closure after you’ve been wishing for him on every birthday of yours for years.

“It feels like I’m going through the five stages of grief again, though.” You murmur as you glance at your bedside table and see the birthday card your 12 friends gave you last night. Letting out a shaky breath, you reach out and pick it up, your eyes trailing over the birthday messages they had written for you.

A sad smile escapes you as you stare at the dark birthday candle drawing, no longer lit up like it was the night before. You silently wonder if the batteries have already died while reaching your hands up in an attempt to wipe your wet cheeks. However, the tears continue to slowly trail down your face, the overwhelming feeling of grief consuming you. Letting out a shaky breath, you're about to close the card when your eyes land on the once empty space in the top corner of the card.

You blink, then blink again as you reread the message written.

Happy 21st Birthday, yn. You can finally legally drink with me instead of me having to buy you alcohol, cause, you know, I’m older than you ;)

Here’s to many more birthdays by each other’s side. I love you.

Love, Jeonghan

Your heart begins to pound against your chest as you stare down at the birthday message in complete and utter disbelief. You’re about to rub your eyes to see if your exhausted brain is just messing with you, when you pause at the sound of Minghao’s voice coming from outside of your bedroom.

“They’re still asleep? Maybe we went too crazy at karaoke.”

Your head snaps up when you hear a familiar pretty laugh in response to Minghao’s joke, and you practically fall off your bed when you hear his voice reply, “I’m not surprised. Seungcheol was going crazy with the drinking games.”

When your hand reaches the doorknob, you throw open the door with teary eyes, and you suck in a breath when you find yourself face to face with a surprised Minghao and a 21 year old Jeonghan.

His pretty, long blonde hair that he adorned in high school is now back to its natural shade of black. It’s cut a bit shorter, but it’s still long enough to cover his eyes slightly. His eyes are bright as they stare into yours, albeit laced with some surprise at your outburst.

A warm smile forms on his face when he sees your bedhead, and his soft voice calls out, “Honey, you’re finally awake—”

The rest of his sentence is cut off when you rush over and jump into his arms, clinging onto him tightly as he blinks in surprise. Tears fall from your eyes when you feel his arms wrap around you, his hand reaching up to rest on the back of your neck as he lets out a soft laugh.

“Good morning to you too, yn.”

You pull back with a light laugh, and his eyes lace with concern when he sees the tears falling from your eyes as you look at him. His hands trail up and cup your face, wiping away the tears on your cheeks as you just stare at him in awe.

“Honey? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Jeonghan asks worriedly, and he shoots a worried glance at Minghao as your friend steps away to go and get you a box of tissues.

You just smile brightly at him as you wipe away the tears in your eyes so that you can see the love of your life standing before you clearly. Your heart thumps against your chest at the sight of his beautiful brown eyes, so full of life and adoration as they bore into yours. You giggle and shrug your shoulders, reaching up and tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Yn?” Jeonghan asks, the concern beginning to melt away when he sees the pure happiness in your gaze as you look at him. He chuckles in amusement, and leans into your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist as he murmurs, “Are you still drunk? Or just happy to see me?”

And you feel warmth flood your face as you whisper,

“I’m just happy to see that all my wishes have finally come true.”

ミ★ taglist: @sunlightwoo @aurenvoire @dreamerhaos @brinnalaine @minluvly @wonunuu @suhfluffy @shuajeong @kuromieiie @seoulbinz @minghao-will-be-the-death-of-me @miruac @jaeyuni @sunflowergyeomie @cheolliehugs @smileyjimvn @sukisdeliveryservice @a-vian @kodzumo @dwcljh @hanniehaeism @taeguk-munchkin @w8nuzone @jeonncafe @semicolorn @haonysus @adoreateez @anissanightyoung @serenadesvt @linhyyboo12 @junjungsunwoo @kthpurplesyou @vibecheckvernon @changbinworld @xupiire @sonje78 @mybbtaeyong4thewin @chwesbaby @soobin-chois @bibinnieposts @laylasbunbunny

ミ★ sequel: dear dream

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saetoshi · 1 year

Text

corazón de melón.

tldr; the one time you have a proper conversation with itoshi sae ends up unleashing a series of events you never imagined could’ve happened.

wc. 10.2k

¿?: roommates to lovers, college!au, idiots in love, this is pure domesticity tbh, fluff, lowk word vomit, ooc-ish sae (he’s a silly lil guy sometimes this is the hill i’ll die on), slow burn ig ??, swearing, someone’s mean to you (not sae), not proofread (no surprise)

a/n: i have so many emotions in my heart for sae, SOMEONE SEDATE ME PLEASE FREE ME FROM HIM I CANT LIVE NORMALLY ANYMORE, turned rue into a sae liker for this so real of me, @rintosei, enjoy ur meal my children this is probably the longest thing i’ll write in a hot minute

when others think of itoshi sae, many words come to mind: genius, talented, jerk, asshole, rude, mean, scary, lashes, pretty—the list goes on.

you have no particular thoughts about sae. all he is to you is your roommate. you’d like to have an opinion of him, but that seems impossible with the way you can count the number of times you’ve spoken to him with one hand.

though, if you had to be honest, the only common thread in the few interactions you’ve had is that he very clearly does not care for your company—or anyone’s company, for that matter.

not that you blame him. if you had to deal with having to go to practice after a day of classes, you wouldn’t want to interact with anyone else, either. (you’d also not have the energy to do anything.)

it’s why you’re used to hearing him get back to the apartment while you’re eating dinner; why you started leaving some leftovers for him to eat whenever he wants to.

it’s also why you’re surprised when he comes back from practice earlier than usual. you jump when you hear the front door open, placing your hand over your heart.

your turn to the door, eyes widening slightly when you see sae walk in. you don’t greet him—you never do—you don’t think he’d appreciate it. (he never greets you either, so you assumed it was fine.)

so, you turn your attention back to the tv, reaching out to grab the broom. you quickly start sweeping, humming a tune while the noise of whatever drama is playing in the background fills the apartment.

you barely register that sae’s door doesn’t open, but the thought quickly leaves your mind when something dramatic happens to one of the leads.

you take a step back, an unceremonious yelp leaving your lips when your back bumps into something. a second passes by before you slowly tilt your head back.

your eyes are met with a pair of teal ones. a sheepish smile tugs at your lips, “hi?”

he raises a brow, “what are you doing?”

“cleaning.” you move the broom from side to side in hopes to draw his attention to it. (he barely glances at it before his eyes snap back to yours.)

you take a step forward, moving to face him. he just stares at you. an awkward silence settles between the two of you.

“you’re back early.” you hope he didn’t hear your voice crack.

he blinks, clearly uninterested. “practice ended early.”

you hum, nervously bouncing on the balls of your feet. you huff, tapping your fingers against the broom. “i see.”

it’s clear both of you feel uncomfortable. still, neither of you makes a move to leave. you’re more surprised sae’s still standing in front of you. (sae’s mildly intrigued you’re attempting to talk to him.)

you open your mouth to speak, but promptly shut it close. you repeat the action two more times before sae interrupts you, “what?”

your eyes drift away from his. you gnaw on your bottom lip. “it’s nothing.”

he glares at you. “just spit it out.”

your eyes widen, snapping back to look at him as you dismissively wave your hand. “it’s really nothing, you can just leave!”

“you clearly have something you want to say to me,” he deadpans, “so i suggest you get it over with so we can put an end to this lukewarm conversation.”

you take a deep breath, wiping one hand against your shirt, gently swaying the broom with the other. “i was just wondering, y’know since you’re back early–”

“hurry up.”

“do you wanna eat together?” you look at the ground, feet shuffling uncomfortably. the silence feels unbearable.

“that’s it?” the confusion in his voice confuses you. you lift your eyes to stare at him, confusion etched in your face.

your head tilts to the side in confusion, “what do you mean ‘that’s it’?”

“you wanna eat with me?” he points at himself. his brows knit when you nod. sae owlishly blinks,

“okay.”

his eyes widen in confusion when he sees an elated smile bloom on your lips.

“i won’t start cooking yet, since i at least have to finish sweeping,” you hum, “but if you’re hungry you could get started on something and i’ll join you when i’m done.”

“i can’t cook.” sae awkwardly coughs. he shoves his hands into his pockets, looking away from you, a soft flush spreading through his cheeks.

“oh,” you blink, smiling at him. “that’s fine! i can cook something while you clean instead.”

the blush on his cheeks deepens as his brows furrow. “i don’t know how to clean.”

your smile tightens, eyes squinting as you inch closer to him.

there’s a beat of silence. “what can you do then?”

“play football.” you wait a few seconds for him to say something else.

“that’s it?”

“yeah.” he says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. (as if it was the only thing that mattered.)

you rub your forehead, a dry laugh escaping your lips.

if you were to tell others of this discovery you’re sure they wouldn’t believe you. you’re not even sure you believe him, yourself.

at least you didn’t, until he took the broom from your grasp. you have to bite back your laughter when he can’t even hold it properly. you wonder how he’d manage to survive alone.

itoshi sae is basically useless outside of football, you conclude. (and you’re not sure if this is the opinion you want to have about your roommate.)

it’s been a week since you learned about sae’s lack of ability to do seemingly anything other than kick a ball around.

it’s also been a week since he started coming back from practice earlier. you have mixed feelings about it. on one hand, you find it strangely comforting knowing you’re not alone in the apartment. on the other, sae just stares at you while you clean.

you’re sick of feeling his eyes follow you around. it feels like a predator watching its prey. having his eyes trail you makes you feel judged, and you’ve had enough.

so, you tighten your grip around the mop in your hands, turning around to look at sae. you take a deep breath, “why are you staring at me?”

he blinks, propping an arm on a couch cushion and leaning his head into his palm. “i’m trying to learn.”

confusion paints itself all over your face, “learn what?”

“learn to clean.” you hate when he says things like they’re the most obvious thing ever. it makes you feel as if he expects you to know what goes on in his head.

“by staring at me?” you raise a brow.

he simply shrugs, “i’m a visual learner.”

you don’t know if you believe him.

so, you place one of your hands on your hips, tilting the mop back and forth with the other one. “in that case, you should try cleaning today.”

his eyes widen, mouth curling into a fine line. “i don’t think i’m ready for that.”

you take a step closer to him, holding the mop out to him. “well, i think that after a week of watching me you should start practicing what you’ve learned.”

“don’t ever think again.” he frowns.

“oh, please,” you roll your eyes, “don’t tell me the itoshi sae is afraid of a little mopping.”

that makes him get up. you bite back the satisfied smile threatening to creep up your face when he snatches the mop from your hands.

“i’m just supposed to move this side to side, right?” he stiffly holds the mop, looking at you with a raised brow.

“‘m not gonna help you out,” you make your way to the couch, mimicking his earlier position. “if you’ve been learning from staring at me for a week then you should know what to do.”

“i know what to do.” he rolls his eyes, “i just don’t know how to do it.”

“figure it out, then.” you lean forward against the palm of your hand, trying to hide your smile behind your fingers.

he glares at you and scoffs, redirecting his attention to the object in his hands. you fail to stifle your laughter when he moves the mop in a sweeping motion.

“don’t laugh!” his grip tightens around the mop, heat rushing to his ears.

you bite your tongue, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips, “i’m not.”

he tsks, slightly pouting. he walks towards you, dragging the mop behind him. you look up at him, you eyes flutter closed when he flicks your forehead.

“teach me.” your eyes snap open, flickering to meet his. a confused noise leaves your lips as your brows furrow.

“teach you what?” your eyes flutter when he flicks your forehead again.

sae’s eye twitches in annoyance, “are you stupid or something?”

you glare at him, “not everyone thinks the same things you do!”

he clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes. he points at the mop and then at himself. “teach me to clean.”

“i thought you said you were a visual learner.” you deadpan.

“consider this your punishment for laughing at me.” he huffs, a condescending smile blooming on his lips when he sees your pained expression.

his face leans closer to yours, “i look forward to learning from you, teach.”

you dumbly stare at him as he places the mop in your hands. he flashes you a shit-eating grin before retreating to his room. you blink twice before coming to your senses, punching the couch cushions in anger.

you wish you hadn’t found out itoshi sae was a little shit. you much preferred when you only thought of him as your useless roommate.

itoshi sae is the most infuriating student you’ve ever met.

you thought someone described as a genius would be a much better student than he actually is. he doesn’t pay attention to anything you say at all. you wonder if his teachers just let him pass the class because they don’t want him around anymore.

you have a newfound respect for his actual teachers. you don’t know how they manage to stand him for a whole semester when you don’t think you can even last two weeks. (it’s still longer than you expected.)

“sae,” you loudly sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, “you’re doing it wrong. again.”

his grip around the broom tightens, his knuckles turning white, “i’m doing what you told me to do!”

“you’re not!” you groan, running a hand down your face, “gosh, how do you manage to do everything i tell you the wrong way?”

“what, so i’m the problem?” his eyes narrow, he takes a step closer to you, “have you ever thought that maybe you’re a bad teacher?”

an angry gasp leaves your lips, “excuse me?!”

“you heard me.” he grits his teeth, “you’re clearly the most lukewarm teacher ever. how do you expect me to learn when you don’t care about teaching me properly?”

“have you ever considered that maybe i don’t want to teach you because you forced me to?” you rub your temples in a poor attempt to prevent the coming headache.

he scoffs, brows knitting in annoyance, “you could at least put more effort into making sure i’m learning.”

“you think i’m not?” you point him square in the chest, glaring at him. “i’m doing my best here, okay? it’s not my fault you’re a shit student.”

“you–”

“you listen while your teacher is speaking.” you seethe, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, “i’m trying to do the best i can. i’m not qualified to teach you anything, especially not with how you don’t even pay attention to what i say!”

he frowns, “well, i–”

you shake him as hard as you can, angry tears pooling in your eyes, “you’re the most ungrateful, useless piece of fucking shit i’ve ever met in my life!”

sae grabs your wrists, letting the broom fall with a clang to the floor. he stares at you with wide eyes. you blink, heat creeping up your face in embarrassment.

there’s a beat of silence. sae’s eyes scan your face. “you good?”

he lets out a soft sigh of relief when you nod. “are you going to punch me if i let go?”

he relaxes a little when you shake your head. he looks at you as he slowly lets go of your hands. you stare at him, wide eyed as he gently walks you over to the couch and sits you down.

sae plops down on the other end of the couch, glancing at you. he opens his mouth to speak, but promptly closes it. you stop yourself from laughing at his awkwardness. (it reminds you of how you must’ve acted when you talked to him a couple of weeks ago.)

you twist the hem of your shirt in your hands, looking away from sae, gnawing on your bottom lip. “’m sorry about that.”

“don’t apologize.” he coughs awkwardly, crossing his arms, “i probably stressed you out too much.”

“yeah, but, still,” you turn to face him, “i shouldn’t have said something so rude.”

“it’s fine. i really did deserve that, after all.” an amused laugh escapes his lips, “i’ve never heard you so mad before, though.”

you tilt your head to the side, “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” a hint of amused smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “you tend to get really loud when you complain about your classes. i can hear you all the way to my room.”

your face heats up in embarrassment. you slump against the couch, hiding your face behind your hands. “sorry.”

“stop apologizing,” you slightly relax when you hear a sliver of empathy in his voice. “it’s better to let your emotions out instead of holding them in.”

you lower your hands from your face, staring at him. “do you do that?”

“it depends,” he hums, “feelings are lukewarm most of the time, so when i get angry or whatever i’ll let it out so i can get it over with.”

you narrow your eyes at him, scanning his face. “how does that even work?”

he shrugs nonchalantly, “if i get mad at someone i’ll say it to their face while i’m still mad so i can stop being angry.”

you mull over his words, “so instead of having pent up feelings and reaching your limit, you just act on your emotions as soon as possible so you go back to feeling nothing?”

“pretty much.”

a small hum leaves your lips. silence settles between the two of you before a loud growl echoes through the apartment. laughter bubbles in your chest, spilling out of your mouth when sae’s face flushes.

“shut up!” he hides behind his hands, “i haven’t eaten all day!”

you stand up, walking over and extending a hand out to sae, “wanna help out with dinner?”

he lowers his hands from his face, glancing between your eyes and your hand. he blinks, “i can’t cook.”

“i know,” a smile blooms on your lips, “you can consider it your first lesson.”

sae’s eyes light up, the corners of his lips tilting up ever so slightly. “you’re still gonna teach me?”

“i can’t let you stay useless forever.” you stick your tongue out at him, smiling when he grabs your hand.

a huff of laughter escapes his lips when you fail to tug him up. you flip him off before leaving him behind on the couch. a smile lingers on his face when he follows you to the kitchen.

he’s not a good assistant. (and he’s an even worse cook). in fact, if you’d known that letting him into the kitchen would’ve resulted in having to evacuate the building due to the fire alarm, you wouldn’t have asked for his help at all.

however, you do appreciate that he invited you out for dinner later as an apology for stressing you out.

(it makes you think he’s more considerate than he pretends to be.)

you’ve lost track of the times you’ve had to apologize to your neighbors over sae activating the fire alarm.

it’s embarrassing enough that seemingly everyone in the complex goes to your college, but sae seems to make it worse by glaring at anyone who so much as looks in your direction with a judgemental stare.

“i can’t keep going on like this,” you cover your face with your hands. you shrink into yourself when you feel multiple eyes staring at the back of your head.

“stop overreacting.” sae clicks his tongue. still, he discreetly grabs the hem of your shirt and gently pulls you closer to his side.

you lower your hands from your face, frowning at him as tears of shame pool in your eyes. “everyone’s judging us!”

“just ignore them.” he awkwardly pats your head, “they’ll forget about it soon enough.”

“sae, this happens almost every week!” you cry, gnawing your lower lip, “some guy yelled at me last time because we interrupted his studying! do you have any idea how long i had to apologize for?”

his jaw clenches as anger flashes through his face for a split second before his uninterested expression returns. “what’d he look like?”

“i don’t know,” you blink, “he was tall. he also had brown-ish hair, i think?”

he shoves his hands in his pockets, tilting his head in the direction of the building, “do you know his apartment number?”

“no,” you sigh. “why?”

the corners of his lips quirk up into a mischievous smile. “i was thinking of baking him some apology cookies.”

you cover your mouth in a feeble attempt to stifle your laughter. (if everyone was staring at you in judgment for triggering the fire alarm, now they’re judging you for laughing in this situation.)

sae tugs you into the building when you’re all cleared to enter, glaring at a few neighbors who shoot dirty looks at both of you.

you smack his arm, “stop doing that, you’re embarrassing us!”

he scoffs, flipping off anyone who’s still staring, “does it look like i care? they’re all too scared to say anything to my face, anyway.”

“yeah, but they always say shit to me when you’re gone,” you click your tongue, frowning. sae drags you up the stairs to your apartment.

both of you stand in front of your door when sae puts his hands on your shoulders, staring at you in the eyes. his eyes are a pretty shade of teal, you note.

“if anyone gives you shit when you’re alone, just remember what they look like, ‘kay?” he flicks your forehead, a malicious gleam in his eyes, “i’ll make sure to personally apologize for the trouble.”

a smile blooms on your lips, “you’re so mean.”

“shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pinching your cheek, “as your roommate, i’m the only one allowed to give you a hard time.”

“whatever you say, freak,” you rub your cheek, smile widening, swatting his hand away when he reaches out to pinch your other cheek.

sae bites back a smile as he nods his head toward the door. “did you bring your key?”

you reach into your pockets, feeling around for the key. your head tilts down, eyes widening in panic when you don’t find anything.

an embarrassed chuckle slips past your lips when you lift your head back up to look at sae. he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“gosh, you’re so useless.”

you kick his shin, sticking your tongue out at him, “you don’t get to say that to me.”

he sticks his tongue out at you in return, crossing his arms. “whatever. just go and ask the landlord for a key.”

“me?” you raise your brows at him, haughtily tilting your head to the side, “you’re the reason we had to evacuate the building in the first place! i think it’s only fair that you get the key.”

sae opens his mouth to tell you off, but seemingly decides to sigh loudly in annoyed defeat instead, “fine.”

you smile triumphantly, turning to face him, your eyes closing as your chest puffs out in pride. sae rests his index finger on your forehead. your eyes flutter open in confusion at the contact, smile dropping into a curious pout.

“tell me if anyone bothers you while i’m gone.” he flicks your forehead one last time before turning around and walking away. a content smile blooms on your lips as you stare at his back, sliding down to sit next to the door.

you don’t tell him the tall guy from last time dropped by to yell at you again. sae didn’t even have to ask to tell something was wrong with the way your smile seemed dimmer when you told him you’d take over making lunch.

he doesn’t tell you he’s going to give that asshole the ‘apology’ cookies he’d mentioned before. (and he definitely doesn’t mention that he got his apartment number from the landlord when he got the key to your apartment.) but you had an inkling of what he was going to do when you saw him take out some bowls and a whisk from the cabinets. (you didn’t stop him.)

you bake him some actual ‘thank you’ cookies and place them by his door before heading to your room for the night. the next morning you find a post-it with an ‘anytime’ messily scribbled on it and a ‘thanks for the cookies :)’ on the other side.

you smile fondly at the teal-colored square. you think it resembles the color of his eyes. (it makes you feel warm and fuzzy.)

sae’s gotten slightly better at cooking. he’s able to make at least one meal without triggering the fire alarms.

you feel proud. you suppose that’s what teachers feel when their most lazy, unmotivated student finally manages to put effort into something.

it makes you feel proud enough that you take a detour to the convenience store on your way home. a fond smile lights up your face when you walk out of the store, plastic bag in hand with a chocolate bar and a pack of star stickers.

there’s a skip to your step as you head home, swinging the bag back and forth.

you’ve barely even opened the door to your apartment when it swings open. your eyes widen in surprise when they meet sae’s.

his eyes narrow, “what took you so long?”

a slightly burnt scent wafts the apartment. your nose scrunches, “is something burning?”

“answer my question first,” he points the spatula in his hand at you.

“i got you a reward,” you smile, lifting the bag in your hands.

his eyes light up, “what’d you get me?”

you quickly hide the bag behind your back when he reaches out for it. “answer my question first.”

a small smile tugs at his lips. he rolls his eyes, “nothing is burning. i turned off the stove before opening the door just to be sure.”

you reach out to pat his head, a teasing smile on your lips, “good job, sae!”

he scoffs, a soft blush dusts his ears. “you make it sound like you’re praising a dog.”

you huff, “stop complaining when you’re getting praised.”

“whatever.” sae pouts, brows knitting, “when are you giving me my gift?”

“so impatient ,” you tsk, shaking your head, “let me in first, i don’t wanna stand in the hallway any longer.”

he grabs your arm and pulls you close to him, kicking the door closed. you bump into his chest, eyes widening as heat rushes to your ears.

the first thing that pops into your mind is that he smells nice. there’s a hint of a burnt scent that clings to him, but he still smells nice. (you note that he feels warm too. it makes you feel warm.)

you feel a slight pressure against your brows. it makes you blink as you slowly snap out of your stupor.

“you good?” your eyes meet sae’s worried ones. he leans in closer to you, scanning your face. you awkwardly nod.

his brows furrow. “are you sure? you zoned out for a bit. are your classes stressing you out too much?”

you shake your head, slightly leaning away from him. your lips press into a fine line. sae’s eyes narrow as he scans your face. he steps back, his hands resting on your shoulders. the spatula lightly digs into your skin.

“is it that guy again?” he tightens his grip, making you wince when the spatula presses harder against your skin, “is he still bothering you?”

“i think you scared him away,” you quickly swat his arms away. “i’m fine, though.”

“are you sure?” he sighs when you nod, “why’d you zone out then?”

“i got distracted,” you gnaw on your bottom lip.

his expression morphs to confusion, “with what?”

your eyes widen slightly. you don’t want to tell him he’s the reason you zoned out. so, you settle for the only thing that comes to mind, “the smell of something burning. are you sure you turned off the stove?”

“yes.” he groans in annoyance. there’s a small pause. sae turns around, tugging you into the kitchen with him.

“look!” he points at the stove, “it’s off. stop making me second-guess myself.”

an amused smile blooms on your face, “i can’t believe you had to come check if you actually turned it off.”

“i can’t believe you actually haven’t given me my gift yet,” he scoffs, pouting.

you laugh, reaching out to flick his forehead. “patience is a virtue, sae. it’d do you well to have it.”

“whatever.” he tries to grab the bag from your hands. “just give it to me already.”

you smile, pulling out the chocolate bar from the bag. laughter bubbles in your chest when you see his stunned expression.

“chocolate?” he glares at the bar in your hand, “do you know how unhealthy that is for me?”

“if you don’t want it i’ll just keep it, then.” you nonchalantly shrug.

he snatches it out of your grasp. “i never said i didn’t want it.”

his eyes twinkle when he unwraps it. he glances up at you, “do you want a bite?”

“just a small one,” you reach out to grab the bar.

sae moves the chocolate out of your reach, “open your mouth.”

you blink, tilting your head in confusion. he sighs, “i’ll feed it to you. i need to make sure you don’t bite off half of the bar.”

“do you trust me so little?” you scoff, crossing your arms. still, you open your mouth, heat rushing to your ears when sae tells you to take a bite.

“is it good?” he stares at you, taking a bite of the chocolate when you nod.

you both swallow at the same time, a smile lighting up your face. “i think you deserve another reward for sharing.”

his brows raise in intrigue, “another? gosh, you’re really spoiling me today, aren’t you?”

you take the pack of stickers out of the back, waving it in front of him. he gives you an unamused look.

“i bought these for whenever you do something nice,” you place a sticker on his cheek.

“that’s stupid,” he frowns.

“shut up, you look cute.” you pinch his other cheek.

he clicks his tongue, “whatever. now get out of my kitchen i need to continue making dinner.”

laughter spills out of your mouth when he pushes you into the living room. “do you want me to help?”

“no.” he huffs, “i can do it myself. now go relax or something, i’ll come get you when dinner’s ready.”

“are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?” you snicker, “i’d hate to have to evacuate the building.”

he lightly smacks your shoulder, “i can cook by myself!”

“sae–”

“just let me cook something for you this once,” he mutters.

a soft, defeated sigh leaves your lips, “okay.”

“i’ll let you cook alone,” you smile, “just this once, though. i can’t leave you unsupervised for too long.”

he hums, patting your head before heading back to the kitchen. a small smile lingers on your lips as you make your way to the couch, turning on the tv.

it doesn’t take long for sae to walk over, two plates in his hands, and a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

you’d be lying if you said the meal was good. it was slightly charred, and a little too salty. you’re sure you would’ve managed to turn it into something decent if he’d let you help.

still, as bad as the food was, you can’t help but eat it with a smile on your face, a warm, fuzzy feeling tugging at your heart.

sae groans in annoyance when you place another sticker on his forehead. (your heart leaps when you notice the soft flush to his cheeks.)

he lets you help him wash the dishes, complaining when you flick soapy water in his direction. laughter fills the apartment when he flicks water back at you. time seemingly slowing down to let you savor the moment just a little longer before you head back to your room.

you drift off to sleep with a smile on your face. your heart drums against your chest when you recall the smile on sae’s face.

(you wish he’d smile at you more often.)

you’ve discovered sae is much better at cleaning than he is at cooking. you’ve also discovered that he’s more thoughtful than he lets on.

he tends to clean the apartment while you’re in class. he claims it’s because he absolutely must practice cleaning in order to get better. (you don’t believe him.) he swears he ensures the apartment’s clean by the time you get home because he can’t stand your nagging. (you still don’t believe him.)

it’s why you’ve had to go out and buy more stickers to reward him with. it’s also why you’re a little surprised to see him still mopping the apartment when you get back.

you take your shoes off, quickly putting on your slippers. “you’re still cleaning?”

“i’m almost done,” he hums, “practice ended a little later today.”

you make your way to the couch, careful not to slip on the floor, “why? is there a match soon?”

“there’s one tomorrow,” he turns to look at you, frowning when he sees you pull out a pack of stickers with a teasing smile on your face. (he still makes his way over to you when you tell him to come closer despite knowing your intention.) he watches you place the sticker on his shirt, a concentrated look in your eyes.

he sticks his tongue out at you when you look up at him with a satisfied grin. sae rests his hand on top of your head. “wanna come watch?”

you tilt your head to the side, “i’m not a big football fan.”

he playfully shakes your head, brows knitting, “have you ever even been to a football match?”

“no,” you pry his hand off your head, “but i don’t really see the point of going when i know i’ll get bored.”

he rolls his eyes, “you won’t.”

“how do you know?” you lean closer to him, raising a brow, a playful grin on your lips.

he leans closer to you, nose playfully scrunching, “because i’m going to be playing.”

your face scrunches up in mock disgust, “you’re making me not want to go even more.”

he teasingly clutches his heart in faux pain, a smile on his lips as he tries to hold back his laughter, “you’re so mean. you’re hurting me right now.”

“are you trying to make me feel bad?” you bite back a smile, fondly rolling your eyes. “because it’s totally working.”

“your sarcasm wounds me,” he frowns, shaking his head. “i can’t believe my roommate won’t support me at my match.”

you punch his arm, “keep this up and you won’t be eating any dinner.”

“fuck,” a hearty laugh escapes his lips, “when’d you get so mean?”

“i learned from the best,” you stick your tongue out at him. a soft laugh leaves your lips when sae scoffs, looking away.

“are you really not going to go see the match?” he turns to you, pouting. you hate when he uses that little pout to guilt you. (you hate that you fall for it even more.)

you sigh, slumping against the couch, “i’ll think about it.”

“just give me an actual answer, damn.” he taps your forehead, “are you going, yes or no?”

a teasing smile creeps up your lips, “maybe.”

you laugh when he calls out your name in annoyance. he groans, glaring at you, “i hate you.”

“no you don’t,” you smile at him, “if you did you wouldn’t have asked me to go see you play tomorrow.”

his face flushes in embarrassment. “you’re not even going anyway!”

you rest your head on your hand, “i am, though.”

he stares at you, unimpressed. there’s a beat of silence before he huffs, the corners of his lips quirking up, “i really can’t stand you sometimes.”

“it’s not my fault you’re fun to tease!” you laugh. he flips you off before turning around to continue mopping. you sigh, stretching your arms up. a couple of seconds go by before you get up to make your way to the kitchen.

“where are you going?”

“the kitchen,” you hum, turning around to look at sae. your ears burn when your eyes meet his. you wish you knew what goes on in his head when he stares at you so intensely. you wish you knew if he even knows he’s staring at you so intently. a small, awkward cough leaves your lips, “i wanted to get started on dinner.”

“you’re not even going to wait for me?” you fiddle with the hem of your shirt at his teasing tone.

sometimes you wonder if he knows how domestic your dynamic has become. if he’s aware that people have started associating him with you, and vice versa. if he’s aware of the effect his words have on you. (you really wish you could take a peek inside his mind.)

“you’d just get in my way,” you tsk, “besides i wanna finish quickly, my head hurts a little.”

he quickly walks over to you, dragging the mop behind him, “have you taken any medicine?”

“i’m fine,” you wave off the hand he placed on your forehead, “it’s probably because i’m hungry.”

“are you sure?” your heart pounds against your chest at his concern.

you give him a reassuring smile, “i’m sure. if it still hurts before i go to bed i’ll take some medicine.”

“fine.” he huffs, lips pursing, “but if you still feel bad tomorrow, promise you’ll let me know.”

you feel your heart squeeze. you gnaw on your bottom lip, twisting the hem of your shirt with your hands.

“i promise.” your voice is barely above a whisper, it’s just loud enough for him to hear.

he smiles, patting your head, “don’t push yourself too hard, ok?”

sae turns around. you stare at his back, his name tumbling out of your lips before you can stop yourself. he turns around with a curious hum.

you feel like your heart rests on your throat. he patiently waits for you to continue. heat rushes to your ears and you wipe your hands against your shirt. “i also promise i’ll go see your match.”

the smile that lights up his face makes you wish it was tomorrow already. you want to go. (because you like seeing him smile.) you want to go see his match. (because it’ll make him happy.)

you want to see him do his favorite thing in the world. you want to share that happiness with him, despite not caring much for the sport. (because you think it’ll make him happy to see you there, even if he doesn’t say it. you want to be the reason he feels genuine happiness.)

you’re not there.

it’s the first thing sae notices when he looks at the stands. it’s what he keeps noticing whenever he turns to look at the stands throughout the match. when they reach halftime and you’re still not there, so he texts you. the second half starts and you’re still not there.

the game ends and you never showed up. his brows knit when he checks his phone only to find out you never even read his messages. concern carves itself into him.

he makes his way back to the apartment as quickly as he can, secretly hoping that nothing bad happened to you.

his heart beats faster, anxiety seeping into him when he opens the door and he doesn’t see your figure on the couch.

sae hastily kicks his shoes off, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. he lets out a deep breath when he stands in front of your door, quickly knocking.

a couple of seconds go by before he knocks again, frowning when there’s no reply. he quietly opens the door, mentally apologizing. his eyes quickly scan the room for you. there’s a lump in his throat when he sees something stir under your bed sheets.

he quietly walks over to your bed, slowly lowering your comforter. his chest tightens, brows knitting with worry when he sees your face twisted in pain, a slight sheen of sweat on your forehead. he grabs a tissue from your nightstand, gingerly wiping the sweat away.

he sharply inhales when you stir under his touch. sae stares at you as you slowly open your eyes. his eyes fill with concern when he notices how heavy, and unfocused yours look.

he presses the back of his hand against your forehead, brows furrowing even more, “gosh, you’re burning up.”

“sae?” he can barely hear your voice. “why’re you here?”

he clicks his tongue, wiping more sweat off your forehead.

“what about the match?” you blearily look at him, voice laced with soft concern. you try to keep your eyes open when he heads out, grogginess catching up to you when he returns with a bowl in his hands, a hand towel over his shoulder.

he dampens the towel, wringing out the excess onto the bowl. sae gently presses it against your forehead, “have you had a fever all day long?”

“did i miss it?” his heart aches at how choked up your voice sounds.

“i thought i told you to tell me if you weren’t feeling alright, dumbass,” he nags, carefully lifting your head up to prop another pillow under it.

“‘m sorry.” your eyes fill with tears, a pout tugging at your lips. he gently adjusts the towel against your skin.

“don’t apologize,” he softly tsks, “worry about getting better, not about missing the game, idiot.”

he panics when a tear rolls down your cheek, hastily brushing it away. his heart squeezes in pain when more tears freely roll down your cheeks.

“i didn’t,” you sniffle, “didn’t wanna miss the game.”

he shushes you, grabbing another tissue to wipe your tears away. “it’s fine.”

“‘s not,” your breath quickens, brows knitting in sadness, “i promised.”

he firmly calls out your name, “it’s not your fault.”

“i promised,” you hiccup. sae frowns, reaching out to remove the towel from your forehead, pouting when he notices you’re still burning up. he quickly dampens it again before resting it against your skin once more.

“i’ll go get you some medicine,” he whispers, turning around to exit your room.

sae stops in his tracks when he feels something weakly tug at his fingers. he turns to look at you, sucking in a shaky breath when he sees you holding on to him.

“don’t leave.” you weakly try to pull him closer.

there’s a slight flicker of hope in him that tells him you’re aware of what you’re doing despite your raging fever. but he quickly extinguishes it by reminding himself that you probably think you’re dreaming. (because there’s no way you’d tell him to stay with you otherwise, he’s sure of it.)

“i have to get you some medicine,” he mutters. still, he makes no attempt to free his hand from yours.

“stay.” he wants to. he wants to stay with you more than anything. but he needs to get you something to relieve your fever.

he sits on your bed, readjusting your grip on his hand, “i need to go get your medicine.”

he gingerly readjusts the towel on your forehead, slightly smiling at you. his heart pangs with worry when he notices how clammy your hands are.

sae’s eyes widen when you lift yourself up, wrapping your arms around his neck. the towel on your forehead drops into his lap. he feels you rest your head on his shoulders, frowning at the heat emanating from you. (still, he wraps his arms around you so you don’t fall.)

his worried eyes meet your hazy ones when you slowly lift your head to look at him, a sleepy smile on your lips.

“so stubborn,” your hands cup his cheeks.

sae freezes when he feels your lips press against his. his heart beats faster, blush spreading through his face like wildfire.

a sharp inhale leaves his lips when he feels your hands drop from his cheeks, your body tilting back. he cups the back of your head before it hits the pillow.

his eyes scan your face. he lowers his head when he feels your feeble grip on his jacket. his eyes flicker to yours when you weakly tug him closer in an attempt to press his lips against yours again.

he slowly lifts your head up, a soft huff of laughter slipping past his lips when a glimmer of anticipation flashes through your eyes. he presses his lips against yours in a short peck, a startled noise leaving his mouth when you pull him back in.

his face heats up more and more every time you chase after his lips when he pulls away for air. he pants when you pull away, trying to catch your breath. he rests his forehead against yours, his breath fanning against your lips.

you softly call out his name. butterflies erupt in his stomach. he really hopes you know you’re not dreaming.

his arm tightens against you, the hand resting on the back of your head gently tilting it to the side. he doesn’t think twice before pressing his lips against yours again, a content sigh escaping him when you melt under his touch.

he presses his lips against yours over and over again, gently lowering you back onto the bed. your kisses feel like they’re the very air he breathes. like he’ll suffocate if he’s apart from you for more than a second.

sae kisses you silly until he feels your grip against his jacket soften. he pulls away, panting, face ablaze, eyes looking at your sleeping face with a softness that is so unlike him.

he carefully removes your hands from him, lifting your comforter to tuck you into bed. a smile lingers on his lips as he places the towel on your forehead again.

he quietly makes his way out of your room, pressing the pads of his fingers against his lips. his heart feels like it wants to jump out of his chest. a deep sigh leaves his lips. he makes his way to the front door, quickly putting on his shoes to go buy your medicine.

sae really hopes you get better soon. (he wants to kiss you again, and he wants to be sure you’ll remember it properly.)

if you thought sae was a bad student, he’s an even worse patient. he is the most uncooperative sick person you’ve ever met in your life.

you suppose it’s only fair to put up with him since he took care of you while you were sick. (even if it makes you want to knock him unconscious.)

still, it never fails to make your blood boil when you find him wobbling around the living room with a broom in his hands.

“would it kill you to stay in bed?” you stomp over to him, prying the broom off his hands before propping it against the wall.

he blearily looks at you, pouting. he sniffles, “yes.”

you frown, grabbing his hand and dragging him to his room. he glares at you when you force him to lay down on his bed.

“stay here while i get your medicine,” you point at him, glaring back. “or i’ll suffocate you with a pillow until you fall asleep.”

“you can’t be rude to me while i’m sick!” he angrily crosses his arms, scoffing.

it’s still surprising that he’s still in bed when you get back. it’s even more surprising that he’s staring at the door, his face lighting up when you enter.

his nose scrunches up in disgust when he sees the cough syrup in your hands. he burrows himself in his comforter, turning his head away from you.

“sae.” you gently call out, sitting next to him. a small smile blooms on your lips when he slowly turns to look at you. “you know you have to take your medicine to get better, right?”

“if i take my medicine,” he sneezes, “will you give me a reward?”

“yeah, sure, i’ll give you a sticker.” you absentmindedly hum, uncapping the syrup.

“no,” he shakes his head, “i want another reward.”

your brows raise in confusion, your turn your attention to him. “what kind of reward?”

he smiles, lifting a hand to tap his lips and then tapping yours. your face heats up, jaw dropping. you gently swat his hand away, pouting. “you shouldn’t tease like that.”

“‘m not,” he sticks his tongue out at you, “i want another kiss.”

“another?” you blink in surprise. your eyes widen slightly when a cheeky smile creeps up his lips.

“you kissed me when you were sick,” he snickers, nose scrunching up when you force the syrup into his mouth.

“no i didn’t,” you frown. he forces himself to swallow the cough syrup, a choked gasp leaving his lips.

“you don’t remember?” he whines, sniffling when you shake your head.

you feel a pang in your heart when sae looks at you, eyes swimming with sadness. “‘m sorry, sae.”

“‘s fine,” he playfully smiles, “i’ll just have to make up for it later.”

heat spreads through your face. a pout tugs at your lips, “don’t say stuff like that. i might take you seriously.”

“i’m being serious,” he sniffles, “wanna kiss you again.”

you shyly stare at him, shrinking into yourself. you suppose being sick must’ve made him bolder. or maybe he just wants to get back at you. but you have to admit it gives you the perfect excuse to make him stop being so difficult.

“i’ll kiss you if you stop complaining about taking your medicine,” you quietly huff, fingers playing with your shirt.

your ears feel like they’re on fire when his face lights up. “but only when you get better! i don’t wanna get sick again.”

he nods, a satisfied grin blooming on his lips. “sounds good to me.”

there’s a beat of silence before you stand up. sae’s eyes widen, “where are you going?”

“i’m gonna go make you some soup,” you hum, “you should sleep while i’m gone.”

sae pouts, “‘m not tired.”

“that’s too bad, then,” you stick your tongue out at him. he clicks his tongue.

“i’ll be back soon,” you pat his head. he huffs, pouting.

you barely take a step forward, yelping when you feel something yank you back. your brows knit in annoyance when you feel sae wrapping his arms around you.

“sae.”

“‘m only going to sleep if you stay with me.” he mutters.

an amused smile tugs at your lips. you’re starting to think he’s cute when he’s sick. a little clingy, but cute. (you also think you might indulge him just this once.)

“fine,” you sigh. “but i’m leaving as soon as you fall asleep.”

you don’t.

you’re not sure exactly when you fell asleep, but you’re sure it wasn’t dark outside when sae pulled you towards him. part of you wants to stay with him, just to let him sleep longer. but you also know you need to make him some soup.

so, you gently try to pry yourself off of him. a soft groan leaves your lips when his arms tighten around you.

his name tumbles out of your mouth. “i have to go make your soup.”

“‘m coming with you.” his voice sounds hoarse. (his nose sounds stuffy, too.)

“sae,” you try to pry his arms off, “you need to rest.”

“‘m going with you.” he huffs, “there’s nothing you can say to make me not join you.”

you begrudgingly decide to indulge him again. which is why he’s slumped over your shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen. it’s why he’s holding onto your waist, burrowing his face in your neck as you move around the kitchen.

(it’s why your face feels like it’s on fire when he nuzzles closer to you, smiling.)

and you think that maybe him being a little too clingy isn’t that bad.

when a girl in your class asks you what sae is to you, you’re not sure what to say.

you could say he’s your roommate, like you used to. but you don’t think he’d make himself extremely comfortable in your personal space if he was just your roommate. you could also say he’s your friend (much to everyone’s surprise.) but you’re not sure if he’d be so obsessed with kissing you whenever you’re both home if he was just your friend.

(still, he’s not exactly your boyfriend, either. you’re not sure what he is. neither of you have brought it up before.)

either way, she wouldn’t be satisfied with the answer you give her. at least, that’s what you think with the way she glowers at you.

so, you just say he’s nothing. (which is a lie. but she doesn’t need to know that.)

the result is what you expected, some angry huffing and empty warnings to stay away from sae. (not that it’d work seeing how you live with him.) except, things take a turn for the worse when your phone screen lights up, displaying sae’s name on it while it rings on the table.

a pained expression flashes through your face when she clears her throat. you tilt your head up to look at her, an awkward, tense smile on your lips.

“i thought you said he was nothing to you?” she scoffs.

“he is.” you internally curse how fast you replied. you hope she didn’t notice.

she rolls her eyes, “then why do you have his contact saved with a star on your phone?”

you blink, your lips pressing into a fine line. “because he’s a star?”

she doesn’t look convinced. (neither are you.) a loud, annoyed groan leaves her lips as she looks you up and down, crossing her arms.

“listen here, idiot,” she glares at you. anger flashes in her eyes when your phone rings again. “i don’t know who you think you are–”

(you don’t know who she thinks she is, but with the way she seems to be unaware that you literally live with sae, you assume she must be some clueless freshman who happened to go to one of the football matches, saw sae, and became one of his many fans.)

“–but if you even consider the idea that sae might be into you–”

(you don’t even have to consider the idea, it pretty much solidified itself as a fact given with the way he kisses you until both of you are struggling to catch your breath whenever you two are alone.)

“–then you’ve got another thing coming,” she grabs your wrist, digging her nails into your skin. “i don’t know how someone like you got his number, but he doesn’t need freaks like you bothering him.”

she looks at you with contempt, “so stay away from him, or else–”

“or else what?”

you both turn your heads to the door. her grip on your wrist loosens. you bite back a laugh when she removes her hand, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“sae,” she takes a step closer to him. you hide your smile behind your hand when you see his clearly annoyed and disgusted expression. (you note he looks disheveled. you also notice his duffel bag slung over his shoulders.)

“or else what?” you snort at the clear anger in his voice. he glares at her, crossing his arms. she shrinks into herself, clearly nervous.

“i was just trying to keep this freak away from you,” she plays with her hair. you feel embarrassed for her when she continues, “you shouldn’t have to deal with–”

“who the fuck even are you anyway?” he cuts her off, scowling.

her eyes light up, “i’m–”

“leaving? i sure fucking hope so.” he scoffs, walking over to you. his face softens when he looks at you.

sae extends his hand out to you, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips when you slip your hand into his. he reaches out for your backpack, quickly shrugging it on his shoulder before you can protest.

“i thought you were one of the first people out of class,” he hums, lacing his fingers with yours.

your eyes flicker to the girl, who is still standing next to the table, face flushed in embarrassment. “i got held up.”

sae glances in her direction, scoffing in annoyance. “you’re still here?”

you can’t help but feel a little bad for her when her eyes well up with tears of embarrassment, her hands bunching up her skirt. “i thought–”

“you thought wrong,” he clicks his tongue, “now get lost.”

her eyes snap to yours, anger replacing the embarrassment, “i thought you said he was nothing to you!”

sae gasps, looking at you, hurt written all over his face. you look away, biting the inside of your cheek. he calls out your name, “why’d you say that?”

“i didn’t know what else to say,” you mumble.

“say i’m your boyfriend!,” he huffs. “or do you not want to say that?”

heat floods your face. you hide your face in sae’s back when you hear choked sobs. you tug at his jacket, “can we just go home already?”

you take a peek at the girl from behind sae’s shoulder. “i don’t want to talk about this here.”

“fine,” he mutters, “but this conversation is not over.”

he drags you out of the classroom. you don’t look back, but you gnaw your bottom lip when you hear muffled sobs coming from behind you.

you both walk in silence for a bit. a small smile blooms on your lips when sae slows down his pace to match yours.

“i’m surprised you didn’t tell her off.” he hums.

“you got there before i could,” you fondly shake your head, “i would’ve loved giving her a piece of my mind.”

a soft laugh leaves his lips, “i’m sure you’ll find another occasion to do so.”

the walk home feels quicker than usual. you suppose it’s because sae’s actually with you instead of over the phone.

you’re barely past the door to your apartment when sae wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. he relaxes when you wrap your arms around him.

“if someone asks you what i am to you,” he nuzzles his face into your neck, “just tell them i’m your boyfriend.”

“are you sure?” your hands clench around his jacket.

he pulls back slightly to look at you, confusion written all over his face. “yeah? am i not your boyfriend already?”

“i don’t know?” your brows knit in confusion.

“i thought it was clear?” he blinks. “it wasn’t clear to you?”

“i don’t think i would’ve been threatened by one of your fangirls if it was clear,” you deadpan.

“oh.” he presses his lips into a fine line. “well, now you know.”

your jaw drops, “you’re not even going to ask if i want you to be my boyfriend?”

“i think it’s safe to say we’re well past asking,” he stares at you.

“still,” you pout, “it’d be nice if you did.”

“what, are you going to give me a sticker if i do?” he scoffs.

“i was gonna give you a kiss, but if you don’t wanna ask, then–”

“would you let me be your boyfriend?”

laughter spills out of your lips, “you didn’t even let me finish!”

“just answer my question.” he smiles. “and hurry it up too, i have to clean.”

you playfully shake your head, “so demanding. but, i suppose you can be my boyfriend.”

sae’s lips are on yours as soon as the words leave your mouth. you gasp in surprise when he nips at your lower lip.

you’re not sure how long he kisses you for, but you feel dizzy when you pull away. you angle your head away from his when he chases after your lips again.

“i thought,” you pant, “thought you said you had to clean.”

“it can wait.” he breathes out.

“i have to cook.”

he angles your head back to face him, “it can wait.”

“but–”

he calls out your name with a smile, “it can all wait. just let me kiss you again.”

“okay.” you smile when he tilts your head towards his.

you think you’re starting to understand sae’s obsession with kissing you.

when you think of itoshi sae, the first thing that comes to mind is: boyfriend. you’re not sure if you’re ever going to get used to calling him that. you’ve told him it still sounds weird, he simply says it sounds perfect.

you’re also not sure you’ll ever get used to the many pairs of eyes staring holes into the back of your head. (you blame sae for insisting you wear his spare jersey to his games.)

still, you suppose you could put up with all the staring if it means you get to see sae play.

(even if it means you have to endure his showing off for the next hour.)

“did you see how great i was out there?” he puffs out his chest.

“you were the best!” you smile when he laces his fingers with yours. “i think you deserve a reward.”

you bite back a laugh when his head turns to look at you, eyes twinkling with anticipation. “close your eyes.”

you can practically feel the excitement rolling off of him as he closes his eyes. you let go of his hand, snickering when his brows furrow. you quickly reach into your bag, pulling out the sticker sheet you stashed in there.

a laugh leaves your lips when you gingerly place a star sticker on sae’s cheek. “you can open your eyes now.”

you heartily laugh when sae touches his cheek, glaring at you when he feels the outline of a star. he huffs, “you’re the worst.”

“shut up, you love them.” you flick his forehead.

he tsks, poking your nose. “when you said i deserved a reward, i thought you meant a kiss.”

“i can kiss you if you want.” you cheekily smile at him. he huffs, crossing his arms.

he turns his head away from you, “you ruined the moment with those stupid, lukewarm stickers.”

“you say that as if you don’t stick them against your mirror.” you stick your tongue out at him, the corners of your lips lifting into a smile when his cheeks flush.

“i hate you,” he frowns, looking at you.

“no you don’t,” you peck his cheek.

“whatever,” he grumbles, “let’s just go home already.”

you laugh when he grabs your hand, tugging you in the direction of your apartment. (you don’t mention the smile on his lips.)

“i’m going to cook today,” he laughs when you groan in disgust. “i’ve gotten better!”

“yeah, right.” you quip. “i think it’d be better if you clean while i cook.”

“what if we cook together?” he hums.

“you’ll just get in my way.” you smile, laughing when he shakes your arm.

“what if we go out to eat?” he shrugs nonchalantly. (you still notice the flush on his ears.)

“itoshi sae!” you gasp dramatically, “are you asking me out on a date?”

he scoffs, cheeks turning bright red. “don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“i’d be honored to go out with the itoshi sae,” your voice drips with mischief. a soft gasp leaves your lips when he tugs you to him, wrapping his arms around you.

“i think it’s me who’s honored to go out with you,” he mumbles. you hug him back, nuzzling into him.

“we still need to head home, though,” he pulls away, “i want to take a shower.”

“want me to join you?” you laugh when you see his scandalized expression.

“you’re so shameless!” he bites back a laugh, hiding his face behind his hands.

“oh, please, like we haven’t showered together before.” you playfully scrunch your nose.

he clicks his tongue, “as tempting as it sounds, i really would like to go eat early today.”

you fondly roll your eyes, tugging him towards your apartment. “fine.”

“but i’m not opposed to taking a shower with you when we get back.” he bites back a smile when you smack his shoulder.

the walk home is filled with laughter, teasing smiles on both of your faces. and, for once, you’re glad to have an opinion of sae.

(especially because it’s based on the version of your sae, and not the one everyone else thinks he is.)

#i fear i am NEVER GOING TO BE FREE #OH I AM SO ILL #i fear i can no longer be set free #i fear ive cemented my legacy as a sae lover #bllk x reader #sae x reader #sae x you #bllk itoshi sae #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #bllk sae #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #blue lock sae

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