Neverending
Lee Jihoon x fem!Reader
Genre: fluff with little to no plot
Words: 14k
Warnings: crying with references to an argument. a single reference to porn. hatred of philosophy. simp woozi who suffers from anxious perfectionism and self-deprecating thoughts.
[College/University AU] With the help of his friends' advice, Jihoon goes on a quest to become the best boyfriend he can be.
Note: I wrote this, had a mental break-down, then finished this, and now I'm sharing it with you in the hopes that it'll save you from a mental break-down of your own or perhaps it'll comfort you in some way. Hang in there, y'all!
It was no secret that Jihoon had little to no experience with romance. His friends often joked that his experience was limited to exactly seven rom-coms and a steamy romance novel from his mother’s bookshelf that he once read in a state of absolute boredom when he was grounded.
And Jihoon was fine with that. He didn’t complain when he made it through middle school without as much as a peck from a girl (or anyone other than Soonyoung, really – he wasn’t picky). He didn’t as much as blink when it was high school graduation day and he was still as single as that one famous whale in the ocean. He merely shrugged when his friends pitied his forever-single state while he was doing his undergraduate degree.
It wasn’t until he started working on his master’s degree that he began to feel left out. Maybe a little over 20 years of being single was just his limit, or maybe it was the constant pitying stares of his friends, or perhaps it was his mother’s not-so-subtle hints of wanting grandkids while she could still run with them – either way, Jihoon finally realised that he was lonely even with over ten friends around him.
And maybe it was this realisation that made him view the people around him differently. All of a sudden, couples seemed to surround him wherever he went. The pair of girls he always saw chatting at the café he worked at? Suddenly he was a witness to the kisses they shared in the corner seat. The guy living across the hall from him in the dormitory? Giggling and kicking his feet after his girlfriend fixed his hair as they left for their 8 am class.
Heck, even Vernon was in a relationship, buying two to-go cups of chai tea from the café every Wednesday, a love-sick smile on his face, before heading to the park to share them with a woman the rest of their friend group could only theorise the identity of.
If Vernon out of all people could find someone, why couldn’t he?
Then, as if the universe had heard the silent cries of Jihoon’s heart, he met you.
Assigned to the same semester-long group project, he quickly realised that you were the only person other than him to actually do the work. It started with looks of exasperation shared across the library table the six of you gathered at, and then the two of you had no choice but to start talking.
Talking – right, that was the first real step. At first about schoolwork – about the research questions of your project, about other courses, about complaints about your professors. Then, barely a week into knowing him, you broke the thin ice.
He could still vividly remember the way you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket just as he was about to walk away after a meeting. You smiled at him – a real smile rather than the tired polite one he had grown so accustomed to – and asked, “So, what kind of movies do you like?”
As soon as he managed to utter the words “I guess… superhero movies?” out of his mouth, you were once again tugging at his sleeve, this time dragging him in the direction of a nearby cinema. You ended up only allowing him to pay for the popcorn (and he had to beg for even that much) because it seemed you were dead-set on treating him like a prince.
That was your first date: after classes, in the darkness of the cinema, with Spiderman swinging by on the giant screen. He barely had any time to pay attention to the plot, too busy relishing in your presence and the sound of your laughter at the corny jokes. And then, as MJ and Peter Parker shared a kiss on the screen, he felt something warm on his hand – your fingers curled around his own and he couldn’t help but give them a squeeze back, his ears as red as Spiderman’s suit.
The impromptu date was followed by another, then another, and another, until you finally had enough and pulled him to the side after class.
“Do you like me?” you asked him, a little frustrated with how slow things were going and with how awkward he still seemed.
His ears flushed red again. “Of… of course I do.” (He preferred to imagine his voice hadn’t cracked in the middle of the sentence.)
Your scowl remained. “Then be my boyfriend.”
When he nodded, you smiled and took his hand again – he told himself he’d never let yours go.
But unfortunately, his lack of romantic experience made it difficult to gracefully slip into the role of your boyfriend. He was almost jealous of the way the role of the girlfriend came so easily to you, taking his hand so easily every day, when he spent hours at night contemplating whether he should kiss your forehead or not when you’d part ways on campus the next day.
On one of those nights, he decided you deserved better. You deserved a better him.
So, he grabbed his phone and texted the one friend he trusted with his life.
[i need advice.]
[how can i be a better boyfriend?]
[YJH: that’s easy! carry her bag for her! girls love that!]
When Jihoon met you on your way to a 12 pm class, he hesitated to follow Jeonghan’s advice. Countless what-ifs floated in his head: what if you thought that it was rude, what if you wanted to carry your own things, what if you tried to carry his bag instead… Did boyfriends outside of fanfiction and romantic movies even carry their girlfriends’ things for them?
Doubts hurried out of his mind soon enough, making way for worry when he saw you adjust the tote bag on your shoulder with a grimace. He inwardly panicked at the sight of your discomfort. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?” you wondered as if completely oblivious.
“Is your bag heavy?” His brows furrowed. Before you could take another step, he slipped the bag off your shoulder and onto his own. Your grimace made sense all of a sudden. His frown deepened, but not because of your confused stare. “What do you have in here? An entire drum set?”
You laughed. “No, just my laptop and some snacks.”
Even as he bounced on his spot to test the weight, his frown remained. He glared at the bag. “Your laptop’s not that heavy.”
Your face scrunched up. “My laptop kind of broke yesterday, so I had to revive the old, heavy one.”
Jihoon’s frown disappeared. He stared up at you in surprise, and then, unable to stop himself, he offered, “Do you want me to take a look at it? Maybe I can fix it.”
“Nah,” you shrugged, “I’ll just take it to get it fixed tomorrow. My friend recommended this shop–”
“Don’t be silly,” he scolded you and continued the journey to class. “You know that the shop will take three weeks to even look at your laptop and then another three to order the necessary parts and then another five to actually fix it. You might graduate before they get it fixed.”
“Yeah?” you laughed, following after him, your hand naturally coming to rest around his own. “And you’re faster?”
“Faster, more reliable, cheaper,” he counted on his fingers before offering you a cheeky grin. When you didn’t seem too convinced, he sighed and added, “You can ask any of my friends and they’ll tell you I can do this. I’ve done this before. I fixed Junhui’s laptop just a few weeks ago; got a 5-star review.”
At that, you sighed. In the few weeks of being his girlfriend, you had learnt that he was as stubborn as he was kind. In fact, he was even more stubborn when he was being kind: you had been a first-hand witness to Jihoon physically pinning Kim Mingyu to the ground to put a bandage on a fresh cut on his cheek, all the while cursing the friend under his breath for not being more careful. You shuddered at what Jihoon might do if you continued to refuse his laptop-fixing offer.
You finally sighed again and nodded. “Should I bring it over to your place?”
“Yeah,” he agreed easily, his lips curling into a victorious smile, “I’m free this weekend so I can probably get it done before finals.”
You grinned at the thought. “If you manage to do that, I will literally marry you. You’re the best.”
He could only pray you wouldn’t mention the way his ears undoubtedly turned red again as he adjusted your bag on his shoulder and led you to your lecture room.
[YJH: help her do research for her essay]
Jihoon let out a soft huff as he placed your bag on a seat at the library before gently pulling you to sit in the seat next to it. He let himself fall into the chair across from yours.
“Thank you!” your chipper voice was almost enough to rid him of the muscle pain your pain caused.
He offered a smile and a blink so slow you began to wonder if he took you for a cat. “You’re welcome.”
Then, just like a cat himself, he just sat and watched you set up on the desk. His eyes sharply followed every movement you made, sometimes lingering here or there if something particular caught his eye (your oddly fluffy pink pen was one of those particular things). “So, what are you going to be working on?”
You groaned audibly. “Research for this mythology class I’m taking. We’re supposed to make a big wiki as a class effort. Each of us got a different topic to write about. But, like, it’s more of an actual small research paper: citations, references, quotes…” You pouted. “If you weren’t here, I’d be crying by now.”
He didn’t like the sound of that at all – the crying part, because he actually quite enjoyed mythology. Though he hesitated just a little before saying it, he offered, “If you need a hug, just tell me.”
“You’re so cute.” You reached over the table to give him an affectionate pat on his head, effectively both praising him and fixing his windswept mess of hair. “Have you gotten around to fixing my laptop yet?”
Relaxing in his chair, he began, “I’m waiting for a part, but it’s almost fixed otherwise.”
You blinked. “What part?”
“A battery.”
“I don’t think it was a battery issue, though,” you mumbled while avoiding his eyes, not wanting to insult his competence. After all, you were pretty sure the issue was with the graphics – why else would your laptop screen flicker like a rogue disco ball?
As if reading your mind, he chuckled and pulled out his phone to check the package tracking website. “I almost fixed the main issue already, but I noticed that the battery was acting weird, so I figured I might as well fix that too.”
When he looked up from his phone again, you were staring at him with stars in his eyes. His heart thumped a little louder at the sight. “... What?”
You shrugged and turned back to your work. “Nothing.”
He pursed his lips at that and put his phone away again. In his head, he went over all the assignments he had to finish for the following week. Deciding there weren’t any that took priority (a bold lie to himself), he cleared his throat. “So, what do you have to research?”
“Greek mythology.”
“But…” He tilted his head to the side in thought – maybe you wouldn’t want his help? There he went again, he realised: hesitating. He frowned and shook his head clear before smiling at you again. “What exactly?”
“Some mythological creatures. I thought that would be more fun than the usual famous characters.”
“Creatures like… harpies and sirens?”
“Yep.”
Realising you were already deep in the world of research, he decided to not bother you with any further questions. Instead, he slowly and as quietly as he could (but still louder than he would’ve liked) slid his chair back and headed further into the library.
“Mythological creatures,” he mumbled to himself as he wandered between the seemingly endless shelves. Before long, he found what he was looking for. He returned to your table barely ten minutes later, placing a heap of books on it before slumping back into his chair with a deep sigh.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him open the first book and flip through the pages like a man on a quest. You smiled at the sight before focusing back on your work. Even so, you heard the scribble of his pencil and the familiar sound of a sticky note getting ripped out of its block.
Just as you stopped paying attention to him, you felt a book being pushed towards you. When you looked away from your laptop, you found the book you had just seen him read, now laid open on your side of the table, turned to face you.
Light pink sticky notes between the closed pages and a few on the open ones: the book invited you to read. The notes carried Jihoon’s neat handwriting, retelling the contents of the page. Better yet: these were notes about mythological creatures described in the book:
‘Chimera. pg 6: Daughter of Typhon and Echidna. pg 18: lion's body and head, snake for a tail, breathes fire?’
When you glanced back at him, smiling brightly, he was already nose-deep in a different book, paying you no attention.
[Y.JH.: watch a porno together 😉]
Jihoon stared at his friend’s message for a total of five minutes. He then decided that he should stop taking advice from Jeonghan.
He turned to the group chat for help instead.
“You’re going to drive yourself insane before finals even start,” he warned you with a fond smile as you flipped through your worksheets, thoroughly checking each and every one to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.
You offered him a tired glare and turned back to your task. “I’m already halfway there, might as well commit.”
[X.MH.: take her on a walk. enjoy the weather.]
Minghao’s suggestion rang in his head as he watched you. After all, he himself often went on ridiculously long walks in the park when he ran into a metaphorical wall with his work and studies, as did many of his friends. Perhaps it would help you too: romance and relaxation in one – a win on two fronts.
“Do you—” He hesitated. Why did he always hesitate? Even he himself was starting to get annoyed by it. He shook his head to clear his mind and fix his hair before trying again, “Do you want to go on a walk?”
You froze. “A walk?”
He hummed. “To clear your mind. Some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not.”
You mulled it over in your head: assignments versus your adorable boyfriend?
“Fine,” you finally huffed, feigning annoyance, “but I’m going to pet every dog I see and you can’t stop me.”
He laughed at the idea, already imagining it in his head, and got up from the floor before extending a hand to help you up as well. “You’d have to try to stop me first. I’m known for attracting random dogs.”
You took his hand and stretched. “I wonder why.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged and handed you your jacket before shrugging on his own. He tried not to think about how your jackets matched – almost like a couple’s item.
Soon, the two of you were walking side by side in the park, laughing at everything and nothing and Seokmin’s attempt to fit in a kids’ swing that you saw in the passing.
As always, your hand found Jihoon’s before he could find the courage to seek your affection. Fingers squeezing together, his skin blissfully on fire against yours – he wondered why he never dared to make the first move and reach for your hand. But if he wasn’t the one to initiate, he at least had an excuse to not let you go.
“How come I’m your first girlfriend?” you wondered, searching his face for answers.
He shrugged. “You just are.”
“You really never had anyone else before?” He shook his head. “Not even a fling?” Another shake of his head. “A hook-up?” He blushed and shook his head harder. You frowned in confusion. “How? You’re, like, perfect. Other girls must have swarmed around you like bees around honey.”
“Don’t be silly,” he denied in a hushed voice, avoiding your eyes so he could act like his ears weren’t redder than the late autumn leaves.
“I know I wanted you to be mine the moment I saw you,” you mumbled with a pout, offended on his behalf. “So, why were you single all this time then?”
Jihoon shrugged once again, his lips in a tight line of awkwardness. “I just wasn’t interested, I guess. Too busy studying.”
“Then,” you hummed in thought before turning to him again, this time eyes shining with mischief, “have you ever kissed anyone before?”
He paled. “I– Uh– Technically…”
“Technically?” you pressed eagerly.
He cleared his throat. “Technically I’ve been kissed by one person.”
“Technically?!” You were scandalised, baffled, puzzled, curious beyond belief. He could only laugh hopelessly as you stopped him and grabbed him by the shoulders to stare at him, your mouth agape. “Who was it? Was she pretty?”
“Pretty?” He grimaced. It was too late to lie now – might as well commit to his honesty streak. “In his own way, I suppose–”
“HIS?!” Your jaw dropped even more as he avoided your eyes.
“Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything–”
“No, I need the truth,” you laughed, almost maniacal with both joy and curiosity. You gripped his shoulders, promising to not let him go until you got the answers. “Who was it? Jihoon, you have to tell me.”
He sighed deeply. His head tilted back so he could stare towards the sky, calling for an extraterrestrial life-form to abduct him. He had been doing so great so far… Why did he have to be damn honest with you?
After thirty seconds, he accepted that the aliens hadn’t found his calls appealing enough. He sighed and slumped before you, head lolling forward as he confessed, “Do you know Kwon Soonyoung?”
You burst into laughter, jumping away from him to bounce in joy (Jihoon wondered if maybe the impending sense of finals’ season doom was too much for you) as you repeated, “Kwon Soonyoung? The tiger guy?”
“Of course that’s what you know him for,” he mumbled under his breath, hand reaching up to rub at his eyes so he could avoid eye contact a little longer. “Just so you know, it was nothing serious: he just decided to kiss me on the playground in, like, 6th grade one day.” He sighed deeply at the memory, still unsure how he felt about it after all these years.
But you were too busy giggling to acknowledge his dismay. “On the lips?”
He grimaced. “On the lips.”
“Full on?”
“Full on,” he sighed.
Before he could scold you to not tell anyone else (not that it mattered anyway: Soonyoung had taken it upon himself to share the tale with every person he met anyway), you were in front of him again, still smiling brightly. His scowl melted into a gentle smile at the sight – he sucked at being mad at you.
“Like this?” You leaned forward, placed your hands on his cheeks, and pulled him in for a kiss of your own.
All of a sudden, Jihoon swore he was floating. He wrapped his arms around your waist to anchor himself as he leaned further into you, unwilling to part from your lips. Even as you attempted to pull away, he chased after your lips, unsatisfied until you melted back into the kiss.
When he finally ran out of air, you began giggling, a shy glow on your cheeks as you looked at his still-closed eyes. “So?”
“What?” he wondered, slow to open his eyes, and even when he finally did, his eyelids drooped like he was still waking up from the sweetest of dreams.
“Was the kiss historically accurate?” you joked, leaning closer to brush your nose against his.
He was unable to even laugh. Only a dopey smile appeared on his face as he whispered, “No, it was so much better.”
[H.JS.: surprise her with flowers]
[i dont know what kind of flowers she likes tho??]
[W.JH.: unless she’s allergic, i dont think it matters]
Despite still being unsure whether the group chat was helpful or just plain useless, Jihoon followed their advice like it was the law.
Flowers? He could find flowers. Easy. They’re sold almost everywhere. Surely, he could figure out something as simple and universal as flowers.
Wrong.
The moment he stepped into the flower store, he felt like a five-year-old left unattended in a new city. He hadn’t even realised there were so many options. He gulped.
“Can I help you?” an oddly familiar voice called out to him and he whipped his head around in search of the speaker. He found Wonwoo staring back at him, his eyes shining with mischief upon recognising his new customer.
Jihoon grimaced. “I– Nevermind.”
But when he tried to leave, Wonwoo grabbed him by the hood of his white sweatshirt and dragged him further into the store. “Are you going to buy your girlfriend flowers? Like Joshua suggested?”
“I– No– Why would I–” Jihoon’s resolve broke under Wonwoo’s knowing glare. He lowered his gaze to the floor and sheepishly nodded.
Wonwoo let out a small sound of victory before asking, “So, what kind of flowers do you want to get her?”
“That’s the thing,” Jihoon sighed deeply, “I have no clue what to get.”
His florist friend hummed in understanding. “Is she more of a daisy or a rose girl?”
Jihoon offered him a confused look. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve only dated her for a month.”
“Roses may be a bit much then,” Wonwoo concluded with a squint of his eyes before heading somewhere in the store, once again grabbing Jihoon by the hood and dragging him along.
Jihoon could only whine quietly in protest. “Can you stop doing that?”
“No.” The answer was plain, clear, and left no room for argument. “I think tulips are the way to go.”
Jihoon had no further complaints as Wonwoo began piling flowers into his arms. Once he was satisfied, he led Jihoon to the counter – by the hood, once again, as if he was a cat mom carrying her kitten – and began arranging them into a bouquet.
“Do you want me to tie a bow for them?” he asked but Jihoon gave him no answer. When he looked up again, his love-sick friend was staring at the newly-complete bouquet in awe. Wonwoo smiled and handed him the flowers. “There. Do you think she’ll like them?”
“I– How did you know… ?”
Wonwoo’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Was I right?”
Jihoon could only nod before fishing his wallet out. “I seriously owe you one. You’re good at this.”
On the way to your dorm, he couldn’t stop staring at the bouquet. The tulips were exactly the colours he associated with you, as if Wonwoo had read his mind and translated it into flowers. Now he could only adjust them a little and pray you’d like them as much as he did.
A deep breath. A soft knock on your door.
Your roommate opened the door, her eyes lighting up with excitement upon recognising him and noticing the flowers in his arms. She practically dragged him inside while calling out to you, “(Y/n), your Prince Charming arrived!”
Before he could say anything, she patted his shoulder and leaned over to whisper “She’ll love them” before all but bouncing out the front door, offering him one last cheeky wink before she left.
“Jihoon?” he then heard you call out from a distance. “Is that you?”
He called back a confirmation before following your voice to your room. Just as he often did, he found you seated on your bed, your (newly fixed) laptop in front of you, surrounded by endless pages of homework and research. He smiled at the familiar sight.
“Are you busy studying again?” he wondered, his voice impossibly soft just like his heart was for you. “Should I come back later?”
Without looking up, you shook your head. “No, no, please stay. I just have to finish this table and then–” Your gaze lifted to meet his by habit, at which point your jaw dropped. Soon, a smile forced itself onto your face. “Jihoon!”
He feigned ignorance, his lips quirking. “Why?”
“Did you–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, unable to find the words as tears of joy gathered in the corners of your eyes. Pursing your lips to will yourself to not cry, you got up from the bed and walked over to hug him. You held him tight while he just laughed fondly.
“Why?” he asked again, his free hand reaching up to caress your cheek.
You pouted. “You got me flowers?”
When you stepped back, he lifted up the bouquet and asked, “What? This?” You nodded and he laughed again, so completely endeared by your reaction. “Do you like them that much?”
“I love them,” you said and took the flowers from his hands, already rushing to the kitchen to fill a vase with flowers. Despite not leaving your room, he could hear you mumbling, “Oh my god, you’re really going to make me cry at this rate.”
Upon returning with a vase full of water and beautiful flowers, you placed it on your desk by the window. The afternoon light hit them just right and it made you want to cry even more.
You turned to him again. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers like this before. They’re so pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you,” he spoke before his mental filter could catch it. He bit down on his tongue the moment he closed his mouth, unable to believe he let the words slip without even thinking about them.
To his relief, you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, the carelessly spoken compliment made you glow even more. You laughed in joy and pulled him to sit with you on the bed. He could barely find his balance on the soft mattress before your lips were on his.
He decided he’d gift you flowers more often if this was the thanks he earned.
On a sleepless night, Jihoon came to an embarrassing realisation: he had never once initiated a kiss with you. In fact, when it came to physical affection, he hadn’t initiated anything.
The realisation was greatly aided by Boo Seungkwan’s 2 am reply to another one of Jihoon’s cries for help.
[B.SK.: kiss her, you idiot!]
“Kiss her?” Jihoon re-read the message the next day before grimacing in anxiety. He couldn’t even hold your hand without blushing – how was he supposed to initiate a whole kiss? Knowing him, he’d probably accidentally end up kissing your nose or, even worse, ear. The thought made him want to cry so he curled up on a random beanbag on campus, hugging his backpack to his chest, and glared at the message Seungkwan had sent him.
“Who made my Jihoon upset?” your voice carried through the hallway. He looked up to find you walking towards him, a bright smile on your face. Catching his gaze, you smiled brighter before adding to your joke, “Should I go beat someone up? Who was it? Mingyu? Soonyoung?”
“Seungkwan,” he mumbled against the fabric of his bag as you approached him and pressed a kiss to his temple. He could practically feel his ears betraying him and squeezed his eyes shut to will the blush to leave.
Your hand found his hair, stroking it gently. “Seungkwan? The guy who hosts almost every campus event?” He nodded solemnly and you scoffed. “I can take Seungkwan. He should be afraid of me.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, opening his eyes to glance up at you. He didn’t dare to move with the way you were still stroking his dark hair, looking at him so fondly. What if you were startled by his movement and never played with his hair again? No, he couldn’t risk it. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the feeling.
Without even realising it, he leaned into your embrace like a pet looking for warmth. Soon, his head rested against your chest, your fingers still in his hair while his own curled into the fabric of your blouse. He wished this moment lasted forever and then some more.
“So, what did Seungkwan do that you’re like this?” you wondered and he felt the rumble of your voice. He suddenly found he liked it even better this way.
With a small smile on his face, he whispered, “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” you wondered. “He must’ve done something.”
“He’s just annoying.” If it hadn’t been for your questions, Jihoon would’ve fallen asleep right there, pressed against you like a tired child. But instead, he came to an annoying realisation. “Do you not have a jacket today?”
“Nope,” he heard you reply.
He hissed at that, gently slapping your side as punishment for crimes against yourself. “It’s cold outside.”
“I run hot,” you made an excuse.
He scoffed. “You whined you were cold the last time you came to my dorm, even though it’s only, like, two degrees colder there than yours.”
You stayed silent at that. He basked in your warmth for a little longer before sitting back up straight and glaring at you. He then fidgeted with the sleeves of your blouse for a moment before scoffing and standing up to pull off his black hoodie. Unceremoniously, he shoved it to you, paying no mind to the puzzled look on your face.
“Put it on,” he finally told you when you made no move to read his mind. “I won’t baby you if you get sick.”
“I won’t get sick–” you began to protest only for him to roll his eyes, grab the hoodie, and pull it over your head himself.
His hands gently guided your own through the sleeves before reaching down to pull the rest of the hoodie down as much as he could. (He made a mental note to invest in a longer hoodie for next time.) As a final touch, he reached up to pull the hood over your head, tying the strings into a neat bow below your chin once he had pulled the fabric around your head – tight enough to make you look just a little bit goofy.
Surprised by his actions, you were frozen in place in front of him. With your cheeks squished by the fabric, you looked just so damn adorable. Jihoon didn’t even think before leaning closer and pressing his lips against your slightly pouted ones.
He pulled away, nodded and smiled – satisfied with his handiwork. The realisation of his actions wouldn’t hit him for another hour.
[W.JH.: i heard her class is having a big seminar this wednesday. maybe you should cheer for her?]
[how would i do that…?]
Jihoon never received a reply to his question. Odd, and incredibly annoying. But he guessed it was only fair: his friends couldn’t give him all the answers. Some things he’d have to figure out himself.
Just as he was contemplating on what to do, his phone buzzed. Hoping for a late reply from his friends, he immediately reached for his phone. To his surprise, it was a message from you instead:
[Y/N: if u never hear from me again, assume i had a heart attack in front of the classroom]
[Y/N: god, i hate seminars so much]
Jihoon paused. Is this what Junhui had meant? He took a deep breath and typed a reply.
[where are you? i’ll come to you.]
He was halfway out of the building by the time you answered.
[Y/N: linguistics building, seminar 321]
Despite never having been to the linguistics’ building before and having close to zero clue where he would even find this room, he ran to where you said you’d be. His lungs were burning from lack of air by the time he got to you and yet his heart ached even more than they did: all it took was one look at your shaky hands as you paced back and forth outside of the seminar room.
“Are you… Are you okay?” he asked through his laboured breaths once he reached you, his hand immediately reaching for yours to ease the shaking.
You sighed in relief at the sight of him. “Jihoon…”
“I’m here,” he whispered with an encouraging smile before letting you burrow into his embrace. On most days, he would have much rather dug a hole and crawled in there than let anyone show him this kind of affection in public. But he was willing to make an exception for you.
Then he spotted the familiar baffled face of Soonyoung from the corner of his eyes and cringed: he would never live this down.
“I’m so nervous about my presentation,” you whispered into his jacket and all of his attention was back on you as if by magic.
He scoffed out a laugh, unable to believe your words. “Are you kidding? You’ll be great.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen you give presentations before,” he reminded you with a gentle pat on your head. “You did great the last time, I doubt this time will be different.”
You wanted to cry at the memory, completely unable to see it the way he did. “I stuttered the entire time and mixed up the slides.”
“Yeah, but it was still fine.”
“It was so embarrassing.”
“It was endearing,” he argued immediately. “Besides, you laughed it off and you still got the maximum grade. Sometimes mistakes happen, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be the end of the world.”
You leaned out of his embrace to chuckle hopelessly. “I can’t decide if you’re really good or really bad at giving motivational speeches.”
“But do you feel better?” You nodded and he grinned brightly. “Then that’s all you need. Now go on in and show them what they’re missing in— What class is this?”
“Environmental Anthropology,” you answered with a sigh and he grimaced: it sounded far from appealing and he didn’t even dare ask if it was an elective or a mandatory subject.
Deciding to just go with it, he forced on a smile (his eyebrows still high on his forehead as half of his brain tried to figure out what that course even dealt with) and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Go get them, tiger.”
You laughed at his expression and nodded, feeling a little better already. You turned to head into class, but turned on your heel at the last moment, catching his eyes. He raised a single brow in question and you asked, “Can we go out to eat after this?”
He frowned, eyes saddening. “I wish I could. I have work in an hour. I’m sorry.”
“Oh.”
However, he could never stand the look of disappointment that grazed your face every once in a while. And when it made an appearance once again, he wanted nothing more than to comfort you. “But,” he started and you seemed to lighten up already, “you could come to the café and hang out with me there. My treat,” he promised before pointing an accusatory finger at you, “but only if you ace that presentation.”
“I… I can do that,” you nodded, more to convince yourself than him. “Yeah. I can definitely do that.”
Jihoon spent the next two hours panicking on your behalf.
Even as he took orders and made cup after cup after cup of coffee, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He couldn’t help but feel like he could’ve done more to boost your confidence. Hell, who wants to hear they were ‘endearing’ during a presentation they felt like they messed up on?
When the third hour of waiting began, he was half-sure you wouldn’t come to the café. Perhaps you had failed miserably or maybe you really did have a heart attack in front of the classroom. Jihoon was on the verge of spiralling.
“Okay, you’re going to burn your hand at this rate,” Seokmin scolded before ushering him away from the espresso machine. “Just man the register. I’ll deal with the coffee. God, what’s up with you today?”
Jihoon let out a soft whine of protest but followed the orders, waddling over to the register. It was a slow day and he was still messing up – what were you doing to him?
“So?” Seokmin asked again after delivering a customer’s flat white.
“What?” Jihoon was barely even paying attention to the fact that he was being spoken to. His eyes were constantly stuck on the door.
Any moment now. Any moment you’d walk in, a smile on your face, telling him you passed. Any moment.
Seokmin raised a brow. “What’s bothering you? Seriously, you’re not usually this aloof. Why are you staring at the door?”
“(Y/n)” was all Jihoon managed to mumble.
But it was enough for his friend. Seokmin laughed. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”
“What if she isn’t?” Jihoon whispered, still stuck in a dazed mix of anxiety and hope. “What if I messed up?”
Before Seokmin could even begin to comfort him, Jihoon felt like he could breathe again. There you were, practically running towards the café in your rush to get to him. He didn’t even realise he was leaning further and further towards the door, leaning against the countertop under Seokmin’s amused eyes.
“Jihoon!” you called out once you made it to the café, dashing up the counter to pull his face to yours and press your lips against his. After pulling away again, you smiled brightly. “Guess what?”
He forgot all the vocabulary he had acquired over his life. Your name was the closest thing to a word in there. He was just glad to see you again.
You rolled your eyes at his silence but still laughed. “Jihoon, I told you to guess.”
He cleared his throat and prayed his ears weren’t too red before he found his voice. “You passed?”
“I passed,” you confirmed with an excited fist pump in the air, “and the professor said I had the best presentation in the whole course.”
“Whoa, go, girl!” Seokmin cheered, bumping his fist against yours in celebration.
Jihoon matched your bright smiles and told you, “I knew you could do it. Come on, pick what you want to eat. My treat.”
As you excitedly went to check out the cake options, Seokmin stared at him in awe. Jihoon shrugged. “What?”
“How come you never treat me?” his friend sounded almost offended.
“You never asked.”
Seokmin frowned and turned to you. “Did you ask him to treat you?”
“Nope.”
He turned to glare at Jihoon again. “Favouritism. Clear favouritism. I’ll remember this.”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Jihoon argued with a puzzled frown of his own.
[W.JH.: tie her shoelaces]
Walks in the park or even just around the campus became a routine for the two of you very quickly. More often than not, your shared study sessions in the library would lead to a shared knowing look, standing up in silence, and heading out the door for a break. Always hand-in-hand, like puzzle pieces.
The weather was windier than usual that day, blowing dead leaves and hats around the park grounds. Who knows how long it would be before snow would join the items flying in the wind – the temperature of the air certainly suggested it would happen soon.
Jihoon barely managed to catch your scarf before it fell victim to the wind.
“Maybe not the best day for a walk,” he concluded with a sheepish laugh while wrapping the scarf around your neck a little tighter than before, making sure it wouldn’t fly again.
You laughed along. “Yeah, maybe we should’ve gone to the café instead.”
He sighed deeply – as a joke – before narrowing his eyes at you. “Just say you’re dating me for café discounts. Admit it.”
“Well,” you hummed, “your staff discounts are definitely a bonus.”
He chuckled and nudged your side. “Do you want to go to the café then? Maybe some cocoa could warm you up.”
“But some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not,” you repeated his own words back to him with a mischievous smile.
“Is that–?” His jaw dropped. “How do you even remember that?”
“It was a very memorable quote by my favourite author,” you joked and pinched his cheek before grabbing his hand to lead him to the café.
You barely made it two steps before he was tugging you to a stop, his gaze lowered. You blinked. “Did something happen?”
He didn’t reply. A message from Junhui flashed in his mind. Was he allowed to follow his advice like that? And if so, what was the best way to go about it? Crouching down? Leading you to a bench and making you lift your foot? Fully kneeling in front of you like the simp he was?
Ears burning under your questioning stare, he finally leaned down onto one knee, his fingers reaching for your shoelaces.
Your heart skipped a beat as realisation hit.
With what you could only assume was practised grace (because who knows how many times he had repeated this exact gesture for his friends – Soonyoung alone must have accounted for at least twenty), he gently pulled your foot closer to himself and gently double-knotted the laces. He decided to re-do the other shoe as well if he was already on task.
Once both shoes were undoubtedly tied and unable to come undone without permission again, he hummed in approval and stood back up, brushing the dirt off his knee before his gaze lifted to meet yours. He offered a sheepish smile at the dazed look on your face.
“Why?” he laughed.
“You’re seriously–” you began but never finished, reaching for his hand instead.
[K.MG.: give her a nickname]
Jihoon wasn’t very fond of nicknames. He wasn’t like Jeonghan who could come up with a new dumb nickname for every person he met or like Soonyoung who could react to any nickname thrown his way. Jihoon was just Jihoon and his friends were just his friends – no nicknames needed.
So, when he read Mingyu’s message, he froze. A nickname for his girlfriend? It felt like such an enormous task.
Stuck in an endless loop of processing even weeks after, Jihoon still couldn’t come up with a nickname that felt like you. Nothing sounded quite as pretty or as melodious as your name. Nothing came even close in his mind. When he thought of you, it was always just (Y/n).
And it wasn’t like you had given him a nickname either. He would’ve noticed if you had – he noticed everything you did.
If anyone saw into his brain, they would’ve seen a suspicious number of facts and quirks of yours. They would’ve thought he was a spy trying to steal your identity. But he was nothing of the sort. The only thing he aimed to steal was your heart (and maybe a kiss, or two, or two hundred).
Frankly, Vernon was sick of the sound of Jihoon’s pen rolling back and forth, struggling between gravity and Jihoon’s strength, on the slanted desk of their shared room. If having to contemplate cheesy pet names with a distraught Jihoon was the answer, Vernon was willing to sacrifice a bit of his sanity for a different background audio.
“Maybe see if a pet name would work,” he suggested upon seeing his misery.
Jihoon blinked. “Pet name? Like Fluffy?”
“No, like–” Vernon’s brows furrowed. “Dude, are you okay? Should I call a doctor?”
Jihoon only groaned and slumped over his desk, fully resting his cheek against it now.
“I meant nicknames like babe and sweetheart and the sort,” his roommate explained, brows still set in a concerned frown. “Why would you call her Fluffy?”
“At this rate, I might as well.”
Vernon was scandalised. “Call her Fluffy?!”
Jihoon sat up straight to frown at Vernon. “No, see if I find a pet name I like for her. What is wrong with you?”
“You started it!”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, what do you have to offer?”
“Let’s start with the basics,” Vernon suggested, leaning back on his bed happily now that the pen was no longer obnoxiously rolling. “Babe?”
“Gross.”
“Baby?”
“Even worse.”
“Sweetheart.”
Jihoon hesitated. “I– Maybe? Let’s put that under maybe.”
“Great! That’s progress,” Vernon cheered with a smile before resuming his position. “Then, what about dear?”
“Sounds so old-fashioned. I don’t want to sound like an English grandma whenever I call for my girlfriend.”
Vernon froze before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you definitely have a point there.”
They were both tired of the guessing game by the time fifteen minutes passed. They bid each other farewell and headed their separate ways. It was only noon.
The solution? Non-existent. Jihoon still didn’t know what to call you.
And to add to his problems, he soon realised he hadn’t heard from you all day. Your chat was no more full than the previous evening, his call history was even worse off. He hadn’t even seen you on campus.
Worry got the worst of him and now he was taking the first step instead of you. His worry won over his hesitation and he called you, lifting his phone to his ear all the while glancing around campus anxiously.
You didn’t pick up the first call. Nor the second. Before pressing on the screen to call a third time, he silently swore he’d run through all of your usual spots if you left him hanging like this. Heck, he might even call the police.
“Jihoon?” he then heard your voice through the phone and a stone fell off his heart.
He sighed in relief. “(Y/n), are you okay? I was worried.”
“Dorm,” you whispered meekly into the mic, elaborating no further no matter how much he prompted you.
His frown only grew with every passing moment of silence on your part. “Do you want me to come over?”
“Please,” you whispered once again and then he heard the most heart-breaking sound: a soft sob. You were crying.
He cursed under his breath. You were crying and he wasn’t there. “Hold on a little longer, I’ll be there.”
He wasted not a second more and sprinted to your dormitory. With his hands shaking from both worry and exhaustion, it took him two tries to get the door code right, but once the door clicked open, he dashed up the stairs and to your room.
The door of your room was unlocked and ajar when he arrived and he just about fell through it in an attempt to lean against it for a quick breath. He stumbled into your room and his heart dropped some more, so close to shattering.
“(Y/n), darling,” he whispered before practically throwing himself into the spot next to you, already pulling you into his embrace, “what happened?”
You didn’t say anything, quietly crying into his sweater instead. Jihoon almost wanted to cry with you. “Talk to me. What happened? What can I do to make it better?”
“I fought with my roommate,” you whispered eventually. “I might have to move out.”
“Move out?” he wondered. “Was it that bad?” You didn’t answer, only letting out another soft sob as you further burrowed into his arms. He sighed. “Oh, darling.”
You remained in his arms for a while, stuck between crying over a lost friendship and relishing in his comfort. “I thought she was my friend. God, I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” he protested immediately, perhaps even a little too forcefully for your fragile emotional state. He sighed once again, deeper, before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Do you want me to help you find a new place to stay?”
“I could just ask to be assigned to a different dorm,” you mumbled. “It’s no big deal.”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to get your own apartment though?”
“I mean… It would be nice.”
“I can help you pay the deposit,” he offered. He wasn’t sure if he was always this kind or if seeing you so broken made him overcompensate more than usual – come to think of it: there was clearly a pattern forming.
Either way – he mentally ran over the numbers in his bank account –, he could afford to help.
You sighed. “You don’t have to, Jihoon, it’s fine–”
“Don’t argue with me,” he warned half-jokingly. “Do you want to get your own place or not?”
Still leaning into his chest, you looked up at him. “You’d– You’d do that?”
“Of course,” he shrugged as if he had only offered you a candy bar. “Besides, if you get your own place, I benefit too.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Vernon not letting you sleep in again?”
“I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so bad,” he whispered while squeezing his eyes shut. “And he’s so messy. I need a break every once in a while.”
“So, your only condition is that I let you sleep over?” you chuckled and kissed his cheek which promptly turned red. “Why not just move in with me then?”
He blushed harder. “I think it’s too early for that. Maybe in a few months.”
You pouted at that. “You’re so mean. I was so ready to celebrate moving in with my boyfriend. Tsk.”
“Give me a few months,” he whispered – promised. “I’ll be with you in just a few months, darling.”
[J. WW.: take her on a picnic in the park during your free period. i hear the cherry trees are blossoming.]
Sandwiches, cake from the café, a thermos full of your favourite tea, a blanket – was anything missing? Well, other than his courage, because he had been staring at the basket for at least half an hour now as if his feet were nailed to the kitchen floor.
Even Vernon, as patient as he was, had begun to contemplate how to unglue Jihoon so he could freely access the fridge again.
“Dude,” he finally sighed, “can you move? I’m hungry.”
“There’s food on the stove,” Jihoon mumbled off-handedly, still in a panicked daze. Vernon glanced towards the stove and found nothing on it.
Why was he so panicked anyway? It was one thing to hesitate before kissing you, but this? This was worse. He was paralysed by fear and he didn’t even understand why.
It’s not like this was your first date.
“Have you never taken a girl out on a date before?” Vernon wondered, brows furrowing as he attempted to make sure his roommate hadn’t been replaced by a faulty android or a hologram.
And just as the words left Vernon’s mouth, Jihoon seemed to wake up. His eyes widened. “I’ve never taken a girl out on a date before.”
Vernon blinked. “You’ve been dating her since, like, fall.”
“Yeah, but she initiated everything,” Jihoon whined, suddenly hyper aware of the way his knees felt like jelly and his hands trembled.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“First date?”
“She took me to the movies.”
“First kiss?”
“She went in first.”
“Who asked the other one out?”
“She asked me.” Jihoon let out another whine. “God, I’m so bad at this whole boyfriend thing. Isn’t there, like, a manual or something?”
“If there is, you’d probably be better off,” Vernon pointed out with a chuckle. “Dude, if she’s stuck with you this long, then she’s not going to break up with you over you taking her on a picnic.”
“But what if she’s actually busy or it rains or–”
“What’s with you and all those what-ifs? Just get out there, take her hand and have a picnic.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Jihoon whispered and hung his head in shame.
“Because it is that easy.”
It was not, in fact, that easy. Jihoon tripped almost three times just on the way to meet you at the park – that’s how nervous he was. And it’s not like he was afraid of you or your reaction.
He just wanted everything to be perfect. Because you were perfect. And if he couldn’t be perfect with or for you, what was even the point?
Still, even as his nerves threatened to make him throw up in a nearby garbage can, he braved through the anxiety and made his way over to you. He forced on a smile as he approached you, but it soon melted into a genuine one upon seeing your excited grin.
“Hi, darling,” he whispered before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Did you have a good day?”
“It’s barely afternoon,” you joked. Jihoon grimaced: first strike. Two more and he’d pay someone to throw him off a bridge. (He noted that Seungcheol or Joshua seemed like a good choice for that.)
“So,” you rubbed your palms together after helping him set the blanket on the ground, “what are we eating?”
He breathed out shakily before opening the basket. “So… there’s sandwiches – I didn’t know which ones you’d like more so I made a bunch of everything, but if you don’t like any, I’ll run to the store and–”
“Jihoon,” you stopped him with a stern smile and a pat on his cheek – strike two –, “baby, stop acting like it’s the first time we’ve interacted. There’s no need to be shy with me. I love you regardless.”
“I’m sorry, I just–”
“Stop apologising.” Strike three – might as well decide on a bridge now.
“I just want everything to be perfect for you,” he admitted with a sad smile, “but I guess I get too in my own head about it and then–”
You leaned forward and kissed him before he could go any further. When you leaned back, his eyes were wide in disbelief.
“You– Why did you do that?”
“You were rambling too much.” You smiled at him again, sweeter this time, before kissing him once more. “Everything is perfect already. This picnic is perfect. The weather is perfect. This moment is perfect. You’re perfect. Don’t worry so much. Just breathe and enjoy.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours once again: a gift because you always knew exactly what to say.
“So,” your smile never seemed to fade, “can you stop worrying about everything now?”
He breathed out a defeated sigh and nodded, earning a cheer from you.
As the two of you began eating, he made conversation, “So, how’s your apartment search going?”
You shrugged. “I’ve found two places. I’m going to see the second one tomorrow, but the first one is very nice. Like, way too nice for that price.”
“And that’s bad somehow?” He laughed.
“It’s way below market rate. It’s too good to be true,” you told him with a soft sigh, closing your eyes as he mindlessly reached to play with your fingers. “I wonder what the quirk is. Like, why is it so cheap? The landlord seemed like a sweet woman and all, but there’s bound to be something weird about that place, right?”
“Maybe it’s haunted,” he joked, making a ‘scary’ face as he stared at you, only to prompt a laugh.
“Will you come and save me if it is?”
He grimaced. “Hell no. Ghosts are scary business. You’d have to find a different boyfriend.”
“Fine, fine,” you laughed and patted his cheek, “leave all the saving to me instead, then. I’ll protect you.”
“My hero,” he swooned, a hand over his heart.
You stared at the ceiling of your new bedroom, practically vibrating with anxiety about the day to come as well as the added responsibilities of adulting outside of a dorm.
Jihoon, having agreed to stay a few nights for mental support (and a Marvel movie marathon), gave you a weird look.
“Sorry,” you apologised and willed your body to stay still, sure you had annoyed your boyfriend into leaving, “I guess I’m just more nervous about tomorrow than I thought.”
“I think you’re overthinking this,” he chuckled and leaned over to brush a stray hair off your forehead. “It’s just a seminar. You’ve been to those before.”
“Yeah, but this one’s in a foreign language,” you whined and rolled over to hide your face in his chest. “You know my French sucks.”
He scoffed but was thoroughly amused. “I’ve never even heard you speak French.”
“Exactly. Point proven. Now let me suffer in peace.”
Jihoon sighed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to your head. “Is there any way I can help you feel better?”
You shook your head ‘no’ and burrowed further into the comforting darkness his sweater provided. You had no interest in being comforted – what you needed was to go to sleep before 3 am and not wake up with nightmares. Unfortunately, Jihoon couldn’t do that for you, as amazing as he was.
He was just as stumped, but less in the mood to give up. In fact, he was rarely in the mood to give up.
Still feeling you shaking in his arms, he reached his free hand to get his phone and text the group chat once again, begging for help as he had done so many times before. The help came faster than ever before, as if his friends had a shared 7th sense for Jihoon’s girlfriend troubles.
[C.VN.: bro, arent u good at singing? have u sung to her?]
[but… what do i sing?]
[K.SY.: a song.]
[whaT SONG?]
[X.MH.: you’re literally a music major, i’m sure you can think of a song or two??]
[i’m a uni student, not a jukebox??]
With sleep still unwilling to claim you, you sighed deeply. There was no room to further burrow into your boyfriend’s comforting embrace. An idea hit: maybe a cup of nice peppermint tea could calm you down.
“Ji, can we go make–” you quietly began but were interrupted by a soft rumbling of his chest. And then you heard it: he was humming. You lifted your head to watch him, unable to tear your eyes from the way his lips oh-so-gracefully parted to sing to you, even as he was still searching for the lyrics on his phone.
Suddenly realising you had said something, he paused, eyes widening as he looked at you. “Sorry, did you say something?”
You shook your head no and continued staring at him.
Awkward under you gaze, his ears flushed red. He avoided your eyes and turned back to his phone, scrolling through it as a distraction: ads had never looked so interesting before.
“Keep singing,” you whispered to him, hoping he’d hear your plea and fulfil your wish.
He took a deep breath, his hand freezing on the tiny screen. And just as you had hoped, his lips parted again. This time, he really sang, lyrics and all. His voice carried through your room, echoing back from the yet-to-be-decorated walls and filling the space in a comforting manner.
As you listened to him, you realised he had never sung to you before. He had hidden this part of himself for so long. And yet you were already enamoured with it.
When he finished one song, his lips pursed back together and he hummed a mysterious melody that you could only suspect he had come up with on the spot to fill the silence. Then he began a second song, then a third.
By the fifth song, you were blissfully unaware of your daily troubles and the seminar waiting for you at 10 am. You were deep asleep in his arms, feeling the safest you ever had.
Upon realising you had finally succumbed to the call of dreamland, Jihoon chuckled and locked his phone. His newly free hand reached to stroke your cheek.
“Little Miss Can’t Fall Asleep falls asleep a lot easier than she claims,” he joked to noone in particular and craned his neck to press another kiss to your temple before settling back down and closing his own eyes.
[S.SC.: go shopping with her. i’m sure she needs some things for her new place. she might appreciate the company.]
“I still don’t understand how you don’t have a car,” you started up the topic for the third time this hour.
Jihoon had never considered you annoying before – not even to the mildest extent – but he was slowly starting to get annoyed. He sighed. “Getting a licence seems like such a hassle.”
“It’s freeing,” you argued, amused by your new-found ability to annoy him even the tiniest bit. “You don’t depend on public transportation or your friends anymore. It’s great.”
“I can get everywhere on foot just fine.” He rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to cover your mouth as you began to speak again. “Didn’t you say you needed new towels? I’m pretty sure we walked straight past those.”
Unable to form proper words under the weight of his hand, you just hummed and let him lead you back to the towel aisle. It was only once you were there that he removed his hand again, wiping it against his hoodie. “Why do you need new towels anyway? It’s not like the ones you’ve used so far are contaminated.”
“It’s the principle, Jihoon,” you told him while scanning through the options. “New place, new me – that type of deal.”
“Sounds like a trick of capitalism,” he joked and leaned his torso forward against the shopping cart you had already half-filled with baskets, blankets, cushions and pillows of all shapes and sizes.
You turned to glare at him. “Are you my boyfriend or my financial advisor?”
“Both, if you pay me well enough.”
“Whatever. What colour towels should I get?”
He shrugged. “I’m a big fan of the colour black.”
You sighed. “That’s so boring. How about blue?”
He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. “I could be persuaded.”
“I’m taking that as a yes,” you sang and picked up two of the larger fluffy blue towels – one lighter and the other darker in shade. You barely managed to fit them in the cart before your eyes lit up with a new quest in sight. “Oh, we need slippers too.”
He only hummed and swiftly (or as swiftly as one can move a shopping cart that clearly has never been maintained in the 10 years it's been in use) manoeuvred the cart to follow after you. Once he finally found you in the footwear aisle, he was confronted by two pairs of slippers – one black, the other baby pink – in his face. He tilted his head to offer you a confused look.
Without any malice behind it, you sighed and rolled your eyes. “Pick a colour.”
“Black.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I know you’re waiting for me to tell you ‘pink’ and I’m not giving you nor Mingyu that satisfaction,” he countered before nodding towards his colour of choice again. “Black.”
“Fine,” you sighed in defeat and placed the pink ones back, only to pick up a different size of the same colour and place it in the cart.
His eyebrows rose. “What are you–?”
“What size slippers do you wear?”
“Me?” He frowned. “Why would my opinion on any of this matter? It’s your apartment. Why are you making me choose the colour of the towels and the shower curtain and the–”
He fell silent, his mouth still ajar in wordless awe as the realisation hit. You tried your hardest to act cool under his disbelieving stare.
“I– I’m not moving in with you,” he whispered, his eyes softening as he reached for your arm as if to comfort you. “We talked about this. I still need some time.”
“I’m not asking you to move in yet,” you laughed sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. “I just thought it would be nice if you could visit without worrying about bringing your things. You’re my boyfriend. I just want you to be comfortable when you come over to stay the night or when you don’t feel like going back to your and Vernon’s place after a long day and–”
Your words faded to the background as he continued staring at you. He was so used to being the one full of hesitation, overthinking his actions, trying to act nonchalant when he finally committed. Seeing you do the same? His heart grew two sizes larger and suddenly he couldn’t contain himself.
Without thinking about it, he pulled you into a hug, effectively silencing your doubts and rambled justifications just like you had done for him so many times before.
“You should’ve just said so, silly,” he laughed and held you even tighter.
[C.VN.: u know, i heard study dates are popular with the girls]
[you’re just trying to get me out of the dorm, aren't you?]
[C.VN.: u cant prove anything]
Sitting across from him in the living room, you watched in silence as Jihoon tapped away at his keyboard. His fingers seemed to fly across the keys at the speed of light, typing out a word and then deleting it. He did so a thousand times before huffing out a sigh and leaning his head back to glare at the ceiling.
“Have you tried taking a break?” you asked him softly, wanting not to scare or irritate him.
His head lolled back to a normal position and he offered an unamused raise of his brows. “Have you seen me take any breaks?”
You grimaced. “Then maybe it’s time to take a break now.”
“Sorry, darling,” he sighed and shook his head, “I need this essay finished by midnight. I’ve been putting this off for too long as it is.”
You glanced at the clock. “Midnight’s still 10 hours away though. You have time to take a break.”
He rolled his eyes and glared at his laptop screen. A blank page with only the title ‘Western Philosophy 101 Final Essay’ mocked him. “A break from what? I haven’t even done anything.”
“You’ve been thinking hard.”
“Darling, I don’t think you understand how essay-writing works. There’s no use in thinking if no writing comes out of it.”
You reached over to take his hands off the keyboard. His fingers instinctively wrapped around yours, squeezing them just enough to comfort the both of you. “Writing will come out of it if you just relax and just take a break, I promise.”
Jihoon wanted to argue, he really did. But then he looked up from the screen and into your eyes, tempting him to just agree. And while he wasn’t one to give up easily, he was definitely someone who wanted fulfil every wish his loved-ones ever made.
And so, he gave up this time. Defeated, he slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Alright, what do you have in mind?”
“How long do you have?” you asked, feeling mischievous all of a sudden.
He glanced at his watch before shrugging. “An hour, maybe.”
That was all you needed to pull him towards yourself by the hands. He stumbled a little, just about falling into your lap with a whine of protest before settling exactly where he landed, too tired to care further. His eyes fell closed the moment he felt your warmth against himself.
Without even thinking about it, you reached down to play with his hair. The silky strands ran through your fingers with ease and Jihoon could only hum in appreciation at the gesture. While this wasn’t the cuddle position you had had in mind, you couldn’t say no to the rare chance to dote on your otherwise independent boyfriend.
“This is nice,” he sighed softly and nuzzled his face against your belly, happy to hide from his horrible philosophy final. He lazily opened one eye to look at you, admiring you with the same love as you did him. “We should do this more often.”
“I would love to,” you told him with a sweet laugh and he was glad that he was lying down because his knees felt a little weak all of a sudden. “See, I told you you needed a break.”
He hummed in agreement, closing his eye again. “I feel like I might fall asleep though. And then who will finish my essay? You?”
“How about I just wake you up in, like, 40 minutes instead?” you offered.
With a cheerful giggle, he hid his face further into the fabric of your shirt. His voice sounded muffled as he spoke, “You don’t like philosophy either?”
“Cried my way all the way through the midterms and swore to never take anything philosophy-related again.”
“That’s good. I should do that,” he slurred his words and before long, all you heard were his soft snores.
Jihoon liked to think he wasn’t particularly clingy. He didn’t need constant assurance from his friends that he was still loved and wanted – he knew they liked and wanted him around. He knew that you liked and wanted him around.
But when your near-hourly updates about the randomest things you had seen and done were replaced by radio silence, Jihoon grew more and more anxious. Though he knew it was silly to think so, he couldn’t help but worry he had annoyed you into leaving him.
Throughout the day, he kept glancing at his phone. Even just a single message – heck, even an emoji – would make his day infinitely better. When he wasn’t staring at his phone, begging for any notification with your name on it, he was looking at the people around him in the hopes of seeing your familiar face among them.
The day went by without as much as a sign from you.
He felt silly. He felt dumb. He felt like he was going to cry very real tears if you didn’t respond to his text before midnight.
He let out a loud sigh of relief when your nickname finally popped up on his screen. The tears gathered in his eyes dissipated slowly as he shakily unlocked the phone and tapped on your newest message.
[darling ♡: oh my god. i’m sorry for not answergi !! so sorry!!!]
Jihoon blinked away the remnants of his anxious tears and smiled at the sight of your words. You hadn’t left him just yet. He still had a girlfriend who cared for him.
[it’s okay. did something happen?]
[darling ♡: yeah hahah funny story actually…]
[darling ♡: i think i caught something and i’ve been trying to sleep it off haha]
And just like that, his anxiety was back. Jihoon straightened in his seat, one hand still typing while the other blindly searched for his jacket.
[youre sick?,??m???]
[darling ♡: a little bit…]
[i’m coming over-]
Before you could send a message of protest, he shrugged his jacket on and headed out the door. Even though he realistically knew that he wouldn’t be much help and would just end up sick himself, he couldn’t just let you suffer all alone.
As he practically galloped down the stairs from his 3rd floor dorm, he texted the group chat for help and assurance.
[L.SM.: she’s sick?! make her dinner! what’s her favourite soup??]
Jihoon paused mid-step. What was your favourite soup?
He arrived at your apartment just ten minutes later, a bag in hand. You greeted him at the door, bags under your eyes, skin dull and lips dry. Jihoon couldn’t help but pout at the sight.
“What happened to you?” he asked, reaching up to brush his thumb across the cracked skin of your lips. “Have you been drinking water at all?”
“The fridge is too far from the bed,” you told him with a defeated sigh before practically melting into his embrace. “I told you not to come.”
He scoffed out a laugh and began rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. “Well, I’m here anyway. And I’m making you food. How does tomato soup sound?”
“Like you don’t know how to make chicken soup,” you answered with a suspicious squint of your eyes.
He laughed at that, ears turning red at the way you had caught onto his scheme. “Alright, I think you should go back to resting.”
“You should go to sleep too,” you argued. “It’s past midnight already and you have classes tomorrow.”
“I can skip a day.” He said it with such ease and carelessness that you couldn’t help but wonder who this man was because your boyfriend hadn’t skipped any classes in the entire time you had been together.
Still, you were too tired to care. Soup sounded better than sleeping on an empty stomach for another 12 hours.
“Can I at least help you cook?” you practically begged, hanging onto his arm as he began preparing in the kitchen.
A little taken aback by your affection, he laughed nervously. “Aren’t you tired?”
“I think I’m starting to feel better actually,” you half-joked, watching with starry eyes as he expertly washed and then chopped the tomatoes. “Seeing you has recharged me with energy.”
“Yeah?” He hummed in thought before offering you a mischievous smile. “Then do you have enough energy to go and rest a little?”
Your face dropped. “Why can’t you just accept my love?”
“Because I’m pretty sure you’re feverish and standing up for long won’t do you any good, darling,” he whispered before pressing a swift kiss to your cheek and returning to his task. “So, go rest on the sofa. I can go get your laptop so you can watch something, if you want.”
“But what if I want to cuddle?”
“Cuddle a pillow.”
“You’re cruel.”
He rolled his eyes at your dramatic antics. Clearly the fever was affecting you worse than he had feared. “When I literally ran across the district to come here and make you soup at midnight?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “Fine, you can stay,” he paused and gave a warning glare, even if it looked far less threatening with the smile playing on his lips, “for now.”
You let out a soft cheer and cuddled back into his side, resting your cheek on his shoulder as he made you soup. You marvelled at the graceful movements of his hands. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of his friends he had made food for. For now you were just glad to be one of them.
“I hope I recover fast,” you whispered. “Or maybe I should just stay sick forever.”
“Why?”
“I have a stupid presentation next week. I haven’t even started reading to prepare for it.” You buried your face into the fabric of his hoodie. He took a moment to press his cheek against your head in an act of assurance. You sighed and mumbled a final, “Stupid finals.”
He laughed at that. “I’ll get you some medicine tomorrow so you can recover fast.”
With a groan, you straightened up a little again to side-eye him. “Can’t you just leave me here to suffer? Or help me fake my death? What kind of a boyfriend are you?”
“The kind that wants his girlfriend to be healthy for our end-of-the-semester date night,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
His confidence really made you wonder if you had forgotten about this clearly existing tradition between the two of you. But no, you were pretty sure he had just made this up. Or perhaps you were too loopy from paracetamol to remember.
Either way, you let yourself get carried away into a fantasy of sharing a date night with only your boyfriend and no university stress. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought.
The end of the semester came faster than Jihoon or any of his friends would have liked. It snuck up on them between the despair and sleepless nights of the exam session. And he could not have been happier about it.
Once he had submitted the final essay of the semester – the very last graded project he’d have to submit before a well-deserved break –, he slammed his laptop shut and looked at you, still hunched over your laptop on the bed, re-reading the last paragraphs of your own essay.
“Hold on,” you told him upon feeling his eyes on yourself, “I’m almost done.”
“No rush,” he replied with a sweet smile before letting out a soft giggle of relief and falling back onto your mattress, his arms spread out as if to soak in the freedom.
As if the sight of your boyfriend basking in the glow of no more exams had motivated you to finish sooner than you planned, you hurriedly rushed to upload your final assignment. A green check mark appeared on the screen to indicate that you could finally join your boyfriend.
With a loud cheer, you closed your own laptop and crawled over to where your boyfriend was lying. Immediately you burrowed into his side and sighed happily. “This semester sucked.”
“You can say that again,” he agreed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders like he had done so many times before. “But at least it’s over now.”
You hated to be the wet blanket but… “Unless one of us fails.”
He groaned and used the same arm to roll you away from him. “I hate you. Go away.”
You laughed at the way he scrunched up his face in distaste as if he had swallowed bitter medicine. “I’m just saying. We’re not safe yet.”
“We’re safe enough,” he declared and waved your negative thoughts away. “God, I hate you, now you’re making me anxious.”
“You don’t actually hate me,” you sang and rolled back over to him, settling right on top of him, your nose against his own. “In fact, you like me.”
He grimaced. “Unfortunately.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasped and sat up, resting your hand on his chest as you leaned upright to glared at him. “Unfortunately?!”
He laughed at your theatrics, giggling with his whole body, shaking so hard in the process that you lost your balance and fell back right on top of him. His arm came to rest around your shoulders again. Once he was out of giggles, he continued smiling and caressed your cheek. “You’re so freaking cute. It’s unfair.”
“Take back that ‘unfortunately’ and I might get even cuter,” you told him, a suspicious glare set on him.
His smile never faded as he leaned up just a little, resting his entire body weight on one arm just to press his lips to yours. “I take the word back.”
“Good,” you decided and joined in his laughter before kissing him again, “because I kind of love you, actually.”
He froze. His eyes widened just a fraction, his lips parted in a silent gasp of surprise.
He stayed like that for long enough to make you worry you had made your move too fast. He liked to take it slow – you knew that. He had been taking it slow all this time. And now you’ve confessed and he probably thought you were ridiculous and dumb and–
“Darling…” His lips curled into a smile, his eyes turning into joyful crescents, and then he leaned in again.
His hands came to rest on your cheeks, squishing them just a little as he pulled you to his lips. He kissed you again and again and again.
He kissed you until you were dumb. He didn’t stop kissing you until you were sure you couldn’t form a single word that wasn’t his name.
Then, eventually, with both of your lips swollen and eyes dazed, he leaned back and nuzzled his nose against your own. “I love you so, darling, I really do.”
It took you a moment to understand what he was saying. He had kissed you so dumb that you could’ve sworn he was speaking in another language. But finally, your brain caught up with the situation and a smile appeared on your face, bright and proud and full of adoration for your boyfriend.
“You should kiss me like that more often,” you told him, teasing, trying to see what he’d do.
He replied with a playful roll of his eyes and another kiss, a single one but much longer than the last twenty.
“I love you,” you whispered again against his lips.
His smile only seemed to brighten even more at that. “I love you too.”
But as he was about to go in for another kiss, a loud vibration sounded from somewhere in the sheets. The two of you glanced around as the vibrations continued, breaking you from the romantic daze.
“Is someone calling you?” he wondered.
“My phone’s been on silent since the dawn of time, babe,” you told him easily and helped him look for his phone. “It must be yours.”
Just when you said those words, the vibrations abruptly stopped. And then another vibration came, short and gentle this time.
You found his phone under the pillows, Soonyoung’s contact name appearing alongside the missed call symbol and a minimised text message on the screen.
“It’s your tiger friend,” you told Jihoon and turned to hand the phone to him when the phone vibrated again with a new message coming in.
It wasn’t your fault that the whole screen flashed to life with the message – what were you supposed to do? Not read it?
[K.SY.: oh, nonie said u’re with y/n?]
And then another message arrived before he could take the phone from your hands.
[K.SY.: have u told her u love her yet ??!?!!]
[K.SY.: the chat is rootin for u!!!! u’ve been good at following our advice this far. u’ve got this!!]
A mischievous smile appeared on your face as you read the message. Jihoon didn’t realise what made you react this way until he took his phone and read the message minimised on his lockscreen. He groaned as the realisation hit.
“Don’t start–”
“You told your friends that you loved me,” you beat him to it, reaching over to squish his cheeks and kiss his nose. “And you asked them for advice? You’re so goddamn cute.”
His ears got progressively more red with every word. He quickly swiped the messages off his screen and threw his phone as far away as he could without potentially breaking it. “It wasn’t like that–”
“I’m just teasing, baby,” you laughed and pulled him into a comforting hug. Poor man was mortified. “I do have to ask though: what kind of advice did you get from them?”
“Well,” he hesitated as you looked at him expectantly, “I wanted to be a good boyfriend, so… I asked them how to be a better boyfriend…”
You pressed your lips to his. “You’re a good boyfriend, Jihoon, I promise. You’re the best, actually.”
“I had to ask my friends for help just to get the courage to initiate a kiss,” he confessed, squeezing his eyes shut as the urge to cringe and hide away under the bed overcame him. “I’m a mediocre boyfriend, at most.”
“I strongly disagree,” you told him and pulled him in for another kiss, “but we’ll work on your confidence, my love.”
♡ THE END! ♡
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