#so pls lmk if there r bad typos jvfdvkd

[ateezmakemeweep]

back to you (part 10)

word count: 15k

angst, fluff, smut

(part 9) (series masterlist)

you weren’t suspicious until the fourth unanswered text message.

the feeling of anxiety and doubt that had finally left you for the past few weeks coming back with a vengeance as you settled back into life on campus. 

you, san, wooyoung and yeosang had gotten back on sunday evening, stopping to get a quick dinner together before you all made your way to the dorms. 

you and san had parted ways in a completely normal fashion, or at least what was your new normal - him flashing you a dimply smile with his hand on your waist, eyes teasingly looking down at your lips before just barely brushing them. 

wooyoung and yeosang lingered in the hall, not wanting to see the sight before them but letting it happen. almost as if they knew it was fleeting. 

almost as if they knew when he mumbled that he’d “see you later,” you wouldn’t see him ever again.

you expected him to maybe text you that night but didn’t think much of it when he didn’t, the both of you preparing for classes to start up again.

but by friday, almost a whole week of him not texting you back or reaching out, that old, familiar feeling of doubt settled in the pit of your stomach. 

san had been nothing short of a sweet, funny and protective friend during your winter break together; you saw a side of him that you hadn’t before, something more vulnerable, caring, and almost humanly.

“you make me wanna be good, y/n,” he finally blurts out, your eyes filling with tears because it’s the first time you’ve heard his voice like this before.

the first time you’ve heard him sound so honest and genuine and slightly vulnerable, you thought there was no way he was lying.

“or better. a lot fucking better than i am. is that stupid to say?”

he wasn’t just the boy who crept into your room at night, said all the right things with his tongue in your mouth or his hand between your legs. who left you feeling so cold and lonely and used.

he had made sure you were okay at all times - falling asleep with his arms around you, creating a soft and playful banter that made you disgustingly happy, being so gentle and attentive after sex, it made sappy tears burn the back your eyes. 

tears that burned because you’d wanted that for so long. 

but now, with not hearing from him, you began to question more and more with every passing day if everything that happened between you two, maybe, meant nothing at all.

maybe you just made it all up in your head, the soft looks and his different attitude and the fact you two had had mind-blowingly passionate sex for almost three straight weeks. 

you had just felt the most secure in your relationship with him you’d ever felt and it only took five days for it to go to shit. 

“i’m not gonna... discredit anything, because i don’t know what exactly happened between you two over break,” yeosang said earlier this morning, trying to hear you out without judgment on your walk to class (though also wanting to be honest).

“but... if it only took a few days for you to feel that unsure about your... relationship, y/n,” (and he uses that word loosely) “maybe you guys need to talk again.”

it hurt him to say that to you because he had seen the change too, it had even acted as a catalyst to the fight between him and wooyoung - but he also knew his boyfriend wasn’t constantly warning you for nothing. 

he knew how san was too, saw it with his own eyes a year before you were even here, and also wanted the man nowhere near you; he’d almost given him the benefit of the doubt after seeing the recent change in him, but he now knows choi san just fooled another person in his path. 

“what exactly did she say?” wooyoung asks, not quite sure how he feels about you confiding in his boyfriend over san; he was happy you two were close but the idea of it made his skin crawl. 

“woo, i don’t wanna act like i’m snitching on her because i’m not,” yeosang says, a frown on his face as they wait for your last class to end. 

“but i’m just getting concerned. i think she just thought she was gonna see this big change in him after whatever happened between them and that they were like... dating now or something.”

“i mean to be fair how the fuck couldn’t she?” wooyoung growls, recalling just how fucking weird san was with you over break. “did you see the way he was?”

his touchiness, his possessiveness, the way wooyoung barely got a moment alone with you because san was always two steps behind you; it made him positive that this was gonna happen. 

lead you to think because san was away from all his other suitors and needed you close by that all of his affection was completely and utterly pure.

and wooyoung doesn’t know, maybe a small part of it was - he knows san can be good when he wants to be - but him ignoring you ever since you got back was not a good sign.

for you nor the play boy himself, because he’s one second away from getting the shit kicked out of him.

“i did,” yeosang says softly, feeling his heart ache for you; he wishes you met anyone but san here. “i thought it was genuine for a second, too.”

wooyoung will never admit it aloud but so did he. 

something about the tick in his jaw when he went to touch your sleeping form.  or the way he’d catch san smiling at you when you two thought he wasn’t paying attention.

how something seemed to shift between you two after new years eve.

something more touchy and light and intimate, almost like you two were a couple who, after a long time, had finally taken that next step to-

“hi guys!”

there’s a twinge of happiness in your voice despite your neutral face, very subtle and suppressed but something he hears nonetheless; there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that, maybe, it’s because you finally heard from san. 

that just a simple hi or small smile from him could completely lift your mood and spirits. 

“hey y/n,” yeosang says, just as smiley and happy as scoots over for you to sit. “how was class?”

“good,” you say, throwing a look at wooyoung when he greets you in the form of a soft kick under the table. “long. my one class is 3 hours.”

“that’s disgusting,” wooyoung sneers, a laugh leaving you as you nod your head. 

“very. the professor is nice, though.”

you talk for a few minutes about your classes, yeosang telling you he’s back in creative writing and wooyoung teasing that he better not find a cute, charismatic boy he falls head over heels in love with. 

you bite down on your lip as you watch the two talk, yeosang elbowing him lightly as wooyoung throws an arm around him affectionately. 

you’d think it’d be uncomfortable to watch them be so coupley right before your very eyes, wooyoung pecking a kiss to his temple and yeosang blushing at the outright pda, but you think it’s nice to see after their fight. 

after how happy and sweet they’ve been to each other ever since that night because having a less than two hour argument had made them both so upset and needing to love each other again. 

“something tells me that wouldn’t happen,” you giggle, sharing a look with yeosang because there’s no way he’d ever find anyone more charismatic than wooyoung. “you’ve traumatized him for life when it comes to outgoing, loud people.”

“you’re supposed to say he’d never find anyone as sweet, caring and attractive as me you fuck. what are you good for if not to hype me up?”

“don’t you know? i like yeosang more. we’re still working on list about you, you know.”

1: incredibly intrusive. comments too shamelessly on our appearance/ embarrassing moments.

2: disgusting eating habits. want to vomit when he eats noodles with his hands

3: when he finally falls asleep and leaves us alone, he either snores, sleep talks or throws himself on top of us.

4: doesn’t understand the concept of personal space.

5: loud. way too loud. so ear piercingly loud, we can’t hear ourselves-

“that list was absolute fucking bullshit!” he whines loudly, again successfully proving, both, four and five as he leans into yeosang and piercers your ear drums.

you giggle as yeosang pushes the boy off with a groan, your phone lighting up causing you to jump - you don’t know if you feel more nervous when you see who it is or thinking it could’ve been san (sam). 

wooyoung bites the inside of his cheek as he looks over your face, watching as it drops every so slightly. you bite the tip of your tongue in a way that makes wooyoung cringe, a new nervous tick that is way more displeasing than your knuckle cracking. 

yeosang is even starting to notice too.

“everything good, y/n?”

you press your lips together as you meet the two boys’ gazes, going back and forth about if you wanna share the email you got this morning.  

being an undecided major still, there were so many classes you’ve taken and tried you’re hardest to be interested in - history, philosophy, literature, sociology. 

you’d taken a liking to psychology, talking about how the mind works and trying to figure out why people act the way they do (something you were personally consumed by during this fall semester), but you never could’ve imagined it in the setting of an art class. 

having the ability to connect your innermost feelings, troubles, and worries about yourself and the people around you to create a work of art that expressed those worries.

art therapy, in a sense, something you’d never done before but your professor stressed was an incredibly undervalued form of therapy. 

you hadn’t thought much of the assignment until you were throwing yourself into it during class, all your dark, muted colors and abstract type art a complete contrast to your classmate’s fun pop of colors. 

you couldn’t even quite understand why something about it was so unnerving and haunting when you finally saw the finished piece; you had worked on it for weeks without really knowing what you were doing.

you just knew that, after every class, some of your anxiety was lifted for a short while.

just by going with colors and patterns that seemed to work in your cluttered mind and painting what felt right; you would’ve thought you’d done it wrong if you didn’t get an a on the assignment, feeling happy and victorious but leaving it at that.

it was just another class, another assignment, another topic you thought was interesting but didn’t wanna make a living out of; you didn’t even know what the hell you were doing half the time.

“it’s not, like, a big deal or anything...” you finally say, not sure why you’re feeling nervous or embarrassed about this; it’s a good thing and you know it but you still feel... weird.

“do you remember that art class i took last semester?”

“the, like, art therapy one?” wooyoung asks, a mock look of annoyance on his face. “where you ruined my white shirt with all of your sad black and gray paint?”

you roll your eyes as you pinch his arm, ignoring the pit of nerves in your stomach.

“yes and i said i was sorry,” you say, biting down on your lip because how did everyone seem to know sad was the theme of your work except you?

“but my professor from last year sent me an email this morning and asked if my... painting, i guess, wanted to be featured in some art show next weekend,” you share quietly, feeling warm heat on your cheeks. 

“she told us in the beginning of the semester all of her students work is automatically considered so i don’t think it’s actually anything that amazing or a big deal but-”

“literally shut the fuck up right now,” wooyoung interrupts, smacking your arm lightly before you can discredit yourself even further. “that’s so fucking cool, y/n! it’s not like they would’ve picked it if it was dog shit so obviously it had to be good.”

“dog shit?” yeosang says flatly, a strained chuckle leaving your mouth as the blonde looks at you with a soft smile.

“but for real, y/n. that’s amazing. congratulations,” he says, knocking your feet under the table playfully. “i didn’t know you were a secret brooding artist.”

you let out a giggle as you shake your head, thinking it’s quite insulting to real artists to consider you one. 

“i’m definitely not,” you chuckle out, licking over your lips because okay, sharing that wasn’t too bad; you don’t know why you felt embarrassed to share that. 

or embarrassed about being excited to share that. 

you just never found anything you were really good at and it felt cool to know that, maybe, you’d be able to share this with people you care about.

“i told her it could, of course, be featured but that i probably wouldn’t go since i don’t really-”

“um what?” wooyoung snaps, his loud snippy tone one you know all too well (but still manages to make your ears bleed). “you’re the artist, y/n. you have to be there! when is it? we’re going. you’re crazy if you think we aren’t going.”

you have a stare down that you know very well you’re gonna lose, a smile pulling at your lips when wooyoung narrows his eyes playfully. 

“when is it?”

“next saturday.”

“well then we have our next saturday plans,” wooyoung says happily, tapping your pink cheek playfully. “my little sad tortured artist.” 

something tells him he doesn’t wanna know who your muse was. 

is. 

you roll your eyes as a smile pulls at your lips, looking over wooyoung with mock annoyance; he talks before you can scold him, probably because he knew you were gonna.

“but the question is now... what are tonight’s plans?”

for once, introverts won 2 versus 1 tonight and secured a movie night in at yeosang’s apartment. the others were either out at a party or on dates, leaving the three of you free to have your highly awaited harry potter marathon. 

it was during the first four movies, now starting the fifth with a grand total of 10 hours, that you almost witnessed yeosang and wooyoung’s second life-altering fight - if your best friend was gryffindor or slytherin. 

“you are not cunning nor sly in the slightest woo,” yeosang argues for the 8th time tonight. “you wanna be slytherin so bad, i get it, but you’re just not. you don’t fit it the way you think you do and-”

“how are you gonna sit there and say i’m not charming?” wooyoung whines, screaming and crying as if yeosang told him he wants to leave him. “my charm is literally the thing that got us together! you just don’t want me to be slytherin because you are clearly hufflepuff.”

“i could care less about that, i just know that’s not where you belong.”

the chuckle that leaves you at their banter is quickly interrupted by a yawn, looking down at your phone to see it’s almost three in the morning; you’re surprised you’re still up to be honest.

getting back into the swing of school meant getting back on a good sleep schedule and it was hard to do that with how much your mind had been racing. 

memories that kept replaying of you and san from the past three weeks. from all the little dates:

“i really don’t know if we should be driving for ice cream in a blizzard,” you say doubtfully, san in your car’s drivers seat as he slowly makes his way down the block.

you only lived two blocks away from the best ice cream place in town and you made a grave mistake in mentioning that to san; he had you up and out of bed before you could even blink, throwing his hoodie at you with his dimples leaving you unable to say no. 

“one is bad enough,” you say, cold food in single digit temperatures and actively on the road as you ignore winter weather warnings. “but both? san, i think we might-”

“y/n, angel, c’mon now,” he say, his voice so sweet and smooth like honey. “do you think i’d ever do something to put you in danger?”

“well, we’re driving on an icy road in blizzard-like conditions because you need ice cream so...”

he scoffs at your teasing tone, keeping his narrowed eyes on the road before reaching over and taking your cold hand in his. 

“and we’ll get there in one piece, baby.”

the ice cream was worth the sheer terror of driving there, giggling when san taps the tip of your nose with his chocolate-covered finger and then moaning against his lips when the taste of his chocolate and your strawberry mingle. 

to bedroom euphoria: 

“i swear to god, y/n, you have the prettiest pussy in the fucking world,” san groaned, the compliment that, without fail, made you squeeze around him.

you were on his lap, his hands between your legs as he fingered you for the third time tonight; it was like a never ending cycle of pleasure, your heart so warm and fluttery because of his arms around you or his playful kisses pecking you before your eyes were rolling back at the feel of him inside you. 

the feel of his hardness under you that made you so badly wanna ride him. 

put your hand on his shoulders, look him with the growing confidence you’re slowly getting day by day, and watch his face as you sink down on him; but he only ever lets you playfully tease yourself, rub his cock on your clit and circle the tip around your slit before he’s pushing you on your back. 

“i know you wanna ride my cock, angel, i know you do,” he mumbles lowly, his smirk on your skin because he knows one day, he’d kill to see you bouncing on him. 

“but i think it’s about time i fuck the life out of you.”

to the little inklings of light and vulnerability that the man allowed himself to have with you, like during your last night together. 

“can i ask you something?” 

 your words are soft, mumbled and you don’t even think he would’ve heard you if it wasn’t for the fact your head was right on his bare chest. he looks down at you while mumbling a questioning “hm?”, eyes so attentive and soft, it’s no wonder you’ve fallen stupidly in love with him. 

“when we’re on campus again, can we... go to the cafe again together?”

he expected you to ask him something that would smack him back to reality like this, remind him that your time together (and thus, his soft boy act) is quickly coming to an end, but he didn’t expect that. 

he fully turns his head so he could look at you, a small smile on his face as he reaches for a piece of hair framing your face. 

“i think we can arrange that, angel,” san smiles, guilt ripping at his insides. “what made you ask that?”

you bite down on your lip as your real, genuine answer bursts at the seams, everything about san and the relationship you two have created making you feel as if you can be honest. 

“i don’t know, i just miss going,” you confess, your soft spoken voice causing his heart to squeeze; your pure honesty is one of the things that always hurts him the most.

“we’re only ever in my dorm now since midterms picked up.”

since he gained your trust enough for the “you up?” texts to start. since he began to just seek you out in the comfort of closed doors and get what he wanted from you. 

“i know, baby, i’m sorry,” he hums lowly, head bending down to press a gentle kiss on your shoulder; you never understood a shoulder kiss until san stated doing it these past few weeks. 

he doesn’t even mean to blurt out his next words. they just slipped out without him even thinking, so lost in the calm moment and your sweet presence. 

“i should’ve made more of an effort to see you like that,” he mumbles, knowing how wrong it was when he was treating you the way he was. only seeing you in the night and trying to avoid you in public. 

meeting other girls he got to blush so easily but didn’t look quite as pretty as you at other cafes around campus. he remembers the one day yunho saw him, the man’s tall presence difficult to miss. 

they both acted like it never happened and, sometimes, he wonders if that’s why you asked him if he was seeing other people right before break. 

“i’m sorry if... stopping that ever made you feel bad. i just got busy.”

i just established the trust that i needed.

i just knew that you’d answer when i texted you. 

i just had a feeling that, if i kept seeing you more and more and getting to know you opposed to your body, i’d be in the same fucking place as right now; his attempts proved to be useless anyway.

“no, no, it’s okay, i get it,” you smile up at him, ignoring the way your heart is pounding in your chest. 

you’re sure he feels it against his bare one but that doesn’t embarrass you anymore - how could it when he knows very well how much he effects you?

“it’s not even a big deal, i just thought it was... something else we could do. if you wanted.”

it doesn’t seem like much saying that but it was a lot for you. putting yourself out there for more in the simplest, more bare minimum way. 

and you thought for sure it wouldn’t have gone so wrong. 

you’ve really been wondering over these past few days if you’ve just overthought every little thing that happened. if those moments weren’t as sweet and monumental as your mind is making them out to be. 

because how could he switch up so fast if everything was genuine? 

how could he smile at you the way he did, be as soft and sweet and gentle as he was with you, tell you all the right things to make your heart feel so happy, just to forget about it all in less than a week?

ignore you as if you meant nothing to him and as if the past month didn’t even happen. 

maybe he wishes it didn’t.

maybe he was just bored.

maybe he just-

“jongho? you’re saying jongho is slytherin but not me?” wooyoung gasps, ripping your from your thoughts as you wish to never hear the term slytherin again. 

“if that’s what you think then, honestly, maybe we should break up. i’m sick over this right now. who else do you think is slytherin? huh?”

“you’re so dramatic, woo, god damn,” yeosang grumbles, just wanting one night of peace before always being reminded there is no peace with his boyfriend around. 

“who else is slytherin? tell me. humor me. enlighten me.”

you bite back a smirk just as you’re about to put your phone face down on the table, not being able to handle your racing thoughts anymore; it’s the first friday night after winter break, there’s no way he’s texting you tonight of all nights. 

“you know who i think slytherin? do you really want me to tell you?”

“i just said that, did i not bitch boy?”

you press your lips together so you don’t burst out laughing, catching the outraged, determined look on yeosang’s face like he’s about to make a life altering comment. 

“fine. if you really wanna know. i think, in a complete unbiased opinion, that-”

san.

you catch his name (well, code name) right before you put your phone down. staring down at it until you feel your heart pick up, that slow but steady hard pounding you can eventually feel in your ears. 

you know, even from the small, remaining high of your month together, that you should ignore this. 

pretend you’re sleeping, watch the rest of harry and potter while yeosang and wooyoung make you laugh through it and, at least for a moment, try to forget about the man who’s so bad for your heart.

distance yourself the very same way he’s doing because obviously, his need to see you and be around you isn’t the same as yours for him; that all goes out the window when, a few seconds later, he texts you two more times and your curiosity (if that’s what you wanna call it) gets the best of you. 

sam [3:11 a.m.] hi angel. 

sam [3:13 a.m.] what’re the chances ur up right now?

sam [3:14 a.m.] babyyyyy :(

you don’t even have to see or talk to him to know he’s drunk. 

it’s just an inkling you’re getting, deep in the pits of your knotted stomach that, of course, the first time he reaches out, he’s a shit faced mess. 

you can faintly hear wooyoung and yeosang in the background, still arguing about hogwarts houses and wooyoung’s rightful status. you can’t help but feel grateful for the distraction they have, knowing the five stages of grief just crossed all over your face. 

you also can’t help but be a little petty.

you [3:17 a.m.] no

it would feel good if you didn’t feel so shitty already. if you didn’t know for a fact that, somehow, someway, he was gonna be in your bed tonight.

“angel, why did you say no if you were very clearly up?” san asks for the 500th time, stumbling into your room as you trail behind quietly. 

you were half amused and half upset to see san in the current position he was in, flopping down on your bed with such comfort and relaxation, you feel embarrassed about how much you’ve been stressing over him.

thinking and overthinking and having your mind so completely plagued by him, just to see him laughing and smiling at you like nothing ever happened. like he didn’t just make you crazy with doubt and confusion over the past week. 

he had only had to beg a few times over text to get you to agree to his master plan: make his uber stop at yeosang’s to pick you up before you both escorted each other back to the dorm. 

you knew yeosang and wooyoung were suspicious when you said you were gonna leave for the night, yeosang asking if you were sure and he thought this was a a sleepover while wooyoung looked at you with such disdain, he may as well have called you a stupid bitch. 

you also knew that that would mean coming to your room with him, even though you felt the most horrible pit in your stomach staring at the drunk, emotionally draining man in your bed. 

how could he manage to make you feel, both, the happiest and saddest you’ve ever felt in your life?

“what are you doing over there?” he mumbles, faintly aware of your figure lingering by the doorway. 

you hate that his voice still manages to make your stomach swoop, especially when he talks to you with that deep, soft almost whiney tone; you’re able to stand your ground for all of a few seconds, before his head turns toward you and he reaches out for you with a handsome, lazy smile. 

“baby, c’mere.” 

you hesitantly make your way over and sit like you wanna be anywhere else. you don’t even realize there’s a frown on your face until san taps at the lips he knows so well.

have longed to feel under his this week, amongst other places, but hasn’t had the courage to seek out. for reasons that make him scared and selfish. 

“are you mad?”

you look down at him to see him sprawled out under your blanket so comfortably, contently, black hair flopping messily over his forehead. a part of you wants to reach out and swipe at the strands, smile sweetly down at him and tell him that you just missed him.

have been been thinking about your month together and wanted some reassurance that you know he can’t give you.

but another part of you, the part that’s been hurting and doubtful and starting to sting with resentment, seems to taking over - he had been so sweet, made you feel so loved and comfortable so what was with the sudden change?

and why is back to acting in ways that hurt you? why are you even letting him hurt you?

“why would i be mad, san?” you ask softly, hoping he’ll maybe give you some answers tonight - real answers, not just the stuff he knows you wanna hear. 

because he’s really good at doing that and you know deep down you have to stop falling for it every time. 

“i don’t wanna make you mad. or sad,” he says, his words slurring and hushed. 

you know you two shouldn’t be having a conversation like this right now. shouldn’t try to have any serious discussion right now that you put your feelings into just for him to forget or drunkenly disregard them.

but in an uncharacteristic fashion, san just keeps talking. 

“you should be happy, y/n. i-i want you to be happy.”

his words hurt even more because he’s the main reason you’re not. 

“i’m not mad or sad, san,” you promise him softly, the smile on your face saying anything but; you definitely couldn’t lie to him and say you’re not unhappy.

though what does it matter, given how much this man has lied to you?

if san was completely sober, maybe he would’ve caught it. saw how the words or the soft, sad smile didn’t meet your eyes and that the sinking in his stomach wasn’t from the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through his system. 

“you just... confuse me,” you admit softly, voice barely above a whisper as you peer down at him. 

you can’t stop your hand from swiping at those dark, tantalizing strands, the way a small, content smile crosses his face and his eyes close completely fooling you. 

he seems at peace with you. comfortable with you. like you’re someone he trusts and cares for and would never wanna hurt if he tried. 

so why does he? why does he time and time again make you feel like this? back and forth, back and forth, with doubt and insecurity before a quick burst of excitement and something that feels like love overcomes you.

“i don’t know if you mean to, or if maybe i’m just the one who’s confused ” you chuckle out humorlessly, not being able to stop the words pouring from you. ”but you do, san. a lot. you always have. i never know what you’re thinking or what you want from me and i... i i don’t even know what or why you-”

“it’s cause i want it that way, baby.”

the words die in your throat as you watch him below you, any trace of his soft smile or smirk gone. now it’s just this haunting look in his eyes you’ve ever seen before, never once seeing him look at you this way.

almost like it’s longing. or pity; you can’t quite tell and that scares you more than his next cryptic words. 

“i’d rather you be confused than disappointed. b-because you’re too good, y/n, you know that?” he mumbles, your gaze trapped on his making you feel worse by the second. 

“you’re t-too fucking good and expect too much,” he slurs, twirling one of the strands before pulling you down gently; it stings at your scalp ever so slightly. 

“and you’re definitely too good for me.“

“why would i be disappointed?” you ask, ignoring the ache in your chest because, finally, you’re staring to think he may be right. 

“i think...” he hiccups, shimming himself into your sheets like it’s his house and home. “we both know the answer to that, angel.”

tears burn the back of your eyes because it’s like you already know where this is heading. or where it has to head. 

you know that you had your time with him, whether it was genuine on his part or not, but that’s not what you’re about anymore. 

you know that he was your first insight into what dating and love and relationships are about. how they could be beautiful and exciting but also something so negatively consuming. 

how they could eat away at your mind and make you question every little thing about yourself and the relationship you’ve created. 

you know that whatever happens from here on out is most likely gonna destroy you (more than it has). you already feel the dread and hurt that san is gonna be quick to finish off and show you everyone’s been right about him. 

you know that wooyoung is gonna comfort you but not before telling you he told you so. 

“can i stay here tonight?” san mumbles, his eyes already closed and body lax against you; you predict there’s only about a minute until he falls asleep. 

you learned that his breaths get just a little bit heavier before he falls unconscious. 

you go back and forth about what to say, variations of it’s not a good idea because we know this isn’t gonna help either us, before he pulls you down beside him. 

your head just misses his as he throws his arm around you, moving you until you’re flush against his body and your inhaling the smell of his sweatshirt. it smells like a stuffy house party, beer that was probably thrown on him and the distinct scent of him you became far too enthralled by. 

you feel like it’s one of the last times you’re gonna smell him this close and it makes those burning tears come back, a knot in your throat as you finally nod your head silently. 

san mumbles something under his breath, voice deep and slurred as you catch your name at the end of the sentence; when you peek up at him, he’s already fast asleep against you.

his arms tight around you, breaths wafting over your skin and your singular tear breaking free that you just can’t acknowledge right now.

you wake a few hours later to the sun in your face and san’s arms still wrapped around you. warm and comfortable in his embrace, it’s the best you’d slept since being back on campus.

you hope it has something to do with the dorm’s heat kicking back on and not the company you’ve kept, your gaze shifting to see him looking down at you sheepishly.

there’s just a few beats of silence as you both look at one another, you still adjusting to consciousness and san trying to remember how the fuck he ended up here last night. 

he woke up relieved to see you both still had your clothes on, not sure how he’d feel about sleeping with you in the state he was is last night. 

about doing something so intimate and fulfilling, something he’s been longing to do since the second you two parted ways last week but didn’t allow himself the pleasure. 

because he doesn’t know what words or confessions would come out of his mouth in the heat of the moment, with his cock buried in your tight, wet pussy and you laying below him with such a sweet look of love in your eyes. 

he feels like a sick fuck to be getting hard the way he is right now. 

“morning, angel,” san says, once your eyes have finally adjusted and you smile at him in the late morning light. “i don’t remember how the fuck i ended up here if i’m being honest but what a pleasant surprise it was.” 

your heart sinks but you can’t even count the reasons why anymore. 

“you all but forced the uber to pick me up at yeosang’s last night because you were ‘drunk and vulnerable,’ and in need of assistance,“ you recall, air quotes around the words he drunkenly typed out last night. 

he smirks because that sounds about right, licking over his lips as he tightens his hold to pull you closer. 

“and of course you helped me in my time of need, angel. i can always count on you, can’t i?”

his words are teasing and you know they are but it still makes you feel stupid and embarrassed; he knows the power he has over you.

it’s becoming abundantly clear. 

you press your lips together so you don’t blurt out something you’ll regret out, gaze roaming his face before you ask if he remembers anything from last night. 

“not really, no,” he says, fear swooping in his stomach for a split second. “why? did i say some weird shit?”

call you a different name? 

blurt out a deep dark secret?

profess some undying love that he can’t (or won’t) confirm or deny just yet?

“no. not any weirder than usual,” you tease softly, not about to throw all of his weird, cryptic words back into the universe; that’s for you to overthink and mull over the rest of this week until you drive yourself fucking crazy. 

he narrows his eyes at your words before squeezing your hips teasingly, one moment beside him, gazing up at him, and the next above him. straddling his waist as he wears a playful expression that makes a smile pull at your lips. 

this is your favorite type of san. the playful, teasing, dimples poking out in the light of the morning sun san. 

not the hidden in the darkness, hushed words and “i can’t give you everything” san.

“oh? and what’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

you wanna tease back just as much, call him out for the weird sleeping habits you’ve became aware of or make fun of the strange voices he sometimes uses when saying certain words. 

you wanna go back to rolling your hips over him in the hazy daylight hours, like the mornings you spent having sex in your room until you couldn’t walk.

you wanna feel like for once in your life, the love you’ve longed for so deeply is finally being given to you by a man who doesn’t seem to believe in it. 

and because he’s sober now, he catches that fake smile that doesn’t meet your eyes and squeezes your hip with a concerned look on his face; it looks genuine, looks how he used to before you got back to school, but you can’t even tell anymore if he actually cares. 

you feel stupid even being honest when he asks what’s wrong. 

“for real, y/n, did i say something dumb to you last night?” san asks, getting increasingly concerned about the look on your face. “i usually don’t black out but if i said something, i need you to-”

“no,” you immediately say, blurting out so you fear it seems suspicious. “no,” you repeat, shaking your head with a small smile. “you didn’t say anything, i just...” 

you can’t get the words out at first, something on your face so scared and apprehensive, san feels his stomach in knots. he doesn’t know if he does it for his benefit or yours when his hand slowly starts running over your hip, cold fingertips grazing the warm skin of your stomach. 

it feels like electricity shoots through you at his touch, not realizing how much you missed it until your body is yearning for more; even with how much left over hurt and confusion you’re feeling.

you wish you could separate your annoying sexual attraction to him and growing emotional instability. it would’ve made this journey a lot less taxing on your heart.

“i though you were avoiding me,” you finally squeak out, the words just as pathetic as you suspected, you feel your face get warm. 

san’s eyebrows pull together, surprised you’re being as bold as you are calling him out like this. 

he had seen your messages and had meant to get back to you the first time. then the second time, then the third - but then the more days that passed, he had felt that panic and fear building in him at his desire to see you.

not even to have sex with you, just to see you.

he missed waking up with you. 

he missed eating with you.

he missed spending the days with you, talking to you about nonsense and laughing at how far away the conversation had become. 

but there was such a level of commitment and deepness in that that scared him more than it settled him. the high that he got from being with you not quite seeming to outweigh the panic and anxiety that came from being that deep with someone.

from acknowledging the feelings he has for you and just how far they seem to run - but, of course, because he’s a fucking coward, he’s not about to tell you any of this. 

he tightens his hold on you while wearing a frown, cocking his head to the side in confusion. or what he knows looks like confusion. 

it pays off being an expert liar, even to the girl he thinks he might-

“i know you probably weren’t,” you blurt out, an attempt at damage control due to the anxiety coursing through you and his deafening silence. “or, even if you were, that’s... i know being back at school is busy. but i just didn’t know, like... if we were still...”

you don’t know what to say without sounding like everything that scares him, not wanting to say if were still together or if we were still friends because you didn’t seem to be either of those things. 

he made it a point to hint at you guys never being together and you don’t think  friends do the types of things you two do. to the extent you do with the type of fervor that you have. 

maybe you should’ve just never opened your mouth. or told him to stay. or even started this shit with him in the first place. 

maybe you should’ve just listened to everyone and their-

“baby, i wasn’t avoiding you,” san says softly, his voice so gentle and sweet, anyone would’ve believed him. he’d probably somehow pass a polygraph test, or have the administer convince everyone the machine was broken. 

“i was just busy getting back on a school schedule,” san explains, also not even a lie because his sleeping schedule has been royally fucked since waking up at noon every day last month. 

“i saw your texts but just kept forgetting to answer. i’m sorry.”

you bite the inside of your cheek as your flush just gets deeper, now certainly feeling crazy and dramatic and so fucking embarrassed - you were adjusting to school too.

“n-no, it’s okay,” you say, shaking your head because is it? you really think there had to be more to it. 

“it’s not, angel, that was wrong of me,” he says, smiling when he catches the intense blush on your cheeks. his hands move up to cup your cheeks and you move to smack his hand away, feeling like 1000 degrees. 

“and if it’s okay, why do you look like a tomato?”

“shut up,” you whine, attempting to swat at his hands but san only getting more playful and teasing. like your freaky little confession didn’t scare him as much as you secretly suspect it did. 

“you do, though,” he says, your body writhing above him as a smile pulls at your lips. “right here. and here.”

he points at both of your cheeks with his cold fingers, his loud laughing echoing throughout your room. 

“i missed seeing them. i’m glad they made a timely appeara-”

you’re able to grab a pillow and smack him in the face before he can finish his sentence, his words muffled and a giggle leaving your mouth. 

you both turn into a flurry of sweet chuckles and flailing arms. your pillows lay on the floor and your blanket hangs half off your bed, you now on your back as san looms above you. 

his one leg is slotted between both of yours, broad shoulders above you as he looks at you with a cocked brow. 

“now that wasn’t nice.”

neither was you ignoring me for a week. 

“i didn’t do anything.”

his eyes narrow and you copy his movements, a smirk on san’s lips before the inevitable happens - his eyes drop to your mouth, pink tongue peeking out to lick over his dry lips, before he catches the hint of desire in your gaze. 

it never fails to hit him just how sexually attracted you both are to each other, a certain look in your eye and feeling in the air when you two are alone and in bed together. 

no matter how you’re both feeling, something sad lingering behind your eyes or his mind plagued by how shitty he is, you’re always ready for that pleasure.

even if it just numbs you both for a moment, has you breathing words into each others skin that one thinks too much into and the other barely means, it’s the best you both feel during the day. 

it feels natural and right and you two can’t help but long for it as much as you do. 

you’re scared by how quick the arousal and desire hits you, his bulge between your legs and the reminder of just how long it’s been since you last came hitting you hard in this moment. 

you wait for him to kiss you but he never does, just looks down at you and touches everywhere but where you need him most.

he pushes your messy morning hair back, plays with the strands and tucks them behind your ear before tracing your cheekbone softly. he roams over your face as if he’s trying to memorize it, like someone studying braille.

it feels meaningful and sweet, his movements so gentle, you can feel your stomach start to flutter. 

“are you gonna kiss me or not?” you mumble, san’s finger halting as his lips pull into a smirk. 

his finger moves from your face and down your lip before he’s trailing over your pulse point, feeling just how much it’s sped up on his journey down here. he’s not ignorant to the way his bulge is hard and straining against you, the pulse in your neck matching the one pressed up against him. 

“i’m gonna do a lot to you,” he promises, his words deep and teasing as he presses down on your neck. “i feel it, you know.”

you look up at him with wide eyes and he wants to chuckle when you start to grow red again, watching in amusement as you manage to mutter out “f-feel what?”

“how much you missed me,” he says, his hand tracing over your tank top and into the waistband of your shorts. he bites down on his lip when he’s immediately met with your wetness, remembering in this moment that you don’t sleep with any underwear on. 

“fuck, angel.”

you throw your head back with a whine when he immediately starts tracing your clit, movements slow and steady as he draws small circles. 

“spread your legs.”

the command and your compliance is immediate, your legs widening as much as your shorts allow. he takes that opportunity to slip a finger inside you, curling it as his thumb speeds up on your clit.

“mm, fuck baby, that’s so good,” he praises, another finger curling in because he wants his cock in you now. “so tight for me always. want my cock in you.”

“please,” you whine out, your hips moving along his hand because how does he get you like this so fast?

“ah ah, no yet, baby,” he chuckles, giving one last thrust of his fingers before pulling them out. 

he pulls down your shirt with one hand until your boobs are exposed, tracing your nipples with the wetness from his fingers. the cry of his name does everything to spur him on, finally moving to your lips after you so politely ask him to kiss you. 

it’s heated and sloppy and everything your kisses always are, clothes being discarded one by one until his cock is just grazing your hot, aching slit.

“please, san, please,” you beg, san circling your clit with his cock. 

he’s so hard, painfully hard and ready to bust the moment he enters you, but he loves to see you like this. writhing and whining and begging beneath him, nipples hard in the air and wetness dripping down your legs. 

all because of him - he knows one day, probably sooner than he thinks, he’s really gonna fucking miss this. 

his dick might not ever recover - he might have to only think of you to get hard now. 

fuck girls from the back even more often and imagine they’re you. bury his face into their neck and pretend it’s your vanilla scent in his nose instead of something flowery or citrusy.

he’s gonna have to pretend that he never ever felt this way before. that it was for the better he decided to break your heart.

“oh, my god, san,” you finally whine, voice high pitched and breathy as he finally slips inside you. 

he immediately moans as your tight walls close around him, his cock already buried so deep inside you, he knows he’s about to fuck the life out of you.

your legs wrap around his waist and you cry out at the sensation, his cock fucking into you so perfectly, you don’t know how you went as long as you did without it. 

“holyfuck, y/n, holyfuck,” he grunts out, his lips attaching to yours because he can feel those cursed three words on the tip of his tongue.

he kisses you so deeply, so roughly, his tongue attacking your mouth as he fucks into you like a madman, to ensure he doesn’t say it. to ensure that he doesn’t allow his pleasure and your wetness and cries of his name, that get him every time, to confess something he swore he never would. 

because the fears outweigh the good. 

all the good things he’s felt with you - happiness, contentedness, a fierce protectiveness and calmness he’s never quite experienced before in his life - couldn’t possibly outweigh the danger, destruction and everything he’s worked so hard to avoid.

he’s never failed at not falling in love before, hasn’t even come as close to whatever the fuck he got himself into within these past few months, and he can’t start now.

not with someone like you, who is obviously to sweet and fragile, although you take his cock and come like it was made for you. 

his favorite part of sex just a week before (apart from busting inside of you) came to be cleaning you up. 

gently wiping all the come and wetness between your legs before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his body. 

he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good for him to, if it didn’t become one of his favorite parts of the day, afternoon and night after having some of the most intense sexual experiences he’d ever had in his life. 

but he could actually feel the emotional toll it took on him, after the first time.

how he noticed your eyes get softer and smile get sweeter. how his heart ached every time you watched him do it with a sort of wonder your eyes, like you were shocked but delighted he was doing it. 

but he was most shocked by the intense way, after the first few times, that he felt the need to do; he couldn’t seem to rest easy or feel satisfied unless he did it. 

and now, as he’s pulling out of you, your breaths heaving and faces sweaty, he can feel that need coming back. his eyes going to reach for his discarded shirt and his body ready to flop down next to you. 

but he knows that’s the last thing he needs to do right now. not when he feels himself already disconnecting and shutting himself down from you.

all for good reason. 

and you would’ve felt it too if you weren’t so fucking happy from your post orgasm daze. if the sex didn’t just feel like what you two had been doing for the past month of your life and reminded you of the the happiest you’d ever felt. 

“that was...” you begin, breathless and winded as you expect to see san beside you. 

your stomach immediately plummets when you see him standing up and searching for his clothes, his head turning to you before his face lights up with a smile.

“fucking amazing?” he finishes for you, reaching over to peck a quick kiss on top of your head. “always, angel. always with you.”

always with you. as if it’s not amazing and just merely mediocre with someone else. 

you shake the thoughts from your head as you smile at him, watching as he pulls on his boxers and jeans as he hovers over you. 

“thank you for letting me stay, angel. i’m sorry if i ruined your night.”

not my night, just my life. 

“you didn’t,” you smile sweetly, shaking your head before blatantly looking him over. “but... do you already have to leave? i thought, maybe... we could get food or something.”

“when we’re on campus again, can we... go to the cafe again together?”

he expected you to ask him something that would smack him back to reality like this, remind him that your time together (and thus, his soft boy act) is quickly coming to an end, but he didn’t expect that.

he fully turns his head so he could look at you, a small smile on his face as he reaches for a piece of hair framing your face.

“i think we can arrange that, angel,” san smiles, guilt ripping at his insides. “what made you ask that?”

the conversation hits him like a freight train and it takes everything in him not to crack, his eyes twinging with that same look from last night, something like longing or pity, before he reaches down for your hair. 

“i’m supposed to meet jongho for training at 11,” he says, just about the only truth he can give you right now; the two men meet there every saturday morning. 

you don’t even realize the pout in your lips until he’s leaning down to peck it away. 

“i’m sorry, baby. another time, maybe?”

if, maybe, now means never. 

you smile softly because you have a sinking feeling that maybe is just to be nice, only nodding because that pesky lump is making its way back in your throat. 

san’s gaze roams over your face and looking at you has never made him so sad, an unfamiliar tightness in his chest - he doesn’t wanna leave you but he knows he has to. 

he’s not good for you and you’re not good for him; if this was just sex it’d be fine but it’s very clear that it’s not. was clear from the very beginning that this probably wouldn’t be for you and now that it’s hitting him too, he knows this can’t be any longer. 

“thank you again, angel,” he finds himself saying, bending down to meet your gaze with ease. “for always being there. i appreciated it more than you know.”

tears burn the back of your eyes and you wonder if he realizes he used the word in past tense, the ache growing so painful and deep in your chest. 

you don’t speak because you know your voice will crack so you only nod again, san looking down at you as if he’s waiting for your answer. he’s back to being unreadable, eyes blank, face stoic, and you’ve never hated his ability to mask more than right now. 

while you’re about to completely break down and he’s just... staring at you emotionless. 

“you... you really can’t stay?” you ask quietly, voice barely above a whisper as you do this one more time. just one more time, you promise yourself, and then you’ll never try again. 

“you’ll only skip this one...”

a humorless laugh chuckles out of him as he shakes his head, knowing he has to get out and get the fuck out fast because there’s a weird sensation building in the back of his eyes. 

“i can’t, angel, i already missed because of break,” he says, a sad smile on his face as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “you really made me slack off, you know?”

he’s teasing and playful and it’s never been more sad than it is now, san looking over your face one more time, with a little something more behind his eyes, before he leans in and place a gentle kiss on your cheek. 

“i’ll see you around, y/n.”

his gaze hasn’t left you since he returned your paper, completely unnerved by how easy it is for him to just so confidently and cooly have a person trapped under their presence without even doing anything all the while you’re a warm mess.

“i… i’m sorry again. for hitting into you.”

“don’t be,” he smiles, the dimples that poke from his cheeks about to be the final thing that does you in. “maybe i’ll see you around, y/n. careful where you walk.”

you watch him turn and walk to your door with a sinking feeling in your chest, completely naked and vulnerable as you sit up in your bed. 

“wait,” you say, watching him stop in his tracks and seemingly debate if he should turn around; but his only other choice would be to ignore you and he’s not quite sure he could start that while still being in the same, sex-smelling room as you.

he turns and looks at you with his dimple poked out, his quiet “yeah?” sounding like it was spoken over an intercom. 

“i... i have this... thing, i guess, on saturday. not today saturday but next saturday,” you ramble, a smirk fighting to make its way on his mouth - what thing are you talking about? 

“if you’re free, i would really like if you-”

his phone ringing pierces through the air and successfully cuts you off, something holier than thou in the air saving san again. he’s not surprised to see it’s jongho calling at the strike of 11:01 a.m., turning his screen to you so you can see the boy’s name.

“he’s gonna scream at me,” san chuckles, his heart in his stomach as he looks over you. “we’ll talk later, angel, okay? i gotta go.” 

you somehow knew that wasn’t gonna happen. and that, the next time you saw him, you’d never wanna talk to him again. 

if you thought the first week back from school was bad, you completely underestimated choi san’s power to continually destroy you. your body went into what you could only guess was survival mode, every waking chance you get filling your schedule with pointless shit to do. 

to distract yourself from just how devastated, used and betrayed you were feeling.

you had done assignments four weeks in advance for your classes including a 10 page midterm paper and your part of a group project. 

you reorganized your room to a borderline psychotic degree, color coding your closet and changing up the orange boho theme of your room to a soft, muted pink. 

you hung out with wooyoung and yeosang with almost no objection, something both of the boys were pleased about but also slightly suspicious of - you at least turn them down for dinner once during the week. 

the final straw was how fast you agreed to go to a party tomorrow night, wooyoung throwing the idea out there and hiding his surprise when you seemed to perk up a bit. 

“that’d be fun,” you said with a smile, something so happy and extraverted in it, even yeosang side eyed his boyfriend at your reaction; they both figured since you have your show on saturday that you’d wanna stay in tomorrow. 

but they didn’t know just how much you were hurting inside, truly falling apart at the seams and grappling with the heart ache that was wrecking your chest. 

because ever since that night last week, after san fucked you and left you alone again, you hadn’t heard from him again. not once, not even when you texted him a few days later asking if he was free for lunch and not even after the hour of midnight.

you looked out for him on campus but didn’t even see him there; it was funny how you guys used to bump into each other all the time and now you never seem to catch him during the day.

you were expecting to maybe see him tonight at the party, waiting for wooyoung and yeosang to show up at your dorm building. 

you remember when your main motivation to go to these for one thing and one thing only - seeing san and getting that warm, giddy feeling of excitement brewing deep in your chest.

but now, the thought of seeing him tonight, made your heart sink. 

because the power he has over you is coming to a head and just making you feel bad. you know he’s just gonna put on that mask and smile at you (if he even acknowledges you at all) and end up in your bed later that night with false promises and fake looks of affection.

they have to be fake. because you can’t imagine he actually cares for you and would still treat you like this. 

“let’s goooo bitch!” wooyoung yelps, his head out the car window and a look of, both, amusement and distaste on your face; maybe you could’ve had a different distraction tonight, like starting a new show or journaling your pathetic emo feelings. 

you take a few steps toward the car before wooyoung speaks again. 

“go around,” he says, craning his head toward the other side of the car. “we have a surprise in the backseat.”

your stomach doesn’t have to drop because you know never in a million years would wooyoung surprise you with his roommate, making your way around the car with a look of confusion on your face. 

“woo, if you’re trying to bring your grandma to another frat party, i’m gonna have to respectfully-”

you open the car door and are surprised by the way your heart jumps, a familiar, handsome face with blonde wavy hair; the last time you saw him, it had been blue but they both somehow to fit him so well. 

you can still see the kindness and warmth in his eyes. 

“not a grandma,” hongjoong says in a amusement, a smile pulling at his lips as he ushers you in the car. “nice to see you again, y/n.”

tipsy off one drink, it was hard for you to notice just how good you and hongjoong got along. it was like no time had past with the man, going back to your spot outside once wooyoung and yeosang inevitably disappeared. 

you have a feeling they might be pulling the same stunt as last time. 

“are you thinking what i’m thinking?” wooyoung mumbles to his boyfriend, you and hongjoong chatting across the table with sweet shy smiles and wandering eyes.

“that i wanna go home?”

“besides that,” the man whines to his boyfriend, nodding his head toward you.

yeosang turns to watch you and hongjoong with a smile, very much liking this arrangement instead.

he got a good vibe from hongjoong immediately, everything about the man genuine and pure. his passion for music was obvious as well as his kindness, even with his teasing eyes toward wooyoung showing clear affection and warmth.

it’s a much better alternative to who he thinks you were looking for when the party started tonight, something he’s gonna keep from wooyoung for now.

“i ship it,” yeosang declares, turning his head back to wooyoung. “they look sweet together. hongjoong’s the charismatic musician she needs.”

“right! and not the dick-ish kind. he’s an authentic one. will write her songs and poetry and shit.”

“will you write me poetry?”

“yes. but only if you follow my very discrete and sneaky plan so we can give y/n and hongjoong some alone time. and i know she’ll feel comfortable enough with him so i’m not a bad friend, don’t worry.”

regardless of your best friend’s intrusive ways, having hongjoong by your side tonight seemed to be exactly what you needed. the complete change in having someone so sweet, attentive and caring. 

someone so interested in how you’re genuinely feeling and what you’ve been doing, you’re not quite sure hongjoong is even a real person. 

“so, how have your classes been?” hongjoong asks, the two of around the roaring fire; it warms him face so nicely, his blonde hair the warmest tone of yellow. “you’re an undeclared major, right?” 

a smile covers your face that you can’t control. 

“yeah,” you say, a soft nod of your head and you will yourself not to blush for once in your life; you can’t stop the baffled chuckle that leaves you. “i can’t believe you remember that.” 

hongjoong’s eyebrow raises and something about it makes your stomach swoop; was he always this handsome and flirty?

“what, you think i’d forget?” he teases, his body moving ever so slightly closer to you. “do you remember mine?”

“well, yeah, of course. music,” you say, because how on earth could you forget something like that? “but that’s cool. of course i’d remember that.”

instead of him laughing the way you hoped he would, his lips only pull into a sad smile as he shakes his head. 

“yours is cool, too, y/n,” he says, seeing that your nerves and self depreciation is still very much prevalent four months later. “i missed hanging out with you... you know. all of you, really,” he says, as if to save himself a little.

“i wanted to read out to woo but never knew if i should.”

you don’t know if it’s from the fruity drink or because you hadn’t seen him in so long but you love how easy he is to read. his eyes have always been so soft and clear and pure, it’s like you can see this man’s kind soul right through his eyes.

there’s nothing deceptive or dark or something that makes your stomach twist in pain. he’s just... good. and you’re not used to that these days.

you’re not sure you would know what to do if you had that but it’s nice to think about for a minute. 

“of course you should’ve,” you squeak out, not even realize what you’re saying as the words come out. “we mostly just go to dinner or watch movies if we can get wooyoung to stay in. but it’s fun. i... i think you’d like it.”

“i think i would too,” hongjoong smiles, biting down on his lip as he sees a way in. 

when he first met you, he didn’t wanna pressure you or come on too strong; it was obvious you were scared, hesitant and just generally uncomfortably in your surroundings. 

but after not seeing you in so long, his mind going back to you ever so often in your absence, he would hate to miss this opportunity to see you more now; even if it just meant hanging out in a group, although he wants to try and take you out just once. 

“you still with that san guy?”

the mention of his name makes your heart squeeze, your eyes wide and heart starting to pound as you look over at hongjoong. 

“w-what?”

the blonde can’t help but feel like an asshole for blurting that out after seeing your reaction; but he’d saw how possessive the stranger was of you, how he looked at him like he’d been taking something that belonged to him instead of someone who was an individual. 

everything about it had made him feel uncomfortable. 

“last time he pulled you away,” hongjoong says, “i didn’t know if you guys were together or...” the man trails off, the look in your eye causing his heart to ache. he has a feeling something happened and that the storm lingering in your eyes has everything to do with it. 

“i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said anything.”

you push all those feelings aside as you take in hongjoong’s apologetic face, shaking your head as you smile at him softly.

“no, it’s okay,” you insist, watching his eyes shift between emotions. “i... we’re not together. we never were. we were just... friends, i guess.” 

hongjoong feels relief flood through him at hearing that, still not sure how to approach this but knowing, he at least wants to try; he’s intrigued by you because you’re sweet and kind. because you seem so selfless, pure and loyal and he wants to be someone who gives you that right back.

he’ll be the first to admit he’s been pining over you since the night he first met you.

“well, if that’s the case, no pressure at all, y/n, i just...” hongjoong knows he has to be delicate, the very same way he was when he was asking you for your number that time. 

“would you wanna maybe go to dinner or watch a movie, just us? i’m totally cool hanging out with you and woo too, i just... couldn’t help but ask,” hongjoong says, an awkward chuckle bubbling out of him. “since, you know, i might not see you for another four months.”

a soft giggle would’ve left your mouth if your body wasn’t pulsing with fear and excitement, someone as sweet and as cool as hongjoong asking you out right now. 

the man you’d done nothing for in the slightest, just talked and gotten to know and even rejected giving your number too, but him still being so kind. his eyes are swarming with a look of fear and insecurity that you now all too well and it tugs at your heart. 

hongjoong’s too good for you the way you’re starting to see you may be too good for san.

so why do you want them both? why do you wanna accept hongjoong’s invitation while also still being so tortured by san? why are you wrapped so tightly around san’s finger when you know you have to break free and-

“shit, i’m sorry, y/n, this was a terrible fucking time to ask you,” hongjoong says, taking your silence and blank facial expressions as a huge fuck no. 

“we just finally saw each other again after months and i throw this on you. woo thought it’d be a good idea because he knows how much i’ve been wanting to take you on a date but-”

“no,” you blurt out, stopping hongjoong from blabbering on in a flustered, uncharacteristic fashion; his face drops ever so slightly and you rush to finish your sentence. 

“i mean, yes,”  you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “yes, i’d... like it if we hung out. i missed hanging out with you too, hongjoong.”

it’s like you told him he’d won a small lottery prize when a smile lights up his face, his lowly spoken “really?” causing you to giggle quietly. 

“really,” you say with a nod, a mix of emotions swirling through you; he’s not san but he’s better and you have to get it through your head that those are the facts. 

hongjoong’s sweet. hongjoong’s kind. hongjoong’s safe. 

he might not elicit the same strong reaction of desire and intrigue in your body but you know for a fact he’d be good for your heart. even if it’s just one shot at a date - which reminds you of hongjoong’s last few words. 

“wait... did you say wooyoung told you to ask me?”

and speak of the devil who rushes outside and directly toward you, taking one look at hongjoong’s look of guilt and embarrassment and knowing, somehow, he’d spilt the fucking beans. 

“hongjoong, if yeosang wasn’t puking his god damn brains out right now, i’d kill you for being such a fucking idiot.”

“i didn’t mean to, it just slipped out.”

“wooyoung, do you make it your life’s mission to embarrass me or something?” you whine to your best friend, looking over at him with a pout on your face - how could he tell hongjoong to ask you out (although he claims he already wanted to). 

“well, look, it worked okay!” wooyoung says, leaving yeosang on the front porch steps to gather youboth. 

“hongjoong was pining over you really fucking hard, like lowkey almost pathetic and weeniesqe, and you’re... going through something so it seemed perfect but anyway! yeosang has been puking since we got here so i called an uber. i told him he has to rest for your show tomorrow so i-”

hongjoong turns his head to you with a confused look on his face, embarrassment swarming your cheeks at your best friend’s stupid loud mouth.

“show?” hongjoong asks with intrigue, a smirk on his face at the color of your face. 

“it’s nothing big, one of my professors just-”

“chose her work out of a thousand students on campus to be featured as a tortured, up and coming artist tomorrow night? yeah, it’s kind of a big fucking deal, kim.”

you let out a sigh as hongjoong’s smirk grows into a big smile, nothing more amusing than a sassy, borderline obnoxious wooyoung. 

“she didn’t tell you?” wooyoung asks, not sure why he’s surprised you wouldn’t be boasting about it. 

“she didn’t,” hongjoong says, side eyeing you with a mock look of disdain. “not even when i asked how her classes were going or if she had anything else planned for this weekend.”

“sorry. you were too busy asking me out.”

a snort leaves him and wooyoung that causes you to giggle in return, a tooth in your lip as hongjoong shoots you a look that causes your heart to jump; it’s shy but playful and everything about it brings back that giddy feeling just a little bit. 

maybe this will be good for you. it’s a different kind of giddy but it feels... nice.

maybe hongjoong’s exactly what you need to restore your faith in everything and make you forget about-

“the show is in the commons from 7-9,” wooyoung says, inviting hongjoong before you can think about getting the words out. “you better be there, joong.”

you elbow wooyoung roughly and hongjoong smirks in amusement. 

“i have an audition at 8 but i’ll be there right after,” hongjoong smiles, watching the way you’re about to protest before he shakes his head. 

“don’t even try it. i’ll be there, y/n,” the blonde says, his words firm but sweet. “and then maybe, i can take you out after. if you’re up for it. i know how draining being an artist can be.”

you giggle with a roll of your eyes, wooyoung watching the sight befoer him with a growing excitement. 

“yes. love this. artist love. artist passion. how sweet,” wooyoung says, clasping the back of your shoulder tightly. “but unfortunately, my idiotic love is currently puking his fucking guts out all over the front steps so we gotta go, like, now. hongjoong, are you staying?”

the blonde nods as he tells you he was meeting people from his classes here as well, his gaze never leaving yours. as if, if you asked him to come, he wouldn’t think twice about telling them he had to go. 

but you only smile and nod your head, sharing shy smiles and pink cheeks as you tell him you’ll see him tomorrow; you’re barely away from wooyoung before you’re smacking him in the arm roughly. 

“are you serious, wooyoung?” you whine, making your way through the gate as your eyes search for yeosang. “why didn’t you just tell him i’m desperate and that you’d give him money for asking me out?”

wooyoung rolls his eyes as he, too, searches for his boyfriend, spotting him hunched over on the steps. 

“oh, get over yourself, y/n, he wanted to take you out the first night he fucking met you,” wooyoung says, dragging you roughly over to yeosang. “now help me. this motherfucker didn’t even drink so i don’t know what he’s puking for.”

“way to call your dying boyfriend a motherfucker, maybe i should-”

yeosang turns over to puke his brains out into the bush beside him, a grimace on your face as you think about the clean up charge you’re about to get in the uber. 

“y/n, seriously, i’ll ask jongho to stop over if you want me to-”

“wooyoung, if you ask again, i’m gonna kill you.”

the art show wasn’t as nearly terrifying as you thought it’d be; you were more scared when you woke up this morning and wooyoung told you yeosang was sick with a horrible stomach virus.

maybe cause you already woke up so defeated in the first place, a shitty nights rest coupled in with a phone call you absolutely didn’t wanna have leaving you empty inside. 

any time someone came up to you and complimented you work, you feared they would see just how little progress you made getting out of that sad, dark headspace. 

because art and mental health are about growth - doing little things day by day that make you feel better. make you feel proud of the work you put out or the person you wanna become.

you’re beginning to question the kind of person you are, your mind so consumed by last night, you’re beginning to realize you’re sick of being weak.  

the second your eyes spring open, the vibrations next to your face like an earthquake, you somehow already know who it is. the clock reads 3:08 am and you know any call at this hour is a bad one.

a tragedy, an inconsiderate telemarketer, a man who thrives off you being so weak and vulnerable for him, he doesn’t seem to ever know when to stop. 

“hello?”

“hi, angel.”

that nickname just makes you mad now. 

something that once filled you with such happiness and butterflies now making you see red; the next few seconds are as silent as you room, san thinks you’ve fallen back asleep.

“y/n?”

you’re frustrated by the tears that threaten to prick your eyes, wondering what the fuck this man wants from you. he’s breaking you and he has to know it. why can’t he just stop?

“what san?”

he can hear the exhaustion in your voice. not the exhaustion from the hour, from him interrupting your sleep as always, but from him. from what he’s doing to you and from what he’s too scared and selfish to end with you. 

now it’s his turn to be silent, whether it be him not knowing what to say or the harsher tone of your voice. 

“what do you want?” you finally ask, the lump in your throat approaching fast. “i was sleeping san. you... you always do this.”

“i’m sorry, angel, i was just... thinking about you,” he says, thinking about you more than he cares to admit this week. “i didn’t see your text until the next day and-”

“it’s okay,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear any of the fake shit that’s about to leave his mouth. “it’s fine. i- i don’t care.” 

he bites the inside of his cheek at how hurt you sound, regretting in this moment even calling you. he didn’t know what he wanted to say to you, just found himself going to your name out of habit, and now he really doesn’t know hearing how upset you sound.

he wants to comfort you but he thinks it’s past that point now. 

“i’m sorry, y/n. fuck, i’m so sorry.”

tears burn your eyes and you think he might be a little drunk. not wasted to the point he was the last time you saw him but something definitely in his system to bring that guard down a little. 

“i don’t wanna hear that anymore from you,” you tell him, shaking your head because how many times is he gonna say that and then continue to hurt you. “i... i’m so tired san.”

you’re tired because it’s 3 am and you’re tired because he’s draining you.

you’re tired because you have a great date tomorrow with a man who actually seems to care abut you and is kind but you’re still crying over him.

you’re tired because you know if he asked you to come over right now, you’d open your door to him despite the way you’re on the verge of a complete emotional breakdown. 

“i know, baby, i’m sorry i shouldn’t have called. i just...”

he wracks his brain with anything to say to you. anything that will make this class not as pointless and selfish as it is in this moment.

“the other night, before i left,” he says suddenly, as if his brain is lighting up with an idea or recollection. “you mentioned... something happening on saturday? not this saturday but next,” he says, mimicking the words that you rambled out. 

you don’t know how to feel about him remembering, something pulling in your chest; you can’t quite tell if it’s happy or sad. if you’re holding one to one last bit of hope or frustrated beyond belief. 

“what is it?”

you bite the inside your cheek as you debate about telling him, knowing how easy it would be to telling him nevermind or nothing and have him forget entirely. 

but maybe that feeling, that stupid foolish feeling that broke your fragile heart, is one last bit of hope after all. 

“i... it’s this art show type thing. not a big deal, my professor asked if one of my paintings from class could be featured,” you tell him, your voice soft from sleep and shaky from nerves; you’ll never not feel weird telling people about this. 

“i have to go because wooyoung thinks it’d be good. i... some people are coming and i was gonna ask if you wanted to but i don’t think that’s-”

“i’ll come.”

his words don’t make you feel anything at all - excitement or anger or that stupid fucking hope that’s continually failed you. you just feel like an empty shell at this point, knowing this is the first lie san is gonna tell you tonight. 

“really?”

for the first time, san can’t gauge your voice; it sounds like it should be surprised or hopeful but you only sound drained. maybe even a little sarcastic, like you don’t expect anything from him.

and why should you honestly?

“yeah,” he says, “what time is it?”

you grapple with the feelings inside you that are trying to protect you, two sides pulling viciously, your head and your heart, before you let out a sigh - who cares anymore? 

if he comes, he comes. if he doesn’t, he doesn’t. 

“the commons from 7-9.”

“i’ll be there,” he says, thinking he’s lightening the mood when you mumbles out his second lie of the night. “you’re my favorite girl, remember y/n? how could i not be there?”

“there’s only forty minutes left, y/n, maybe i should just-”

“wooyoung, go,” you whine, nearly pushing your friend away from you and toward the door. “yeosang’s sick and wants you the most when he’s like that. you’re being mean to him.”

it was dirty and you knew it but it worked because no less than two minutes later was wooyoung out the door and you were left alone.

there were only a few stragglers going around and looking at the artwork, your professor going back and forth while shooting you with soft, sympathetic looks the whole time. 

you’re surprised she didn’t refer you to some outside counseling, given the way she’s been looking at you. the way you’re sitting behind the desk with your head down and fingers intertwined, cracking your knuckles every so often. 

you just want this to be over. 

you want to act like you never invited people to this stupid thing and you never wanna see that stupid, sad depressing painting ever again. 

you just want to-

“sorry i’m late.”

you look up to see hongjoong with a soft smile on his face with eyes directly on you. 

his hair is slightly windblown as if he’d run here and his backpack, presumably for a keyboard, looks to be half the size of him but he looks so happy to be here standing in front of you.

his eyes take in your painting with an admiration you’d only ever seen in regard to your body, hongjoong looking from it to you like he doesn’t know what to say. like you’ve completely stunned him speechless. 

“i might be biased, y/n, for obvious reasons,” he says, a smirk pulling at his lips. “but that’s the most beautiful thing i’d ever seen.”

your cheeks turn pink and you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of your chest, something fluttering so deep inside your stomach, you don’t even think about how san never showed.

“okay no but you’re like a real artist,” you tell hongjoong, the two of you walking down the street to a popular bar restaurant less than an hour later. 

you were in a completely different headspace than when wooyoung left, a pep in your step and happiness radiating through you; hongjoong’s presence was something truly powerful, his calmness and goodness just so pure, you couldn’t help but feel better. 

but not even hongjoong will be able to calm the storm you’re about to encounter, completely and blissfully ignorant as you smile and giggle with him; he holds the door to the crowded hot spot open, thanking him quietly as he follows behind you. 

“did we not just come from your art show?” hongjoong asks, holding up two fingers when the hostess catches his gaze. “i merely had an audition. you were already set.”

you roll your eyes as you push him lightly, his eyes catching yours as you bump arms gently. 

that’s exactly how you walked over here. arms bumping, fingers grazing, the conversation so sweet and teasing, you wish this is how your dating experiences were. 

calm. sweet. pure. nothing like the fucking disaster you were used to dealing with. 

the server calls you over and hongjoong guides you the same way he did during that party, his hands respectfully on your shoulders and his mouth mumbling in your ear. 

“just wanted to let you know our specials are...”

on the walk to your table, you catch the black hair out of the corner of your eye. messy from hands running through it, wavy just the way you like, you couldn’t help but turn your body to really see it for yourself.

and there it was, finally for you to see.

choi san sitting there, a girl in his lap and his arms wrapped around her waist, as he makes out with her like he’s done it a thousand times before. 

(part 11)

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#does making y/n a tortured artist make her ten times more pitiful #yes absolutely #also #i couldnt bother to proofread the last 80% #so pls lmk if there r bad typos jvfdvkd #san angst #san fluff #san #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #san x reader #ateez x reader #san imagines #ateez imagines #san scenarios #ateez scenarios #san series #ateez series