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huangrens · 11 months

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one, two, three | l.dh

genre ❥ highschool au, best friends to lovers, rom-com

pairings ❥ nerd! donghyuck x cheerleader! reader

word count ❥19.0k (my longest fic ever can you believe it)

synopsis ❥ In which you devise three different ways to get your best friend to fall in love with you, but things never really go quite as planned.

warnings ❥ none! it’s tooth-rotting fluff. the both of them might be a bit frustrating at times but this might be my favourite haechan out of all my fics so far :)

info ❥ please let me know what you think about the individual scenes. also i let myself go a little crazy over the entire running theme of literature and little women in this one

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that any unattached high schooler in possession of decent grades, must be in want of a relationship.”

The way Karina says it confidently amuses and impresses you in equal measure, but Ningning only scoffs. “That is most definitely not what Austen wrote. Don’t let Mrs Kim hear that.”

Mrs Kim is the literature teacher for your entire level, a kindly woman in her fifties who’s lenient with assignments. You think she’s much too passionate about classics to be stuck teaching a few hundred teenagers who can barely comprehend the intricacies of classical writing, but life has a funny way of putting people in places they’re not meant to be.

Besides you, of course. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be. The first table from the left of the canteen, nearest to the food line, and directly under the air-conditioning. It’s also exclusively reserved for the cheer team, while the opposite is for the rugby team.

You never thought you would subscribe to something as ridiculous as a canteen seating hierarchy, but you’ll gladly reap the benefits.

One thing that might be nice, however, is if the meal options were improved. You’re not sure how well pasta salad and a carton of lukewarm milk is supposed to sustain you the entire day, but it’ll have to do for now.

Maybe you’ll drag Donghyuck for a ramen run later. Speaking of which.

“Have any of you seen Donghyuck?” you ask, and there’s a chorus of shaking heads from the rest of the team, before Ningning pouts, looking at you. “Him again? You’re always asking about Donghyuck,” she teases, and you roll your eyes. “That’s because I can never find him,” you mutter, before putting down your cutlery. There’s no longer much of an appetite, especially when you have more important things to do.

When you stand up, Karina raises an eyebrow, and you grin. “I’ll be right back.”

The din from the canteen becomes softer once the glass doors close behind you. Your sneakers are squeaking against the shiny floor, noticeably conspicuous due to the silence. There’s only one place even quieter than the hallways during lunch break, and it’s like there’s a direct path guiding you to Donghyuck.

When you spot a familiar bag resting on the floor, you smile. “Bingo.”

It takes less than ten seconds for you to reach Donghyuck’s desk, and another five for him to realise you’re standing there, hands resting on your hips. He blinks, before setting the book in his hands down gently. “Oh, hey. Take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the empty space opposite.

The boy’s dressed in his usual black hoodie and ripped jeans, white reading glasses resting gently on his nose. He had picked them out a few years ago in a shop, after you had finally convinced him to do something about his color vision. The glasses suit him more than you expect, and it’s refreshing seeing them compared to his usual preference of contact lenses.

You slide into the booth opposite until you’re facing him, chin in hand. “You’re reading on lunch break?”

He sets down the book the moment you sit down, pushing away his things to make space for your elbows.

Donghyuck’s the epitome of a model student to you, considering his stellar grades and position as president of student council. It’s not in a way that’s overbearing, but rather plain and simple - the boy is just more intelligent and capable than the majority of people in his age group.

Still, reading on lunch break seems like a bit of an anomaly, considering he likes food as much as you do.

“I’ve got a council meeting after school, but I need to finish this reading for English. Which is why I’m slaving away,” he sighs out, and you look away, humming in thought. “Need me to get you food? I was going to ask you out for a ramen run, but I guess you can’t do that now.”

He shakes his head. “Nope, I’m good,” he assures, and you arch an eyebrow.

“You sure?” You’re looking at him intently now, voice distrusting. Donghyuck looks as if he’s hesitating.

“Gimbap…would be nice,” he admits, and you smile triumphantly. “Got it.” There’s a perk in your step as you rise from the table and tell him you’ll be right back.

By the time you buy it and deliver it to him, the bell rings, and you’re left saying a quick goodbye before Donghyuck rushes off. It’s harder seeing him when he gets busy, but you chalk it down to the fact that during slower months, an inordinate amount of your time is spent with Donghyuck.

And when you finally finish cheer practice in the evening, you notice a plastic bag resting next to your backpack. Opening it makes you grin slightly, immediately seeing one pack of your favourite ramen and a marinated egg, along with iced coffee.

“Who’s that from?” Karina asks, and you grin slightly.

“Donghyuck.”

You can’t hide the smile on your face when you say it.

The first time Donghyuck got a job, he couldn’t shut up about it.

It’s funny the more he thinks about it, considering it wasn’t even really an actual one - his mother had offered two dollars an hour for him to make sure the dog didn’t trample on her precious flowers.

But for twelve-year-old him, it seemed like the most daunting, impressive task he had been given, one that he was determined to embark on with fervour.

It took less than four days before he realised how aimless it was, and spent more time sitting on the porch with his Switch when his mother wasn’t looking.

But Donghyuck supposes he doesn’t particularly regret taking on the below-minimum-wage job, not when it allowed him to meet you.

“Is this your dog?”

Donghyuck checks twice to make sure his game progress is saved before looking up, only to be greeted by the sight of a girl no older than he is, hair tied in a neat ponytail and a white sundress reaching down to your knees. “Um, yeah,” he mutters, voice not unfriendly but awkward in the way that most boys his age are.

He may be extroverted, but Donghyuck quite literally has no idea who you are, considering he’s never seen you in school. Besides, the only person he’s interacted with all this summer is Jaemin, who occasionally invites him over to play Super Smash Bros. “What’s her name?”

“Bambi.”

You wrinkle your nose at his reply. “Why would you name your dog after another animal?”

His posture straightens imperceptibly, somehow feeling the need to defend himself against your judgement.

“Why not?” He challenges, watching as you hesitate slightly, before seeming to acquiesce, giving Bambi a few affectionate pats on the head. At your silence, Donghyuck sets his gaming console down, elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward.

“What’s your name then?”

You look at him, as if almost surprised at the boy’s curiosity. “Y/N. L/N Y/N. I just moved into the house next to yours,” you reply, Bambi now sitting obediently next to your shoes.

Donghyuck’s not sure whether to be disappointed that your name isn’t weird, but instead very pretty. The syllables are unfamiliar, but they roll off his tongue nicely.

He’s not sure if you’re as fascinated by his name as he is yours - Donghyuck isn’t a particularly unique name, but he can’t stop himself from practising calling yours, until even his mother notices it at dinner.

That summer, you spent a lot of time with Donghyuck - the heatwaves kept most people inside and there weren’t many places a twelve-year-old could go on their own. You quickly got used to stuffy afternoons spent in his living room playing card games, or having Donghyuck attempt baking cookies with you in the kitchen.

And when the holiday ended, heralded by the beginning of autumn, you found yourself still sticking to Donghyuck, even as the both of you navigated a new school year and branched out into different friend groups.

Six years later, the both of you were still side-by-side, even as other classmates came and went and your sixth-grade school uniforms gave way to a lax high school dress code.

On the brighter side, Donghyuck’s area of employment has improved - he’s now making much more than minimum wage helping to transcribe songs for a local indie label, and it’s a job that he enjoys plenty, considering how he’s allowed to take home a few extra albums each month that don’t sell.

It also helps that the employee benefits are good, and the manager, Johnny, is pretty chill with whatever Donghyuck does as long as it’s not a direct violation of company policy. He suspects it’s because the man grew up in Chicago, and is long used to troublemakers. Here, Donghyuck’s job is simple - to help make good music, and he’s fulfilling it to the best of his ability.

You find Donghyuck in his usual position at the counter, headphones over his head and an unplaceable tune escaping from his pursed lips. His fingers are drumming to an invisible rhythm that you can’t hear, but you watch him with a fond smile on your face anyways.

He’s only played snippets of his own work here and there for you, but the boy’s talent is undeniable. Still, Donghyuck only casts you an indulgent look of appreciation each time you tell him he’s just as capable of starting a career as the artists he’s helping.

You don’t tell him that you secretly think he’s even better and would buy his records over anyone’s any day.

When you tap his shoulder, Donghyuck spins around in his chair, hand placed over his heart for theatrical effect. “You scared me,” he says, and you only grin. “Came to drop off the stuff you needed.”

He takes the bag from you, peering inside before looking back up and smiling gratefully. “You’re an actual lifesaver,” he gushes as he takes out the extra discs and a badly-needed charger, along with a change of clothes.

“I know,” you reply smugly, and Donghyuck rolls his eyes. He’s already used to the back-and-forth bickering between the both of you, but he’s thankful nonetheless, knowing that you must have dropped whatever task you were busy with to rush down to the store.

Until your phone buzzes, and you pick it up with a concerned glance, wincing apologetically as you gather your things. “Sorry. Karina called an emergency meeting. I’ll see you after work?”

Donghyuck nods, watching as you shove your phone into your tote bag. Right as you turn to leave, however, he places a hand on your elbow, halting your steps.

It’s only then that he notices the claw clip in your hair, a transparent one with little flowers dotted throughout. He doesn’t usually see you with your bangs pushed back, not since middle school, when your mom forced you to get that one bad haircut.

But it looks much better now, and Donghyuck finds his throat turning dry at the sight of you, before he remembers what he had planned to do.

Being the naturally affectionate person he is, Donghyuck has placed soft pecks on your cheek before, often followed up by you quickly shoving him away. But he hasn’t done it for almost a year, for the sole reason that if he allows himself to kiss you on the cheek, he might just want more.

He’s not sure what it means, the way his heart strangely twists each time he looks at you, in a way that’s both pleasurable and painful. It started when you had ditched practice to accompany him on the school rooftop, just to listen to him complain about the new student council treasurer.

The way you had thrown your head back and laughed at his never-ending rant, elbows linked with him as you swung your feet over the edge, taking a sip of the strawberry yoghurt drink shared between the both of you.

Donghyuck doesn’t even remember what he was angry at Jisung for, only that you looked extra pretty that day.

And it’s moments like this where he wants to kiss you even more, and he can’t be bothered to try and hold himself back any longer.

To his surprise, however, you don’t react with your usual expression of disgust, instead remaining silent, your wide-eyed expression searing itself into his mind. It fills him with a quiet, brimming sort of anticipation, and he swears your gaze darts to his lips, just briefly. Maybe if his kiss just shifts a few inches over-

Donghyuck’s train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the door opening, signalling a customer. You quickly pull back, and he tries not to make his irritation at the disturbance too obvious.

“I should go,” you say to no one in particular, before grabbing your tote bag and rushing through the glass doors of the store, the bell signalling your departure. He finds himself smiling at your frazzled state, and wondering if it means something. If it means that he might have a chance, no matter how minuscule.

He doesn’t even realise the corners of his lips are tilted up, until Johnny comes out from the storeroom, the new equipment balanced in his arms.

“Did something good happen? You look pleased,” the taller man comments, looking over at Donghyuck who runs his thumb over the tote bag you left for him.

The younger boy only grins in response, a sort of plaintive expression on his face as he casts a longing glance at the door where you had just been moments ago.

“Yeah. I guess you can say that.”

The realisation hits you at nine on a Friday evening, and it’s surprisingly easy to swallow. You’re going to fail math.

You shove the textbooks in the corner of your shelf, vowing to never pick them up again. However, the exam date that sits on your calendar circled in red serves as a reminder that you’ll likely have to take your words back soon, if not immediately.

When the doorbell rings, it’s the perfect distraction for you.

Spending time with Donghyuck at the end of each week has quickly become a welcome respite from the monotony of school, and you’re buzzing with excitement as you rush down the stairs.

“I’m not sure why you still ring the doorbell, considering you just come in by yourself,” you say, as you pour the popcorn out into a bowl and hand it to him. Donghyuck shrugs. “Courtesy. Just in case you need time to hide a dead body or something. What movie are we watching today?”

A grin makes its way onto your face at the question, and Donghyuck’s eyes flood with suspicion before he lets out a groan of exasperation. “Do you not get tired of watching it?”

You shake your head, smiling. It’s the sixth time you’ve made him watch Little Women, and despite the fact that Donghyuck doesn’t take literature, you think he might be starting to grow partial to the movie.

It’s coming close to midnight by the time the end credits roll, and your bowl of popcorn lies empty on the table.

“I still think Jo and Laurie are meant to be, by the way,” he points out, and you whip your head towards him indignantly from where you’re seated on the couch, legs thrown over his lap. “You’re wrong,” you retort. Despite the late hour, both of you are surprisingly alert. You from the two coffees, and Donghyuck because- well, he pretty much survives on three hours a day.

“But he’s just settling for Amy.”

“Amy makes Laurie a better person, that’s why they’re together. Jo and Laurie would never work out. They’re meant to be best friends, not lovers,” you explain, watching as Donghyuck’s expression shifts to something unreadable.

“But there’s so much passion between the both of them. Don’t you-” he mutters, before leaning over, “-want something like that?”

His question weighs heavy on your mind as he moves closer, until the both of you are a hair’s breadth away from each other.

The sudden loss of distance between you and Donghyuck makes your breath hitch, the air charged with an unfamiliar tension, one that leaves your heart racing. You have no idea what it is, other than the fact that Donghyuck is much too close for comfort. He looks almost disappointed when you stand up abruptly, narrowly avoiding spilling the drink in your hand.

“I- I’m going to get more snacks,” you stutter out, barely gathering your composure before you rush off to the kitchen. When you’re inside, however, you quickly place your hands over your cheeks, eyes widening in alarm when you realise they’re warm.

You’re blushing. For some god-awful reason, being with Donghyuck has made your heart rate speed up and your face flush, which can only mean one thing.

You’ve fallen sick.

There’s only another possible alternative, and you really don’t want to consider the implications of that.

“Y/N.”

At the sound of your name, you turn around, the perfect image of a deer caught in headlights. It’s only then that you notice Donghyuck’s dressed in a loose band tee and sweatpants.

It’s an outfit that you’ve seen him wear a thousand times, and yet, you can feel a nervous lump form in your throat at the sight of him.

“You were taking really long in the kitchen. Is something wrong?” he asks, eyes curious as he looks at you.

Your mouth feels like it’s full of sand as you struggle to find the words to explain. “I- I think I’m sick.”

At that statement, concern becomes apparent on Donghyuck’s face as he strides over to you, placing a hand gently on your forehead to track your temperature. The sensation of his palm against your forehead floods you with regret, however, for the sole reason that you feel like you’re about to go into cardiac arrest.

“Your temperature feels fine. Do you feel unwell anywhere?” he questions insistently, but you’re too dazed as you continue to lean against the kitchen island, the marble cold against your back.

You need to get out of this situation. Immediately. You duck abruptly, Donghyuck’s palm falling from your forehead to his side.

“I just remembered I have an assignment I need to rush,” you hastily blurt, and he makes a confused face at your change of topic, before shrugging. “I can help you,” he suggests, and you shake your head aggressively at that.

“It’s okay. I’m really good at math.”

You’re lying. It’s a blatant lie, and from the way that Donghyuck stares at you, you know he knows that it’s absolute nonsense. But he seems to relent, perhaps due to your frazzled appearance.

“Okay. Take some Panadol or something if you’re not feeling well. I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Yeah. See you,” you breathe out, watching as he turns away and exits the kitchen.

The front door clicks shut reassuringly a few moments later, and you let yourself sink to the floor in relief.

Donghyuck doesn’t message you for the rest of the night, something that you’re grateful for. Despite his physical absence, however, the boy resolutely refuses to leave your mind, even as you force yourself to clean up the coffee table and return the snacks to their designated places on the pantry shelf.

It’s only when you’re standing over the sink, red popcorn bowl between your two hands, that your cheeks darken again at the thought of him moving closer to you, eyes searching yours in the darkness of the room.

The both of you have had hundreds of movie nights at this point, the catalogue almost emptied and favourite movies repeated over and over again. Like how the both of you always force each other to watch The Conjuring on Halloween, Donghyuck still screaming at each jumpscare despite how he knows what's coming. The end of the midterms means watching The Kissing Booth, even if you poke fun at him for it.

You don’t mind repeating them over and over again, because it’s Donghyuck. Even sitting with him in complete, utter silence would be enjoyable.

The glow coming from the living room catches your attention then, and you trudge towards the couch to grab the remote before realising that you and Donghyuck never finished the movie before you freaked out and he left.

In a split-second decision, you decide to press play, the house dead silent save for the dialogue between both characters. You only realise seconds later that it’s the scene on the hill, the one where Laurie confesses to Jo.

You’re unable to tear your eyes away from the screen, the scene suddenly feeling a little too real, meaning something more than the previous times that you’ve watched it. Destined to be friends, never lovers. That was exactly what you told Donghyuck.

But you’re starting to think that you might be dead wrong.

You’re quickly learning that while Karina and Ningning may be encouraging during practice, they’re not as supportive when it comes to your personal life. The latter is staring at you with an expression of disbelief on her face, while Karina simply lets out a tired sigh.

”So…the answer’s no?” you ask, a tinge of hope still sneaking in.

“No, Y/N, you can’t be allergic to a person. That’s not how it works,” Ningning states, looking at you as if you’ve gone mad. “Who even is this about?” Karina asks, and you wince slightly at the question.

“Donghyuck,” you finally admit after long enough, nervously taking a sip of your juice.

“Sounds to me like you just have feelings for him,” Ningning interjects, and you set down your bottle, looking at her. “Not possible.”

“More possible than you being allergic to him.”

Karina’s words successfully shut you up, and you sink back into the chair. “Okay. Maybe I like him. A little bit. But it’s never going to work out,” you whine.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re friends, and he- how can I like a boy who spends more time looking at his gaming computer than me?”

“Most boys like gaming. Jeno’s the exact same, if you haven’t realised,” Karina retorts, and you reflexively turn your head to the other table, where the middle linebacker sits. Contrary to his intimidating exterior, the boy is surprisingly nice, and a good boyfriend to Karina. You’ve never seen her happier, except for the day when they became an official couple. But no matter.

“He likes physics, Karina. Physics. The boy tried to give me a lecture on thermodynamics. What part of that is attractive to you?”

She winces at that, and you bask in the momentary feeling of victory, before Ningning interjects. “Opposites attract. You’re an arts student, and he’s in science. A match made in heaven. You’re just scared you’ll get rejected, won’t you?”

And as always, Ningning hits the nail on the head directly. The fear of rejection feels all too real, especially when you know that Donghyuck has barely even shown an ounce of interest in anything romantic with anyone, let alone you, the girl who’s been his best friend for close to a decade.

You’re sure that he cares for you, but all and any affection he feels is strictly delineated within the insurmountable boundaries of platonic friendship.

You’re silent, staring off blankly into space until someone settles next to you. Giselle, youngest member of the cheer team but scarily good at tumbling, enough for you to take one look at her and sign her acceptance slip. She warmed up to you quickly after the both of you had been paired up for a group project, and the girl’s quick to notice the sombre atmosphere in the air.

“Boy problems?” She asks, looking at Karina, who nods, angling her chin towards you. “Let me guess - you like Donghyuck but you don’t think he reciprocates your feelings,” she states, and your dejection is briefly replaced by incredulity. “How did you know?”

“You’re terribly obvious, Y/N. There’s only one boy in your life - consider the fact that you’ve completely ignored the advances of half of the guys on the rugby team?”

“They don’t make any advances,” you mutter. Sure, Minhyung may have lent you that one umbrella, and Yangyang’s always asking for your notes in History, but that doesn’t mean anything.

“That’s because everyone quickly gave up after seeing you and Donghyuck,” Giselle explains, and you run a hand through your hair, before regretting it slightly when you realise it’s likely messed up the styling that you had done.

“I just- I swear I didn’t feel anything for him like three months ago. But there was that one time he sneaked into my class to take notes because I had a headache, and also he’s just so-”

“So?” Ningning leans over, waiting for you to finish the sentence, and you close your eyes in embarrassment out of what you’re about to say.

“-attractive. He’s so attractive,” you confess, watching as Karina bites back a laugh. You’re not entirely sure when exactly Donghyuck started taking a specific interest in fashion, figuring out more ways to style his hair than simply letting it fall over his glasses.

“I guess, for a physics nerd, he is cute,” she acquiesces, and you sit up indignantly. “He’s not a nerd! Do you know he can play the drums? And he’s really good at singing.”

Karina leans back reflexively at your outburst, mischief glinting in her eyes as you sink back down. “This is so embarrassing,” you whine, letting out a groan of anguish as Ningning looks on sympathetically.

At your forlorn expression, the youngest cheerleader turns to you and grabs your hands in hers, like some sort of messiah.

“Do you trust me?” Giselle asks, and you nod hesitantly, even though you can’t help but feel like you’re being led into some sort of trap.

“I’ve seen this work hundreds of times. If you do this, I promise Lee Donghyuck will be in love with you by the time winter break rolls around,” she promises, and you suck in a breath at the prospect of it, of getting Donghyuck to see you in a light that isn’t friendship.

Winter break. That’s six months away, which is a little under two hundred days. Barely a fraction of the time you’ve known Donghyuck, but it’ll have to count. “What do I have to do?” You ask, and Giselle grins, her smile reminding you a bit of a comic villain.

“Just three things. Simple, really.”

#1 LEARN ABOUT HIS INTERESTS (PREFERABLY FROM HIM)

The first one is easy. You know Donghyuck’s likes and dislikes from memory, from his personal preferences to the things that make him uncomfortable. He’s easy to please in terms of music, though he gravitates more towards smooth, sultry vocals compared to your playlists of upbeat pop. With regards to food, he’s especially nice to you when you buy him chocolate biscuit snacks, and the only thing he can’t tolerate is celery.

His favourite subjects? Physics and math, though if he had to pick an arts, it would be music. His hobbies include singing, gaming and playing the drums, which he somehow manages to fit in despite the already jam-packed schedule that makes up his life.

When you had duly recited that to Giselle, she hadn’t been sure whether to be concerned or impressed. But she wanted you to take it a step up, which was why you were now in Donghyuck’s room on a Sunday afternoon, arms crossed as he stares back at you.

“What the fuck?”

“Why not?”

Donghyuck shakes his bangs away from the sides of his face, before frowning. “You’re literally the last person I would expect to have a remote interest in Overwatch.”

He’s right, but you ignore that. “I’m…trying new things,” you excuse, watching as he wrinkles his nose slightly before shrugging. “Sure. Sit over there,” he instructs, pointing to the gaming chair. It’s comfortable against your back, and you’re starting to understand why he’s able to spend hours cooped up in his room during holidays.

Donghyuck’s desk is surprisingly organised, besides the empty coffee can abandoned beside the keyboard. Lying in a corner are his files and schoolwork, while the stationery sits on a shelf above. If you force your eyes upwards, you’ll land on a familiar photo frame - one that quickly elicits a smile.

There’s a large Ferris wheel in the background, and right in front, two small children. You’re holding a stick of cotton candy that’s larger than your face, while Donghyuck has one arm around your shoulder and the other grasping onto a teddy bear.

He had won that for you with his pocket money in second grade, and the same bear still sits in your wardrobe, albeit a little dustier. It’s not like you don’t have plenty of other photos as well. There are the ones from Donghyuck’s performances when he was in the school band, and those of you and him during your first cheer competition.

Donghyuck’s there, on every page of your life, like a watermark. Feelings aside, you’re not quite sure what you would do without him.

Your thoughts are disrupted, however, by him leaning over to set up the computer. Donghyuck’s eyes are focused on the screen, and it’s likely why he hasn’t realised how close you are to him. From where you’re sitting, it’s the perfect vantage point to observe Donghyuck’s side profile, lit aglow by the brightness of the screen.

You hate the way your heartbeat speeds up involuntarily, gaze lingering on his jawline and the freckles that dot his cheeks. They always return during summer, only to fade away once the weather turns colder.

The realisation that you find your best friend ridiculously attractive is hitting you straight in the face, and it’s terrifying.

An hour later, you’re sitting on Donghyuck’s bed, gaming console in hand. You’ve established Overwatch as a fruitless venture, and the boy in question looks down at you, amused. “That was only two games. Do you want to try League?”

You shake your head vehemently in resistance, slotting in the game disc to prove your point. He looks as if he’s not quite sure what to do with you, only moving towards his desk to bring a few snacks over.

“I’ve only ever seen you play Overcooked,” he points out, and you roll your eyes. “That’s because it’s the only one I’m good at.”

However, when you take into account the amount of time that you’ve been playing Overcooked, the achievement diminishes. When you first started, Donghyuck would be the only one helping to clear the first few levels, while your goal was simply to not get in the way.

Now, you’re able to keep up with him decently, though he still gets a much higher score in individual matches.

Donghyuck lets out an exasperated huff, but there’s a smile on his face. “I appreciate it, you know,” he says softly, and you turn your head. “What?”

“Overwatch. I know you wanted to try for me,” he says, and you let out a groan, before sinking into the pillow behind you. Of course he’s figured you out. You suppose you should have planned it better, considering the number of times you’ve complained about having to wait for him to finish his games. “At least I know I’m never going to play it ever again.”

Your voice comes out muffled from beneath the blanket, and you miss the way Donghyuck’s eyes cloud over with fondness as he looks at you. “It’s okay. You’re still my best friend, even if you can’t get three star-rankings on your own- ouch.”

He lets out a grunt of pain as you land a well-aimed elbow in his ribs, placing a hand over his stomach and collapsing onto the bed. “You’re so dramatic,” you complain, pushing him off from where he’s half-sprawled over you.

“You’re so mean to me. I still love you though,” he mutters, pinching your left cheek gently with his free hand. You try your best to not make your expression too plain on your face. “Love you too, I guess,” you say, though it comes out more as an incoherent mumble, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

#2 MORE TIME SPENT TOGETHER IS BETTER THAN NONE

You’re not sure how much more you can fulfil task #2, considering the only times you aren’t with Donghyuck are when you’re in class, at practice, or sleeping. But Ningning is quick to denounce your claims during the break, when all of you are sprawled on the gymnasium floor.

“Best-friend activities don’t count, Y/N. You need to go on dates. Things that can be seen in the context of romance,” she clarifies, and you lie back down, exhausted.

It seems having to manage your feelings for Donghyuck while attempting to woo him is quickly becoming a full-time commitment.

You let out a sigh, getting back up once the coach calls to start.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You did, in fact, do an extraordinary amount of planning.

The autumn festival holiday was around the corner, which meant a few different things. The most important one being that student council went on a break, leaving Donghyuck with precious spare time to rest.

Unfortunately, he was not going to have those three days completely undisturbed, thanks to you.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Donghyuck comments as he follows behind you, hands tucked into his coat. You grin slightly, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We’re almost there. Just be patient.”

However, when the both of you round the corner, you immediately see Donghyuck skid to a halt. “Oh no. Definitely not.”

He’s staring at the ice skating rink with a mixture of fear and apprehension, and you let out a laugh.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to try this?” you ask, and he whips his head towards you. “I meant it as a joke. You know I can’t ice skate,” he mumbles nervously, rubbing at the back of his head, and you grab onto the sleeve of Donghyuck’s jacket, pulling him along despite his complaints.

Despite his reluctance, the both of you are quickly on the ice, skates securely strapped to your feet.

It’s a petty sort of consolation to know that Donghyuck isn’t perfect. It’s even worse, however, to know that despite his inclinations to annoy you to death and steal your food, you still have the biggest, most embarrassing crush on him.

You skate up behind him, pausing to observe the boy step carefully over the ice. His posture reminds you a bit of a duckling, and you have to hold back a laugh. Despite how clumsy his movements are, you can’t help but find them endearing.

“Need help?” You ask once you’re next to him, and Donghyuck grumbles slightly before nodding and extending his hands. “It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it. Try not to walk on the ice. It’ll just make you more unsteady.”

There’s a warm feeling of pride that floods you when you see your best friend attempt to take the advice dutifully, gradually getting closer to gliding on the ice. You try not to focus too much on how his fingers are interlaced tightly with yours, palm fitting perfectly in your grasp.

“I think I’ve got it,” he says after a while. There’s a cocky grin plastered on his face as he looks at you, and you scoff slightly. “Why are you still holding on to my hand then?”

His gaze darts down abruptly as if suddenly realizing that his fingers are still interlocked with yours.

“For security,” he replies teasingly, the corners of his lips tilted up.

You try not to make your bewilderment too obvious at his response. Donghyuck teases you plenty, but you’re not sure whether this crosses into the realm of flirting, except for the fact that it leaves your heartbeat unsteady.

“You’re really flushed. Are you okay?” He pauses when he realises you’re not following behind him, eyes warm with concern.

You paste a shaky smile on your face. “I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, but you’re hoping he’ll let it pass. The boy in front of you seems to pause in thought for a moment, before looping his arm through yours and pulling you out of the rink. “Wait, but our slot isn’t done yet-”

Donghyuck doesn’t reply you, too busy shrugging off his denim jacket as you stare at him in confusion. “There’s only ten minutes left anyways. We can go get hot chocolate,” he suggests.

“Also, wear this,” he mutters, and you feel something warm draped over your shoulders. Donghyuck’s jacket is a little too big on you, but it’s comfortable, with the faint cottony smell that you’ve grown to identify with him. “Thanks,” you mumble softly, your own voice tuned out by the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears.

You’re so fucked.

When Donghyuck first met Zhong Chenle, he thought he was going to go deaf. It was like the boy was constantly speaking out of a megaphone from his sheer volume.

He once told Chenle that he heard him more than he saw him. The boy had only responded with another ear-splitting laugh. But Donghyuck still enjoys having him around, for the main reason that Chenle’s the only one capable of co-opting with him and not being complete dead weight - Jisung’s pretty hopeless, and Jaemin’s often too tired from training to log on.

“Donghyuck. Do you want food?”

He had given up on getting Chenle to use honorifics a long time ago, the boy either excusing it with the fact that he was foreign, or that Donghyuck acted like he was younger anyways.

“Let’s get Chinese takeout. Loser pays,” he replies, and Chenle immediately nods in assent, switching his mode over to single-player.

It doesn’t take long for the ‘game over’ screen to flash up at Donghyuck, and he flings his controller to the side, Chenle turning around with a smug grin on his face.

“Don’t sulk,” he scolds, pinching Donghyuck in the side, who currently has his face buried in the pillow. “I’m not sulking. I just can’t believe I lost to a seventeen-year-old,” he grumbles, before fishing out his wallet and passing it to Chenle.

It’s not the first time he’s lost - the score is pretty even between them, and no one’s keeping tally, but Donghyuck just likes to be dramatic. He thinks it’s one of his talents, the innate quality of over-emphasising every small thing to draw a reaction out of anyone.

And of course, his favourite person to pester is you. Chenle’s in second place, but that’s because the boy sometimes annoys him even more in retaliation. You’re not capable of annoying Donghyuck even if you tried, because he’s used to every tendency of yours. You only whine when you’re tired or embarrassed, and even that’s more cute than exhausting.

“Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you something.”

Donghyuck remains silent, but a nod of his head indicates for Chenle to continue.

“Is it true that everyone gets together in senior year?” he asks, and Donghyuck furrows his eyebrows, considering the question. He supposes there’s Jeno and Karina, Giselle and Yangyang, and in the previous year there was Hyunsuk and Haeun-

“Oh. I guess so? Plenty of people at least.”

“What about you, then?”

What about him? Donghyuck wondered for a brief moment, but the answer wasn’t hard to figure out. He liked you, but he was too much of a coward to ever say anything, because all the words seemed to get stuck in his throat whenever he tried to open his mouth.

“Oh. Not everyone, I guess,” he realizes, and Chenle scoffs. “Is it because no one likes you?”

Donghyuck’s eyebrows raise in annoyance. “I’ll have you know people like me plenty,” he retorts, narrowing his eyes at the younger boy, who only grins even wider.

“Like Y/N?”

“You- how do you know?” Donghyuck thinks this might be the first time Chenle’s ever caught him off guard, the boy’s eyes betraying a certain sense of mischief.

But Chenle avoids his question, instead leaning his head down until it’s hanging off the bed, his eyes staring intently at Donghyuck. “Have you confessed?”

At the boy’s silence, he hums in conclusion. “I guess not. You know, if you even want to stand a chance, you should do it now.”

Donghyuck stiffens at his words. “What do you mean?”

“There are so many more guys at university. And if anything, Y/N’s going to be one of the most popular people there.”

He knows that. For God’s sake, Donghyuck is the best example of the magnetic effect you have on others.

But he was the first. That has to count for something. “It’s fine,” he mutters doubtfully. “It’s not like she hasn’t received confessions before.”

Ha Sungwoon in freshman year, who wrote you a love letter and placed it in your locker. Kim Youngjae from the tuition academy, who was your deskmate for three terms during the summer holidays. And just last year, Kang Taebin, a guy two years older who was a fellow part-timer. Donghyuck had called him a creep three minutes after you had called to tell him about the confession you received, and you had simply laughed before assuring him that it was a rejection on your end.

He remembers each of them clearly, like little pegs on a post arranged chronologically right on top of one another.

And right at the bottom, Lee Donghyuck, who started feeling butterflies in his stomach at the sight of you when he was fifteen but was too scared to admit it until two years later.

“Maybe she’s waiting to date in university. What are you going to do if she actually gets a boyfriend?”

“Be happy for her?” The way Donghyuck’s voice lifts at the end makes it sound like a question, reflective of the confusion he feels swirling in his heart.

It only takes a few seconds for him to realise the idea of having you date someone else causes his mood to dampen considerably, and from the way Chenle purses his mouth, he doesn’t believe Donghyuck either.

But Donghyuck’s only known how to be your best friend, not anything more or anything less.

Yet, if you have to make time for a boyfriend - he feels himself seize with panic at the idea of possibly drifting away from you, of having to make way for another stranger, for another man to love and know you more than he does.

In an ideal world, Donghyuck would move with you to a little island where there was no one else, the kind that both of you promised each other when you were kids. But that’s not how real life works, and he’s starting to realise that the chances he has are running out as quickly as the time left in the year.

Chenle seems to fall silent, watching the minute shift in expressions on Donghyuck’s face, and the latter suddenly feels too vulnerable, too seen. He shoves Chenle’s shoulder - gently, but enough to regain some control over his free-running emotions and inject some confidence into his voice.

“What do you know, anyways? You’re just a kid,” Donghyuck says, looking towards his phone gratefully when it lights up with a notification.

“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” he sighs out. “I’m going to get the food.”

But as he walks down the long hallway towards Chenle’s door, the marble floor cold against his bare feet, Donghyuck finally admits to himself that the younger boy is dead right.

At this point, you feel like Karina and Ningning might be more invested in your love life than you are. With the newest addition of Giselle, it’s like they’ve renewed their passion in finding ways to help you.

“So? How was the date?”

Giselle looks over at you expectantly from where she’s seated in the booth. The four of you are in a mall, and you’re starting to regret having agreed to go out. It was an invitation to be interrogated on your progress (or lack thereof) with Donghyuck. “He fell,” you mutter.

“For you?”

“No. On the ice.”

You hear Ningning’s exasperated sigh before you see her face. She looks like she’s about to commit murder, and you smile, albeit apologetically. “He gave me his jacket. And bought me hot chocolate.”

Karina lets out an encouraging hum. ‘That’s good…isn’t it?” You shrug, more nonchalant than disappointed. “I’m not sure. He’s definitely being nicer, but it’s still no indication. It’s probably just because I paid for the tickets,” you reply.

There’s a collective silence that descends over the table when your food comes, only broken when the heaping bowls of pasta are cleared halfway.

“Then I think we should go for the third tactic. It’ll be harder, though,” Giselle says, a sharp sort of conviction in her voice as she gazes at you. “What is it?” Ningning asks, and the brown-haired girl smiles proudly.

“Na Jaemin.”

Ah, Na Jaemin.

Where should you start?

If perfection exists in a person, Na Jaemin just might be the closest thing to it. The star quarterback is the school’s pride and joy, and you’re quite sure he already has multiple full-ride scholarships secured.

And unfortunately, unlike the cliches, he’s one of the sweetest people in the level, with a smile bright enough to light up any room. Sure, Jaemin might occasionally borrow your homework to copy, but he always makes it up by sending over lecture notes and iced coffee. The both of you are almost like colleagues, considering you’re there to cheer at each of his games and have seen every single touchdown he’s made.

Now, the athlete is sitting in front of you, a Starbucks cup in hand. His drink is a concerning shade of dark brown, almost black, and you’re too scared to ask him what it is.

“How did Giselle convince you to do this?”

“She didn’t have to. I thought it would be fun. Besides, Donghyuck’s a cool guy,” he replies, and you narrow your eyes.

Giselle nods encouragingly. “See? It’ll be a great idea.”

The way she and Jaemin are looking at you makes you feel like you’re the crazy one for doubting the plausibility of the idea.

“It’s the oldest trick in the book, Y/N,” she comforts, and you exhale hesitantly, before nodding.

#3 THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER AND CUPID ARE NOT SO DIFFERENT

It’s a yearly occurrence at this point, but that doesn’t mean you don’t partake in it either. People flooding to the atrium of the school, towards the large corkboard with its neat rows of printed black text. There are some who are jumping excitedly, others…not so excited.

At least the waterworks haven’t begun, which is always a good sign. You’re scanning the board until you find your name, the number next to it eliciting a soft sigh of relief.

The top thirty of the level. Decent enough to keep your parents happy, even if they’ll definitely ask you how Donghyuck did.

His name is printed in glossy letters right near the top. Second place is every student’s dream, but he’ll probably complain about it to you later. Both he and Renjun have been fighting tooth-and-nail this year for first place, even if they’re technically good friends.

It’s only when you’re at your locker that he appears, backpack slung over his shoulder. “I saw your rankings. You did well.” There’s a glimmer of pride on his face, so genuine that it causes your heart to flutter imperceptibly.

Despite his perfect grades and records, Donghyuck’s never made you feel less than him. Instead, he’s the one who’s waiting for you after every performance, and spending countless afternoons tutoring you in the library. “Thank you,” you say softly.

“By the way, the autumn fair is this weekend. We should celebrate,” he suggests, and your heart stops for a moment. This is it.

You inhale nervously, before looking at Donghyuck. “Actually…”

“If you can’t make it because of practice, that’s okay-”

“I’m going with Jaemin.”

Donghyuck falls quiet at your admission, and you almost wish you had bitten your tongue. His jovial expression looks slightly dimmer now, as he throws a glance at you.

“Na Jaemin? Suddenly?” The tone feels almost accusatory, and you bristle slightly. “Yeah. He asked me. Sorry,” you breathe out, watching Donghyuck carefully as a thousand emotions pass over his face before it returns to careful neutrality.

“Okay. Cool. I’ll see you next week then,” he replies, voice clipped, before turning on his heel.

“Wait! Donghyuck!”

You immediately rush after him, and the boy pauses for a few precious seconds, glancing at you hopefully.

”Aren’t we going for lunch?” You ask, and his shoulders sink back down, as if disappointed. The expression in his eyes is unreadable for once as he gazes at you. “I forgot I had a council meeting. You can go ahead,” he excuses, not waiting for your response before rushing out of your sight.

There’s a pang in your heart at Donghyuck’s cold tone, and you’re starting to wonder if Giselle’s plan is backfiring terribly as he walks further and further down the hallway, without sparing you a glance.

Maybe you’re overreacting. He’s likely stressed by the upcoming end-year projects that the council is planning, along with today’s results. This barely means anything compared to the arguments the both of you have had, the ones where you angrily refuse to read his texts until the boy pesters you into relenting.

Yet, why does it feel like the end?

Once in a while, Donghyuck has a terrible day. And it’s not just a little bad - like forgetting his umbrella during a downpour, or having all his pen nibs snap on the day of an important exam.

Though those things have happened before, and are particularly vexing, they don’t cause him to lose his nerve, mainly because you always share your umbrella with him and keep spare pens in a box in your locker.

He supposes he shouldn’t complain - one terrible day out of a hundred good ones is pretty decent, and Donghyuck supposes he has his naturally positive outlook to thank for that.

But this might just go down in the books as being the worst day of his life.

His argument with you has dampened his mood considerably, so much that even Renjun noticed in between lessons, nudging Donghyuck when he had failed to hear the teacher call his name.

He supposes he shouldn’t be too upset about it - in the big scheme of things, you going with Jaemin to the autumn fair isn’t something of vital importance. It’s not like you told Donghyuck you’ve decided to date the guy, or that you have a crush on him.

And as someone who takes a science elective, he supposes he should know that nothing should be concluded without proper, repeated results, and that there are too many variables in any experiment that can be changed, much less when it comes to you and Jaemin.

But Jaemin’s not rude like Sungwoon, arrogant like Youngjae, or weird like Taebin - he’s cheerful, volunteers at the animal shelter on weekends, and is the pride and joy of your school’s rugby team. He’s also ridiculously good at Overwatch, which is bizarre considering he only plays whenever Donghyuck convinces him to go online.

He’s Donghyuck’s friend, and a good person. If anything, he should be giving the stamp of approval, perhaps even encouraging because there’s no one else who deserves you.

There’s only one problem - himself. Lee Donghyuck, the independent variable.

Fuck research protocol. He’ll employ whatever methodology he needs if it means you choose him over Jaemin.

“Fuck research protocol,” he mutters, earning a concerned look from his deskmate. “I sure hope that’s a joke. Our lab practical is next week,” Renjun replies, peeling a label and pasting it carefully on the test tube.

Donghyuck shakes his head. “That was a simile,” he explains.

“You mean a metaphor?”

Fuck. Perhaps he didn’t retain the lecture you gave him on literary devices as well as he thought he did.

Donghyuck’s suddenly reminded by the fact that Jaemin’s also a Literature student, which means he definitely knows the difference between a simile and a metaphor, and won’t bore you with explanations of conservation laws.

It also means that Jaemin can definitely understand Little Women on the first try, and doesn’t need to Sparknote it beforehand to discuss with you - and Donghyuck can’t deny that he’s just mildly horrified at the idea of you letting someone else watch the movie with you, one of the cornerstones of your movie nights.

To be fair, Donghyuck’s made his friends watch The Conjuring - but that’s not even the same thing. There’s absolutely nothing romantic about him getting scared half out of his wits after Renjun and Jeno pour fake blood all over the bathroom mirror, but what if you see Laurie dancing with Jo and deciding you want some of that for yourself?

Donghyuck should be there when that happens. Not anyone else, and most definitely not Na Jaemin.

But with the way he shook you off this morning - a pang of crushing guilt floods him, and Donghyuck has the urge to kick himself, just for how stupid he’s been. If anything, he's only pushed you further away.

He realises he never did reply Renjun’s question when the boy waves his hand in front of his face. “Oh. Yeah. A metaphor. Whatever,” he says cursorily, watching as Renjun stares at him as if he’s grown another head.

He’s starting to think it might be better if he did, just to figure out the puzzle of his own heart.

It’s only when you miss the step for the third time that Karina walks towards you, placing a careful hand on your shoulder.

“Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all afternoon,” she comments, a concerned look in her eyes.

You nod after a moment, signalling for the rest of the cheerleaders to take a break. Your position as captain means that you’re responsible for directing most of the practices, but how are you going to monitor a routine if you keep messing up the steps yourself?

Unfortunately, you can’t seem to take your mind off Donghyuck, and how he hasn’t replied to your texts since the afternoon. You’ve offered to get him snacks after council, and yet, radio silence.

It’s not abnormal for him to forget to check his phone, but with every second that passes, the uneasiness in your stomach just becomes heavier. You wonder if he’s that angry over your change of plans for Jaemin, and whether it might be better to just ditch the entire plan.

Fuck your feelings. You want your best friend back, and you’d rather have Donghyuck’s friendship than a cold shoulder.

However, Karina’s still staring at you, so you tear yourself away from thoughts of him, refocusing on the scene in front of you.

“Let’s do stunts!” You instruct, cupping your hands over your mouth to emphasise your volume. You’re grateful it doesn’t come out shaky and betray the emotional turmoil you’re going through, watching as everyone lines up in their typical groups, clearing the mat space for tumbling.

It’s one of your favourite things in the world, the feeling of soaring briefly in the air before your feet land on solid ground, and it’ll be a welcome distraction from the boy who takes up too much space in your heart and mind.

Karina always leads the first round, and this time is no different. You suck in a deep breath, before taking a running leap and relishing the thrill of momentarily being a full 180 degrees in the air, as if you’re floating. But there’s still a dull ache in your heart that refuses to leave, even as you prep for the second part of the stunt.

You realise you’ve messed up a moment too early, before it happens. You’re not even sure when distraction had gripped at you, suddenly realising the angle at which you’re landing is strangely off. There’s fear that shoots through you, cold and unrelenting, but it only allows you a few seconds of panic.

A grunt of pain leaves you the moment your foot lands wrongly, the concerned shouts of the other girls echoing in the background. Your body collapses to the ground, hands narrowly stopping you from falling flat on your face.

You can only be grateful that you haven’t heard a crack, but the sharp ache that shoots up tells you that something is definitely injured.

You hear the rush of footsteps before Karina immediately crouches next to you, an arm under your shoulder. “Can you walk?” she asks, and you grit your teeth before nodding. Her voice is calm, but you can still detect the undercurrent of panic poking through. It’s likely a sprain, which hopefully means you’ll just have to rest.

Not your first injury, but it still hurts like a bitch.

You try your best to smile at the rest of the team as she helps you hobble towards the gymnasium entrance, but it’s a poor attempt at comfort. But being in charge means that it’s your job to worry, not theirs.

It feels like an eternity as you make the slow hobble towards the nurse’s office, Karina on one side and Ningning at the other. Even as the throbbing pain of your ankle causes to let out an occasional wince, you can’t help but feel a surge of gratefulness for the two girls beside you.

You allow yourself to lean back once you’re carefully placed on the bed, the nurse carefully looking at your foot. “It’s an ankle sprain. You’ll be up in two weeks, but you should be careful for the next month.”

Her words cause you to let out a sigh of relief. There’s two more months to the performance. A tight fit, but you’ll make it.

“The both of you should go back to practice,” you tell Karina and Ningning while the nurse wraps your foot in bandages. Karina clucks in disapproval. “How can we? You’re injured.”

Her evident concern causes you to chuckle slightly. “I’ll be fine. The others are probably wondering what happened. Don’t worry,” you assure, and her face softens slightly.

“Okay. We’ll make sure everything goes well, so just focus on recovering, okay?”

You nod obediently at Karina’s request, and she ruffles your hair affectionately before following Ningning out.

The moment the both of them leave, you let yourself sink back into the pillow and close your eyes in hopes of rest. On record, this might be one of the worst days you’ve had this year. You hear footsteps thud into the room, and assume it’s the nurse moving around.

You sure hope it isn’t another injured student, considering you’d rather not have anyone see you wallow in self-pity.

Until a familiar figure steps behind the curtain, and your heart sinks even further.

“Hey.”

Donghyuck’s standing in front of you, hands tucked into the pockets of his school blazer. His shirt is slightly rumpled, tie pulled out, and he looks like he’s been running. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as he crosses the distance towards the bed you’re lying on, settling in the wobbly plastic chair next to the bed.

“Why are you here?” He flinches at your question, and you wonder if he can hear the tremor in your words.

“Does your foot hurt?” He shoots back with another question, and you whip your head to face him sharply.

“I sprained it. You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Honestly, Y/N, you should be more careful-”

“Well, how was I supposed to feel when you didn’t reply to my messages-”

“Are you blaming me for your sprained foot?” Donghyuck asks incredulously, eyes wide as he stares at you, willing you to fall silent. He runs a hand haphazardly through his hair, and you’ve never seen him this agitated.

“Fuck, this wasn’t how I wanted it to go. Renjun said- never mind.” His voice is resigned, and the dejected tone causes your shoulders to sink and the fight to leave you. “You know I’m not blaming you,” you mutter softly, and he sinks down in the chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he nods.

There’s more that Donghyuck wants to say. You can tell by the way he swallows nervously, adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he thrums his fingers nervously on his lap. “I just- it’s been a weird day, and I took it out on you because I was looking forward to the fair,” he admits.

It’s as close to an apology that someone like him can give, and you can tell the boy’s truly remorseful. Donghyuck’s someone who lives easily without regrets, who says and does the things that he wants. The confidence he possesses is something to be admired, but it also means that sometimes you get hurt.

But no matter what, he’s still your best friend, and the one that you’ll trust with anything.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” you mumble softly, watching as his eyes become less dejected and fill with an unfamiliar sort of fondness, one that tugs painfully at your heartstrings. You bring your hand down from where it’s resting on your lap, breath hitching when Donghyuck doesn’t wait to intertwine his fingers with yours. When he lifts his head to look up at you again, his gaze is heavy with the weight of a thousand unsaid words.

“You don’t have to tell me everything, Y/N. We both have our own friends too, and I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything you want to do,” he replies honestly, and you look at him, a stricken expression on your face.

How do you tell Donghyuck that you wish he would care? About who you go out with, or that you wish he would tell you that he doesn’t want you to go with Jaemin, but with him instead?

You would gladly let him hold you back, to cross the line dividing friendship and the heady rush of attraction that you felt every single time you looked at him.

“We can go together instead. I didn’t even confirm plans with Jaemin,” you quickly clarify, looking at him hopefully. You know that the boy wouldn’t mind if you cancelled, considering the very reason behind it. But there’s a mournful smile that makes its way onto Donghyuck’s face, strangely pensive as he shakes his head.

“It’s okay. Jaemin’s nice. You should have fun. I can just go with Renjun or Jeno,” he says, and you’re left helpless in the face of his kind rejection. “What did the doctor say? Is the pain better?”

His abrupt change of topic dispels the awkward atmosphere, and you understand that the rather sensitive topic of Jaemin will be shelved for now.

“It’ll recover in time, but it still hurts,” you complain, and Donghyuck tilts his head sympathetically, but flicks your forehead nevertheless. His previous concern is gone, replaced more with anger. But you don’t mind, because you know it comes from a place of care, even if he’s scolding you. “Be more careful next time. I don’t want you to get injured.”

The firm tone of his voice makes you sink back into the pillow, nodding obediently. Until Donghyuck grabs your hand, causing you to jerk slightly in shock.

“I’m serious, Y/N. You’re precious to many people.”

What about you? Am I precious to you? Is the question on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow it quickly. “Okay. I promise,” you reply, and he smiles contentedly, the kind that makes his left dimple peek through.

“Na Jaemin, if you kick me one more time, I’ll tell Chenle you were the one who spilled water on his computer,” Karina threatens, narrowing her eyes at the black-haired boy. “It was an accident!” he defends, looking towards you for support.

“Y/N? You good?” You jerk up at the mention of your name, realising that Jeno, Karina and Jaemin are all looking at you. “Oh, sorry,” you mumble, taking a big bite of the pumpkin pie that sits in front of you.

It’s supposed to be your favourite, but the puree tastes like sand in your mouth. Karina takes one look at your glum expression, and stands up, not so gently pulling Jeno along with her. “Come on. Let’s go try some games,” she suggests in an effort to perk you up, and you nod in agreement, trying to put on a wobbly grin on your face to appreciate her efforts.

Even then, Karina’s quick to run off with Jeno, and a genuine smile makes its way onto your face when you watch him tease her for failing to get the ball into the hoop. They’re adorable, the kind of couple that lasts even after graduation.

“Have you ever fallen in love?”

Jaemin looks over at your question, his fleece jacket tucked snugly around his shoulders. “No. But looking at you, it doesn’t seem to be that great.”

“Thanks,” you mutter dryly, watching as he grins, pearly-whites poking through. “Just kidding. You and Donghyuck are perfect for each other.”

Despite everything that has happened, it feels nice to have Jaemin’s vote of confidence, even as you teeter unsurely in your relationship with Donghyuck.

“You know, as much as I agree with Giselle’s ideas, I think you should try something different,” Jaemin says, out of the blue, and you cast a doubtful glance. There are people walking past the both of you, an even mix of students and adults. Yet, each time you search for Donghyuck in the crowd, he’s nowhere to be found.

Even after your injury, the both of you had fallen into your natural rhythm effortlessly, Donghyuck still cracking jokes and you responding with laughter. You still ran down to the record store when he needed help, listening to some tracks and providing what feedback you could, and he still left you convenience store bags after practice, sometimes accompanied by extra snacks for Karina and Ningning as well.

Except that nowadays, your heart felt like it was constantly about to burst out of your chest, and you always felt your cheeks warm whenever Donghyuck got a little too close. It didn’t help that he was naturally affectionate, something that you enjoyed and hated in equal measure.

Enjoyed because it meant that he didn’t hesitate to wrap you up in a hug each time he saw you, or hold your hand and pull you to walk on the inside of the pavement. Hated because you were now hypersensitive to each time the both of you had any contact, freezing up whenever he leaned his head onto your shoulder or looped an arm around your waist.

A simple action of his was enough to make your heart flutter, and as much as nothing between you and Donghyuck had changed, your feelings were getting harder and harder to hide each day.

You only realise a few moments later that Jaemin’s still waiting for your reply.

“Honestly? I’m kind of tired of trying. If it happens, it’ll happen,” you sigh out.

At this point, the lines between what you can do as a friend and what’s romantic have blurred so much, especially with someone like Donghyuck. He’s held you when you cried over injuries, and looped his arm between yours when the both of you went on trips to the city. He’s seen you at your ugliest and your best, and you would like to think that if he had an inkling of attraction towards you, there would have been an indication.

Jaemin takes one look at the dejected expression on your face, and half-hugs you in an attempt at comfort. “It’ll be fine. If it helps, you can look forward to the game. Boys are overrated.”

“You’re saying that yourself?”

He nods, keeping his face as serious as he can before the corners of his lips tilt up, betraying a smile.

“Don’t tell Karina, but you’re my favourite cheerleader,” he whispers conspiratorially, and you laugh despite the heaviness in your chest.

You wonder if Donghyuck has a favourite cheerleader too.

Considering how you’ve been part of the team since freshman year, you should feel less nervous. However, there’s still a teeming anxiety that pervades you as you pace around your bedroom. The uniform is already on the bed, your makeup bag shoved into the corner - but you’re still wondering if you’ve forgotten something.

Until your phone buzzes, and you hold it on speaker as you rifle through your closet for an extra pair of socks.

“I’ve seen you walking around your room since afternoon. Need any help?” Donghyuck’s voice filters through the speaker with its characteristic warmth, and you shake your head reflexively, knowing that he can see it from where he’s leaning out over his balcony.

A benefit of being neighbours - he’s never really further than a phone call away.

“I think I’m just nervous because it’s the last game of the season. And I haven’t gotten to practice as much because of the injury.” Your eyes drift to the brace sitting abandoned in the corner of your room, a reminder of the mistake that you’d prefer not to make again.

Donghyuck hums sympathetically, and you know that he understands, considering this happens before most of your performances, unless you’re feeling exceptionally confident.

“Want to go out for boba? My treat,” he promises, and you smile at his attempt to help.

You can already hear him moving around his room, packing up his things, and it causes warmth to surge in you, an affectionate feeling that is slowly becoming directly associated with him.

How are you supposed to get over Donghyuck if he consistently knows what you need? It’s like the boy specifically caters to everything that makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re quick to grab a jacket, pausing briefly to decide before your eyes land on a familiar denim one that’s much too big on you. It’s been your accessory of choice more often than not, until even Karina had noticed it during rehearsal.

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows slightly when you step down the driveway. He’s leaning against his car, ripped jeans tucked into his favourite pair of boots. It’s fascinating how starkly his personal clothing choice differs from what he wears to school, and you suppose the strict dress code has stifled his creativity in terms of outfits.

“That jacket looks familiar,” he points out, and you make a halfhearted attempt to shrug innocently. “It’s mine now.”

He lets out an amused huff at that, before motioning for you to get into the car. “You know, if you wanted more of my hoodies, you could have just asked,” he says, a knowing look in his eyes as he watches your cheeks redden.

“No one wants more of your hoodies. I’m doing this out of necessity,” you mutter, but Donghyuck knows you’re lying. He hasn’t seen you willingly wear a jacket since middle school, which is the main reason why you’ve worn so many of his, but the sight of his clothing draped over your shoulders fills him with a certain satisfaction, one that he can’t pinpoint.

“Keep it. It looks better on you anyways.”

Your head turns sharply at Donghyuck’s words, but his gaze remains fixed on the road, oblivious of the way your heartbeat speeds up in your chest. You wonder if he knows what effect he has on you, saying the things he does - and it seems to happen more often now, compliments slipping out here and there that make your eyes widen and a nervous laugh bubble out of your throat.

“Do you know that differentiation and integration aren’t even antonyms of each other?” You ask, balancing your chin on your hand as you look over at the boy sitting opposite you.

Donghyuck clicks his tongue disapprovingly, tapping your forehead gently with his pen. “Focus.”

“It doesn’t make any sense that they’re the opposites of each other in math-”

He looks up at you, a look of amused exasperation on his face as he stares you down. “I know you’re better than me in languages. But you’re the one who asked for help for your test, so solve these sums, and I’ll mark them,” he tells you, and your lips settle into a pout when you realise he means it.

“Fine,” you mutter, and a low chuckle escapes him at your defeated expression when you dip your head back down to look at the textbook in front of you.

There isn’t any further response from the boy, which is why you fill with alarm when he suddenly scoots over closer to you, head jerking upwards so quickly that your bangs fall into your face, temporarily obscuring your view.

“How are you going to see your worksheet if your hair’s always in your face?”

“You’re one to speak,” you retort, knowing full well that Donghyuck’s always protesting against cutting his hair, preferring when it’s longer. He pokes his tongue in his cheek out of annoyance, and your eyes immediately drift to the action.

“Stay still,” he mumbles, and your eyes widen inquisitively in confusion, right as he leans over, hand moving towards your face to tuck your hair behind your ear. You barely process the movement, only registering the soft brush of his fingers against your cheek before your stomach does a thousand backflips.

The action is sweet, even for him, and the gentleness of it makes your breath catch in your throat.

Donghyuck doesn’t pull his hand away, palm hovering beside your face even as he’s finished.

“Your hair’s soft,” he points out, and you can’t even deign to provide a response, too caught up in the rapid thundering of your heartbeat in your ears. He eventually sits back, eyes never leaving your face even as you stare at him, shell-shocked.

“Y/N. Y/N.” An insistent voice jerks you out of your thoughts, and you turn your head towards its source, only to be met with Donghyuck’s gaze. He must have been calling your name for a while, you realise, and you let out a cough that comes out more awkward than smooth.

There’s a cup of brown sugar milk tea in his hand - your favourite, and the sugar level at half, just the way you like it. It’s not anything special, but the fact that he remembers, and the way you know his is probably a taro milk tea with less ice, brings a smile to your face. “I thought I lost you there,” he says, and your smile turns sheepish. “Sorry. Drifted away for a second.”

He pokes the straw into the plastic, taking a quick sip. “About?”

“Hm?”

“What were you thinking about?”

“You.” The confession escapes your mouth before you can even halt it, brain short-circuiting as you realise what you’ve just said. Your throat seizes up, and you barely stop yourself from choking on your drink, the pearls making their way down uncomfortably.

“I mean- I just- I was thinking about how you were paying for the bubble tea- and how I should pay for your gas or something-” you sputter out a poor excuse, watching as Donghyuck begins to laugh, so hard that he holds on to his stomach.

You’re quite sure your cheeks are now pink with mortification, knowing full well that he can tell that you’re lying and you’ve completely, utterly embarrassed yourself in front of your best friend and the poor barista working the night shift behind the counter.

“It’s not like you haven’t treated me before,” he points out, picking up a napkin and placing it on your side, before his eyes narrow slightly with mischief. “But your first reply-” he moves closer, until you can see your own reflection in his eyes. “-what were you thinking? About me?”

His voice is smug as he says it, and you realise Donghyuck’s simply teasing you. It’s not the first time he’s jokingly flirted with you, but with the weight of your newfound feelings, you’re no longer sure how to respond.

Your mind is running at a mile a minute, before you finally settle on something. “Annoying.”

Donghyuck blinks, caught off-guard. “Huh?”

“I was thinking about how you’re annoying,” you bite out, letting out a relieved sigh when he sinks back into the chair, huffing petulantly.

“Is this because I stole your fries the other day?” He asks, feigning hurt, and you remain stone-faced as you look at him, nodding. “You also doodled little suns everywhere on my worksheet until Mr Kim made me redo it.”

“They were cute suns!”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

They were, but that’s beside the point. Crisis averted, you find it easier to joke around with Donghyuck, lips curving up as he looks at you, an indignant expression on his face.

You love the way he reacts to your dry, barely-there humor, a stark contrast from the way he smoothly interjects with quips and teasing. “Admit it. They were cute,” he demands, hands placed on the table for dramatic effect.

Your arms are crossed as you meet his gaze. “No.”

He huffs out in frustration, and you have to hold yourself back from cooing at how adorable he looks like this.

“I’m never buying you bubble tea again,” he mutters, and you grin slightly. “Sure.”

“You- never mind.” Your heart softens slightly at his forlorn expression, and you wonder if this is what it feels like to have the upper hand temporarily.

“I kept the worksheet, by the way,” you add, and he looks at you reluctantly, as if not yet deciding whether to listen or to ignore you.

“…What worksheet?” he asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“The one you drew on. It’s still in my file.”

Your hint causes Donghyuck to sit back up hopefully. “You didn’t throw it away?” When you shake your head, he breaks out into a smile so bright that it reminds you a little of the doodled suns themselves.

“Does that mean you think they’re cute?” He follows up with another question eagerly, and you hum, as if deep in thought.

“Maybe.”

It’s just one word, but with the way Donghyuck is looking at you, it seems as if you’ve just told him he’s won the lottery.

You’d do anything to see him have that expression, you realise, unable to hide your grin now as he looks at you. If your friends were privy to your thoughts, they would have teased you for how in over your head you were.

Even if you could get over your crush on Donghyuck, you weren’t quite sure if you wanted to.

You’ve never told anyone, but the first person who you practised your makeup skills on wasn’t yourself.

It was Lee Donghyuck.

There’s definitely still a picture of him saved somewhere on your old phone, blusher carefully dusted on his cheeks and soft pink eyeshadow blended into a darker brown, complete with mascara and winged eyeliner. You had convinced him by promising to sponsor some of his in-game credits, and after a week of begging, the boy had finally sat himself down and allowed you free reign.

You hated how he had still looked good at the end of it, despite your novice skills. After that, you always used him for test makeup runs, until you finally grew confident enough to do it on your own.

Now, however, you’re standing in your bathroom anxiously, eyes darting to the time on your phone. Three hours before you have to leave for the stadium, and you’ve decided to test out your plan for makeup.

“I’m sure you look good,” Donghyuck assures through the phone, his voice muffled. However, you’re too nervous to focus on the compliment, nibbling at your lip.

“But I’ve never worn silver eyeshadow before! What if I just look washed out in the photos?”

“How about you take a picture now, and send it to me?”

“But my bathroom lighting is bad. Can’t you just come over now and take a look?” you plead, and Donghyuck lets out a soft groan of fatigue, causing you to wince apologetically. In all truth, you didn’t mean to wake him up at four in the morning. It just happens that Donghyuck is the only person you trust with things like these, and you find yourself needing his presence now more than ever.

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re thinking he might just hang up.

“Fine,” he agrees, and you almost let out a squeal of excitement, before realising your parents are likely still sleeping. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you whisper into the phone, hearing him chuckle slightly.

“No problem. Now let me in. It’s cold.”

You don’t waste any time rushing towards the door, swinging it open for Donghyuck to come in. He looks at you, blinking tiredly at your bare face. “Where’s your makeup?”

“Oh. I haven’t done it yet. I just wanted to call you first.”

“Wake me up when you’re done, then,” he mumbles, following you into your room and promptly falling asleep on your bed, blanket tucked around him.

You stare at him for a while, mildly amazed at how fast the boy can sleep, before forcing yourself to get back to the task at hand.

It’s over an hour later when you finally trudge over to Donghyuck, hair styled as well.

“Donghyuck,” you call, poking at the boy to get him to wake up. Thankfully, he’s a lot faster this time, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes blearily.

“You’re done?” He asks, and you nod excitedly, before realising something and running back into the bathroom.

When you step back out, you’ve changed from your long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants into your cheer uniform, feeling slightly more confident about the way you look.

“Okay. I’m done. How is it?” You ask expectantly, waiting with bated breath as you step out, to face him directly.

For a long time, Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, and you look up from where your hands are brushing down your skirt, only to meet his heavy stare, that hasn’t left you even once. His eyes dart up to meet yours, catching on the silver eyeshadow that rests on your eyelids, to the gems carefully placed along the edges.

There’s a starstruck expression on his face, one that causes you to shift on your feet, warmth creeping up the back of your neck. Donghyuck’s sitting on the edge of the bed and facing you directly, knees brushing yours, and you laugh out of your nerves. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

He’s still looking up at you, until his gaze darts briefly to the side - you see Donghyuck swallow heavily, as if attempting to find the words to say.

Until he stands up abruptly, rising to his full height. The sudden movement causes you to stumble backwards, and despite his silence, Donghyuck instinctively wraps a hand around your waist to steady you. “Careful,” he mutters lowly, and your mind goes blank for a few seconds, nervousness clearing temporarily to make way for the fact that his face is inches away from yours.

You’re frantic for an entirely different reason now, quickly getting yourself upright to place some distance between the both of you. Donghyuck seems to regain his senses as well, clearing his throat.

“I told you I was right. It looks good,” he finally says, and you take a while to calm down the pace of your heartbeat. “Really?”

“You look beautiful, Y/N. You’ll do great. I mean it,” he assures, voice sincere as he cranes his neck down a little to better match your height, a soft smile on his face. The fluttering of your pulse returns with a vengeance, and you realise that Donghyuck’s hand hasn’t left your right hip, his warmth bleeding through the thin fabric.

At least the nerves about the performance have dissipated, entirely replaced by the dizzying rush that comes with being near Donghyuck.

As if on cue, your phone vibrates several times, lighting up with messages from what must be Karina and Ningning. Donghyuck’s eyes dart to it as well, and he grins slightly. “We should probably go,” he suggests, and you eventually find it in yourself to nod.

When he lets go of you, you try not to feel too disappointed.

Despite your more-than-distracting encounter with Donghyuck early in the morning, you’re quick to focus the moment you step into the waiting room.

“Two more minutes until we’re on the field!” At your alert, there’s another flurry of activity, everyone rushing to touch up their makeup or check their shoelaces.

Karina makes her way over to you immediately, stepping gingerly over pom poms and duffel bags left on the floor.

“Game day. You ready?” She asks, an excited glint in her eyes as she links both arms with you, a little tradition that the both of you started in your first year.

“As I’ll ever be,” you exhale out, smiling at her and hoping it comes out confident.

“You’re our captain. You’ll do great,” Ningning interjects, passing you your poms, which are thankfully, not damp from sweaty palms. Exhilaration is slowly bubbling up in you, pushing away the anxiety, and you find yourself bouncing on the balls of your feet.

And then there’s the loud blare of a horn, signifying the end of the opening ceremony.

“Hey, you guys ready?” The voice you hear this time is much lower, and you turn your head to see Jaemin, two red stripes painted horizontally across his face. He’s grinning widely when you turn to face him, and you feel strangely comforted by the sight of the bubbly jock.

“There’s my favourite cheerleader,” he says, and you let out a laugh despite your nerves, striding towards him. “Good luck with the game, Jaemin. You’ll crush it,” you tell him, and he shrugs nonchalantly, dripping with confidence.

“We’ll do even better if you guys put on the best performance of your lives.”

There’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes, one that grounds you and makes you feel a little more ready to go onto the pitch. It’s as much for you as it is for the rest of your team, and Jaemin’s as well.

“We will,” you promise, angling your chin to the side. Jaemin gets the hint, opening the door wide for you to follow him out, the rest of them behind you.

The cheers in the stadium are deafening, but you tune them out, instead choosing to focus on how white your sneakers are against the red track, or the pace of your breathing as you get into position.

In the few seconds before the music starts, you dart your head up quickly to the spectator stands, searching, before your eyes finally halt on a figure, dressed in a white shirt and jeans, bomber jacket over his shoulders.

You’d spot him in any crowd. From here, you can’t see all that clearly, but you can tell Donghyuck is smiling, cheering as loudly as he possibly can.

This time, when you start your first stunt, your feet land true.

It probably isn’t the best idea to confess that you barely understand the rules of rugby, considering that you are on the frontline of every single game.

Sure, Jaemin may be the quarterback, but you’re not particularly sure what that means besides the fact that he’s set the highest record for goals scored in a single season.

However, you’ve simplified the rules sufficiently: When the ball enters the in-goal area, you cheer. Which is exactly what you’re doing, jumping up and down excitedly when Jaemin gains another point right as the buzzer goes off, signifying the end of the match.

Ningning is hugging your shoulders tightly, as the both of you watch the team do a victory run, Jaemin and Jeno making their ways back to the spectator stand first.

“I know I’ve seen you on the field a hundred times, but that was amazing,” you gush, watching as Jaemin tilts his head, pleased.

“You know, now that the season is over-” he says, and you arch an eyebrow curiously. “Yes?”

“- you don’t have any more excuses to avoid confessing to Donghyuck,” he finishes, smiling mischievously when your cheeks redden. Jeno nods in encouragement, and you realise that you’ve been set up by the two jocks in front of you.

In an attempt for support, you turn towards Ningning, but she shrugs. “They’re right. Giselle’s ideas were good, but I don’t think they’ll work for someone like him. You just need to say it directly.”

Her words cause your shoulders to sink slightly, and Karina, who’s finally noticed the little gathering, leans in.

“Just do it, Y/N. You never know. Besides, Donghyuck cares for you. Even if he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, he would never just end the friendship that way.”

“But what if he does? What if he only wants us to be friends but has to distance himself because of my feelings and we become strangers?”

Jaemin frowns slightly. “That sounds awfully specific.”

His comment causes Ningning to roll her eyes, and she places her other hand on your shoulder, turning you towards her.

“Look at me. I know you’re a literature student, but stop projecting yourself onto characters.”

Your mouth gapes open at her words, ready with a retort, but she continues.

“The both of you are not Laurie and Jo. You are Y/N and Donghyuck, and everything will be fine.”

“Y/N and Donghyuck,” you repeat, almost dazed as you look at Ningning, fear slowly solidifying into something a little more like confidence. Y/N and Donghyuck. It’s the simplest way to explain the both of you, but the mention of it also causes a twinge of your heart.

Being with Donghyuck is easy, something that you’ve been doing for most of your life. But it doesn’t feel like enough, not yet.

You want to belong to him, and you want Donghyuck to be yours.

“Y/N.” The familiar voice causes your heart to seize, and you turn to face the man himself, eyes bright as he looks at you. Karina lets out a soft laugh at your captivated expression, but you don’t bother to turn towards her.

The only thing that you catch is Jaemin leaning closer towards you. “Go get him, Y/N,” he whispers conspiratorially, and you swallow nervously before finally crossing the distance between you and Donghyuck. He looks even more stunning up close, honey-toned skin illuminated under the bright stadium lights.

“Hey.” Your mouth feels dry when you say it, stopping a few feet away from him.

His mouth curves into a barely-there smirk, and your hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt nervously. “Ready to go?”

You nod, looping your arm through his and praying the motion comes off natural. Jaemin’s words are still ringing in your head, and you know the four of them are still staring unabashedly, but you shove them down in favour of basking in the moment. However, you can’t deny that you’re shifting closer and closer to saying fuck it and blurting out your feelings as each second ticks by.

It seems that rational thinking is harder to come by these days, especially when you’re with Donghyuck.

“Are you hungry? I ordered pizza already,” he tells you, and it makes you fall just a little bit more, the way he remembers the little things.

“Is it pepperoni?”

“Of course. With extra cheese. I know the way to your heart.”

He does. Donghyuck knows the way to your heart like he has a map, though you’re quite sure he could walk the metaphorical path blindfolded.

Or maybe the path is whichever way he steps. You’re not quite sure.

Donghyuck leads you towards the carpark, until he suddenly halts near the entrance of the stadium, expression changing from lighthearted to stone-faced. “Is something wrong?” You ask, brows furrowing in concern. But he remains silent, hesitating slightly before shrugging off his jacket.

“Wear this,” he instructs, but instead of placing it on your shoulders, Donghyuck ties it around your waist, fingers nimble. When he’s done, he looks up, but his gaze doesn’t meet yours, instead drifting further back and sharpening into a glare. You’ve never seen the boy angry before, and it isn’t directed at you.

“Donghyuck, what is it?” You look behind, only to be met with nothing but a view of the pitch. At your insistence, he scratches the back of his head, as if embarrassed at his sudden outburst. “It’s nothing,” he mumbles.

You make a pointed glance at the jacket around your waist, before glancing up at him, expectant. Donghyuck seems to realize he’s been backed into a corner, and hangs his head down slightly.

“It’s just-”

“Just what?”

“Some guys were looking at you,” he finally admits, and you suck in a breath out of surprise at his unexpected words. It’s not an unusual occurrence, considering you’re a cheerleader and there are always douchebags, even in your own school. You’ve been catcalled, wolf-whistled at - a few guys staring at your legs is barely anything, but you realise this is the first time Donghyuck is witnessing it firsthand, often not being on the pitch with you.

The protective gesture makes your heart skip a beat, however, and you decide it’s as good a time of any to get a gauge of Donghyuck’s feelings towards you.

“Were you jealous?” You quickly lean in as you pop the question, attempting to make your voice teasing to hide your true intentions. If anything, you’ll just brush it off as flirting between friends.

However, he remains silent, and the hope in your heart fizzles unstably as you wait for his response. When Donghyuck finally lifts his head, his eyes are hooded, filled with a dark intensity that makes your heart palpitate.

“And if I said I was?”

Your eyes widen imperceptibly at that, shifting backwards as Donghyuck takes a step closer, and another, until you feel your back press against his car, the cold metal forcing you to bite back a shiver. But Donghyuck only moves impossibly closer, until the tips of his scuffed boots are brushing your sneakers. A nervous laugh escapes you, eyes darting anywhere but him.

“You still haven’t responded to my question,” he points out, the corner of his mouth curled up as he looks at you, waiting.

You’re not sure if you’re even breathing, attempting to focus on anything except the boy right in front of you.

“Then- then I would ask you why,” you finally stutter out, and Donghyuck lets out an amused hum.

“Take a guess.”

You wonder if Donghyuck’s just teasing, or if he’s serious. If there’s even the slim possibility - any chance that he might feel the same way you do.

Because the way he’s looking at you now makes you feel brave. It makes you think that maybe, just maybe- you’ve found the path to his heart as well.

But you’re still scared, so you shake your head. “No. Tell me.”

You need to hear it from him, hear Donghyuck tell you that this isn’t just some pipe dream of yours.

He lets out a huff of amusement at your stubbornness. “Fine. I like you, L/N Y/N.”

The confession goes straight to your head, and you pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming. “Really?”

Donghyuck stares at you in disbelief. “Yes, really. Why do you think I got jealous? I don’t want you to be with Jaemin, or any other guy. I want you to be with me.”

You didn’t think it was possible for him to fluster you even more, but it seems you’re dead wrong, as your cheeks redden further and you tear your gaze away from him. “Oh,” you breathe out, and Donghyuck looks at you with equal parts exasperation and adoration.

“If you’re going to reject me, do it now,” he adds, voice light, but there’s a vulnerability on his face, evident even in the poor lighting. You realise that he’s likely been full of doubt, right up until this very moment - not too much unlike yourself.

You’d be a fool to give this chance up, and there’s nothing to lose, not anymore, when Donghyuck’s already confirmed your dreams and turned them into reality.

“I like you too. So, so much,” you finally exhale out, and his expression softens into something like relief.

“Good. I was starting to think you’d never look my way,” he mutters, and you look at him incredulously.

“Are you kidding? I even asked Giselle for-” your mouth falls shut just in time, but he catches on quickly, mischief glinting.

“Asked her for what, Y/N?”

At this point, you figure it’s better to tell Donghyuck yourself, than let him find out through the grapevine.

“How to get you to fall in love with me,” you force out, and he lifts an eyebrow in response. “Is that what you attempting to play Overwatch was?”

You glare at him, feeling caught. “No!”

“Okay, well, then how about the skating- wait. Was Jaemin in on this?” He narrows his eyes, and you shrink under his gaze, only proving him right.

You’re not even surprised anymore and how Donghyuck managed to decipher each of Giselle’s tactics exactly, and you’re starting to wonder why you even trusted the girl in the first place.

Still, if it got you here, you suppose you owe the girl a thank you.

“I was right. He was in on it. I can’t believe you of all people would agree to something like this-”

That’s it. You’re not sure if you can take the embarrassment of Donghyuck slowly dismantling your plan any more, so you make another irrational decision.

Tiptoeing, you press a soft kiss to the boy’s lips.

It seems to work for a few seconds, Donghyuck freezing up and looking at you in disbelief. “Can we not talk about that anymore?” you ask sweetly, and he nods instinctively, a dazed expression on his face.

“You just kissed me,” he points out, and you nod, head tilting to the side in confusion. “Yeah.”

“You just kissed me.”

“Lee Donghyuck, if you don’t stop repeating the same sentence-”

“Let’s do that again.” He doesn’t hesitate to cut you off, hands gripping onto your hips firmly and pulling you towards him.

If your kiss was a peck, Donghyuck is completely different, eagerly stealing the air from your lungs as his mouth slots gently over yours, tugging gently on your bottom lip.

For someone who’s never dated, he’s an insanely good kisser, and it thrills and terrifies you in equal measure.

Your hands make their way to his chest unconsciously, fisting in the cotton material of his shirt. But he doesn’t stop, and you gasp when his tongue brushes against yours briefly. It’s so very different from the best friend you know and love, the one who’s always bright and focused - the way he kisses you is unrestrained and messy, almost as if he can’t quite get enough of you.

Your brain is short-circuiting, only tuned in to the feeling of Donghyuck’s lips moving against your own. You’re well aware that anyone could interrupt and resign you to months of endless teasing, but you can’t seem to get yourself to care, or stop.

It seems like too short a time when Donghyuck finally allows you some air, his thumb caressing your cheek gently. Even then, he doesn’t make any move to distance himself, breath fanning over your face with every exhale.

“Does this…does this mean we’re a thing now?” you ask, only realizing how dumb your question is once it escapes. However, Donghyuck doesn’t seem to care, looking at you with an expression so fond that it makes you blush.

“Yes. I mean, if you want to. I know I do,” he replies quickly, and your heart feels so full that it might burst as you look at your best friend-turned-boyfriend.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

The months of October and November have affectionately been coined ‘break-up season’ by your entire school, owing to the sheer number of couples that fail to last under the pressure of academic expectations and the stress of final exams.

But if anything, the pursuit of the most important grades of your entire high school life has only brought you and Donghyuck closer, brief kisses shared in the library over textbooks and fingers intertwined whenever he’s sitting with you.

Call it trauma bonding, but it’s not as if you and Donghyuck haven’t been through dozens of other breakup seasons. It’s just a little more applicable now that the both of you are dating.

“Look, if I fail, I just won’t go to university. I’ll hone my other skills.”

You’re currently standing opposite Donghyuck in your bedroom, hands flung out to emphasise your point, and a bemused expression appears on his face at your words.

“You won’t fail, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but in the hypothetical situation that I do, I need to be ready to practise to be a trophy wife.”

“There’s practice for that?”

“Of course,” you reply earnestly. Donghyuck crosses his legs on your duvet, looking at you disbelievingly.

“Didn’t you see that one video? Of the computer engineer and his trophy wife. She’s retired at twenty-six, Donghyuck. It’s the dream.”

“Am I supposed to be the computer engineer?” he asks, and you nod eagerly.

“Does that mean you’re marrying me? You should have told me this was a proposal, Y/N. I would have prepared something,” he replies smoothly, tugging you closer to him by wrapping his fingers around your wrist.

Dating Donghyuck has only caused his flirtatious teasing to increase in intensity, and you’re not sure if your heart might just jump out of your chest one day from his actions. “You wish,” you retort weakly, giving in when he tugs you down to sit next to him.

“I do,” he replies, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your palm, and your eyes widen at his candidness. You drag your hands, and subsequently one of his, up to cover your face, embarrassed.

“You can’t just say things like that!”

“You’re the one who brought up being my trophy wife! What was I supposed to do, say no?”

You don’t reply, but Donghyuck’s stronger than you, eventually pulling your hands away by the wrists.

“In all seriousness, though, I mean it,” he says, looking at you insistently.

“But we’re still so young,” you mumble back. “We’ve barely graduated high school, and you’re saying this?”

“I’m not saying we should get married right now, obviously. I’m just saying that I’ve already spent most of my life with you-” he shifts slightly closer to you. “-what’s a few more decades?”

He asks the question earnestly, enunciating each and every syllable and allowing you to realise that he’s being perfectly honest - Donghyuck means every word. You’re suddenly gripped by longing as you look at him, taking in each and every one of the features that you have memorized by heart.

He’s so heartbreakingly beautiful, and he’s yours.

Student council president, physics nerd, gamer, budding musician - they’re all elements of Donghyuck that make him him, and every part is precious to you. There’s a sort of desperation that tugs at you, an unfamiliar feeling that doesn’t seem to make sense - you’re already dating him. What else could you possibly want?

Until the words appear in your mind, the realization dawning clear as day.

Like isn’t big enough of a word to encapsulate what you feel for Donghyuck, to represent the time you’ve spent with him. You’ve loved him since the first time he stood in your kitchen and attempted to bake a cake for your birthday, since he passed you your first Christmas present and gave you a kiss on your cheek when the both of you were seven, the moment immortalized in a photo frame above your bookshelf.

You’ve been head over heels for Donghyuck since he sat down on your bed and let you put face glitter along his cheekbones, or when he let you make an extra dish in Overcooked, even if it meant the both of you got fewer points. And you fall a little bit more each time he helps to massage your shoulders after practice, or when he kisses you with dizzying passion.

And you’re quite sure he knows you love him, from the way you remember the way he likes his ramen to having his favourite songs saved into your playlists. Or from how you’ve willingly watched Chicken Little with him, or made twenty pages of Languages notes for him to study before the exam. But you want to tell him, just because something about verbalizing it feels necessary.

Ningning might tease you for being a typical literature student, but you need to put your love for Donghyuck into words.

Which is why your voice doesn’t waver as you meet Donghyuck’s eyes, the warmth and adoration in his gaze reflected in yours.

“I love you, Donghyuck. You don’t have to say it back, of course, but I wanted you to know-”

He doesn’t say it back, but you get your answer when he kisses you again. It’s less hungry and more sweet, Donghyuck holding you as if you’re something fragile, something to be treasured.

You take the time to savour the moment, basking in the little bubble that he has created around the both of you. Even though your eyes are closed, you can feel Donghyuck smiling into the kiss, unable to hide his joy.

You never needed three ways to get Donghyuck to fall in love with you - he already had. All the both of you needed was a little bravery, that small push that would convince you to take the jump from friendship to romance.

“You look pretty like this,” he whispers, soft enough for only you to hear.

You’re not sure how to respond to that. Like anyone else, you have days where you feel like you look good, or times when Karina and Ningning are there to doll you up. But having Donghyuck call you pretty feels different, perhaps just because of how much he means to you.

“Thanks. You’re…pretty too,” you say absentmindedly, causing Donghyuck to huff a laugh.

“Really?” He asks, batting his eyelashes.

That earns Donghyuck a swat on his back, but you’re laughing as he falls back dramatically, pulling you down with him.

Just like that, the tender moment is broken, but you don’t mind it, not when he’s the one making you laugh.

“Today’s supposed to be movie night. What are we watching?” You ask, feeling the bed shift as Donghyuck turns to face you, resting his head on his hand.

“I was thinking The Notebook,” he suggests, and you try not to make your wince too obvious.

“But it’s so unrealistic.” Donghyuck lets out an affronted gasp at your words, pinching your side. “I will have you know The Notebook is one of the greatest romantic movies of all time-”

You shake your head resolutely, watching as his face falls. “Nope. Most definitely not,” you declare, and Donghyuck pouts slightly, head falling back onto the mattress. It takes a few moments of him staring at the ceiling before you hear a noise of amusement, and you can almost hear the wheels in his head turning.

“Did you think of something?” You ask, and when he faces you this time, his eyes are alight with mischief, mouth curled into a lazy smirk.

“We can do…other things.”

Your thoughts immediately drift haywire, and you look up at him, eyes wide. “Like what?”

“Like-” Donghyuck leans in tantalizingly close, the scent of his shampoo filling your nose, and his fingers brush over your lips just briefly.

“Kissing?” You respond reflexively, and his grin turns wider. “You suggested that, not me,” he retorts, but his eyes dart down towards your mouth anyways.

There isn’t any time for you to bite back a reply, before he finally closes the gap and connects your mouth with his. Donghyuck circles slow, lazy circles over your hipbone as he leans into you, and you place your hand on the nape of his neck to pull him closer.

When you push him away briefly for air, your cheeks are flushed, but Donghyuck looks just as affected as you are, hair messy from lying on the bed.

“I think we should scrap movie night. We can just do this instead,” he puts forth, and you nod eagerly, causing his grip on your waist to tighten.

“Sounds good to me.”

taglist (let me know if you would like to be added for my future works!) ♠ @hyucksdarling @tonicandjins @rosariafanaccount @sundamariis @smwhrinthehaze @renjunphile @loevngyuno @@doieslefttoe @jvjsssnaa @liliansun @pockyandme @haechoshi

#my heart just grew three sizes bigger #GAWDDD #i'm melting so bad #this was so fucking cute PLS #AAAAAAAAAA #ch: ldh #gnr: fluff #gnr: humour

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huangrens · 1 year

Note

hi! this is ooshu (it just happens that this is my main and the fic blog stands as the secondary).

thank you for reading my works! i've just recently saw your comments on two of my fics (sorry, it's giving boomer energy haha i'm having a hard time seeing them! hence, the late reply). thank you for seeing my writing style like that omg i'm not even gonna say the word because it's too grande and still i feel i don't deserve it but thank you! i hope you could still anticipate my future works and those that would suit your taste. thank you and all the best! <3

oh gosh, it’s been a while since i last opened this account! im so sorry for just answering now but it is no problem at all and thank you for sharing your art with us 🫶 and yes, will absolutely read your next fics! <33

#💬.ask

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huangrens · 1 year

Text

21:22 ✿ lee haechan ⁝ 0.6k words

with the way donghyuck is staring at you, mark thinks he might be boring holes into the side of your head, or more specifically, lee jeno's head.

“dude, you stare any harder and your eyes are going to pop out.” mark comments, leaning forward to rest his arms on the lunch table. donghyuck doesn't even respond, only glaring at the sight of you and jeno.

“why not just ask her out already?”

the sentence catches his attention immediately, as he snaps his head so quick, the canadian boy thinks he might break his neck.

“ask her out? why would i do that? she's annoying.” donghyuck huffs, looking at mark then back at you ever so often. at that moment, your laughter rings from your table as you tilt your head back and hit on jeno's shoulder lightly. what did he even say that was so funny? isn't jeno like the most unfunny person ever?

“please, you've been glaring at them since the moment they walked in the cafeteria.” mark snickers. as if offended, donghyuck says, “i'm just worried for him. what if,” he leans toward the older boy — who in turn leans forward — and whispers dramatically, “what if he gets her stupidity? it's contagious, you know?” mark actually wants to shoot himself in the head right now. how could some one as intelligent and sharp as donghyuck (he can't believe he's saying that), be so fucking oblivious and dumb?

groaning in annoyance, mark smacks the back of donghyuck's head. “i don't know why i even try.” he comments.

“i need to get to class. you can have fun doing whatever your dumbass is doing.” then before he can even reply, mark is already up and out of the cafeteria, leaving donghyuck alone at the table.

with no hesitation, the latter's eyes immediately snap toward you and again, you're giggling your butt off with jeno. there was no way he was that funny, honestly speaking.

donghyuck just stares and stares and stares. he contemplates going up to you and just pull you out of jeno's presence, but he just...can't. what right did he have? and why would he do that anyway? it's not like he liked you or whatever of that sort.

you cannot help the laughter that bubbles out of your throat as jeno tells the story of how his cat actually took a shit on his homework. it's so stupid yet somehow the tears of laughter won't stop falling.

“why are you laughing? it's not funny! mr. kim won't stop nagging me to print my own copy!” he whines, resting his against his palm with his elbow on the table. you wipe at your eyes, “sorry, it's just hilarious because such a thing actually happened.”

“yeah! and i already feel miserable enough and you're here laughing!”

“okay, okay i'll stop.”

there is a moment of silence between the both of you for awhile, until jeno suddenly speaks up again.

“hey, do you know that dude over there?” when you look at him, he's eyeing someone behind you and pointing with his chin. you follow his gaze and immediately, your eyes meet lee donghyuck.

“oh,” you frown, “you mean donghyuck?”

“you know him?”

the thought of said male makes you annoyed, as you nod sourly, “yeah, i guess...”

“you guess?” you suppose you did know him but in the most hateful way ever. you nod, as jeno hums, scratching his chin. “i think he likes you. he's been glaring at me since i've started talking to you.” his words make you snort and knock his forehead, “don't make me laugh. he hates me so much, he'd rather fail his final exam than work on a project with me.” you gaze back at donghyuck who still glares at you.

yeah, definitely hates me.

“just ignore him, jen. probably thinking of ways to murder me or something.”

oh, only if you knew.

#hi its me #e2l 🤲🤲🤲🤲#pls this is wayyy too adorable #im sucker for things like this 🥹#coughs #2nd part #coughzz #ch: ldh #gnr: fluff

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huangrens · 1 year

Text

[11:56 pm]

(cw: mentions of alcohol and throwing up)

This was not how you had imagined your night going at all, holding back the hair of your best friend while she threw up into the bushes outside a frat house. She had convinced you to join her at the party, to let loose with a few drinks, and dance until your feet were sore. What you would have preferred to do was curl up on the couch with her brother, but well… you couldn’t really tell her that.

You met Renjun through Rena during your university orientation, she was bubbly and charismatic with a big smile on her face while she gushed about how excited she was to be your roommate and become best friends. It was impossible not to love her immediately. Renjun, on the other hand, was the opposite. He was quiet and reserved, he had taken a while to warm up to you, but he had become one of your best friends in your three years at university together.

Nights when Rena went out or was busy led to you and Renjun hanging out alone, sharing your secrets, finding common interests, and joking around with one another. It was really inevitable that it would evolve into something more, but things were still somewhat new and you both had no idea how Rena would react. She was your best friend, but she was his sister. You both didn’t want to ruin anything until you both felt like she would be ready, but school kept throwing things your way and telling Rena just got pushed aside more and more.

You wished more than anything that you were wearing something warmer too, Rena had pulled a sleeveless shirt over your head and told you that the dancing would be enough to keep you warm. Clearly she hadn’t planned on spending so much time outside.

“I’m calling Renjun, we need to get you home,” you sighed, pulling your phone from your pocket.

“No! You can’t, you know he hates it when I drink like this,” she whined, until she gagged again.

You rolled your eyes, “We can’t walk home right now, it would be safer if Renjun came to get us. I’ll protect you from his anger.”

She sighed before she agreed, finally slumping down against the fence before you heard her mumble something about wanting to squeeze you with a hug, but you were busy dialing Renjun’s number.

He definitely wasn’t happy to get this specific kind of call, but he knew the drill and he knew his sister. So even though he grumbled and complained, he still showed up 10 minutes later to pick you both up.

You both hauled Rena into the backseat, and began the journey home listening to Renjun’s threats to not throw up all over his seats and how unbelievably disappointed he was to have to pick Rena up drunk and sick yet again.

“Whatever Junnie, you need to bone someone and get that stick out of your ass. Now, shut up and let me sleep,” Rena groaned. Within seconds she was snoring against the window. Little did she know…

“Are you seeing who you chose over me tonight? Did you have fun seeing her puke up jello shots and lose at beer pong three times in a row?”

“She’s my best friend, I have to make time for her. Couldn’t tell her I was ditching her for her brother, and you know she had a rough week,” you explained, pulling Renjun’s hand into your grasp to intertwine your fingers.

He sighed, he knew you were right, “Still missed you tonight. I started craving that Thai place you like, but I knew you’d kill me if I ate it without you. Want to grab lunch there tomorrow we can try that ice cream you’ve been wanting after.”

You had to suppress your absolute adoration. Renjun was so kind and considerate, he was the best guy ever. You were positive that if your eyes could become hearts, then they would surely be hearts right now. You pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, “Sounds perfect, baby.”

You played with Renjun’s fingers as his playlist played softly over the speakers. It only took a few songs for you to recognize that it was one of the many playlists he had made for you. This one was soft songs that were perfect for midnight drives or slow dancing in the kitchen. If you could lean over and kiss him right now, you would. He was just so perfect. It was impossible to imagine anyone better fit for you than Renjun.

“Baby?” You asked, receiving a hum in response, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The car swerved slightly, you had caught him off guard. He felt his face flush and his heart race, but he knew. He knew it from the moment he first spoke to you. “I’m falling-”

Rena groaned from the back seat, her eyes snapped open, “You gotta pull over Jun, I’m gonna puke.”

a/n: i’m baaaaaack! I got busy with homework one week and then I got covid, but I’m here now and admiring how pretty Renjun is in the header

#CUTEEEEEEE #ch: hrj #gnr: fluff

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huangrens · 1 year

Text

just say it

summary: you think mark has fallen out of love. he insists he did not.

notes: swearing, was listening to sza's special oh gosh i just remembered mark liked this song from sos omg?????? will proofread some other time it's literally 2 in the morning here night night

genre: angst because i never write fluff! | word count: 1k -

“mark?” you called the boy who was humming the chorus of coldplay’s yellow. he was sitting in the living room after a cold, quiet dinner you both shared. he seemed to not notice it,

but you know he was doing it on purpose.

“mark.” you repeated his name again, in hopes to finish what is meant to be finished a long time ago. he didn’t budge. his eyes were fixed on the dried tulips that you used to take care of when you come to his apartment. you always scold mark for not watering them often, then now, here we are—they are far from being saved.

just like this one.

“i’m really tired, mark…”

mark suddenly tilted his head at your direction and said, “i’ll fix the bed, baby.”

“no”, you grabbed his wrist by the time he was already walking towards the bedroom. “mark-”

but he swatted your hand away and opened the lights instead. the room still feels the same. it smells like him—his perfume lingered across the room. the bed looks inviting but seemed cold. there sat his green hoodie—your favorite hoodie—on the mattress; almost wrinkled, dryly wrung.

mark opened his closet and brought out two extra pillows. he placed them on the top of the bed. “we always share the duvet, right?”

“stop this, mark.” you tried to protest but he kept crouching to fix the bed. he was smoothing it with his hands, trying to perfect any loose edges and all. he patted the pillows that you used to lay your head onto.

“mark!”

he stopped in his tracks and finally looked at you.

he was already crying.

“i…” you stammered but you cleared your throat to continue. “i know that you feel it, too.”

“bed’s ready, baby.”

“we’re no longer the same, mark.”

“do you want me to turn on the heater?”

there is no way mark is having this conversation, he thought it himself. but good god, you have to.

it was so difficult to witness how the bright smiles turned into faltering ones. the hugs he gives, they seemed like a chore. his eyes spark whenever he goes on a trip with his friends, and never to the plans you ought to make. him coming home and you felt honesty finally left between the two of you. he never smelled sex or an unfamiliar perfume, but these are just the little things that added to the pining, gradual changes, that turned so fucking bittersweet, it felt like it was twisting your guts every single day.

and you have already thought of it: mark has fallen out of love.

“i need to hear it from you so i don’t have to think what i’ve done wrong and whatnot—because i’m so tired; tired of whatever the fuck this is.” you were begging at this point. you heard him sniffling while wiping his tears away. “just say it.”

you reached for his damp hands and squeezed them so firmly. mark looked at you; so helpless, so naive, so vulnerable. he made you like this, mark thought. and he could never forgive himself for ruining you.

“please help me, mark… i just need you to say it.”

“i…” mark started to speak.

you squeezed his hands again, hoping something would finally come out; so desperate, so needy, such pleading, pleading, and endless pleading.

mark looked at you so dearly, with worry on his face; and the sight softened your features. it looked exactly the same when you visited his apartment looking all soaked from the rain. he scolded you for not bringing any umbrella with you. you smiled at the memory and almost nonchalantly, you said:

“help me to help you let me go, mark.”

but mark could not let you go.

every time you tell him that you love him, mark flinches. your love story is nowhere near the perfect fairytale, and uncertainties of the future have consumed mark to convince himself this is not going to last. but every time he pushes you away, you always come back.

why do you always come back? mark seeks answers from god, holding back his cries as he continuously and involuntarily steers himself away from you. what have i done wrong to deserve you; so good, so delicate, so dearly to me? he prays to god as he punishes himself, until the day you waved the white flag finally arrived.

but it would be too cruel, too insufferable, too immensely painful to watch you walk out the door. it would be too painful to feel your scent fading from his green hoodie he always embraces to sleep just because he could not do what his heart wants. the dried tulips, he tried watering them as much as he could, but they were you—so beautiful, so fragile who he wrecked.

so mark pulled you into a kiss; so intense, so desperate, so lovely, and so so apologetic. confusion and yearning consumed you as you deep dive in, but somehow, it spoke volumes—he has set himself free from the demons whispering in his sleep, the nightmares depicting him losing you in a crowd, and the intricate shackles imprisoning his heart.

“i’m sorry for all and for this but i can’t”, mark said as he now stared at your plump lips and back to your searching eyes. “god, i really can’t let you go. i’d be a fucking fool to let you go—not today, not tomorrow, and not in this lifetime or the next.”

you nodded. you understood. and that’s why you kept coming back because there was always your mark that remains despite the despites.

“i love you so much.” he kissed the tips of your fingers and rested your palm on his cheeks, leaning into your touch like a once lost child; so endearing, so passionate, so lovingly.

and you submit to him entirely because you know he's worth it, all of it.

“never ever let me go.”

#hey… (i love angst)#BEJAHAJAJAJAJAJAK #NAURRRRR #PLSSS #WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSF #pls ong i think im just gonna cry myself to sleep #ch: lmk #gnr: angst

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huangrens · 1 year

Text

"jae?"

summary: jaehyun buys johnny and mark some cuervo shots. he forgets the one thing that everyone says—stay away from your phone when you're drunk. note: jaehyun finishing his undergrad thesis, johnny and mark as a support system, and a lot of swearing/profanities, really. genre: pure and raging angst | word count: 1.7k — “one bott?” johnny asked.

“sure! this one’s on me.” jaehyun, with a sheepish grin on his face, replied. his cheeks were now hinting a shade of red. fucking adorable.

so why is jaehyun suddenly ecstatic about drinking cuervo and gulping it down straight as if it was… an ordinary non-alcoholic drink?

give the guy his moment. jaehyun’s thesis-making era has finally landed in the area of responsibility. out of all the frameworks and methods to be potentially used for his study (verbatim. legendary thesis), he is anxious. as much as he wants to bag that best thesis nomination from his architecture department, the thought of just getting it at the end of the sem sounds more convincing and realistic which is, well, quite a lonely take from a former A student turned mediocre due to sudden burnout, but that’s life now for some after the unforgiving turn of events embedded in the 2020 history records.

to tl;dr, jaehyun needs a drink and to get drunk. let him be, please? he’s used to bragging about his high alcohol tolerance but his primary goal is to get shitfaced, excuse the expression. a good hangover is needed by the morning; something to make him feel human again. the world is spinning quickly, and he needed to slow time just a little bit to cue his hazy vision and low inhibitions.

so the second cuervo arrived, right? jaehyun thanked the waiter and johnny and mark couldn’t help but laugh at how he was currently losing it all. he holds the golden bottle, his eyes fixed on the shot glasses, and when he poured, the drink spilled on the table. at this point, being drunk is no longer an excuse. his eyesight has also become worst over the years. what’s up with this guy, anyway? just go get yourself a LASIK surgery (to which jaehyun would only reply via text so dryly: lol)

johnny snatched the bottle from jaehyun and poured it into their shot glasses. in this kind of scenario, one would actually tap out and advise the rest who refuse to follow, but dang!, as the younger bro always says, it seems like jaehyun needed this the most. johnny knew the stress as he has already graduated (but still chose to enroll for a master’s degree afterward because the MA sneak beside his name sounds lit!), and mark is amused by jaehyun’s clumsy state anyways.

“mark, stop laughing.”

“oh, why?” mark looked at johnny with confusion.

“because next year, bro, you’re gonna be as shitfaced as jaehyun because of your thesis! haha!”

while the two bickers, the cuervo shots were going down on jaehyun like water. as he takes the nth shot of the night, he lowers the glass slowly and stared blankly at the two of them.

mark slightly gripped the hem of johnny’s shirt to break off the banter.

then he said “yo, the fuck?”

when the both of them faced jaehyun, his eyes were bloodshot… red?

“jaehyun, are you crying?” johnny asked.

“i broke… heart.” jaehyun muttered.

“huh?”

“shit, i broke it.”

“you broke what?”

mark dumbfounded, was just staring at jaehyun. johnny kept asking who, but jaehyun just keeps on speaking in codes.

“fuck, she said “i love you””

“dude... who?” mark asked. the atmosphere is getting serious as he mumbles what we can assume as his regrets. the two couldn’t really tell. at this point, jaehyun’s all over the place; incoherent.

“fuck,” jae cursed for the nth time. “i took it for fucking granted.”

“it was so exclusive. fuck, that ‘i love you’ was so exclusive.”

“fuck. fucking fool. the fuck, jae? i’m such a fucking headass.”

and bratatatat he goes. the other two gentlemen were listening attentively, hoping he’d spill a name or a clue of who he was referring to. but nothing comes out. as if jaehyun was stuck at the moment when the person said “i love you” to him. jaehyun was in a loop, like a broken record. and when he finally stopped blabbering and took another shot, his face was already on the table, and with eyes closed, he fell into a deep slumber.

and god, his position looks so uncomfortable. his arms were just hanging and flanging into the air. the younger noticed his state, so he decided to put jaehyun’s arms and palms over his legs.

“dude”, mark said to johnny. “are you sure he needs it for his thesis or that thing?”

—

when jaehyun woke up, mark was on his phone. johnny, on the other hand, was taking a puff from his vape that is wrapped around his neck. you know those dudes who are not so subtle about their vape life? displaying their vapes like an id, and is lit blue? strawberry-minty flavor, smells good though, in fair. but he would tell you to go away if ever you would want to try. “smoking kills!”, he would say. shoo!

“i feel like throwing up.”

“i’ll come with you. come on.” johnny offered.

they went inside the restaurant across from their al fresco space. johnny led the way toward the bathroom. the rest is history. jaehyun walked out from the bathroom stall and washed his hands and mouth. a little splash on his face was needed, too; just to sober up.

he is in fact, and indeed, sobered up; sound and with consciousness. he said “go ahead” to johnny and went back to their table. mark is texting, probably a hook-up, by now. but he never leaves the gang to give respect to the bro night. he was also curious about what happened to jaehyun, anyway.

but johnny isn’t surprised, like, at all. jaehyun is an eye candy in his university. he sure made his fair shares from time to time but the thing is, they don’t really talk about their flings and such. the pack isn’t a kiss-and-tell, the usual trashy friend group that reeks pride via body counts. and jaehyun would introduce if ever he gets in a situationship leading to commitment anyway. it’s just that mark has never seen this side of jaehyun.

but there is indeed a possibility that jaehyun has this hopeless romantic tendency given he must have watched 500 days of summer approximately 500 times by now, and still believes that summer finn is a bitch.

“drink some water”, mark handed a bottle.

“thanks.”

“so…”

johnny nudged mark. it was a signal to stop the interrogation. mark got social cues, thank god. they’ll let jaehyun spill at his own pace. the guy is still trying to recover. one of these days, he’ll remember and open up because perhaps, it did really get serious at some point.

but jaehyun opened his phone and checked his text messages. there was a message, waiting for a response sent almost ten months ago.

january 11, 2022, 01:11 am | you wrote:

home?

to which he now replied: november 10, 2022, 02:45 am | jaehyun wrote:

not yet

and i dont think ill everr be

jaehyun grabbed the half-empty cuervo and poured it into his glass. mind you, not the shot glass, the bottle itself. mark and johnny, once again, stared at each other. jaehyun poured the last bit of the golden bottle and drank it straight. he winced and his throat felt burning. he then continued typing on his phone.

october 10, 2022, 02:46 am | jaehyun wrote:

and i know it sounds tssstupid

but i think im still in love with you

not think

fuck

i am in love with you

ive always been in love with you

and i never said it

and i wish i couldve said it back whenever you say it

because fuck

you deserved to hear it so much

jaehyun was in the middle of his never-ending texts when his phone rang.

he let it ring a few times. the phone vibrating felt somehow pressuring for the guy. mark and johnny were just staring at jaehyun, waiting for his next move.

shit, it really is you.

jaehyun got up from his seat while gripping his phone quite tight and walked a few inches from their table, lingering on the feeling of the buzzes. he took a few deep breaths in and touched the green button.

“jaehyun? are you drunk?” he heard from the other side of the phone. “go home, please, jaehyun?”

jaehyun.

jaehyun. it’s no longer jae.

meanwhile, johnny and mark were squinting their eyes, trying to look out for the dumbstruck fool, trying to catch signals and connect the dots.

“jaehyun?”, he couldn’t breathe. it felt suffocating. “are you still there?”

“hey.”, jaehyun finally mustered up the courage to speak. “i know it’s been a while but-”

“do you need me to book you an uber, jaehyun?”

jaehyun. jaehyun. jaehyun. tears start to swell in jaehyun’s eyes. where the fuck did ‘jae’ go? he desperately wonders.

“please… please call me jae, please? love, please?”

“jaehyun…” you replied hesitantly. “times have changed.”

“just this time, please?” jaehyun desperately asked. “one last time. i just need to hear it again then i’ll go.”

the line felt silent despite the murmuring sounds of happy co-workers cheering for the weekend and the faint booming music to liven up the place. but jaehyun’s world is painted in monochrome; lonely, and lifeless.

“jae…”

“hey, love.”

“jae…”

“i’m gonna miss you so much; every single day, baby. every single day.”

“jae, jae, jae…”

hearing ‘jae’ coming from you sounds music to his ears.

and for the last time, he pretended it was just another call coming from you—those nights like this paralleled before when jaehyun refused to pick up your calls on a night out, shitfaced, while on the other line, there was you who were constantly worried on his whereabouts. but he always got home safely and always told you this:

“don’t wait for me okay?”

and then you played along.

“just go home safely, jae.”

but in a parallel universe, he wishes he ended the calls with this. and he finally said it, when it is now too late:

“i love you so much, love.”

and jaehyun heard a faint sob on the other line, just before the call abruptly ended.

jaehyun stared at his phone until everything became blurry and his tears flowed down his cheeks.

he opened the message app and scrolled through your thread, until he reached the last message you sent.

"home?"

but jaehyun, he was never coming home,

now that he has lost the keys along the way.

#I THINK I NEED BE LEFT ALONE FOR A WHILE #☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️#i shed a tear reading this #YES QUEEN GIVE HIME WHAT HE DESERVES !#LOL JOKING BUT JAEHYUN ☹️☹️☹️#BESTIE SOBBED BUT HE DESERVWS IT !#but if this was me ill be literally going back to him faster than anything #glad im not 😄😄#ch: jjh #gnr: angst

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huangrens · 1 year

Text

still here

summary: it all started with a kiss from your best friend, mark. and most cases, one night stands do not usually end well... right?

note: best friend!mark, sexual implications, cursing/profanities, making out? and purely confused and panicking mark lee.

genre: 99.9% angst and 0.1% fluff | word count: 1.5k

- mark never had a good night's sleep in a while until now.

he opened his eyes and the window to his left side almost told him “good morning”, so bright, so sunny. but he looked at the bookshelves beside a study table, and the bulletin board stacked with utility bills and polaroid films of friends just above a supposed to be a replica of surely an andy warhol pop-art painting.

this was definitely not mark’s room.

he was about to remove the blanket that is sitting on his legs when a figure beside him shuffled a little. the back facing him was bare, messy hair all he could see. but he instantly recognized it, and the room, for so long; because it was you.

slightly panicking, mark carefully removed the warm clothing above his thighs then there he saw that he was only wearing his boxers. right above, just a little, he could see the messy lining of his shirt, and it was definitely worn the other way around.

he rose from the bed carefully, avoiding causing any disturbance. mark made sure his footsteps were inaudible while he was looking for his pants and grey hoodie on the floor. he slowly picked his jeans up, but the belt still made a faint clang noise that he held it so tightly while putting it back on. he also removed his wrinkled, reversed shirt so it would be worn correctly this time before topping it with his grey hoodie.

then mark just… stood there in front of your bed, watching you, trying to recall what has happened last night. then it was all slowly coming back to him.

now, if you happened to wake up at this very moment, then what would he do?

mark bit his lower lip as he was trying to answer the question he is about to face later on. he suddenly felt the need to apologize.

maybe because may have been selfish.

he suddenly kissed you while watching before sunrise. maybe, just maybe, if the romantic and sexual tension were not so intense throughout the film, then he would not have needed to finally act upon what he has been thinking all this time.

but the fact that you gave in... god, he thought, you gave in. no sight of alcohol around, just pure sober thoughts. mark has no idea where he got the push.

but was he remember asking you if you wanted it. mark needed the confirmation, just to make sure you are on the same page as him.

“you want this, right?”

you were catching your breath from the heated kiss when he asked. and yes, you wanted more.

“i would not hold back this time, baby”, you giggled. you liked him calling you baby. “are you sure?”

“mark..." you replied. "baby…”

you were straddling him and started kissing his neck again. mark’s eyes were closed and feeling his crotch against your clothed sex, but he was not so sure that you understand; that if you continue along, the morning may not be the same anymore.

and now, with mark wondering, here we are.

so he removed your arms, now wrapped around his neck while you planted kisses on his cheek, and firmly intertwined his hand with yours.

mark looked you in the eyes so intently, your gaze could not leave his.

“i’m asking again,”, he emphasized. “are you sure you really want to do this?”

and it took you seconds to nod, as you had already caught what he is thinking—the consequences, the adjustments, the confrontation to be served via breakfast.

“mmh”, you hummed.

“words. i need to hear it.”

“yes, mark. i want this.”, you replied. “do you?”

“yes, i do… so much.” he put his palm on the right side of your cheek, just a little graze yet soft, so warm, so lovely. “you have no idea.”

mark has been staring at your still-sleeping figure for too long. too long, really. should he just leave a text that says, “hey... we need to talk about last night.”? or maybe go for an old-fashioned way and write a note saying “i had to go. errands.”, when in fact, it is a sunday morning and he is actually on work leave?

but omitting some words behind these questions, should he leave?—the simple question as it is, but would he be treating you the same as his one-night stands? for him, you deserve more than just ditching and letting avoidance do its own work at this point. you are a friend—the best friend.

you finally shuffled from your former position, still sleeping. from facing the back, your body is now almost facing where mark stands still. his fight or flight response is now asking him several questions. he wanted to run from the consequences he emphasized last night. he thought he could handle them but fuck, no.

mark, noticing that you were still unconscious made him run his fingers through his hair. slightly frustrated and he may have muttered "fuck, fuck, fuck!", a little too loud and-

“just lock the door when you leave, mark.”

mark froze on his feet, mouth agape at your sudden words.

you said it so... nonchalantly. and so you went back to your former position, facing your back against him once again too quickly but still, eyes closed.

you were waiting for him to leave immediately now you may have answered the thing that has been bugging him for minutes now.

and of course, you knew the moment you gave in, there was no turning back. you wish you could say “i love you.”, but you would have rather devour into the kiss, hoping your actions would translate those words instead. so you went along; touching him for the very first time, and feeling all of him for the last time.

but what hurts most is that you know where this is gonna go, that you will wake up to the sounds of shuffling and rummaging the one-night stand’s clothes on the floor, and the footsteps while the guy is putting his shoes on. and what has happened this morning so far is no exception.

maybe mark was too kind just to leave because you are you. and it stings more to know that you are just… a friend.

and it hurts more to see that he was ready to go.

so you just had to instruct him what others usually do. and you just wish you woke up a little later on an empty, messy bed—finding him gone for good.

mark felt a strong pang struck into his chest. he felt like his heart is being held tight, being twisted, being ripped into pieces.

and it hurts him more that you thought he was going to leave, that you thought he was going to be another one-night stand, and that you have already accepted that everything that you both went through is now ruined.

so when mark walked towards the door, your breath suddenly hitched but was inaudible. he clicked the lock, turned the doorknob, and you heard the door opening and closing.

you finally let out a sob that has been desperately wanting to be released as he was collecting his things.

tears damped your pillow until your cries lulled you to sleep.

your room is illuminated by the sunset, thanks to the always bright window. already past afternoon, you managed to escape the dreadful morning.

a little foolish of you, really, to check your phone and hope mark would leave a text. you chuckled at the ridiculous thought, only to find your notification bar empty.

but then you heard faint noises coming from your living room. a little shuffling and steps over there. you stood up and opened your door.

and there he was, actually in the kitchen, checking out what is in your refrigerator. you slowly walked in his direction.

“mark?”

he turned around and said, “hey.”

“what are you doing?”

“trying to cook.”

and he was holding his phone, and there appears to be a cooking tutorial paused on the screen.

“cook what?”

“pesto…? actually, dang, you don’t have enough ingredients so i’m just gonna do a quick run at 7/11 so—”

“mark?”, you asked, now more confused than ever, “you never left.”

for mark, this was never a mistake. he had wanted and waited for this for so long. this—overcoming the boundaries and just feeling you entirely–the making out, the fucking, the embracing, the tangled bodies, the intertwined hands, the how are yous, the sharing of joys and growing pains, everything and more; and most importantly, the i love yous.

he finally did not walk out the door for once, now that he has had you in his arms last night. no fumbling with the bags this time.

enough of the jealousy and the constant checking of his phone, waiting for a text after you went out on a date, thinking he is going to lose you to another guy because mark could never say how much you mean to him. no more subtle touching, like how he likes it when he wraps his arms around your shoulders. sometimes, he would just leave it there after saying he needs to protect you while crossing the street. and more, so much more.

mark needs more—never from but of–mark needs more of you. because good god, for once, he knows what love is—and love is the entirety of you.

so mark just shrugged with a sheepish grin plastered on his face.

“still here, baby.”

and you loved that cute, stupid smile every single time.

what a sight.

#🫠🫠��#EXCUSE ME WHILE I DISSIPATE INTO THIN AIR #😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️#THIS IS THE ULTIMATE PINING #HELLO THE WORDINGS #THE DIALOGUE #THE THOUGHTS #ive felt everything in my bones #IMMACULATELY WRITTEN #i think this fic has restored my faith in life #MARKKKK LEEEEEEE #ch: lmk #gnr: angst #gnr: fluff #gnr: mature

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huangrens · 1 year

Text

my murderous psycho brother gives my boyfriend the seal of approval.

pairing: son of athena!renjun x daughter of aphrodite!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 6.6k

author’s note: it’s finally here, the first fic in demigods: electric boogaloo! it feels so nostalgic to return to this pairing because i haven’t written them in so long 🥺 i really hope you guys enjoy it 💕 you also might notice that i am including the member’s perspective a lot more than i did in the previous series. i wanted to try something different with the sequels since i rarely ever include perspective shifts in my fics because i find it easier to write with one distinctive voice. please let me know your thoughts <3333

warning(s): depressive behavior

additional: this fic is a sequel. catch up on the original series here!

credit for the templates used in my edits (x) (x)

Someone is knocking on the door.

You’re not sure if it’s because you have been sitting in your bed, wrapped in 3 layers of blankets while shrouded in total darkness for an extended period of time, and your senses have suddenly become heightened because of it, but you recognize who it is by the way he knocks.

It’s Huang Renjun, your wonderful boyfriend and the sole reason why you haven’t completely morphed into one of those single-cell microorganisms that feed on bacteria in the deep, dark trenches of the ocean.

His knocking style is very much like his personality—three raps, short and sweet, but consistent. If Renjun is anything, he is consistent. He’s been consistently in love with you since you met him almost 5 years ago, patiently waiting for you to look his way, and he’s consistent now as he patiently waits for you to allow him to shoulder the weight of your grief alongside you.

Even though some of your other siblings have come by and checked on you, Renjun’s knocking is the only thing that clears your hazy mind for even a moment. You’ve lost all concept of day and night at this point, but even in your stupor, your brain hangs onto every little detail of Renjun.

Does that sound stalkerish? Perhaps.

Are you actually a stalker? Debatable.

“Just a second,” you call out, voice sounding like you have the worst pneumonia of your life. Hurriedly grabbing the cold spoons you’ve been keeping on your nightstand, you place them against your swollen eyes. It’s a depuffing trick that you normally use when you’ve eaten too many salty foods at night, but now they serve as tools to help you hide the fact that you’ve been crying.

After a couple more seconds, you finally say, “Okay, you can come in now.”

The door clicks open and Renjun walks in, holding a tray of food.

“You know, your room is technically going to qualify as a biohazard if you don’t let in some fresh air soon.”

Keep reading

#SEQUELS SEQUELS #JAEHYUN YOU SWEET FUC-#SJKSDJKDFK IDK WHETHER TO STRANGLE OR PAT JH IN THE HEAD BC HE STILL SUCH A SWEET BRO TO YN #SDKFHSKDHFJD BUT RENJUN BEST BOY AS ALWAYS #ch: hrj #gnr: fluff

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huangrens · 1 year

Text

tangerine love (favorite) (l.dh)

PAIRING. haechan x fem!reader

GENRES. fluff, smut, light humor

WORD COUNT. 21.8k

CONTENTS. explicit smut (oral (receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cumming inside, riding, breast/nipple play, haechan kinda likes to talk dirty)

NOTES. mandarins and tangerines are actually not interchangeable but for the sake of this fic, i do not care. this was very fun to write. i hope you enjoy it!! please leave feedback if you liked it :)

PLAYLIST. plastic off the sofa - beyoncé // tangerine love (favorite) - nct dream

Ever since moving into this new apartment complex with your friends Mijoo and Chuu, you’ve only caught a few glimpses of the three guys that live directly across the hall from you.

Renjun, Jaemin, and Haechan all seem like nice guys in passing, always smiling politely and waving, but there’s always been something…different about Haechan. You could chalk it up to a budding crush on the handsome male, but there’s always a playful air to his presence, his eyes glinting with a secret you’re begging to be let in on.

You barely get any discerning words in whenever you pass by each other, the only notable time you’ve spent together being in a quick trip up to your floor in the elevator, and you spent that whole time trying to avoid getting caught ogling his attractive features.

Based on the small amused chuckle he’d let out after a quick glance to you as he’d gestured for you to exit first, you think you weren’t as discreet as you’d hoped to be.

That mildly embarrassing incident, however, only registers as a 3 on the Embarrassment Richter Scale that you definitely did not just make up.

What definitely classifies as a 6, however, and you’re not being dramatic (probably), is tonight, when you make it to your apartment at 4:00am to find that you’ve forgotten your key and are, therefore, locked out.

After three unanswered calls to each of your roommates’ phones and four whining voicemails, you begin to lose hope.

“Oh, come on,” you mutter, restlessly shifting from foot to foot as you knock at the door insistently. “Wake up, wake up—”

“Hey, neighbor,” you hear from behind you, and you hesitate, praying you’ve incorrectly matched the voice to a person, before turning around.

Of course, because your luck is just fantastic, none other than Haechan stands behind you, leaning against the wall by his front door.

“Hey,” you offer a small wave, and he raises his eyebrows, gesturing at your door with a hand holding a beer can. “Locked out.”

“Ah,” he says sympathetically. “That sucks. Have you tried kicking it?”

“K-Kicking it?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion, and he nods, striding across the hall to stand beside you. He smells amazing, you note with a dreamy sigh that you hope he didn’t hear, and he points to the part of the door where the lock is.

“Yeah, maybe if you kick it right here,” he cranes his head to look at you, smirking slightly when you blink at him wide-eyed, “you can kick the door in. I saw it on TV once.”

“We aren’t on TV,” you comment with a small snort, making Haechan chuckle and nod in agreement, “but I can give it a try.” You step back and rear up, kicking the door where Haechan pointed as hard as you can.

The sound is embarrassingly loud and the black shoe print on your door is only a testament to your failed attempt to gain access to your apartment.

Haechan snickers loudly from beside you, and you turn to him, eyes narrowed.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, holding his hands up in the air defensively. “It was an impressive kick, though.”

You straighten up slightly at the compliment, smoothing down your jacket. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he says sincerely. “You’ve got a lot of power in those legs.”

“Thanks,” you hum thoughtfully.

“What are you even doing out so late? It’s not safe to be out alone at this hour.” Haechan asks, and you huff in defeat.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to go for a walk to de-stress, y’know? Clear my head.” you sigh.

“I see,” he remarks, taking a sip from his can as he leans against the wall beside your door. “Well, how’d that work out for you?” His tone is teasing, and when you turn to glare at him, the playful look on his face makes it impossible for you to maintain the disdainful expression.

“Not great,” you mutter, smiling despite your situation.

“Well, y’know, if you wanna come in until one of your roommates wakes up, you’re more than welcome,” Haechan offers, jerking his chin in the direction of his door.

“That’s a very nice offer,” you say appreciatively. “Why are you awake, actually?”

“I don’t like to sleep.” Haechan answers, shrugging.

You blink at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he chirps. “Sleep makes me feel like I’m missing out on something.”

“The FOMO runs strong in you, I see.” You offer a wry smile which he returns and you lean your back against your front door beside him. Looking over at you, he pushes off of the wall and turns so he’s standing in front of you.

You really wish he hadn’t done that, actually, because now you’re forced to confront how unfairly handsome he is, and you suspect Haechan knows that, given the way his eyebrow arches attractively.

“Think about it this way,” he shifts closer to you slightly, his tongue running over his bottom lip, “I would’ve missed out on getting to talk to you tonight if I was sleeping.”

“Very true,” you muse with a small smile, and he grins. “Didn’t know that my company is worth staying up for.”

“Of course it is,” he scoffs. “Who else is gonna stare at me when she thinks I’m not looking?” His words freeze you in place, your expression resembling a deer in headlights before he laughs to break the tension. “I’m teasing.”

“Oh,” you mumble, but you both know there’s truth to his words; your face doesn’t hide your emotions well at all, and you’re surprised you’ve managed to go this long without looking at him and practically swooning.

“Cute,” he says softly, eyes scanning your face.

Before you even get to comment on the unexpected compliment, your door unlocks and you spring forward just in time to avoid falling back as it opens. A very sleepy, very cranky Mijoo stands in your doorway, eyes barely open as she holds the door open for you.

In your haste to get off of the door, you fail to realize your surroundings, lurching forward and directly into Haechan’s personal space. Your chests are but a breath away from touching, and he chuckles, bracing you with both hands on your hips. The cold condensation of his can seeps into the hem of your shirt and you swallow hard as you look up at him sheepishly.

“Sorry about that,” you mumble, stepping back slightly, realizing a moment later that Haechan still hasn’t released your hips. He seems to notice when you do, clearing his throat and dropping his hands back to his sides with a small smile.

Turning to thank Mijoo, you notice that she’s already left, presumably having shuffled off to her bedroom to resume her sleep, leaving the door slightly ajar with a slipper.

“Glad you got in,” he remarks, gesturing behind you at your apartment, and you nod in appreciation.

“Thanks for, uh, keeping me company.” you say with a bashful smile.

“No problem.” He walks backwards to his front door, opening it without looking, and raises two fingers to his brow in a mock salute.

“Good night.” You bid him goodbye with a wave, turning to head into your apartment before he calls your name, prompting you to turn back around. “Yeah?”

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” He sounds, if you’re not crazy, like he’s flirting with you, and your eyes widen as he lifts his brows in a playful wiggle.

“Okay,” you agree with an almost robotic nod, and he grins before turning and heading into his apartment, prompting you to follow suit.

When the door’s shut and locked, you let out a long exhale, finally letting your giddy squeals bubble up out of you.

He called you cute. He called you cute and he touched your hips, and he was so close—

Okay, maybe the Embarrassment Richter Scale would classify that as a 4 instead—points were docked because it may have actually worked out in your favor somewhat.

You haven’t really fulfilled your promise of not being a stranger with Haechan; he still makes your heart skip a nervous little beat every time he grins at you from across a room or waves at you in passing.

He, however, is doing a great job of not being a stranger with your roommates, both of them regaling you with funny things Haechan has told them in various conversations. Chuu works with Haechan at the bookstore, as it turns out, and Mijoo just has a convenient schedule, running into your handsome neighbor more often than you do.

Are you bitter? No. Absolutely not. Are you jealous? Not in the slightest.

Are you lying about both of those things? Yes, entirely.

You’re heading out of your apartment to the grocery store, locking the door behind you when you hear the door across the hall open.

Turning to see who it is, your eyes widen and a giddy little smile tugs at your lips as Haechan looks you up and down.

“Well, look who it is,” Haechan greets you, and your smile widens.

“Hi, Haechan.” you say softly, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

“Where are you headed?”

“The grocery store,” you explain, showing him your tote bag filled with reusable shopping bags.

“What a coincidence,” he muses, stepping closer to you. “So am I?”

“Really?” you say in surprise, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Yeah,” he confirms, stepping even closer to you. He’s close enough now that you can smell the warm, cozy scent of his cologne. “You didn’t keep your promise,” he points out, frowning very attractively at you.

“About not being a stranger?” you ask, and he nods, his frown deepening.

As cute as he is like that, you don’t think you ever want to be the reason he frowns again.

“You can make it up to me if you wanna,” he suggests, a playful lilt to his voice, and you raise an eyebrow suspiciously.

“How’s that?”

“Be my shopping buddy for today.”

You pretend to think about it, smiling when he looks at you expectantly. “Okay.”

“Great! We can take my car.”

“Oh, thank God. I was gonna walk.”

“Aren’t you lucky to have me?” He grins and gestures down the hall for you to walk with him.

“Something like that,” you mumble under your breath, Haechan thankfully not hearing you.

The ride to the store is pleasant, Haechan playing music in the car—almost exclusively Michael Jackson, to be specific, with the inclusion of some other artists—and you two talk the whole time, never a lull in the conversation as you learn more about each other.

He works at the bookstore a couple blocks down from the record store you work at, likes playing video games and listening to music, and is, on top of an incessant flirt, a very attentive listener.

You two make your way through the store gradually, your shared cart filled with various frozen goods and produce items. You’re in the fruits section, inspecting bags of mandarins to find the best bunch, when you both start to speak.

“Hey, I just thought—”

“You know what’s so—”

You both stop talking at the same time, laughing before you gesture for him to speak.

“I was just thinking about how you work at the record store; do you guys have this one Michael Jackson vinyl? It’s limited edition, so you probably don’t, but—”

“What’s it look like?” you ask, and he pulls up a picture on his phone, showing you and looking at you hopefully.

“I can’t say no for sure, because I haven’t checked. I’ll check and let you know!” you assure him, and he smiles in relief.

“That’d be awesome. I’ve been looking for it everywhere. What were you gonna say?”

“I was gonna say that it’s so sick that produce companies put mandarins and other orange citruses in orange netted bags to make them look more appealing.” you huff, inspecting the bag you’re holding more carefully.

“It’s sneaky,” Haechan agrees with a small smile as he watches you.

“It’s deceitful!” you exclaim indignantly, and he snorts, barely biting back his laughter. “I’m serious!” You frown, and he hums sympathetically.

“I understand.” He pats your shoulder gently, his hand lingering for a moment before dropping, his fingers grazing your arm on the way down.

“I think these are good.” you finally decide, placing your bag in the cart, and Haechan quickly looks over the mandarins, plucking a bag of his own and placing it in the bottom of the cart. “You like mandarins, too?”

“Love them,” he confirms, and you smile, pleasantly surprised. “Do you have anything else on your list?”

“Nope; you?”

“Nope. Let’s go to the check-out aisle?” He gestures towards the front of the store, and you nod, walking beside him as you both push the cart. (Well, truthfully, Haechan is doing all the pushing; your hands are on the bar for decoration, essentially.)

When you get to the front aisle, a familiar voice calls your name and you crane your head to find the source.

“I think it’s Mijoo,” Haechan murmurs, also looking around.

Do you bristle slightly at the thought that he recognized your friend’s voice before you did? No, absolutely not. And you’re definitely not lying to yourself right now.

You find her in aisle six, loading up your groceries on the conveyor belt and separating them with the divider as you greet Mijoo.

“How’s work?” you ask curiously, and she frowns deeply. “Oh, no.”

“I just got yelled at by some old lady who got mad I wouldn’t take her expired coupons. They expired four months ago.” Her face is deadpan, and you wince.

“Damn,” you sigh sympathetically as she scans your groceries. “If you want her to suffer, give me a call.”

She snorts loudly, putting in her employee code so you’ll get a discount on the groceries, and looks at you with an amused but unimpressed stare. “What are you gonna do?”

“Steal her cane or something, I don’t know.”

“That’s evil,” Mijoo giggles, gesturing for you to pay. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“You left something in the cart,” Haechan calls to you, and you frown, turning back to check. He shifts to take your place as you check before saying, “Oh, sorry, I think that’s mine, actually.” He smiles sheepishly, and you wave him off gently, turning back to the pin pad to see “Transaction Approved!” You turn to look at Haechan, who’s putting his card away, and shoot him an incredulous stare.

“What?” He’s grinning cheekily at you, and you splutter awkwardly.

“Did you just pay for my groceries?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he replies smoothly, and you narrow your eyes, looking over at Mijoo for support.

She raises her hands in surrender, looking down at her scanner. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“Traitor!” you whisper incredulously, and she frowns at you.

“Sorry.”

You direct your narrowed-eyed gaze to Haechan for a moment and then shuffle to the bagging section, carefully packing up your groceries as Haechan checks out his groceries. As they come down the conveyor belt, you package his things up too, and he smiles gratefully at you as he makes his way to you.

You catch him giving Mijoo a fist bump and murmuring, “Thanks,” as you’re finishing up the bagging, and you huff petulantly, loading up everything into the cart.

You bid Mijoo goodbye and head out of the store, walking to Haechan’s car and starting to take things out of the cart as he opens the trunk.

“You’re pretty close with my roommates,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, side-eyeing Haechan.

“Not really,” he dismisses you. “I work with Chuu at the bookstore, and I really just see Mijoo in passing.”

“Well, you guys were all buddy-buddy just now,” you point out, trying your best to hide the jealousy creeping into your tone.

Your attempt fails, if Haechan raising his eyebrow in amusement is any indication.

“Are you…jealous?” Haechan asks with a smile, and your eyes widen.

“No!” you yelp, clutching a bag to your chest almost protectively. “I am not.”

“You totally are,” he snickers, and your brows furrow. “It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute,” you counter, “because I am not jealous.”

“Oh, yeah?” Poking his tongue into his cheek and grinning at you, his casually attractive appearance practically takes your breath away.

“Yeah,” you mumble weakly. “I totally don’t mind that you talk to my roommates more than you talk to me. Doesn’t bother me at all.” Haechan doesn’t respond for a moment, giving you the opportunity to place the last bag in the trunk of the car. When you shut the trunk and turn around, you jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity, the two of you almost face to face, and he chuckles at your reaction before refocusing his gaze on your eyes.

“What if I said I was only befriending them to get close to you?” He raises his eyebrows with a flirtatious little wiggle, and you swallow thickly, looking down to break eye contact. Apparently, he doesn’t intend to give you a break anytime soon, ducking down slightly to lock eyes with you again. “Hm?”

“I’d ignore all of that,” you say slowly, carefully controlling the nervous yet excited tremor in your voice, “to ask why your face is this close to mine.”

“Why?” His eyes are alight with glee as he backs you up against the car slowly, and you gulp. “Does it make you nervous?”

“No,” you huff.

“You’re lying.”

“I am not lying!” you lie.

He raises his eyebrows again as if to say, “is that so?” He leans closer to you, now focused unwaveringly on your mouth, and wets his lips. You both stand frozen in place for a moment before he leans in closer and you break, yelping in panic before ducking so the crown of your head rests against his chest.

He calls your name softly and you shake your head, whining quietly in protest. He matches your tone, whining your name plaintively as he gently shakes your shoulders, and you peek up at him to see him grinning down at you.

“Told you.” He shoots you a smug upwards flick of his eyebrows before backing up to give you a moment of relief. “Now come on, the frozen stuff is gonna thaw.” When you don’t move at first, still stuck in place from the intimate moment you two just shared, he snickers and reaches for your hand, leading you to the passenger door, which he opens for you, waiting for you to get in.

Your body finally listens to you, sitting down in the passenger seat and strapping yourself in, and he shuts the door before making his way over to the driver’s side and getting in. He straps in and starts the car, looking over to you.

“You ready?”

You nod. “Ready.”

He smiles. “Then off we go.”

“Hey,” Haechan nudges you as you’re unloading the trunk, “I bet I can carry up more groceries than you.”

“No way.” you laugh, and his eyes light up as he grins before hurriedly snatching as many bags as his arms and hands can hold. “Haechan, there are eggs in here!” you warn in alarm as you grab bags quickly, swatting his hands away when he reaches for any bag you’ve set your sights on.

He shuts the trunk and locks the car before standing in front of you proudly. He’s definitely got you beat, holding no less than six bags of groceries, most of them being your reusable bags.

“You cheated,” you grumble bitterly, and he just grins and jerks his head towards the building.

“C’mon,” he says softly, walking towards the entrance. You walk after him and he says, “Do you know the real reason why I wanted to have that competition?”

“Because you’re competitive and wanted to see me meet my demise?” You look over at him, and he laughs before shaking his head.

“I wanted an excuse to be a gentleman and take your groceries up for you.” He holds the front door open for you, and you walk through, murmuring a “thank you.”

“Well, that’s very sweet,” you mumble sheepishly as you press the elevator button and avoid his gaze, and he shrugs, smiling.

“I’m a very sweet guy,” he says with a nod, and you nod slowly, looking him up and down. The elevator doors open and you both step in, Haechan pressing the button for your floor and leaning against the back wall as the doors slide shut. “What is it?” He looks over at you curiously, chuckling when he sees you smiling.

“Usually, sweet people don’t need to say they’re sweet, y’know.”

He looks up thoughtfully before nodding in agreement and looking back down at you. “Maybe I can show you how sweet I am, then.”

You can’t help but feel like he’s hinting at something else, but you push the thought from your mind and meet his gaze once more.

“Maybe you can.” The elevator dings and the doors slide open, Haechan gesturing for you to exit and following after you. A thought comes to you as you set your groceries down to find your keys and you turn to him once more. “Haechan?”

“Mm?”

“Was your plan to hold my groceries partially so I’d have to let you into my apartment to unload them?”

“No,” he says truthfully. “I did plan on seeing you for longer, though, so now you have to figure out which bags are yours and which are mine.” He grins proudly, and you raise an eyebrow.

“I bagged them separately.”

His face falls slightly, and you think you might hate that. “Oh.��

“But you wanna know something?” You’re quick to follow up in an attempt to comfort him, and he looks at you curiously. “I used my bags on everything, so…technically…”

“My stuff is in your bags.” His smile returns to his face and your muscles relax slightly in relief. “So…technically…”

“You and I have to unload all this stuff,” you say slowly, feigning a pout. “And who knows how long that’s gonna take?”

“Looks like we’re gonna be spending a bit more time together, yeah?” He’s grinning at you, stepping closer so the fronts of your shoes are touching, and you can’t help but mirror his smile, turning away abruptly to unlock your door.

“I guess so.”

As you, Mijoo, and Chuu become better acquainted with your handsome neighbors across the hall, you get closer and closer until hanging out with them is almost second nature. At this point, you’re no stranger to coming home and finding your neighbors and roommates sprawled around the living room; hell, you’ve often joined them if work hasn’t left you entirely drained.

You’re not even a stranger to the heated debates over nothingness that your friends often start fights about; you’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, and often storm off to your room in a grandiose huff when your opinion is shot down.

(If you’re being honest, sometimes you’ll take the smallest opening to retreat to your room once you feel your social battery depleting, but you don’t plan on admitting that any time soon.)

This afternoon, when you unlock your front door, sounds of yelling greet you as you step into the apartment and kick your shoes off.

“You’re home!” Mijoo yells in relief, running into the entryway and beaming at you. “Just in time.”

“Time for what?” you ask warily, and more footsteps come rushing towards you as Chuu approaches rapidly.

“If a dog wore pants—”

“You’re cheating! Let her get in here first!” Renjun yells from the living room.

Chuu rolls her eyes. “If a dog wore pants—as a matter of fact, come here and show them.” She takes your hand and pulls you into the living room, where Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin sit in various spots.

You lock eyes with Haechan, who grins and flicks his brows upwards as a greeting, and you snort quietly in amusement, smiling at him.

“If a dog wore pants,” Chuu stresses, shaking your hand to get your attention, “how would it look?”

You snicker. “This is what you’re fighting about?”

“Yes, ma’am. Now answer the question.”

“On its back paws,” you answer easily, and Chuu, Haechan, Jaemin, and Renjun exclaim triumphantly as Mijoo cries out in despair. “Mijoo, you’re kidding, right?”

“No! He has four legs!” she defends herself emphatically, and you shake your head vigorously.

“But the front two function as hands! You don’t put pants on your hands!”

“But they walk on all fours!”

“But if you handed a dog a ball, it would never try to grab it with its back two paws! Because those are its feet-feet, not its hands-feet!”

“I feel so betrayed,” Mijoo wails, rubbing her hand over her face.

“I mean, it’s okay!” You attempt to cheer her up, and she looks at you with a frown. “You’re entitled to your opinion—no matter how wrong it is.” You grin teasingly and you can hear Haechan snicker loudly from his chair.

“You little—”

“Who else had a wrong opinion they wanna share?” You change the topic, dodging when Mijoo launches a pillow at you. It hits the lamp instead, which falls and hits the wall, leaving a scuff mark. “That better buff out,” you warn a now sheepish looking Mijoo. “I am not losing my security deposit over something as silly as this.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she mutters petulantly, and you pat her shoulder comfortingly.

“Is that all you’ve been talking about?” you laugh as you make your way into the kitchen, washing your hands and grabbing the bag of mandarins, bringing them back into the living room with you.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Renjun sighs, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Eventful.” you say sarcastically, Haechan calling your name and catching your attention.

“Come sit with me,” Haechan offers, scooting over to create space for you in the armchair. The gesture is sweet, but there definitely isn’t enough space for both of you, so you settle for perching on the arm of the seat, draping your arm over the back of the chair.

Haechan rests his cheek on your thigh, looking up at you expectantly, and you lightly scratch the crown of his head in greeting.

“Hi,” he murmurs as the rest of your friends launch into another discussion about who knows what.

“Hey,” you reply softly, smiling down at him.

“Are you retreating into your room today?” Haechan frowns slightly as he asks, and you think about it before giving a small nod. “Why?” he complains, dragging the word out and shaking your knee rapidly.

“I’m tired,” you match his whiny cadence, scratching his scalp more in lieu of an apology. “You can come if you want.”

He perks up immediately, looking up at you in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna sleep, I’m just gonna relax.” you reply, and he nods eagerly, sitting up and offering you his hand.

“C’mon!” He’s practically bouncing in his seat with excitement and you have to bite back a laugh as you take his hand and stand up, leading him to your room.

“Wh—how come you’re going in her room with her?” Jaemin complains as you leave the living room.

“The vibes are better,” Haechan calls over his shoulder and you snicker, opening your door and tossing the bag of mandarins on your bed.

“You wait here; I wanna change.” You go through your drawers to pull out a more comfortable shirt and Haechan lies down on your bed, eyes taking in the entirety of your bedroom.

“Okay,” he hums peacefully, closing his eyes with a smile.

You go into the bathroom and change out of your blouse and into your t-shirt, leaving your jeans on and tossing your shirt in the hamper on your way back to your room.

“Welcome back,” Haechan greets you when you shut the door behind you, opening his eyes to look at you. His gaze lingers on you for a few moments longer than you were expecting, his lips curling into a grin when you shift awkwardly and turn away from him.

“Thank you,” you mumble, sitting on your bed and picking up your phone and a mandarin. “You can play music, by the way; my speaker system is the one with my name.”

Haechan nods and, as he’s setting up his connection to your speaker, says, “I was gonna ask; how was your day today?”

“It sucked, kinda. Well, I’m being dramatic, but my coworker was getting on my nerves.” you huff, and Haechan hums sympathetically. Selecting a song, he gets comfortable as the music filters in through the speakers. “I should have known you’d play Michael Jackson,” you chuckle fondly, and he smiles sheepishly.

“I love his music.” He frowns defensively, and you pat his hand gently.

“I know! I don’t blame you—he’s got an impressive discography.” you assure him, and you can see him relax slightly in your peripheral vision. Looking over at him, he’s got a relieved, content smile on his lips, his hooded eyes regarding you curiously.

“Tell me about your coworker?” he asks after a moment, and you pause mid-peeling of your mandarin.

“She’s just a micro-manager,” you huff, peeling the rest of the rind off and launching into your spiel. “She always tries to tell me what to do, but—I mean, I don’t, like, get paid to listen to her of all people, y’know?”

“I do know,” Haechan agrees, nodding in understanding. “That’s super annoying, actually.”

“It is!” you gripe before softening slightly and turning to Haechan. “Want some?” You hand him a piece of your mandarin, and he brightens, taking it gratefully and popping it into his mouth.

You two sit there for ages, to your surprise, talking about everything and nothing, from Haechan’s lazy slacker coworker to philosophical debates such as whether you’d rather be really small or really big (you’re both team little, for stealth purposes), sharing piece after piece of mandarin until your bed is practically covered in rinds and the pleasant smell of citrus lingers in the room.

“I like hanging out in your room,” Haechan muses thoughtfully, looking over at you.

“I’m glad,” you smile widely. “There are perks, y’know?”

“Yeah, there are snacks, good conversation, good music—and,” Haechan murmurs, his voice lowering ever so slightly in pitch as he studies your face, “I get a pretty view,” his voice softens to a whisper as he watches your lips, slowly wetting his own.

Your heart could just about beat out of your chest from the compliment, and the way he’s looking at your lips has your breath faltering, teeth anxiously nibbling at your bottom lip as you watch him watching you.

“Thanks,” you mumble quietly, and he nods, still studying your lips.

If you’re not crazy, it kind of seems like he’s about to lean in, and you brace yourself for impact, your eyelids drooping slightly in anticipation. Just as you expected, he breathes in softly, leans in closer, tilting his head to the side, and—

A knock on your door makes you flinch and him freeze, a small sigh leaving his lips as he pulls back and jerks his chin towards the door, reminding you there’s someone waiting.

“Come in!” you call, and Chuu and Jaemin poke their heads into your room curiously.

“We’re ordering food; do you guys want anything?” Chuu offers, and you look at each other before nodding in agreement. “Cool; come put in your orders soon!”

“We’ll be right out,” Haechan assures them, and Chuu removes her head from the doorway, probably heading down the hall.

Jaemin scrutinizes you two carefully, making your skin crawl anxiously as he regards you with suspicion.

“Can I help you?” you ask with a frown, desperately hoping you don’t look as guilty as you feel.

“Kinda thought you two would be—never mind.” Jaemin says cryptically, giving you both one last once-over before leaving your room and shutting your door.

You two are silent, the only sound in the room being the music playing in the background, and you can barely bring yourself to look at Haechan, already very aware that he’s looking at you.

“Wanna go get some food?” he breaks the silence, and you nod immediately, grasping at the topic shift like a lifeline.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Oh, damn,” Haechan’s sympathetic wince sounds out from behind you and you turn to look at him, hissing and turning back around as water starts to drip towards your elbow. “They put you on dish duty tonight, I see.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, shooting him a frown over your shoulder. “Woe is me.”

“Poor baby,” he coos playfully, shrugging off his jacket and placing it on the island counter. Before you can either attempt to recuperate from the pet name or ask what he’s up to, he nudges you aside and picks up the spare dish cloth. “Don’t worry; Haechan is here to help.”

“My hero,” you joke, pretending to swoon, and he laughs as he soaps up his cloth and starts washing a plate. “No, but I do appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses you casually. “I was actually looking for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. “Why’s that?”

“I wanna get your opinion on something.” Haechan says slowly, carefully, and you nod, a silent sign for him to continue. “Well, I have this friend,” Haechan starts off, monitoring your expression out of the corner of his eye. “He’s really into this girl, but he doesn’t know if he should go for it or not.”

“Hm. Does the girl seem interested?” you ask, trying to get a better sense of the situation, and Haechan pauses, looking at you again and chuckling as he shakes his head.

“He can’t fully tell,” he answers, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he sets the plate down and picks up a bowl. “She’s a little clueless.”

“Maybe tell your friend to give it some time to get a better idea of where she’s at.” you suggest, and Haechan nods slowly, thinking it over.

“But here’s the thing,” Haechan adds, “I—my friend wants to kiss this girl so badly.”

“Aw,” you hum sympathetically. “Poor guy.”

“Yeah, poor guy,” Haechan mumbles, and you become very aware of the fact that he’s staring right at the side of your face.

You fixate on a piece of food stuck on the plate you’re washing, scrubbing at the spot vigorously to do away with your nerves.

Haechan pushes away from the sink, drying his hands and leaning against the island behind you, his still detectable, very probing stare sending shivers down your spine.

“He really wants to kiss her, y’know.” he stresses, and you pause because, for one of the first times in your adult life, you think you’re finally starting to get the hint.

“Yeah?” The word feels like it’s stuck in your throat, your heart rate picking up considerably as the poor thing thuds away in your chest.

“Mhm,” Haechan confirms, his voice lilting as if trying to lead someone to an answer. “He thinks about it all the time.”

“Maybe she wants him to kiss her,” you murmur, and you could swear Haechan’s breathing stops, at least for a moment. He says nothing for an uncomfortably long time, your words hanging in the air between you two.

“Yeah?” His voice is soft, testing the waters, and you can’t bring yourself to speak, your rapidly beating heart migrating up into your throat.

You nod.

He’s silent for what feels like ages, then he’s calling your name quietly, but urgently. His voice sounds significantly closer and the thought of being so close to him at a time like this has excitement bubbling inside of you.

“Hm?” Your response comes out as a squeak, to your utter embarrassment, but as Haechan places his hands on your hips and slowly turns you to face him, you get the sense that he might not be too focused on that.

He searches your eyes for something—you don’t know what—and, seemingly satisfied, his intent, determined gaze drops slowly to your lips. He takes a step closer, and another, his chest brushing against yours with every breath either of you take.

You swallow thickly, instinctively moving with him as he backs you up against the kitchen sink.

“Haechan?” you call breathlessly.

His gaze doesn’t move from your lips, his own mouth curling into a small smirk. “Mm?”

“Why are you so close?” you ask, the anticipation reaching its boiling point.

He finally looks away from your mouth, meeting your eyes as he speaks with a raised eyebrow and a flirtatious little grin. “I can’t kiss you from anywhere else, can I?”

There, with soapy water dripping down your forearms and onto the floor and the faint chatter of your friends in the other room, Haechan kisses you for the first time.

His lips are warm and soft, and his hands are still slightly damp as one cups the side of your neck, thumb gently stroking your cheek, and the other presses against the small of your back, drawing you in closer.

As your lips move against the other’s, you come to your senses slightly and regain control of your body, wrapping one arm around his neck before pulling back quickly in realization.

His eyes are still closed for a fleeting moment after the kiss, lips parted slightly before he opens his eyes and regards you curiously.

“My hands,” you mumble before he has a chance to misread the situation, wiping them on your jeans hurriedly as your eyes fixate on a drop of water on the floor to avoid looking at him, “they’re all wet. From the sink water—”

Haechan calls your name with a laugh on the tip of his tongue, and you drag your gaze to meet his.

“Yes?”

“I don’t care about that.” he assures you, pulling you back in and slotting his lips with yours. “Just kiss me.” It’s mumbled into and against your mouth, just like your responding nervous (but excited) giggle into and against his own, but it’s understood all the same, and you do.

You do kiss him again—and again—and again, until you manage to separate from him long enough to turn off the sink water—and again, as he hooks his index finger through one of the front belt loops on your jeans and pulls you in closer, his other hand squeezing your hip—and once more, before the sound of footsteps coming towards the kitchen finally forces you two apart.

Haechan’s cheeks are reddened, yours are blazing with heat, neither of you can stop smiling, and the room is filled with tension so palpable that Mijoo and Renjun look between the two of you in confusion, sharing a bewildered glance between themselves before placing their dishes in the sink and exiting the kitchen.

(And then you kiss him again.)

Late one night, you’re awake in bed, scrolling through social media apps mindlessly, when a text comes in on your phone.

haechan: are you awake

you: no

haechan: ha ha very funny

haechan: i’m bored

you: me too

haechan: keep me company :)

haechan: come over

you: no it’s 3am

haechan: so? come over

you: i’m cozy i’m not moving

haechan: stubborn ass

you: :( mean

haechan: don’t worry i actually love your ass

you: :O that’s not very platonic of you

haechan: come over and i’ll show you just how not-platonic i can get

you: i’m not moving

haechan: UGH

you: :p sorry !! i have snacks in here i’m never leaving

haechan: …what kinds of snacks

You have a feeling you know where this is heading, so you muster the energy to get out of bed and head to your front door, unlocking it and heading back to your room.

you: come over and find out

haechan: gimme a sec

There’s radio silence for several minutes, then you hear a knock on the front door.

you: it’s unlocked :)

Despite the preparation you took for his arrival, you decide to get up and meet him, heading down the hall to see him shutting the door behind himself, locking the door and kicking off his slides.

“Hi,” you say with a smile, and he frowns at you in disapproval, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the door. “What?”

“You know how risky it is to leave your door unlocked?” Haechan asks as you get closer to him.

“It was unlocked for a total of fifteen minutes, max.” You roll your eyes, letting out a chuckle.

“So? That’s more than enough time.”

“Time for what, exactly?”

“Enough time for someone to sneak in here and,” Haechan focuses on your lips, staring at them as he continues in a softer, more suggestive voice, “have their way with you.”

You smile, amused, and make a show of looking all around. Leaning in, you whisper, “Haechan, you’re the only one here; are you planning to have your way with me?”

Haechan grins mischievously. “That’s a secret.” When you gasp and push his shoulder, he laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m kidding!”

“Sure,” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him. “C’mon, it’s cold in here and the heat’s on in my room.” He follows you into the kitchen, cheering silently when you grab the produce bag of mandarins and head to your room. Kicking off your slippers, you climb onto your bed, Haechan following suit, and sit cross-legged, placing the bag of mandarins in front of you.

Haechan sits in front of you as you reach for a mandarin, peeling it with ease and separating a piece, offering it to Haechan. He takes it readily, chewing contently as he peels a mandarin of his own, offering you a piece of his.

You’re not entirely sure why you two are swapping pieces as opposed to just eating your respective mandarins, but you figure there’s something tender about sharing the fruit with each other.

“What was keeping you up tonight?” you ask curiously, offering him another piece.

“Hm?” He looks up at you, handing you the mandarin piece he just separated.

“Your FOMO,” you remind him, and he grins as he thinks back to your first real conversation on the night you got locked out. “What did you not wanna miss out on tonight?”

“Talking to you,” he coos flirtatiously, and you roll your eyes and scoff in amusement.

“Sure.”

“I’m serious!”

“You didn’t even know I was up!”

“That was the point of texting you. If you hadn’t answered, I would’ve just gone to bed.” he counters, and your cheeks warm at how endearing it is that he was waiting to talk to you.

“Cute.” you mumble, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise, grinning and leaning closer to you. You groan with a laugh, and stuff your last piece of mandarin in his mouth. “Shut up.”

“Hey!”

“No talking with your mouth full,” you point out, and he narrows his eyes at you playfully before chewing it and focusing on pulling the last bits of pith off of his last piece of mandarin.

“Open,” Haechan murmurs, bringing the piece to your mouth. You give him a funny look, but he nods in confirmation and wiggles the piece, dropping it in his haste but managing to catch it before it lands. His index finger’s half punctured it, juice from the section dripping down his finger to the knuckle, and he frowns (very cutely, you might add) and moves to put it in his mouth instead.

You don’t know what possesses you. Maybe the universe’s pushing you to finally do something about all the tension that’s built up between you two. Whatever it is, you suppose you owe it a thank you.

You catch his hand halfway to his mouth and steer it towards yours instead. He raises an eyebrow, looking from his hand to you curiously, and you swallow thickly.

The bead of juice drips down ever so slightly, as if reminding you to make your move, and so you do. Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you take the mandarin piece into your mouth, pushing it to the inside of your cheek, and lick the droplet off of his finger, halting when your tongue reaches his fingertip and looking at him for a sign of something, anything.

His eyes have a wild glint to them and he looks up from your mouth to your eyes, raising both eyebrows this time in a silent challenge.

You suck his finger into your mouth, and he groans under his breath, shifting closer to you as he watches his finger disappear between your lips.

The look in his eyes—like he’s about to lunge at you, frankly—and his slightly parted lips work together to wipe your mind blank, your eyes glazing over as you suck on his finger. Meeting his gaze with heavy-lidded eyes, you swirl your tongue around the digit and he hisses, leaning in so closely your noses are almost touching.

His attention shifts between your mouth and your eyes rapidly, slowly wetting his bottom lip and tucking it between his teeth. Experimentally, he pulls his finger back slightly and you truly don’t know what comes over you but you whine, sucking slightly harder.

He pulls his finger out of your mouth and raises his eyebrows at your disappointed, slightly dazed expression. He shifts back slightly, as if remembering the situation you two are in, and you take the opportunity to chew and swallow the piece of mandarin stuffed in your cheek.

“Don’t give me that look.” His voice is low and dangerously soft, the warning more than prevalent.

“What look?” It’s a struggle to say it without sounding breathy or whiny, but you manage, mentally patting yourself on the back.

“Don’t play dumb,” he warns you, “you know exactly what you’re doing.”

You don’t, actually. You kind of wish you did. Maybe you’d have a better idea of what he’s thinking.

Haechan looks down to the side, staring at your comforter hosting the mandarin rinds, and starts to speak. “You know, I don’t wanna ruin our friendship, but I keep thinking about our kiss the other week.”

You don’t blame him; it’s shifted your relationship subtly but noticeably and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t frequently occupying your mind. Ever since that evening and the kisses you two shared, you couldn’t stop thinking about how he held you, his taste, his smell, the almost desperate way your lips kept connecting, the way his smile felt against your mouth—

“Ruin it.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears you all the same, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he stares at your lips. He leans closer, moving his body towards yours as he brings himself within kissing distance, and a tremble of excitement travels down your spine as you do the same.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Haechan confesses in a hushed murmur, and you nod encouragingly, reaching up and tentatively placing your hand on the side of his neck.

“Do it.”

And he does. Surging forward, he connects your lips in a feverish kiss—he tastes faintly of mandarin on his tongue, sweet and bright and tangy all in one and you whine into his mouth as he leans over you, pressing your back into your mattress.

His lips move with yours desperately, his hands clutching at your sides and pulling you against him, his hips pushing yours into the mattress as he sucks on your bottom lip and groans sinfully. Your fingers curl in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer to you and parting your legs for him to settle between them.

He takes the invitation immediately, resting between your legs as his kisses grow needier and deeper, his tongue flicking against yours before he parts from you, propping himself up on his hands as he breathes heavily, looking down at you with that wild-eyed gaze from earlier.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your free hand gripping the front of his shirt as you try to pull him back down to you.

Shaking his head, he swallows thickly and says, “I think that if we keep going,” his tongue swiping over his lips, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“Who said I want you to stop?” You tilt your head to the side curiously, and he pauses, looking at you with a brow raised questioningly. He scans your face, you shooting him an expectant look and tugging on his shirt impatiently, before inhaling sharply and leaning back down to kiss you again.

“You are so—” he mumbles distractedly, kissing you fervently and nipping at your lip gently.

“So?” you press curiously, gasping when his lips trail down from yours to your jaw to your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin.

“Dangerous,” he finishes, muffled from his ministrations on your neck, one hand squeezing your hip and gliding it up and down your side comfortingly. “Can we take this off?” he tugs at the hem of your sleep shirt, looking up at you hopefully.

“Yeah,” you agree, and he grins, pushing the shirt up past your chest. You sit up slightly so you can pull it off your torso, laughing when Haechan’s expectant smiling face reappears after the shirt’s done blocking your view.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Haechan,” you laugh, pulling him back to you with one hand as your other tosses your shirt off the bed.

“Have I ever told you that I love when you say my name?” Haechan’s lips resume kissing down your neck, sucking at a spot just above your collarbones.

“No,” you breathe, your inhale catching in your throat when his lips kiss lower to your chest, his hands pushing your breasts together and covering the exposed flesh in kisses. His tongue gliding in your cleavage, he sucks at a spot just above your bra, one hand slipping under you to unclip it.

“Love it so much,” he groans, pulling your bra off hurriedly and discarding it before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it slowly.

“Feels so good, Haechan,” you sigh happily, running your fingers through his hair as he sucks on the stiffened bud, one hand kneading your breast as he teases your nipple with his tongue.

He pulls back from you slightly, using the tip of his tongue to flick at your nipple, his hand leaving your breast and snaking down your stomach to slip into your shorts. When his fingers graze your clit over your underwear, you whine lowly and rock your hips up into his hand.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Haechan mumbles around your breast with a grin, his middle and ring fingers tracing around your clit teasingly.

“Yeah,” you half-exhale, half-whimper, attempting to angle your hips just right so his fingers press against the sensitive button. He chuckles at your efforts and complies, pressing against your clit and rubbing circles into it.

The room is filled with the sounds of your labored breathing and small moans, as well as the wet noises of Haechan sucking on your nipples, switching between breasts by kissing along your chest.

Growing impatient, Haechan pushes his hand into your underwear, the palm of his hand pressing against your clit as two fingers tease your entrance. When you whine plaintively, he obliges, pushing the two digits into you slowly.

Your hips lift up off of the bed and push down towards his fingers, somehow both avoiding and leaning into his touch, and he tsks quietly in disapproval, guiding your hips back down onto the bed as his fingers keep pushing in until they’re buried inside of you.

“That’s it,” he whispers encouragingly, leaning up to kiss you deeply, his fingers curling as he pumps them in and out and gradually builds up a rhythm that has your breath coming in short gasps. “Feel so good around my fingers, baby.” Haechan coos sweetly, tongue trailing along your lip.

“Haechan, faster,” you urge, walls tightening around his fingers and making him hiss. “Go faster—”

“Like this?” he teases lightly, taking your bottom lip between his teeth gently and tugging it as his fingers speed up, fingers curling into a spot along your inner walls that makes you cry out weakly, clutching his arm to brace yourself. “Yeah, like that,” he mutters more so to himself, grinning and releasing your lip in favor of kissing your neck.

His fingers are skilled and controlled, but his kisses are nothing short of a frenzy, his mouth seeming to attempt to cover as much ground as possible and coax you over the edge. It’s working, frankly, as your peak approaches and you grind down on his palm pressed against your clit, the added sensation dizzying.

“So close,” you moan, biting your lip to muffle the noises you desperately want to let out, and Haechan nips sharply at your neck, making you wince and pull back to look at him.

“Wanna hear you,” he murmurs.

“But—my roommates—”

“I don’t care.” He grins at you mischievously, his pace speeding up and making wet noises sound out from where his fingers disappear into you.

“Haechan—oh, shit,” you shudder as your climax hits, whining his name loudly as pleasure floods through your body, ebbing and flowing like tidal waves. Your nails digging into his arm, he winces slightly but keeps finger-fucking you until you’re pushing his arm away in a desperate attempt to protect your sensitive clit. “Too much!”

“Aw, c’mon, you can give me another one,” he taunts, and you shake your head, wrapping your legs around him and pushing your hips up.

“If I’m cumming again,” you say slowly, making sure he hears you clearly, “it’s gonna be with you inside of me.”

He hesitates, eyes widening almost imperceptibly, and gapes at you.

“You’re serious?”

“I’m serious.”

“God, you’re unreal.” he mumbles in awe, hurriedly kicking off his sweats. He curses when they get tangled by his ankles and you giggle, cupping his face to get his attention.

When his eyes are on yours, you smile reassuringly. “I’m right here,” you remind him. “I’m not gonna change my mind.”

“You’re not?” he asks, and you scoff in amusement, shaking your head.

“Not even if you take more than three seconds to take your pants off.”

He chuckles and nods, tugging them off and tossing them off of the side of the bed. “Your turn,” he says, staring pointedly at your shorts.

You lift your hips up and shimmy out of the shorts, chucking them in the same general direction Haechan threw his pants in. He doesn’t even let you pull off your underwear, shaking his head at you and instead pushing his boxers down to the middle of his thighs, his length slapping up against his stomach.

“Stop staring at my dick like that,” he mumbles shyly, and you shake your head slightly to snap yourself out of your daze. “I feel…scrutinized.”

“I’m appreciating it,” you assure him, and the unmistakable proud puffing of his chest makes you smile.

“Yeah?” he muses, leaning over you and guiding himself to your entrance, pushing your underwear to the side. You almost prefer this way, you think, something about the desperation laden in having sex with your clothes just barely shoved out of the way.

“Yeah,” you whisper, excitement creeping into your voice as he glides the shaft between your slick folds, collecting your arousal.

“Let’s see if you appreciate it more like this,” he breathes, pushing into you slowly, and your back arches as you inhale loudly. “Good?”

“So good,” you mumble, nodding encouragingly, and he licks his lips before bottoming out and groaning in pleasure. “Feels so full,” you say, and he nods, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“You’re so tight,” he grunts, pulling out slowly before pushing back into you quickly, eyes brightening at the moan you let out. He repeats the action, slowly moving inside of you and speeding up his thrusts until he’s built a rhythm that has little moans and whimpers spilling from you every time he bottoms out.

“God, yes,” you cry out, clutching his arm that’s propping him up by your head and turning your face towards it, biting down on his wrist to silence yourself.

“I wanna hear you,” he reminds you, shaking his hand until you release his wrist. “Every little sound you make—I want it.”

“Haechan,” you whine, and he growls softly in determination.

“That’s it, baby, just like that.” he encourages you, driving his hips into you in quick, powerful strokes.

You cup your breast with one hand, rolling your nipple between your fingers, and bring the other to your clit, rubbing it in quick circles that make your abdomen clench.

“God, that’s so hot,” Haechan mutters in awe, greedy eyes roving over your body admiringly as you pleasure yourself. “Want you to cum,” he urges, and you nod, your breath hitching.

“I’m close,” you confirm, and he hikes your leg up, resting it on his hip and angling himself towards it so his thrusts hit that spot along your walls that makes you see stars. “Yes, right there—”

“Right here?” His playful lilt drips confidence and only arouses you more, desire burning fiercely through you, an inferno blazing in your veins.

“Yeah,” you pant, whinier than ever as your desperation builds. “Right—fuck—” you hiss, your climax rushing to meet you and overpowering your senses. Your eyelids flutter shut and your mouth falls open, shaky breaths and broken moans of his name escaping you as his length pistons in and out of you quickly. Haechan doesn’t stop, keeping the same pace and power as your body stiffens before ultimately going limp.

“Good?” He rouses you from your daze, and you open your eyes to shoot him a dopey smile.

“Yeah,” you sigh blissfully, and he grins before leaning down so you’re nose to nose.

“My turn.” He thrusts into you even faster, the rhythmic sounds of your bodies meeting filling the room as you move to cover your mouth as hurried, frantic, and uncontrollable noises of pleasure leave you. “Look at you,” he coos, his words punctuated with each thrust. “Couldn’t be quiet even if you tried.”

“Hae—chan—” you stutter out, and he chuckles, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Music to my fucking ears.” His thrusts slow down as he groans with pleasure, his length throbbing inside of you as his pattern shifts to slower, more powerful snaps of his hips into yours. “Gonna cum—where do you—fuck—want it?”

“Inside,” you stammer, and he pulls back from your ear to look at you with unbridled excitement. “Cum inside.”

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me—” He climaxes without another word, biting down on your neck as he releases into you. His breath is hot against your flesh, moistening the skin as he digs his teeth into you and makes you whine in complaint, only releasing you in favor of sucking at the now sore spot.

His thrusts finally come to a stop, Haechan burying himself in you to the hilt as your walls clench around him, milking his orgasm for all it’s worth. Neither of you move for a while, just remaining in the moment with each other, before Haechan slowly pulls out of you and moves to lie on his back beside you.

Your walls clench around nothing, your face contorting in discomfort when a mix of your releases feels like it’s leaking out of you.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmur softly, and he looks over at you worriedly, the concern fading when you shoot him a warm, reassuring smile. You squeeze his hand comfortingly and climb off of the bed, readjusting your underwear and pulling your shorts back on. You shuffle to the bathroom awkwardly, cleaning yourself up and washing your hands before returning to your room.

“Hey!” you complain when you return, looking at Haechan under your covers.

He looks at you in surprise, slightly worried. “Was I supposed to be leaving?”

“What? No—you’re laying on my side.” you explain, pointing at your pillow, and his shoulders slump in relief as he rolls his eyes slightly and shifts over to the other pillow.

“God, I thought you were having, like, post-nut clarity or something and wanted me to leave, never to be seen again.” he rambles, and you stop mid-stride, looking at him with your eyebrows raised in amusement.

“You’re ridiculous.” You continue your path to your bed, climbing under the covers and putting the bag of mandarins on your nightstand. “The only post-nut clarity realization I’m having is that I am sleepy.”

“Me too,” he sighs. “Be right back,” he says, climbing out of the bed and scooping up the mandarin rinds, tossing them in your garbage on his way out of the room. You curl up on your side as you wait for him to get back, smiling softly to yourself as you recall the events that just transpired.

Your light turns off, shrouding your room in darkness save for where the moonlight delicately peeks through your windows, and Haechan clambers back into the bed, lying behind you stiffly before muttering, “Fuck it,” and draping an arm over your stomach, snuggling up to you.

“Good night, Haechan,” you murmur softly, and he hums contently, nuzzling his face into the back of your neck.

“Good night.”

Waking up doesn’t quite go the way you usually expect.

Before you can even open your eyes, you feel an arm draped over your midsection and hear something—or someone—stirring slightly beside you.

In your just-woken-up foggy mindset, you try to recall what in the fresh hell is going on, only to be jolted out of your focus by the realization that you can quite literally feel the person beside you staring at you.

Peeking won’t do any good given that they’re literally looking dead at you, so you keep working on pushing away the grogginess clouding your sensibilities.

“I can tell you’re awake, y’know.”

Ah. Well, that solves that.

Opening one eye, you peek at Haechan, who’s watching you in fond amusement with his head propped up on his hand, elbow just beneath the pillow his head was just resting on.

“Good morning.” He sounds teasing, the greeting pointed as you realize you haven’t yet said anything.

“Morning,” you croak, and he chuckles, settling back down so he’s lying beside you.

You move to sit up and he whines immediately, pulling you back down none too gently.

“Don’t get up yet,” he murmurs, and you furrow your brows.

“Why not?”

“Give me a second and I’ll think of a really good reason.”

You let out an amused snort and comply, lying back down. You shift slightly so you’re fully on your back and Haechan takes the opportunity to move closer to you, letting out a soft content sigh as he rests his head on your shoulder. “You’re awfully cuddly.”

“I’m always cuddly,” Haechan counters, and you nod slowly.

“You’ve got a point,” you agree.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, instead starting to shift away from you as he says, “I can stop if you want—”

“No!” you protest immediately, clutching onto his arm resting on you. “I like it.” He pauses and looks back at you with a relieved smile before settling back into place.

“Good.” His arm tightening around you, Haechan’s head ducks down, nuzzling into the space between your chin and shoulder where he exhales softly against your neck, chuckling when you squirm under him.

“Mm, you like that?” he murmurs, sucking his teeth when you shake your head. “Sure, you don’t.” You can practically hear him rolling his eyes and, as if to prove his point, he presses his mouth to your skin in a lazy kiss, lips parting to suck gently.

Your breath hitches and he snickers, repeating the action over and over again, lips kissing and sucking with no restraint, lewd grunts leaving him as he positions himself to get better access to you.

When his tongue peeks out to lick the dewy patch of skin he’s been sucking on, you accidentally let out a choked whimper and he hesitates before pulling back and looking at you.

Averting your gaze, you can’t help but look sheepish under his probing stare, that knowing grin you’re so familiar with growing on his face in your peripheral vision.

“Did you just moan?”

“That was not a moan!”

“So you admit you made a noise.” He looks smug at your inadvertent confession, and you grumble indistinctly under your breath. “It’s okay if I turn you on, you know.” Haechan says with a sympathetic pat to your hip, cackling when you push him away with an embarrassed huff.

“You suck,” you mutter, and he ducks his head to press an obnoxiously loud and sloppy kiss to your neck. Your squeal of disgust rings out along with his laughter as he shuffles further down on the bed, pressing languid kisses to your body as he goes. “Where are you going?” you giggle when you feel his fingers inching up the hem of your shirt and his breath exhaling on your navel. “Haechan!” you yelp in alarm as his tongue dips into your belly button, reaching down to swat his head away.

His fingers are hooking in your shorts and yanking them down your legs before you can even process the situation, the blanket lifting slightly for his hand to fling them off the bed.

He catches your hand by the wrist and presses it down on the bed by your hip, dotting kisses just above the waistband of your underwear as you wriggle under him uselessly.

“Remember that reason I was gonna give you to stay in bed?” he murmurs, the warmth of his breathing causing arousal to stir in your belly. “This is it.” He doesn’t say anything else, instead kissing your clit over your underwear with a low content hum. Your thighs reflexively move to close him out, but he pins them in place, palms flat against your inner thighs as he spreads them wider.

He presses another kiss to your clothed clit—and another, and another, until the room is filled with the sounds of his noisy kisses and your unsteady breathing. His kisses travel lower until he’s kissing at the very seat of your underwear, teasing over your entrance as his nose rubs against your clit.

Your breath catches in your throat when his tongue flattens against the seat of your underwear, no doubt tasting the arousal that’s begun to seep through the fabric. His almost ticklish ministrations have your insides fluttering with need and nerves, his moans only escalating the situation as they get lower and longer, croaky with desire.

He drags his tongue up your underwear from your entrance to your clit, swirling his tongue around the gentle imprint of the sensitive button and sucking on it until your thighs start to tremble.

“Haechan, please,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to remain steady at a louder volume. He hums questioningly, flicking over your clit with the tip of his tongue rapidly and pushing your hips back down when they buck into his face.

“Please, what?” You can’t see him due to his being under the covers, but you can imagine the smug little grin on his face right now.

“Please don’t stop,” you whine, and he hums—loudly and contently—before pressing another kiss to your clit.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.” His fingers collect the fabric of your underwear just above your clit and tug it upwards, making you gasp in surprise. He tugs up harder until the thin fabric of the seat of your underwear scrunches together and slips between your lips, flesh spilling out onto either side of the damp, essentially useless garment.

Your moans escalate in pitch as he tugs the underwear up repeatedly, delivering pressure and friction to your clit that’s almost dizzying but just slightly not enough. His tongue drags up your now exposed lips, sucking them into his mouth and licking over them to coat them with his saliva, replacing the slick arousal leaking from your core.

“Haechan,” you whimper, truthfully unaware of what you want—you know you want more, and you know he’s going to give it to you, if not more for himself than for you, if his blissful sighing is anything to go by.

He doesn’t dignify you with a response, instead releasing your skin from his mouth and latching onto your inner thigh as he slowly kisses at the heated flesh, slowly pulling your underwear to the side to reveal your glistening core.

A sharp intake of breath sounds from under the covers, and before you can ask what’s happened, he groans and your clit is enveloped in his mouth as he sucks greedily at the bud.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, clutching at the bedsheets over where you know his head to be. The hand he’s been using to hold your wrist hostage slips down to link his fingers with yours in an intimate gesture that makes you glad he can’t see your unbelievably flustered face. “Fuck, just like that,” you urge quietly, and he responds by rolling his tongue over your clit, only releasing it to lap up the arousal coating your folds.

“Tastes so good,” he grunts, lips brushing against your throbbing clit as he speaks. “Such a pretty pussy, too, baby.”

Your only reply is a weak whimper as his tongue explores your core with an almost feral eagerness. He pauses, fingers slipping from yours as he uses both hands to yank your underwear as far down your legs as he can manage while still being between them, and resumes his fervent licking, digits linking with yours once more.

Tugging the hood of your clit back to expose more of the sensitive bud, he coos affectionately at the revealed button—an action that makes your cheeks burn from shyness—and flicks his tongue all over and around it before sucking it into his mouth and humming contently.

“You like that, yeah?” Haechan’s voice is throaty when he speaks, thick with desire as he practically slurs his words at you. “Like when I suck on your little clit like that?”

“Yeah,” you whine breathlessly, nodding vigorously even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, I like it—”

“Wanna feel my tongue in your pretty pussy, baby? Hm?” He’s practically taunting you, but you can’t even be bothered to care, your climax hovering just out of reach. “Wanna fuck yourself on my tongue?”

“Shut up, just please—” You don’t get to finish whatever thought you were going to vocalize, as Haechan’s tongue prodding at your entrance wipes your mind clear of any functionality. “Yes—more—need more—”

He licks all around your entrance first, loud and lewd noises of him lapping up your slick barely muffled by the barrier of the comforter, but finally obliges, pushing his pointed tongue into you as far as the pink muscle will allow.

The sigh of relief you let out is cathartic, the sound tapering off into an unmistakable moan as he urges your hips down towards his face. Taking the cue, you rock your hips into his face, movements jerky as his tongue glides in and out of you and renders you incapable of anything other than moaning and fucking onto him.

“Haechan, gonna—I’m gonna—” you moan, body shuddering with anticipation, and he just keeps guiding your hips against his face, not stopping even as your peak hits and your muscles stiffen reflexively, movements stuttering to a stop as you remain frozen, hips in the air and abdomen tightening. He smacks your ass lightly to get your attention and resumes your motions against his mouth, nose deliberately bumping against your highly sensitive clit. “Shit, Haechan, I’m done—”

Your weak attempts to wriggle away from him are only met with a forceful yanking of your body back into place and his tongue retracting from you in favor of licking at your clit. “I’m not,” Haechan mumbles determinedly, and the urgency in his voice makes you balk, your breath hitching again as he licks you to yet another climax.

When you come down from this high, your mind is fuzzy in the best of ways, your consciousness only distantly aware of Haechan emerging from under the covers and reassuming his position next to you with a pleased hum, pressing his spit and arousal slicked lips to your collarbone in a quick kiss.

“That was fun,” he coos, his nose brushing against your neck, and you chuckle weakly, nodding.

“It was more than fun.”

“Good. In that case,” Haechan muses, his arm tightening around you as he pulls you impossibly closer. He tangles his legs with yours, his knee pushing against your half-removed underwear, and continues, “I think I earned staying in bed with you for a bit longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you half-chuckle, half-exhale, and he grins, lips pressed against your neck.

“Good. Now go back to sleep,” he urges, and you’re about to attempt to oblige when a knock on your door jolts you both out of your daze. His eyes widening almost comically, he ducks his head back under the covers and you redistribute the comforter to look slightly less suspicious.

“Come in!” you call, and the door opens to reveal Mijoo leaning against your door frame. “Hey!”

“Good morning,” she greets you with a warm smile. “We’re ordering breakfast from the diner down the street; do you want anything?”

“Uh—the breakfast platter with waffles, please.” you answer, and she nods.

“Great. Hey, Haechan?” she calls, and you both stiffen before a sheepish Haechan pokes his head out from under the covers. “Do you want breakfast?”

“Yes, please,” he says eagerly, and you snort in amusement. “Can I have the breakfast platter with waffles, too?”

“You got it.” Mijoo raises two fingers to her head in a mock salute before moving to shut the door.

“Wait!” you whisper-shout after her, and she pauses, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly. “How did you know Haechan was here?”

“His shoes are by the front door,” she answers simply, and your body slackens with relief. “You moaning his name also helped.”

“…Sorry.” you mumble sheepishly, and she shrugs.

“You’re lucky we were already awake.”

“We weren’t that loud!” Your brows furrow as you look at her defensively, and she snickers, shaking her head.

“You’re right; I’m just messing with you.” she smiles teasingly, and you huff, frowning at her petulantly. “Okay, gonna go order now.”

A small “hmph” is all you have to say, and she shuts the door, leaving you and Haechan alone with each other once more.

Looking over at you curiously, Haechan grins before leaning up to kiss between your eyebrows where the skin is furrowed, then your nose, and finally your lips, his mouth lingering against yours.

“You’re cute when you pout.” he mumbles fondly, and your cheeks blaze something fierce as you fight down a bashful smile. He pulls back slightly, studying your face before connecting your mouths again, this time parting his lips and sneaking his tongue into your mouth. The taste of your arousal transfers from his tongue to yours and you can’t help but whine from how arousing it is to taste yourself on someone else. “Don’t tempt me.” he mutters against your lips, and you nod in understanding.

“Sorry.” you say softly, and he chuckles before pressing a light kiss to your lips again and pulling back.

“It’s okay. Now, we only have so much more nap time before the food gets here,” he reminds you, collapsing back onto the bed and pulling you into his embrace, “so we’d better make the most of it.”

“Haechan, we can’t sleep now,” you point out, “we have to at least wash up and get dressed or something.”

“But—” he whines, and you kiss him quickly to shut him up.

It works.

“We can do all that and then, if there’s still time, we can come and get back in bed,” you suggest, and he screws his face up in thought. “It’s not like you’re gonna wanna get back in bed once we get up, anyway.”

“I’ll take that challenge!” He releases you and rolls out of the bed, miscalculating slightly as he falls on the floor with a thud and an “oof!”

“It wasn’t a challenge,” you reply, trying (and failing) to hold back your laughter as you peer over the edge of your bed at a disgruntled Haechan lying spread-eagled on his back.

“Stop laughing,” he gripes, reaching a hand out to you. “Help me up?” he asks hopefully, and you take his hand to pull him up, yelping in shock when he tugs hard and pulls you out of the bed and on top of him. “Oof!”

“Genius.” you drawl, and his hands just link behind you on the small of your back.

“Now, who’s laughing?” he points out, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Still me. You broke my fall.” you say with a snicker, and he hesitates before huffing in mild frustration.

“Well, maybe I should get a reward for being so gentlemanly.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Like a kiss.”

“Given that you’re the reason I even had a fall to break,” you answer, patting his chest, “I’m gonna pass.” His face falls as he frowns up at you, and you roll your eyes, leaning down and pressing the quickest of kisses to his cheek before standing up and pulling your (highly uncomfortable, now cold and damp) underwear back up your legs to retain whatever dignity you have left.

“Aw, I only get a cheek kiss for breaking your fall?” he complains as you pull him to his feet, and you stare at him, unimpressed.

“You’re the reason I fell!”

“Excuses, excuses, excuses,” he grumbles, waving you off dismissively. “We live in a cruel and unjust world.”

“That we do,” you agree. “Now go put some pants on.”

“I think they gave you more food than me,” Haechan sulks, and you look at his container, then yours, then back at his.

“They definitely did.” you agree, grinning.

He narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t gloat.”

“But I love gloating,” you say with a frown. “It’s my third favorite thing to do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Haechan chuckles, looking over at you. “What’s the first?”

“Bragging.”

He snorts loudly. “Got it. Second?”

“Rubbing things in people’s faces.” You grin at him, and he raises one eyebrow. You suspect you’ve walked into a trap of some sort. “What?”

“I know something you could rub in my face.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and your eyes widen as you smack his arm and turn away from him to hide your incredibly flustered face. “I’m kidding!” You peek over your shoulder at him to see his hands raised in surrender and you cautiously turn back to face forward. “Unless…”

“Haechan, get out!” you shriek, the warmth returning to your face as you wave him away frantically.

“No can do, sorry.” He shrugs in your peripheral vision. “I wanna see how cute you look all flustered.”

“Stop teasing me,” you huff.

“But I love teasing,” Haechan says, nudging your side pointedly as he throws your words back in your face. “It’s my third favorite thing to do.”

“I’m not gonna ask what the first two are,” you mumble, turning back to face forward when the heat in your cheeks has dissipated somewhat and you feel less flustered.

“Aw, c’mon,” he whines, shaking your arm. “Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

He takes a deep breath. “Please, please, please, please, please—”

“Oh, my God, fine!” you exclaim, lunging at him and clapping a hand over his mouth. “What are the first two things?” you ask, cautiously moving your hand. You move to sit back in your spot, but Haechan grabs your arm that’s propping you up above him, keeping you in place.

“Kissing you is second.” He looks up at you with bright eyes and you would scoff and disregard the comment if it didn’t seem so genuine, a bashful smile curling your lips.

“What’s first?” You blink down at him curiously.

“Hanging out with you.” He grins widely, and you open and close your mouth pointlessly, no words coming forth to rescue you from looking stupid. “Cute.” he coos, leaning up so you’re face to face. Studying your face carefully, his lips part slightly as he tilts his head to the side. Speaking softly, he asks, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Depends,” you answer, speaking just as softly. “Are you thinking about the fact that eggs don’t taste good cold?”

He gives you a disapproving look. “No, actually. Now I am.”

“Great,” you muse, pulling back and sitting in your spot once more. “Now eat so I can press play.” You gesture with your fork towards your laptop which is sitting just in front of you both, the screen paused on a scene from Chicken Little.

“I don’t know why we didn’t pick a Christmas movie to watch.” Haechan says with a small huff. “Where’s your holiday spirit?”

“We can watch a different movie,” you reply easily, gesturing towards the screen. “Just pick one.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” he mutters triumphantly under his breath, pulling the laptop to his lap.

“Don’t get syrup on my laptop!” you scold, plucking his fork from his hand and putting it in his container of food.

“Sorry, babe,” he mumbles distractedly, too focused on browsing for a good movie to notice the pet name that slipped out.

You, however, are unoccupied and therefore fully aware of it, your body freezing momentarily. Your face heats up for what feels like the millionth time and you partially forget that there’s food in your mouth, your jaw hanging slightly open as you sit in a stunned silence.

“Found one!” Haechan announces proudly, placing your laptop back on the bed and looking over at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “You okay?”

“Yep!” you agree way too quickly.

His eyes narrow. “That was way too quick.”

Damn it. “I’m okay,” you assure him, and he scrutinizes you for a moment longer before seeming to let it go and returning his attention to his food. Desperate to change the subject, you look at the screen and nod in approval. “The Grinch—nice choice.”

“Thank you,” he replies, smiling with satisfaction as he presses the spacebar to play the movie. You two eat in silence for a moment as the beginning credits roll, Haechan for some reason waiting until the movie actually starts to speak. “Oh, speaking of holiday spirit—”

“You couldn’t say this before the movie started?” You look at him in disbelief, and he frowns (very cutely, once again) at you. “Sorry,” you mutter. “Continue.”

“Thank you,” he replies, the smile back on his face. “We’re having a holiday party on Christmas, and you’re invited.”

“Me?” You point at yourself, confused, and he shoots you a funny look.

“No, the ghost slightly to your left.” He replies sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, Haechan letting out a small laugh. “Yes, you.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, processing. “Can I bring Mijoo and Chuu?”

“Duh?” He shoots you another funny look. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am!” you defend yourself, a bit too loudly for your tastes this time. “I am,” you repeat, sounding more normal. “You only invited me, so I figured—”

“Well, you’re the only other person in this room.” He points out, and you nod slowly.

“Fair.”

“I mean, I do want you to come—like, specifically you.” Haechan clarifies, and you look over at him curiously.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s a good time to give you your present.”

“You got me a present?” you ask softly, surprised, and if he shoots you any more funny looks, you think you’ll throttle him. “I just didn’t expect it!”

“Why not?” He stares at you, confused. “You think I’d invite you to a Christmas party and not give you a Christmas present?”

“Good point, I guess.” you say mostly to yourself. “I can give you yours then, too.”

He clutches his chest dramatically, eyes sparkling with emotion. “You got me a present?”

You stare at him blankly, and he drops the act, looking at you pointedly.

“That’s how ridiculous you were just now.” He raises his eyebrows, and you gasp in disbelief.

“I didn’t moon over you, Haechan,” you defend yourself, and he shrugs.

“Maybe you should’ve. It would’ve been cute.” He grins at you, and you narrow your eyes. “Kidding!”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I am not.” Haechan confirms, shaking his head.

“Anyway,” you continue, side-eyeing him. “Will there be snacks?”

“Yep! The festive kind,” he says proudly. “Eggnog…gingerbread cookies…sugar cookies…”

“Peppermint bark?” you ask hopefully, and Haechan looks over at you with a small smile and a soft, fond look in his eyes.

“Why? Do you like peppermint bark?”

You suck your teeth, trying not to roll your eyes. “No, I actually can’t be within thirty yards of it for legal reasons—yes, I like peppermint bark!”

“Sassy pants.” he mutters under his breath. “If you like peppermint bark, then there will be peppermint bark.” He smiles at you, and you bounce twice in place from excitement.

“Yay! I’ll be there.” you assure him. “Do I have to get Jaemin and Renjun presents, too?”

“Nah, you don’t actually have to get anyone anything, actually. Just show up with good vibes.” He leans back against your headboard and smiles contently at you, unperturbed by your disapproving frown.

“Did you get Mijoo and Chuu anything?” you ask, and he shakes his head. “Mm, but I’m a guest…”

“And I’m a host, and I hereby absolve you of any gift-buying duties.” Haechan announces with an air of grandeur, waving his hand dramatically. You snort in amusement and he looks at you with a satisfied grin. “I got Renjun’s and Jaemin’s gifts already—gave myself a paper cut trying to wrap it.” He frowns, showing you his thumb with a red line running along the knuckle, and you wince.

“Poor Haechan.” You pout, and he nods, batting his lashes at you in a pronounced display of cuteness. “Wait right here.” You pat his knee and get off of the bed, heading to the bathroom and returning with a bandage.

“SpongeBob?” Haechan chuckles softly as you bring his hand onto your lap so you can apply the cartoon-themed bandage. “How old are you, again?”

“You can always leave,” you remind him in a warning tone, not looking up as you peel the backing strips off.

“I love SpongeBob, actually. Love that spongy guy.” Haechan says quickly, and you snicker quietly.

“Yeah, that’s more like it.” You wrap the bandage around his thumb and pat it gently for good measure, looking up at him. He’s staring at you with that unreadable look again, a soft smile on his lips, and you blink at him, confused. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says quietly, looking down at your handiwork. “I think it needs something.”

“We have ointment if you want it, I just figured you didn’t need it because it’s a paper cut—” Your words stop abruptly when Haechan brings his thumb up to your face, level with your mouth. “Can I help you?”

“Kiss it,” he presses, wiggling the appendage in front of your face. “To help it heal.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Your voice is flat but incredulous, and he frowns at you.

“So you can suck on my fingers,” he starts, your eyes widening in shock, “but you can’t give my thumb a teeny little kiss to make it better?”

You stare at him. He matches your gaze with a smug little challenge glinting in his eyes. You lean forward and press a small kiss over the bandage where the small wound is, and he smiles in satisfaction.

“Feels better already,” he coos teasingly, and you scoff, trying and failing to hide your amusement.

“Okay, I’m gonna reheat my food and you’re gonna rewind the movie because we missed the whole beginning.” You get off the bed and Haechan offers you his container with a hopeful smile that only widens when you roll your eyes and take it from him.

“You’re the best!” He shouts as you head out of your room.

“I know!” you call back casually, doing an excellent job at hiding how the compliment makes you more than a bit giddy inside.

The day of the Christmas party has finally come, and you’re filled with nerves for some reason.

In the past couple of days leading up to the party, you and your friends have been wrapped up in work shifts, the holiday season bringing in extra high customer volume. It normally wouldn’t be a big deal, but this means you haven’t really had time to hang out with anyone, least of all Haechan.

And you miss him. You miss him more than you thought possible, miss his smile, his laugh, the twinkle in his eyes when he teases you—

It hits you when you’re walking home from work the day of the party: you really like Haechan. Like—a lot.

You already knew you were into him because, well, you can’t even think about him without feeling the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. It’s the gravity of your feelings that startle you.

More than kissing him, you like holding his hands and listening as he tells you the story of his crooked pinky for the millionth time.

More than sleeping with him, you like hanging out with him; no responsibilities, no expectations, no pressure, and you always leave feeling better than when you met up with him.

It’s this realization that has you hopping in the shower and dressing up slightly nicer before gathering your gifts in a tote bag—well, the ones you can fit, at least.

You knock on their front door and nibble your bottom lip gently before stopping abruptly, not wanting to do away with all of your lip balm before you even set foot in the party.

“Hey, you made it!” Jaemin cheers when he opens the door, and you can’t help but laugh at his joy.

“Yeah! Traffic was crazy in the fifteen feet between our front doors, but I made it,” you joke, following Jaemin into the living room. “Oh, I have your present!” You root through your bag before gently procuring his gift and handing it to him with a smile.

His eyes widen and he coos fondly, reaching for it and cupping it in his hands. “I may be an adult in many forms of the word, but I have a soft spot for stuffed animals and this? This is just about the cutest stuffed animal I’ve ever seen.” He cradles the white bunny plushie like an infant, humming contently, and you blink in surprise.

“I’m glad you love it, don’t get me wrong,” you say slowly, “but you seem a lot more excited than I expected.”

“I may have had some eggnog,” he whispers conspiratorially, looking at your raised eyebrows and the unanswered question still written plainly on your face and continuing on to say, “I heard a rumor that it’s spiked.”

“Who started that?” you ask, confused, and Jaemin rubs the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.

“Well, I did.” he answers. “Because I’m the one that spiked it.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding, patting his chest gently. “That’s nice, Jaemin. Have, um, you seen—”

“Haechan’s in the kitchen.” he answers with a knowing smile, clearly coherent enough to know where you were going with your sentence. Or maybe it’s just that obvious that you could only be looking for him.

“Great,” you exhale in relief, nodding once before heading towards the kitchen.

“I’ll give you your gift when it’s gift exchange time!” Jaemin calls after you, and your brows furrow.

“Would’ve been helpful to let me know there’s a gift exchange time.” You shake it off as you enter the kitchen and stop short as your eyes land on the person you were looking for.

Haechan’s back is facing you, hunched over as he fiddles with something you can’t see. There are a few other people in the kitchen, but they melt into the background as you clear your throat loudly, smiling when Haechan jolts in surprise before turning around to lock eyes with you.

You want to say that your heart didn’t skip a beat from seeing his face light up at the sight of you, but you’ve never been a very good liar. You offer a small wave in reply as he crosses the kitchen to get to you, barely having time to drop your arm before he’s pulling you into a tight hug.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Haechan pulls his head back slightly to grin at you. “I’m happy you made it.”

“Me too,” you say just loudly enough for him to hear, tucking your head back into the hug to hide the giddy smile overtaking your lips. Pulling away from the hug somewhat reluctantly, you take in his outfit and—“What are you wearing?”

Haechan looks down at his ugly—an understatement, really—Christmas sweater, obnoxiously vibrant and colorful with a gaudy reindeer on the front, stitched to be three-dimensional, and huffs petulantly. “I’m dressed for the festivities!”

“You look like the festivities threw up on your sweater.” you remark plainly, and he grumbles incoherently, wrinkling his nose in disapproval.

“Words hurt, you know.”

“You’re right,” you agree, raising your hands in surrender. “I am so sorry. How in the world shall I make it up to you?” Your robotic and wholly insincere delivery just makes Haechan narrow his eyes at you, a snicker escaping you as you avert your gaze.

“A kiss might help.” He raises an eyebrow expectantly, a smug twinkle in his eye.

“I don’t know,” you mumble as you think about it—your friends and these other perfect strangers have never seen you kiss before, and you don’t know what the implications of such a public display of affection could be, and—

“You don’t have much of a choice, actually,” Haechan replies proudly, jerking his head towards the ceiling when you look at him in confusion.

You follow his direction with your eyes and there, hanging neatly from the ceiling’s smoke detector, is mistletoe.

You roll your eyes, pursing your lips in an attempt to hide the fond and amused smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. You grip the front of his hideous sweater and pull him closer to you, pressing the quickest of pecks to his lips you think you’ve ever placed.

His eyes barely get a chance to close before they’re flying open in surprise and he opens his mouth to complain, but you hold a finger up to silence him.

“That was a kiss.” you point out.

“A tiny one.” Haechan counters with a displeased frown, but one look down at your fist still holding his sweater makes him smile softly, apparently unable to maintain his dissatisfied appearance.

“I still did it.” You shrug, releasing his sweater and smoothing down the yarn you bunched up by accident. There really isn’t much of any way you could have made the sweater look worse by wrinkling it, truly, but it’s the gesture that counts.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, eyes darting to something over your shoulder before they widen slightly and he looks back at you. “You’re just in time for the gift exchange, actually. Do you want something to eat or drink before we go into the living room?”

“Sure,” you agree, and he leads you to the counter he was standing at when you came in. Your face lights up at a familiar snack as you reach your hand into the bowl and pull out a small fistful of individually wrapped chocolate pieces. “You got the peppermint bark!”

“That I did.” He smiles widely, clearly proud of himself, and you wrap your arm around his waist, squeezing gently. “Oh, and tip? Don’t drink the eggnog.”

“Yeah, Jaemin said he spiked it.” you snicker, and Haechan sucks his teeth.

“I knew it tasted funny.”

The gift exchange goes about as smoothly as you’d expect. Chuu’s very appreciative of her reading pillow and bedside lamp, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she opens the gift from you, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see that Chuu got you one of the books you always mention that you’ve never quite gotten around to reading.

(“Now you don’t have any excuses,” Chuu says, smiling, and you nod slowly.

“I bet I’ll think of some more.”)

You’re thrilled when Mijoo gives you your gift, a full gel nail kit, and her expression no doubt matches yours when you take her back to the apartment to reveal her brand new mini skincare fridge.

(“I know this is for face masks and ampoules and the like, but—” Mijoo starts.

“You’re gonna put some snacks in it, aren’t you?”

“I’m definitely gonna put some snacks in it.” She nods in agreement before you two laugh and head back to the party.)

“Hey,” Haechan calls softly from behind you, and you turn to face him, noticing in your peripheral vision that Mijoo and Chuu give each other a knowing look before disappearing into the party. “I wanna give you your present.”

“Yeah, me too.” you reply, feeling an anxious thrumming in your stomach out of nowhere. Will he like it? Does he even really want it?

“Over here,” Haechan says, taking your hand and leading you to a more secluded corner of the party where the holiday music somehow doesn’t quite seem to reach as well.

“Okay, how are we doing this?” you ask, reaching in your bag and pulling his gift out, holding it behind your back. “On three?” You brace yourself to reveal the gift only to panic and shake your head. “Never mind—I wanna go first.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, smiling at you with a delicate fondness you don’t often see from him.

“Okay, close your eyes and put your hand out.” you urge him, and he obliges, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he waits.

He looks so incredibly kissable right now, actually, you think. His lashes flutter delicately on his cheekbones and you can count each lovely little mole on his face without him making a teasing remark about how you’re mesmerized by him, and his lips look so soft and inviting—

“Hello?” Haechan laughs, and you blink out of your daze.

Right. Back on track. You swallow the lump in your throat and place his gift in his hand, clearing your throat nervously.

“You can open your eyes now.” You rock back and forth on the balls of your feet anxiously as he opens his eyes and looks down at his hand.

“No way,” he whispers, blinking down at the vinyl in his hand in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“I am not,” you chuckle nervously, and he looks up from the vinyl to you in awe.

“I thought you said the record store was sold out—” This is the softest you’ve ever heard him speak, you think, and it’s actually very endearing.

“I may have fibbed.” You shrug casually, and a surprised laugh escapes him as he turns the vinyl this way and that. “There was one left. I hid it so I could buy it for you, because I know you love Michael Jackson, and it’s limited edition and probably very cool for a Michael Jackson fan such as yourself to have—y’know—”

“You’re rambling, cutie.” Haechan cuts you off gently, amusement bright in his eyes as he watches you, and he definitely solved the problem of you talking too much, but the casual pet name has now rendered you mute. “Thank you so much,” he says sincerely, looking you in the eyes.

You manage to find the words to express yourself once more. “You really like it?”

“I fucking love it. I’m gonna display it in my room and brag about it whenever people come over.” He is most definitely not lying, you realize by the puff in his chest, and you bite back a giggle, feeling like a weight is lifted off of your shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” you sigh in relief.

“My turn.” Haechan announces, gently setting the vinyl down on an armchair nearby and bringing his other hand from behind his back to hand you a small rectangular box. “It’s wrapped, so you gotta unwrap it.”

“I do think I’m aware of how wrapped presents work, yeah.” You can’t help but tease him lightly, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Be nice, I’m nervous,” he whines, and you coo sympathetically as you gingerly open the wrapping paper.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous—” Your lightly teasing words stop short when you lift the lid of the small white box and see the contents. “Oh, my God.”

“It’s, uh,” Haechan rushes to explain, gesturing at the box, “I got it custom made with these little, uh, mandarin charms,” he points at the small orange charms on the bracelet, “because we always eat mandarins together, y’know? Like, it’s kind of our thing.”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Haechan, I love it.”

You can hear his exhale of relief and his body goes slack, finally relaxing in your side view. “I was hoping you would.”

“Can you put it on me?” You feel like you can’t raise your voice past this murmur for fear that it’ll shatter the delicate and intimate moment you two have built with each other.

“Yeah,” Haechan says immediately, a smile audible in his voice. You hand him the box and he lifts the bracelet out of its velvety encasing, the dim but warm lighting of the living room catching the bracelet and making it glint beautifully.

“This must have been expensive,” you worry, and he shakes his head.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he assures you. “Now that vinyl must have been crazy pricey—”

“It wasn’t too bad with the employee discount,” you half-lie; if it wasn’t for your employee discount and some serious sweet-talking to your favorite manager, you probably would have been living off of leftovers for a week or two.

“Gimme your wrist,” he murmurs quietly, and you comply, offering him your arm and watching as his hands fasten the clasp around your wrist. It looks stunning on your skin and you honestly can’t imagine taking it off anytime soon. “It looks beautiful on you,” Haechan compliments, and you laugh softly, shyly.

“Thanks,” you mumble, and you’re now very aware that Haechan’s gaze has shifted from your wrist to studying your face, his intent stare sending nervous jitters throughout your body even as you avoid it. Slowly, you drag your gaze up from your linked hands to meet his eyes, and you’re all but floored by the intensity in his stare, his gaze somehow both unreadable and perfectly easy to comprehend.

It’s a myriad of emotions—fondness, desire, determination, passion—all packed into one heavy-lidded stare as he wets his bottom lip. His fingers loop around your wrist, just below the bracelet, and he tugs you closer gently, coaxing you into his embrace as his free arm wraps around your waist.

Gazing into your eyes, he smiles secretively before looking up at the ceiling pointedly. When you look up, you already have a feeling about what you’re going to find, letting out a small laugh of disbelief when you see yet another mistletoe dangling from the ceiling.

“Did you plan this?” When you look back at him, his eyes are trained on your mouth and he leans in closer to you, his nose nudging against yours as his smile softens.

“Of course I did.” His words are a soft murmur against your lips before he’s kissing you, and the way he does makes your head spin.

His arm tightens around your waist and his other hand holds your chin, gently tilting your head towards him so he can kiss you better. His lips move slowly against yours, leisurely yet still intense as he hums contently.

You feel like you’re kissing him for the first time by your sink all over again, excitement trickling through you like the soapy water dripped down your arms that first time and the chatter in the background—even the faint whoops you hear that most likely mean you’ve been spotted—fading into nothingness.

There’s no one around that matters but you and Haechan, and you could probably live in this moment forever.

He gently separates from the kiss, resting his forehead on yours as you both attempt to catch your breath.

“Haechan,” you murmur softly, “if you kiss me like that again, I’m gonna think you’re in love with me.” Your attempt to lighten the mood to steady your pounding heart goes unanswered, Haechan surprisingly silent. You look up at him curiously to see, with a jolt of surprise, that he’s already looking at you, his expression unreadable yet immediately comprehensible like earlier, but there’s a fire to it, a burning insistence that makes you swallow thickly. “Don’t joke like that.”

He regards you with a raised brow. “Who says I’m joking?” At your skeptical silence, he scoffs in amusement, squeezing your waist gently. “You have to know I’m, like, crazy about you by now.”

You gape at him. “Really?”

He gapes right back at you. “Yes!” he answers exasperatedly. “I went to Etsy for you,” Haechan sounds incredulous, continuing on even as you start to laugh, “I don’t think you know how confusing it was to order a charm bracelet with mandarin oranges on it? The shop people probably thought it was ridiculous.”

“No,” you console him immediately, draping your arms around his neck. “They probably thought it was very thoughtful, romantic, and sweet. Just like me.”

He looks up at you, hope in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Plus, it could be worse—you could have done all that just to get rejected or something.”

“So, I’m definitely not getting rejected right now, right?” He’s only half-joking, making you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“No, I’m definitely not rejecting you. Maybe I’m kinda crazy about you, too.” you admit with a small smile, and his face lights up, his smile one of the most radiant you’ve seen from him since meeting him. He studies your face, taking it in like it’s the last time he’ll ever see it, and you can practically feel the question on the tip of his tongue. “What is it?”

“Do you wanna get out of here?” he asks, smiling like he knows something you don’t.

You nod slowly, offering him a wry smile as you say, “I’m in; we can have a night out on the town or something.”

“Yeah?” He sounds slightly surprised but thrilled nonetheless, and you nod, your smile widening.

“Yeah. Renjun gave me a $50 gift card to Home Depot, so I’m thinking things might get a little crazy.” you deadpan, and Haechan snorts loudly in amusement, his eyes widening like he didn’t expect to do it.

“Home Depot?” Bless his heart, Haechan does make an attempt to hide his amusement, but he gives up and bursts out laughing. “Why would he—”

“I don’t know.” You hold your hands up in surrender. “I gave him art supplies, nice and thoughtful, and he gave me a gift card to a store I’ve never even set foot in.”

“Y’know, there’s actually something kind of sexy about Home Depot.” Haechan hums, swaying the two of you from side to side. “Maybe it’s the smell of brand new appliances and stuff.”

“I can’t say I know what appliances smell like off the top of my head.” you say thoughtfully, and Haechan nods.

“Yeah, neither can I; I just said that to make you feel better.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” you coo sarcastically, pinching his cheek.

He swats your hand away with a laugh before saying, “Speaking of sweet—I just remembered to tell you that Jaemin loves his present.”

“Really? I mean, I kinda figured, what with the way he fawned over it when I gave it to him, but I’m glad to know he really likes it.”

“Yeah, I saw him clutching it as he threw up in the toilet.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What a lovely mental image.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles.

“Y’know, I really didn’t have much confidence in my gift-giving skills, but then I met Jaemin and Renjun. So, like, at least I know there’s worse out there.”

“What did Jaemin get you?” he laughs, his arms tightening around your waist.

You stare at him blankly. “A cookbook.”

Haechan’s confusion is palpable. “You don’t even cook like that—”

“I don’t even cook like that!” you agree emphatically, and he snickers.

“That’s awfully domestic of them, honestly.”

“Isn’t it? Are they hinting that I should start settling down or something?”

“Maybe they’re hinting that you’re wife material.”

“I’m pending “wife material” status; I need to learn to cook and navigate Home Depot, apparently.”

“Speaking of Home Depot,” Haechan pipes up, giving you a lingering kiss. “If we go to Home Depot, we can make out in the gardening aisle.”

You pull back just in time to snort in amusement. “How very romantic.”

“Listen, I’m trying to work with what we’ve got,” Haechan defends himself, and you roll your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you scratch gently at his scalp on the back of his neck.

“We could listen to your new vinyl in your room and make out in there,” you suggest, and he brightens up, nodding eagerly.

“What a good idea,” he agrees, tucking your head against him to hug you properly.

After a moment, you shift uncomfortably. “Haechan, is that your phone in your pocket or did all that Home Depot talk get you worked up?”

“What are you talking about?” His voice is muffled against your neck as he speaks, but you can hear his confusion regardless. “My phone is in my back pocket.”

“Haechan, don’t tell me you’re seriously chubbed up right now in the middle of this Christmas party.”

“First of all: please never say ‘chubbed up’ again.”

“Agreed.”

“Thank you,” Haechan sighs in relief. “Second of all, that’s my remote.”

It’s your turn to be confused, apparently. “Remote to what?”

Releasing you from his embrace, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a simple remote, pressing it, and you watch as his sweater starts to flash bright lights.

You’re silent for a moment. “I didn’t think it could get any worse.”

“Aw, come on!”

“No, I’m serious—it looks like the festivities threw up on you and now, apparently, they had some string lights in there too.”

Haechan pouts deeply. “Ah, you are so mean, seriously.”

“If we’re making out at all tonight, that hideous sweater comes off.” You point accusingly at the offensive garment, glaring at the wonky-eyed reindeer.

“No way.” Haechan disagrees immediately. “The reindeer sweater stays on during sex.”

“I will never sleep with you again.”

“On second thought, we could burn it. Burning it sounds good.”

“Baby, show me that last dance again,” Haechan urges you, jerking his chin at the open space of the living room you’ve been using as a makeshift dance floor.

You spring up from the couch, using a hand on his leg to brace yourself, and make your way to the middle of the room, taking a moment to recall the dance steps.

“It’s like this.” You hum a tune to yourself as you mime holding someone’s hand and their shoulder, swinging your hips as you move sideways, lifting your knee at the end before repeating the actions in the other direction. You look up at Haechan as you dance, immediately averting your gaze when you meet his eyes and take in his intense stare.

“And that’s the bachata?” he asks, raising his eyebrows curiously when you two lock eyes. You nod, and so does he. “You look good doing it.” He smiles and pushes off of the couch, taking the place of your invisible dance partner. Placing your hand on his shoulder, he rests his on your waist, lacing your fingers with his own and tugging you closer. “Dance with me now.”

“You got it?” you ask in surprise, and he nods.

“Quick learner.” he explains, smiling. He’s not wrong, you realize as you hum your little song and lead him into the dance. He moves smoothly and attractively, his steps confident but not too serious.

“You’re good,” you murmur in surprise, and he chuckles.

“I have a good teacher.” When you’ve completed two sequences from one side to the other, he twirls you, laughing when you yelp in surprise and clutch onto him tightly. “You’re not gonna fall, baby.”

“I know,” you murmur, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I trust you.”

“You trust me?” Haechan’s voice is soft, his fingers just as gentle as his tone as they stroke at your back, and you nod, knowing he can feel it as opposed to see it. “Then close your eyes.”

You move back so he can see when you comply, and he grips you a bit tighter, turning you to the side and dipping you, his laugh ringing out with yours as you burst into tickled giggles.

“See? I trust you.” You still don’t open your eyes as you speak, the inaction triggering a jolt of surprise when his nose brushes against yours.

His lips connect with yours soon after, nudging them apart to kiss you sweetly. He stands you both upright once more and wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you in closer with a hum and tugging gently on your bottom lip.

He peppers kisses down to your neck where they slow down, growing languid and needy as he latches onto various spots of your neck and sucks gently.

“That tickles,” you giggle, squirming away, but he just locks his arm around you, holding you firmly in place as he continues to attack your neck. “Haechan,” you whine pleadingly, and he groans against your skin.

“Mm, yeah, love when you say my name like that.” He nips at your flesh, lapping his tongue over the sore spot in a wordless apology.

“Haechan!” You attempt to scold him, but the pleasure gets to you, his name coming out even needier than before.

“Just like that, baby.” he grunts, sucking harder at a spot near the base of your neck that, despite your conscious desires, has you tipping your head back to allow him better access. “See? You love it.” His free hand trails down your backside, hiking up your shirt to grab your ass, clad only in black lacy underwear.

You’ve essentially given up on getting him to stop, finally succumbing to your desires and pushing your hips into his. He chuckles, the sound low in his throat and undeniably smug, and backs towards the couch, releasing you and plopping down on the seat.

He pats his lap with an inviting wiggle of his brows, his grin widening when you take the invitation and sit sideways on his lap, leaning your side against his chest.

“Where was I?” he murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and making a determined path to your neck. You wiggle away at the last minute and press your lips to his before he can inevitably protest. His complaining whine abruptly changes to a pleased humming sound as he kisses you over and over (and over) again, alternating between quick, soft kisses and lingering, needier ones.

His hand slides up your thigh purposefully, moving between your legs and hiking up the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. He grins against your lips when you part your legs slightly, allowing him to stroke along your inner thighs.

“Your skin feels so soft,” he murmurs against your lips, “and your kisses taste so sweet—I’m in heaven.”

“You’re so dramatic.” you snicker, and he shakes his head, parting from the kiss to look at you with bright, earnest eyes.

“I’m serious,” he promises, his gaze dropping to where his hand disappears between your legs. “I could stay like this forever.”

“Well, unfortunately,” you murmur, tugging gently at the locks on the nape of his neck and smiling when he groans, “I can only keep Mijoo and Chuu away from the apartment for so long.”

“What are we gonna do when they come back?” He frowns up at you, resting his chin on your breast.

He really needs to stop being so damn cute, you think.

“Well, we can just go in my room.” you offer, and he nods, lost in thought.

“Are they coming back soon? Should you,” he sighs deeply as if he already regrets the next words out of his mouth, “put some pants on?”

You can’t help but laugh at how resistant he is to the thought of you wearing more clothes before you stand up, moving back to the center of the room and twirling once.

“Mijoo and Chuu have already seen me like this, anyway,” you inform him, gesturing at your attire, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, beckoning you closer. When you’re within reach, he laces his fingers with yours and pulls you towards him until you’re landing clumsily on his lap once more with a yelp. “Well, aren’t they lucky?” He adjusts you so your knees are on the couch on either side of him, your hips hovering above his lap ever so slightly.

“I wouldn’t say lucky,” you chuckle, and he shakes his head, scrutinizing your face.

“Do they get to see you reaching for stuff in the cabinets with this on?” Haechan asks, his hands running up the backs of your thighs. “Hm? Do they get to see your shirt ride up and show off your cute little ass?”

You hesitate, slightly uncomfortable with the thought of flashing your friends and roommates. “If they have, I’m pretty sure—and kinda hoping, at this point—they’re not actually looking.”

“Do they get to see you bend over as you look in the fridge for something to snack on?” he continues, and you grimace, shaking your head.

“I don’t even do that—oh—” Your vehement protesting ends abruptly when he grabs your ass with both hands, using his grip to pull you forward until your chest is clumsily landing against his.

“No, they don’t get to see that, right?” he murmurs, looking up at you with desire pooled plainly in his eyes. “Only I get to see my girl like that.”

You could just about melt from the pet name. “Yeah,” you agree breathlessly.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum in a daze.

“Only me?” he presses, hands pushing your shirt up past your stomach and over your breasts, now exposing your matching lacy black lingerie.

“Only you,” you confirm, the needy whine creeping back into your voice. “Haechan, touch me.”

“My baby wants me to touch her?” he asks softly, teasing you with the promise of a kiss but not delivering. His breath is warm on your lips as he taunts you and he’s all but inhaling your plaintive cries for attention, his eyes growing more wild and intense the more you quietly plead for him.

“Please, Haechan?” To your embarrassment, your voice cracks slightly towards the end of the word, but it seems to trigger something in Haechan, who lets out a groan from deep in his chest before cupping the back of your neck and pulling you in for a heated kiss.

“Could never say no to my girl,” he coos against your lips, punctuating each word with a kiss deeper than the one preceding it. “Let’s take this off, baby.” His hand hurriedly yanks at the material of your shirt that’s bunched up above your breasts, and you break from the kiss to pull it off, barely having time to drop it on the couch before he’s hungrily kissing all over the exposed skin of your chest.

You already know what he’s going after next, so you beat him to the punch, unclipping your bra and letting the straps fall off your shoulders. Haechan lets out a loud groan of approval, his kisses barely hesitating before dipping lower until his tongue is rolling over and swirling around your nipple. His hands fly to cup both of your breasts as he alternates between sucking at both of your nipples, and you suck in a sharp breath when his fingers pinch at the hardened bud, tweaking it teasingly.

As he loses himself in your breasts, you can’t help but rock your hips down onto his lap, the thin fabric covering your clit doing virtually nothing to conceal the sensation of his cock pressing against your core through his sweats. You stutter out a gasp, and he chuckles mockingly, releasing your nipple with a wet pop and regarding you carefully.

“That feel good?” he asks, mimicking you when you nod. “Yeah? Feels good to fuck yourself against my cock?”

Your only response is a whimper and a rasp of his name that has his eyes blazing with lust.

“You wanna cum so bad, don’t you?” he taunts, and you cry out weakly, your head dropping down to rest your forehead against his. “Can you cum like this? Just like this?” His mocking tone softens slightly, and when you nod, he hisses, bucking his hips up to collide with your body, groaning, “I love seeing you like this—so fucking gorgeous like this—no one gets to see this but me—”

“Only you,” you moan desperately, willing to say just about anything if it means you get to cum.

“All mine,” he growls under his breath, tilting his head up to kiss you fiercely. “I’m all yours, and you’re all fucking mine, yeah?”

“Yes, baby—Haechan, I wanna cum so bad,” you gasp, and he nods, releasing your breasts and grabbing your hips, guiding your rocking motions until that delightfully familiar tightening feeling starts building in your abdomen. “Fuck, just like that,” you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders, his only protection the thin shirt he’s wearing.

“Kiss me when you cum,” he pants, and you oblige, leaning forward and connecting your lips in a sloppy, heated kiss. He’s positively frenzied, biting roughly at your bottom lip until you wince and sucking on your tongue, not relenting even when you attempt to retract it to moan his name.

Your poor tongue is trapped between his greedy lips as he sucks hard on it, only giving you a slight break when he swirls his tongue around yours with a lewd moan escaping him as saliva—you can’t really tell whose it is—drips down from your bottom lip onto your chest.

He’s all over you, dominating your mouth with his, your breasts with his hands, your core with his length, and your mind is so blank that you don’t even notice when one of his hands travels south to slip into your underwear, only catching on when his fingers press against your clit roughly.

“Oh, sh—” you gasp as he rubs the sensitive bud vigorously, heavy-handed touches sending you toppling over the edge. To your surprise, tears well up in your eyes, the pleasure almost too much to bear, and Haechan coos sweetly when they start to spill, pulling back from the intense lip lock to kiss up your tear tracks, capturing your lips with his own tear-smeared mouth, lips wet and salty as he moves them against yours.

“Up,” he croaks, tugging you up off of his lap slightly, and you oblige, lifting up off of him enough for him to shove his pants down to his knees and pull himself out of his boxers, rapidly fucking his fist as he stares at your underwear, the very last article of clothing covering your body. “Sit, baby.” he urges, guiding you down.

He gropes freely at your asscheeks with one hand as his other, wrapped around the base of his length, brings the thick head of his shaft to your entrance. You pull your underwear to the side to allow him entry, and he pushes up into you as you sit down onto him, both of you letting out groans of pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” he moans, “sit on my fucking cock just like that.”

“So full,” you babble, gasping as he bottoms out, “so fucking full.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos comfortingly, “you can take it all, yeah?”

You don’t think you have much of a choice, but it’s not like you were planning on backing out, anyway.

In lieu of a response, you lift your hips and bring them back down onto him, Haechan winding his fingers in the locks at the nape of your neck and yanking so your head is forced back. You whimper loudly at the tug and moan louder when his tongue drags up from the top of your cleavage to your chin, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake.

“Obsessed with how you taste,” he grunts, barely parting from your neck as he sucks and nibbles at your skin and making loud and wet noises every time his lips release a patch of flesh. “Gonna eat your pretty pussy later, too—”

“Fuck,” you hiss, his words affecting you more than you expected. You position yourself slightly so you can bounce up and down on his length, your mind all but falling apart at the feeling of his thick shaft stretching you open.

He trails wet kisses back down to your chest, cupping your breasts and sucking on your nipples greedily, switching between the two like he can barely get enough. When he nips one of them a bit sharper than you’re prepared for, you cry out weakly, pushing at his head as a warning.

“I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this—” he grunts, thrusting upwards to meet your movements so you’re simultaneously fucking onto and into each other. “No one else gets to hear the pretty fuckin’ noises you make when I fuck you—no one gets to make you feel this good but me—”

“Just you, babe—” Your words are undoubtedly slurred from pleasure, but by the way Haechan’s thrusts speed up, you’re willing to bet he heard you. “Feels so good—wanna cum so bad—”

“Feels good?” Haechan echoes mindlessly, biting down on the flesh of your breast. “You love this, don’t you? Love me fucking you with my thick cock?”

“Love your cock so much—fuck, Haechan—I’m gonna—” You can barely get the words out before Haechan’s kissing you deeply, a filthy mess of teeth and tongue as his hips fuck up into yours.

“Cum all over me, baby, want you to make a mess all over me,” Haechan grunts, and you do. You climax loudly and powerfully, and Haechan’s thrusts continue the whole time, prolonging and heightening your pleasure until you’re shaking your head and squirming away from the hypersensitivity.

“Haechan, cum inside me,” you moan plaintively, still in a daze, and he nods distractedly, sloppily kissing every inch of your skin he can reach as he speeds up his thrusts and curses under his breath.

“Cumming—” He’s barely able to choke out the last syllable before he’s burying himself in you to the hilt, his breathing ragged as he finishes inside of you. You affectionately rake your fingers through his hair as he recovers, his forehead resting against your chest. When he’s collected himself, he catches your wrist and presses a kiss to your palm, looking up at you with a lazy smile.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, y’know that?” you mumble in amusement, and he grins mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Of course I do—and you love it,” he chuckles, and you roll your eyes slightly, shifting in his lap and cringing at how cool your chest feels. You look down and can’t help but widen your eyes at the state of your chest.

It’s, to put it lightly, covered in saliva, and you’re almost positive it’s entirely Haechan’s doing. When you look back up at him, you see him looking right where you just were, his lips parted slightly in what you assume is awe.

“You really do have quite a mouth,” you snort, pushing his jaw up so said mouth closes. “A messy, sloppy, dirty one.”

He looks up at you finally and you’re surprised to see that the look on his face wasn’t awe at his messiness but unbridled desire. He grins up at you smugly, making loud kissing noises.

“If I recall correctly, you weren’t complaining when my messy, sloppy, dirty mouth was all over you earlier,” he points out as he squishes you to his body, your breasts pressing against his face. He nuzzles into your cleavage, pressing a wet kiss to the skin, and you groan and push his head away with a laugh.

“Whatever,” you say, attempting to sound grouchy but ultimately failing as the smile on your face is too wide. “I need to shower.”

“Fine,” he sighs loudly, releasing you, and you stand up, making a face as his mostly softened length slips out of you. “On one condition.”

“It’s my shower, Haechan,” you point out. “What condition could you possibly have?”

“I get to join you.” He beams at you hopefully, nodding encouragingly in an attempt to convince you.

“I was already gonna say you’re coming with me,” you say, stooping to pick up your discarded clothing. “That way we’ll both be all cleaned up by the time Mijoo and Chuu come back.”

“Sounds good to me,” Haechan agrees, standing up and tucking himself back into his clothing. “Lead the way, baby.”

When you turn and head towards the bathroom, a quick smack to your ass makes you yelp before turning to glare at your cheekily grinning boyfriend.

“Haechan!”

“If I apologized, I’d be lying.” He shrugs nonchalantly, and you narrow your eyes at him before turning back around.

“You’re a menace.”

“You’re stuck with me,” he sing-songs, blowing you a loud kiss from behind. Thankfully, he can’t see the giddy smile on your face or feel the heat rising to your cheeks, so you just remain silent and think about how nice it is to be “stuck” with someone like Haechan.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you tease, turning to face him as you step into the bathroom and shut the door in his face.

“Hey!” Haechan exclaims, indignant as he jiggles the doorknob. “You’re in for it now, you know that, right? You can’t get rid of me that easily!”

“I know!” you call back, covering your mouth to stifle your laughter.

Frankly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

ta da !!! i hope you enjoyed :) happy new year!

#*clears throat*#!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#miss jewel !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#THIS IS MY THIRTEENTH REASON #hey god its me again #every single one of ur fics i love askjdsdsjdgsg #LEE HAECHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN #ch: ldh #gnr: fluff #gnr: mature

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huangrens · 1 year

Text

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: like clockwork | njm

summary | fights with jaemin are impossible because he never takes them seriously. so, when you get into a relationship-ending fight with him, you decide on an ultimatum: if he doesn’t apologize first this time, you're going to cut the string of fate.

genre | non-idol! jaemin x fem reader. angst and a little fluff like at the end (if you consider it that)

warnings | over-dependence (from both sides), generally just a toxic relationship whoops sorry jaemin

wc | 2.1k

a/n: this is like a part two? i guess? to nct dream after a fight, except i don’t think jaemin is very nice when it comes to arguments

jeno’s ver

YOU’VE BEEN SITTING in your ex-roommate’s living room for three hours, crying into her blankets while she tried to console you. You weren’t sure what to feel—anger, sadness, confusion, or maybe all three—at this point.

Jaemin was, in all senses of the phrase, a perfect boyfriend. Your friends fawned over him and his consideration, the way he bought you bouquets and little teddy bears from time to time, the way he agreed with you on everything you said. They fawned over the way he planned out your whole future, from beginning to end, as if you were never going to break up.

And, to be honest, you thought there’d never be a chance you would break up. Seriously, you’d started dating in your last year of high school, and you’d never gotten close to breaking up in the years that followed.

Now, you weren’t so sure.

You had to fight sometimes. No matter how unargumentative he was, how he never cared about how late you stayed out or who you were friends with, there were always going to be bumps.

Your roommate helped you realize that, after every single fight, you were the one to apologize. Without fail. An hour ago, you’d gone through every single argument you had (you could count the number on one hand), and, no matter who started it, you always had to be the one reaching out for forgiveness.

None of those fights were as big as this one, but you knew it would stay the same.

Today was your fifth anniversary of being with him. You’d spent weeks saving up for a gift for him, working extra hours and budgeting so he wouldn’t notice such a big purchase in your shared expenses. It was simple, a thin bracelet with a few fancy gemstones and his initials engraved onto it, but it meant a lot to you.

Jaemin didn’t get you anything.

You’d never especially celebrated anniversaries, at least not with presents, but you had made it clear that five years was a big deal to you. On the day of, today, you spent hours preparing your apartment, even taking the day off so you could prepare.

Then, at around 5, Jaemin sent a text saying he was going to get drinks with Donghyuck. Then, you hinted that you’d prepared dinner. Then, he asked you to put some in a tupperware for him so he could savor it the next day.

By that point, you were near tears, and the only thing you managed to type out was: what about our anniversary?

He caved at that, saying he was on his way home. By that point, though, the night had been ruined for you; maybe you should’ve let him go so you could calm down, take a few deep breaths, and complain to your friends. But, something in that naive mind of yours said this could be fixed, and you believed that inkling.

Jaemin returned home looking annoyed. You watched as his face morphed from mild discontent to shock as he stared at your decorated kitchen, with flowers everywhere and a cute sign you’d spent the whole morning making.

“Babe, when did we do stuff like this?” was the first thing he asked. At that moment, you saw concern, guilt, but that was the only time that night you saw remorse at all.

“We didn’t,” you agreed briefly, taking a sad bite of the cookies you had made. Your dinner was cold now, uneatable by your standards. “But five years isn’t a short amount of time, Jaemin, and I have been talking about it for months.”

The rest of the fight was a blur. When your voice raised, he implored you to calm down, to just listen to him. He kept a level head throughout the whole thing, spitting logic and reasonability at your emotional outburst. Things about how he hadn’t budgeted for gifts, how he never thought it would be this big of a deal, how you never told him it would be this big of a deal.

The way he spoke to you was condescending, as if he had everything under control, everything figured out, everything according to his wants. You recognized his tone of voice well because it was nearly identical to the tone your superiors, male superiors, took when they spoke to you at work. You knew he felt like he was the rational one, and that you were overreacting.

Nothing was fixed. You remember grabbing your jacket, slinging it over your shoulders, all while Jaemin told you to stay and “figure yourself out.” You didn’t listen, yanking one of the kitchen drawers open and pulling out the small, velvet box where the bracelet lay. In your anger, you threw it at him, leaving him to stare while you took yourself (and the pretty dress you’d put on) elsewhere.

“I think you need to tell him to apologize,” your ex-roommate suggested, handing you a bowl of popcorn intermixed with M&Ms. “I’ve never heard of Jaemin acting like that much of an asshole.”

That night, you set an ultimatum. If Jaemin couldn’t take your concerns seriously, your needs seriously, then you obviously couldn’t be together. If he could not take this seriously, then you would not be together.

So, you sent a text:

If you aren’t the one to apologize this time, we need to have a talk about our relationship. I’ll give you a week.

Four days pass, and you’re regretting it. Jaemin has been your entire adult life, and you’re not sure if you can live without him.

All your friends are on your side, telling you that, if this is the end, they’ll be here to help you recover. They give you tips on separating your bank accounts (when you and Jaemin decided to do that about a year ago now, you had been giddy, thinking this meant marriage was now in the picture), how to find an apartment on your own, ways you can keep yourself safe and sound when you were home alone.

Still, you were nervous. His only response to your text had been a small “okay,” all lowercase, with no emotion behind it. You hadn’t even opened the text at your ex-roommate’s behest, as she claimed “opening it means he knows you’re thinking about him.”

You were going to regret this, one part of you said. The other part insisted this was good for you, that you couldn’t live your whole life dependent on someone who wasn’t dependent on you. That your relationship with Jaemin might’ve been toxic anyways, maybe even suffocating, because who wants their entire life planned out at 22?

Deep down, you know that your breakup will destroy your life. You’d probably go back to your parents for a bit, wondering if Jaemin talked to his friends about how you always told him that you’d never been too fond of them. You’d watch as his life sailed on perfectly fine without you, always planned to a T, always ready for an unexpected iceberg or two.

Jaemin’s life was like clockwork: constant, yet moving forwards with no chance of looking back. No matter the clock he was adorned by, his ticking would not end until the clock was destroyed beyond repair.

Yours was not. Yours was planned around his planning, every move decided upon with his opinion, every decision made with his watchful eye leading you through.

You were his clock.

No clockwork could exist without a clock, though.

You stood outside your apartment door, key in hand, ex-roommate parked outside. Part of you didn’t want to go inside, didn’t want to face reality if reality meant the end of your life’s only constant. But, a week had passed, and you would not let yourself fall now.

You shoved the key into the doorknob, clicking it open with the slow turn of your wrist, and pushing it open. Jaemin was sitting on the floor, scratching the chin of your shared cat.

“Are you ready to talk now?” he asked, not turning his attention away from the cat. He assumed the tone of voice he’d kept that night, a tone that made your stomach churn.

“I don’t think you understand this, honestly,” you replied, slipping your shoes off and trudging farther into the apartment. He rose from the floor, following you into the living room, where he’d sorted your flowers into one of the many vases he’d bought a couple of ago.

“Enlighten me, then. Let me understand,” he replied, sitting down on the sofa. You sat in the single chair across from him, leaning your elbows on your knees.

“I took extra shifts to buy you that bracelet, Jaemin. I talked about our anniversary for months, and you pretended to listen to every word I said, but, down to the wire, you don’t even acknowledge it,” you breathed out, trying to keep yourself as level-headed as he presented himself to be. “You didn’t even plan on coming home for dinner.”

“Who said I was pretending? Listen, [First], your months of talking were just little ideas and hints. You never said anything outright, so I didn’t think it would be such a big deal—”

“I’m not here to fight again,” you cut him off, clenching your fists and biting back the tears in your eyes. “I’m here for an apology, and if you can’t give me something as simple as that, I am going to break up with you.”

Jaemin’s eyes widened as if that was the last thing he expected to hear. The whole room went silent, save for the quiet meows of your cat, who was currently rubbing her back against your leg. Jaemin didn’t seem like he knew what to say, or what to do, which was the last situation he wanted to be in in most cases.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He squeezed his eyes shut, covering his face with his hands, as if he was in some sort of shock. Not wanting to speak until he decided on his response, you just leaned back in the chair, staring at him.

Jaemin dropped his hands from his face, staring at the coffee table. Your cat took off elsewhere, blissfully unaware of the gravity of your situation.

Finally, he said, “You can’t do that.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t break up with me now,” he repeated, looking up at you. “Not after—”

“After what? You planned out my entire future for me, to fit your tastes?”

“Not after I planned my whole life around you.”

You went quiet at that. Something in that statement didn’t feel right, at least not to your mind. There was no way Na Jaemin’s perfect life plans had you in mind, not at all. He was the center of the universe, and you were the stick threatening to pop his perfect balloon. In what world had everything been planned around you?

“If an apology is what you need, I will give it, but you have to promise you won’t leave now. Not over something like this,” he continued, letting his voice crack. A single tear fell down his face, and, you swear to god, you have never seen him panic like this. “I’m sorry, [First]. It’s my fault your anniversary plans fell through, and it’s my fault I didn’t think the ideas were anything more than ideas. I loved the bracelet and will never treasure anything more in my entire life. Okay? Is that enough?”

You didn’t know what to say. Jaemin immediately began wiping at his tears, sniffling, trying to get himself in order, trying to keep the clock ticking. Slowly, you stood up, approaching the sofa. You took an awkward seat next to him, trying to hold back the reactionary tears at him crying.

So, instead of verbally agreeing, you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him tightly. He kept wiping at his tears, desperately striving to return to his usual calm self. After a few seconds, though, he gave up, returning your embrace in earnest. He buried his head in your shoulder, repeating “I’m sorry” every few moments.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, shocked that he was just as scared as you were. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he responded, pulling you closer. “Our sixth anniversary will be the most extravagant thing you’ve ever seen. Same with our twelfth, our eighteenth…”

“I can’t wait,” you hummed.

At the end of the day, you learned that, although they are separate in theory, a clock can’t work without its clockwork, and the clockwork has no function without a clock.

thank you for reading!

#this made my heart hurt in some spots #ch: njm #gnr: angst

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huangrens · 1 year

Text

a series of (un)fortunate events | l.mk

summary. it’s been months since you've seen mark in person. when you have no choice but to be around him because of a wedding, you start to feel as if fate likes to see you suffer.

or, alternatively:

maybe fate just wants to see you happy.

pairing. rising actor!mark x fem!reader, feat. hyuck and ryujin

words. 9.4k

genre. exes to lovers; fluff with lots of angst sprinkled all over

warnings. reader has anxiety, honestly she’s a little bit miserable but i think we can forgive her for that, alcohol consumption, i asked my friend what the agents name should be and we both thought linda would be funny (sorry if your name is linda), cliche kdrama drunk scene bc i can

.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.

you were frozen in time. mind completely empty. the literal embodiment of ‘not a thought behind those eyes’. it took a solid 45 seconds of ryujin calling your name before you snapped out of it and looked at her again through your phone screen. she was frowning at you and you couldn’t help but mutter under your breath a small, “shit.”

clearing your voice you apologized with a smile this time.

“i knew she’d react like this,” ryujin said to the other person sharing the space on the phone screen.

“i know… look,” donghyuck said to you after turning away from his now fiancé. “i told mark that he’s my best man because he’s my best friend, but i also told him to try and keep his distance. we both want the both of you there for us.” donghyuck was pouting a little, probably because he always got his way when he did that but you were mostly looking at ryujin. she was happy and you could tell, but her eyes were worried for you. and who were you to ruin this time for her?

“oh, of course babe. i can handle this, no worries at all!” you forced the smile to meet your eyes, hoping she’d buy it. she didn’t. but she admired your bravery in the moment and didn’t press you further.

“i’ll let you know the details, you’ll have to fly back home so don’t worry about the dresses or anything. i’ll take care of that for you!” she chirped.

“ryu, no! if i’m the maid of honor then i should help with this stuff!” but ryujin was already waving her hand dismissively.

“just focus on getting here, it’s going to be expensive enough to get plane tickets, let alone the back and forth. so we’ll make it one trip for the wedding and i’ll facetime you for everything.”

“at least let me plan the bachelorette party,” you argued. and ryujin smiled brightly at that.

“i wouldn’t dream of taking that away from you.”

after a few more minutes of honest congratulations and eye rolls for donghyuck, you hung up the phone and you sat back on the couch while you stared at the picture that was the home screen. running your hand through your hair, you sighed heavily. the picture of mark leaning against the short wall of the ice rink as he was laughing hysterically was staring back at you, the moment captured during your one year anniversary date. you had fallen while ice skating and he spent the first two minutes laughing before he pulled himself together to help you up. you had been recording at the time and it was your favorite picture.

even though it had been two months since you had left, you still didn’t have the heart to change it. just like you didn’t have the heart to fall out of love with him. this wedding would be the second hardest thing you’d have to do.

the first will always be the night you left.

.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.

you took everything that you had originally thought back. this would absolutely be the second hardest thing you’d ever have to do.

when ryujin sent you the seating arrangement for the wedding and let it slip that you’d have to walk with mark down the aisle, you nearly cried.

you did cry, actually.

luckily you knew where the letters were on your keyboard so you were able to type out a ‘sounds good to me, babe :)’ without actually seeing since your watery eyes were making the keyboard all but disappear.

you angrily brushed them away, getting so frustrated with your emotions and scolding yourself because you would have to get this under control in three months time. you still didn’t understand the rush of the wedding but it wasn’t your wedding to plan therefore you had no say in the matter. shaking your head you went back to your laptop to search for plane tickets to korea when the late night show’s host saying mark’s name caught your attention and you quickly whipped your head up to watch the tv.

“tonight we have with us, the up and coming star whose debut movie will be releasing this friday, mark lee!” the audience clapped and the thought of reaching for the remote to turn off the tv did not cross your mind; the idea of getting to see him aside from the random magazine cover made your heart ache but in that moment you wanted to brave the ache if only to get to see a smile from him.

mark walked on the set and waved at everyone, a bright smile on his face that you had been waiting for. his blue blazer complementing his black hair, and you couldn’t help but think about how handsome he looked. you were far too entranced to tell yourself to turn it off now.

“so!” the host said, clapping his hands together as mark took his seat adjacent to him. “welcome to the show.”

mark nodded along, “thank you for having me.”

“the pleasure is all ours, isn’t that right?” the host said to the crowd and they began the applause all over again. you noticed mark’s ears turning a little pink and you knew he was getting a little overwhelmed with the love from strangers.

“your debut movie dive into you, your very first role as an actor nonetheless, was making waves,” the host paused with a raised eyebrow while the crowd - and mark - laughed at his pun; then continued, “of the sundance festival. how did it feel to win awards so soon after wrapping up production?”

mark smiled and nodded along in answer, “it feels like it’s not real honestly, but also like my hard work has finally paid off. i never really thought i’d be here. i never thought i’d get to see this part of my dream come to pass but here i am. i can’t help but feel nervous, but also excited, you know? the director, cast, and crew were all welcoming and amazing to work with. i’ll truly remember this moment forever, and be grateful for it.” the host nodded along with mark as he answered his question at length, and then as he spoke the hosts lips pursed and he began tapping his chin.

“you said something very interesting just then, mark,” the host commented and mark raised an eyebrow at him suddenly looking around trying to figure out what it was exactly that he had said, as if the audience could help him find it.

“what? did i accidentally cuss and not realize it?” mark gave a nervous laugh and you couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness. you were happy to see that although he had achieved his dream, he was still the same mark.

“oh no! and besides. it’s late night tv, you’re allowed to cuss here and there,” the host laughed a little before leaning forward on his desk and mark leaned closer as if they were going to share a secret.

“what i was curious about, and i’m sure what everyone else at home is curious about as well, is what you meant exactly by ‘this part of my dream’? what’s the other half… or whatever fraction of your dream that hasn’t come true yet?”

and mark’s eyebrows rose, “ahhh, that…” he hesitated while he scratched the back of his neck.

“i just meant… um, i just meant that the other part being that i wish that my- my friends were able to be here and celebrate this milestone with me.” mark was lying through his teeth, you could tell because as he said the word friends, his nose scrunched a little and that was always how you knew he was either lying or withholding something. but these people wouldn’t know that about him, and the shows host accepted the answer immediately. his face gave a look of understanding and almost concern.

“oh yeah, you came from korea for this movie, didn’t you?” and mark nodded in answer.

“yeah, they’re all back home supporting me but it’s okay. my best friend is getting married in a couple of months so i’ll be able to celebrate then with them in person!” and the host grinned widely at mark and then the camera.

“well that makes me happy for you, mark, truly! oh, and it looks like that’s all the time we have for tonight. everyone go watch dive into you when it releases in theatres this friday!”

the credits began to roll and mark was shot smiling and clapping, leaning over to say something to the host that the camera mic didn’t catch as the show ended. seeing his smile and being happy like that made the heart ache worsen, and you rubbed at your chest trying to ease the metaphorical pain. you weren’t sure if you were ready to see him. you weren’t sure if you’d be able to keep it together for this whole thing.

but for ryujin, you’d try.

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fuck this. you couldn’t do it.

you really really couldn’t do it.

after landing in korea you connected to the wifi of the airport only to receive one message from ryujin.

5:50 pm my baby 👭: mark will be picking u up from the airport, hyuck and i had last minute kinks to work out for the wedding but i’ll come and get u tonight for the bachelorette party! i’m so sorry 😞

she even had the nerve, the audacity to send the sad emoji but all you could do was feel your heart racing from anxiety. so you quickly typed back in a panic -

that’s ok! i can just take a taxi, no need for mark to come!

but she answered immediately as if she were waiting for your response, and her only message was, “he’s already there!”

and you were going to fucking kill her. you were absolutely going to murder her before she even got the chance to step one toe down the aisle. you didn’t even bother responding to the text, your anxiety and frustration making an uncomfortable mix in your chest and if you weren’t already thirty seconds from a panic attack, your phone buzzed again and with sweaty palms you checked it.

6:05 pm ml 🐯🥰: ryujin gave me your new number, sorry if this is weird. but i’m outside in the blue car, take your time though.

6:06 pm ml 🐯🥰: this is mark, btw

you internally screamed as you read the message over and over again, the contact name being another thing you also didn’t have the heart to change like your wallpaper, truly thinking you would never see it pop up again. you abruptly sat on the nearest bench as you waited for your checked luggage to arrive at the baggage carousel, the people who were standing around you edged further away from you. flashing you concerned looks at your apparent mental break down, but you could hardly even blink. you felt your heart rising in your throat and you tried to breathe through your nose and out through your mouth.

you tried slowly counting to five.

you tried breathing in for a few seconds and breathing out slower.

as you sat, you tried every calming technique you could think of.

it wasn’t until an elderly lady placed a gentle hand on your shoulder causing you to jump slightly and she gave you a kind look.

“everything is going to be okay,” she said as she gently rubbed your back and then just… walked away. the sudden appearance and disappearance of her making your panic halt in an instant in the distraction.

then the carousel whirred to life, and you had to rush over to haul your bag off of the moving belt before you had to wait for it to come around again. you really should have let it circle around a few times, but that idea came to you after you had already set the suitcase on the ground.

the kindness from the older woman, and the knowledge that you would be able to thoroughly murder your friend in a few short hours helped you to steel your nerves as you exited the airport and quickly found the blue car mark was driving.

it was easy to spot because he was literally leaning against it while he stared at his phone. you hesitated a moment, taking him in and god did he look good in those jeans and that sweater. the thoughts getting away from you before you could stop them but immediately scolded yourself.

steadying yourself with a quick breath, you rolled your suitcase up to the trunk and he jerked his head up at the sudden movement.

“oh, hi. i was waiting for a response from you- but, uh, um, here! let me get that.” he said quickly as he reached for your bag to help you heave it into the trunk but you put your hand up to stop him, taking a step back to create space.

“it’s okay,” you said, a little too curt with him. “i can do it myself.” and mark instantly deflated, your heart jumping at the need to fix that look.

no, you scolded yourself and internally forced your heart to still. he’s not yours anymore.

you made sure of that.

mark stepped back and let you lift up the heavy suitcase yourself, dropping it ever so gracefully in the trunk. you closed it and tried not to make eye contact as you moved around mark to get into the passenger seat. when you shut the door you couldn’t stop yourself from looking in the side mirror to see him frown and he shook his head at himself. you breathed a sigh of relief out. the ‘ripping off the bandaid’ part over and done with.

he got in to his side of the car smoothly, and you prepared yourself for an awkward silence the entire ride to the hotel.

“we’re staying at the same place, so that’s cool!” mark said casually, trying to create some form of conversation, of peace. you didn’t respond to what he said, instead opting for a different approach.

“you didn’t need to come and get me,” you said quietly as you stared at the passing cars on the road.

“i wanted to,” he said just as quietly, and you flinched internally at what sounded like sadness. he said your name, and then hesitated. after a few moments of silence, you saw his reflection in the window shake his head slightly as he decided against saying whatever it was.

“never mind.” was the last word uttered of the drive.

the tension weighed heavily on your already wounded heart.

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fate had it out for you. she must really enjoy screwing you over. because what you kept thinking would be the hardest part… kept continuously turning out to absolutely not be the hardest part, as if she were taunting you.

exhibit d:

“what do you mean my reservation was canceled?” you asked the hotel concierge for the third time in a row, causing her to sigh in frustration at you, finally cracking her happy persona she had to wear for her job.

“ma’am, i really don’t know how else to explain it to you. it says here it was canceled, and your room was already booked by someone else.”

“well unbook it!” you insisted, all but yelling out at that point, completely fed up. “i didn’t cancel my reservation, so it must have been a system error. isn’t there anything you can do to fix this?”

“i’m sorry,” the woman said again. “we’re fully booked for a wedding that’s taking place in a few days.”

“i-“ you paused pinching the bridge of your nose tightly, taking a moment to deeply inhale. you were going to have to google better calming techniques. “i. know. because i am in that wedding!” you hissed between clenched teeth and when the woman reached for the phone in fear, to call what you presumed was the security, mark stepped in suddenly. he leaned against the tall counter, and his sudden closeness made you jerk your head up to make eye contact with him.

“i booked a suite with an extra bed, it may be a little… um, awkward but the bed is yours if you want it.” his ears were turning red, but his voice sounded genuine. as if he truly meant his offer and god you wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and never come out. knowing your options were limited to this or staying with your parents who lived two hours outside of the city, you really didn’t have any other choice.

fate was absolutely fucking with you just because she could, was the only thought on replay as you were getting ready in the bathroom for the bachelorette party that night. considering you had slept on the plane, you weren’t tired yet and you figured you’d be able to sleep off the jetlag with a nice hangover before the rehearsal dinner the next evening. putting the final touches on your makeup, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

you could do this.

you repeated those three sentences like a mantra to yourself over and over, trying to give yourself the confidence to leave the room and be in the same space as mark again, but it seemed like the universe had different plans as your inner musings were interrupted.

“you look… really pretty.” he said in the entrance of the bathroom, his body blocking the only exit from the room. you looked down to avoid the eye contact in the mirror he was giving you, and muttered a quiet, “thank you.”

he paused a moment more before saying your name, for the second time since you had seen him, and hearing his voice saying your name in that way as opposed to the first time… it almost made tears spring to your eyes.

“i just wanted-“ he started, but for the first time since you had been told of this wedding, something (because it definitely wasn’t fate) decided to take pity on you and give you a break because at that moment you got a text from ryujin.

9:45 pm murder victim (1) 🔪: here babe!!

and you instantly sighed in relief. cutting mark off from what you were sure he had spent the last hour building up the courage to say, you turned on your heel and said, “ryu’s here! gotta go.”

you brushed past him to exit the hotel room, not even noticing that you had forgotten the door key on your way out.

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it was three am.

or maybe four.

you weren’t sure.

you spent the first twenty minutes of the night scolding the hell out of ryujin in the back of the uber and she just took it with a grin.

“and just what is so funny?” you huffed at her, crossing your arms and allowing your brows to stay furrowed.

“it’s almost like the universe is telling you to get back together.” she sang, and wiggled her eyebrows at you. you threw your hands up in exasperation, drawing eyes from the driver through the rearview mirror. giving a slight bow of apology to him you turned back to ryujin only to roll your eyes at her.

“no, the universe likes watching me hit a newly discovered rock bottom. we’re not getting back together and i’m sure he’ll be happy to have me gone once your wedding is over.” ryujin only shrugged and you didn’t hear it when she muttered, “i wouldn’t be so sure.”

when the uber dropped you off in front of the first club of the night, your sour mood dispersed in a second as you headed inside.

you and ryujin, along with her other bridesmaids in her party, heejin, yeji, and jimin had bounced from club to club and you had thoroughly drank your cares away. you were no longer thinking about how fate was a bitch. you were no longer thinking about the doom and gloom you were feeling.

you were no longer thinking about mark.

except that last one was a lie because he was the only thought that occupied your brain through the night, so much so that ryujin had to cover your mouth with her hand to stop your rambling about him.

but as the dawn crept closer and closer, all of you were calling it quits. yeji had lost a shoe somewhere along the way and jimin had left thirty minutes before, taking a whiny yeji with her; heejin was finally getting into her uber after ten minutes of drunkenly explaining that no, she wasn’t in the building the street over, and yes the gps was actually wrong. it just left you and ryujin as you waited for donghyuck to come pick you up, knowing he was on standby for the designated driver role of the morning. ryujin held your hand and affectionately laid her head on your shoulder. you copied the action and turned so you could hug each other and sway back and forth, the scene cute if not for the fact that anyone watching could tell that you were both heavily intoxicated if the giggles coming from you both after each dramatic sway were any indicator.

“you know everything is gonna be okay,” she slurred a little too loudly in your ear and the phrase made you think of something but you couldn’t quite remember what it was.

“i know,” you giggled at her, grinning brightly and you both squeezed each other tighter. you couldn’t remember in that moment what needed to be okay.

“hey, that’s my future wife! if you wanted her you should have proposed first!” you both turned to see donghyuck smiling widely, as he leaned across the center console to be able to tease you both out of the passenger window. you answered by sticking your tongue out childishly at him and ryujin answered by kissing your cheek with a loud, exaggerated smack, leaving a red stain on your cheek from what was left of her lipstick.

“i could have had her years before you even knew her, and i’ll have her years after you. remember that!” you said while pointing your fingers at your eyes and turning them on him. he rolled his eyes and sarcastically mimicked your response before motioning for you both to get in the car.

the drive back to the hotel was quiet and for the first time that night you checked your phone.

11:03 pm ml 🐯🥰: hey, i just noticed you left your keycard to get back in the hotel

12:00 am ml 🐯🥰: i’ll sleep with my phone off of silent, just call when you get back and i’ll let you in

2:15 am ml 🐯🥰: please be safe, let me know if i need to come get you

your heart fluttered at his messages and you drunkenly smiled at how he still cared. you covered your mouth to hide your smile but the sober one in the car didn’t miss the way your eyes lit up in a way that neither he nor ryujin had seen on you in five months. he could only smirk to himself as he drove, promising to himself to tell ryujin about what he saw the next morning.

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you stumbled your way down the hallway, stopping and taking off one shoe as it was rubbing your foot painfully. then after a few steps you realized how silly it was to walk with one heel on and you clumsily leaned against the wall to pull off the other shoe. arriving to the door, you giggled at the idea of getting to call and talk to mark.

mark was here, with you.

you were here, with mark.

something you’d never thought would happen again and it made your heart soar. giggling again at that thought you pulled out your phone. hitting the call button, he picked up after the third ring and you sighed as you leaned against the door frame, allowing it to hold you up.

“hello?” his voice was raspy from sleep and it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“hi,” you giggled once more, and you internally smacked yourself this time.

play it cool or don’t talk yourself into sounding like an idiot, you told yourself.

“hi,” he parroted back to you. “are you okay? do i need to come get you?”

“yeah, can you please?” and you heard rustling through the phone.

“okay, i’m on my way. where are you?” he didn’t hesitate. he didn’t even sigh. he didn’t seem annoyed by having to help you. he seemed… almost happy in the way he said his words. as if you could audibly hear the smile. but maybe that was the alcohol letting you hear what you wanted to hear. you heard him walking around in the hotel room through the phone, and saw a light flick on from the little sliver of a gap under the door.

“on the other side of the door,” you smiled, laughing a little harder at your own joke and the door jerked open to reveal mark in all his sleepy glory. shirt wrinkled and hair sticking out at in odd directions. his relief, however, made way to his smile and he couldn’t help but stare down at you for a moment… but you, you were definitely still drunk. and who needs inhibitions to tell you not to do something anyways? not you, that’s for sure.

“my pretty maaaark!” you sang, as you threw yourself against him, or well, fell against him would be a better term for what happened.

he froze at the sudden affection from you, arms raised at awkward angles above your body before allowing his arms to lower and hug you back gently.

“i’m so sleepy, mark.” you slurred against his chest and you nuzzled your cheek against it, thinking about how soft this shirt was. he huffed a small laugh and pulled you further into the room so he could close the door.

“okay, let’s get you to bed then. c’mon.” and he helped you walk (in reality he half carried you) towards the shared bedroom.

“mark,” you called his name again softly. he glanced down at you and he noticed you were already looking up at him, arms still wrapped around his waist.

“mm?” he answered as he navigated you finally over to the bed.

“i’m so happy,” you said to him and somehow, fate again you assumed - that bitch - you simultaneously tripped over your own drunk feet and tumbled back onto the bed. your arms that were still wrapped around his waist gave him no choice but to fall with you, or well, on top of you. he caught himself instead of crushing you, an arm on each side of your head, caging you in.

he looked down at you and your body acting off it’s own accord by gripping his shirt tightly at his waist. you couldn’t help but stare at his face for a few long seconds, eyes going from his eyes, up to his hair, down to his lips, back to his eyes, and then back to his lips one last time.

“and why is that?” he asked, bringing you back to the moment before you tripped. and although your eyes had drifted back up to his eyes, he noticed that yours started to slowly flutter closed, as if you were fighting sleep but the alcohol was winning. your bright smile you gave him while you were thinking of the answer made his heart beat fast, but the words you said next made it stop entirely.

“because i get to be here with you, even if it’s just for a moment. i missed you so much, my mark, all marked in my heart.” you laughed softly again at your own joke, referencing back to a pickup line he had given you that made you say yes to his first request of a date. he couldn’t help the melancholy feeling that overcame him as he looked down at your sleeping form, the alcohol finally taking you from awake to asleep within seconds.

“i’m happy too,” he whispered though you didn’t hear it.

if only you knew how happy he actually was.

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the next day, you surprisingly slept well considering it was 3 o’clock in the afternoon and you were still in your clothes from last night. the curtains were drawn tightly as to not let any light in, and you groaned at the headache that pulsed behind your eyelids. you knew the room was empty based on the the silence and you were grateful for it as you felt embarrassed by your actions the night before. why the hell would you say that to mark? if you wanted him to hate you, well, you were doing a damn good job of solidifying that. you searched for your phone amongst the blankets and pillows to check your messages.

11:15 am murder victim (2) 🔫: mark said earlier that you forgot your key, hope you ‘got in’ okay ;)

11:30 am murder victim (1) 🔪: hi babe, how’s the hangover? the rehearsal is at 5. text me when u get up, ily 😘

11:47 am ml 🐯🥰: i put tylenol by the bed with some water, i would have ordered you food but didn’t know what time you’d be getting up. see you later

your heart gave way at the kind gesture as you flipped on a light switch and squinted at the brightness, quickly finding the medicine and downing it in one go to quickly turn off the light again.

maybe he wasn’t hating you like you thought.

you gave yourself thirty minutes to try and let the headache lose the battle with the medicine you took and finally rolled out of bed to take a shower, doing everything you could think of to keep mark and his never ending kindness off of your mind. you got ready in record time, and somehow made it to the rehearsal on time with five minutes to spare.

you ran through the wedding fairly quickly, and you most certainly did not blush as mark took your arms in his to walk you down the aisle for the practice run. besides that, you didn’t get a chance to look at mark until it came to dinner with the wedding party for the night.

fate, and you couldn’t say you were mad at her this time, had allowed mark to sit next to you during dinner.

“so mark,” yeji had said as she stuffed a piece of broccoli into her mouth. “what’s it like being famous now?”

he groaned in answer. his hand moved ever so slightly to the right and his pinky was suddenly touching yours. your eyes widened but you didn’t move your hand away, allowing his hand to rest next to yours. it felt like something from middle school when you would get excited over your crush, your eyes laser-focused on where you were connected.

“i mean, of course i’m happy to have found success in it.”

success.

that word alone sent you back to The Moment five months ago.

success was all that you wanted for mark, you were happy to watch him as he acted on set. with the way his schedule had been lining up, you hardly saw him. so when you suggested that maybe you could spend the day with him on set while he worked, he didn’t say no to you. it made you happy that he made you feel like he was fitting time in with you even if he was insanely busy.

you missed spending time with him, and you really… just… missed him. his absence making your worries and self doubts grow more eminent but you were both usually good at communicating so it wasn’t a constant worry, but the worry was there all the same.

mark had just left you to begin another scene, leaving you sitting in his chair that was off to the side and you couldn’t stop your eyes from following him around the room, watching his interactions with his cast mates.

a body landing into the chair next to yours caused you to jump and you turned to see his manager sitting next to you, leaning to the side to be just on the verge of invading your space. she was a stone faced woman, perfectly presented down to the red polish of her nails.

you had only met her a few times but she seemed… nice enough. you couldn’t deny that she worked hard to get mark solid chances and auditions so you appreciated her as mark did.

the situation at hand made you uncomfortable for some reason though, your gut telling you to move away from her.

you didn’t listen.

“so,” his manager began slowly, not making eye contact with you, instead her eyes were following mark as yours had been doing moments before.

“so…?” you prompted when she didn’t begin speaking right away.

“we need to talk… and i’m taking the initiative because mark’s too kind and won’t do it.” this caught you off guard entirely. mark was keeping something from you? you were both good terrible secret keepers with each other and this seemed so unlike him.

but, you thought, his manager was with him when you weren’t so maybe…

“oh…” you said, and finally his manager made eye contact with you. the cold stare she was giving you sent shivers down your spine.

“look, sweetie. this… this relationship you have with mark. it isn’t working.” and she patted you on the shoulder as if this were good news. “it isn’t going to work for his image or his future. you know you’re holding him back from the future he could have. the future he deserves. why do you want to burden him any further than you already have?” she asked, voice dripping with a sense of sweetness that screamed condescension.

you stilled at that instantly. the thought that you may have been the problem the entire time you were together… that you were the reason as to why he couldn’t get auditions… you would be lying if you said it hadn’t crossed your mind.

“but mark never said…” you argued weakly, playing with your fingers all while trying not to make eye contact with the woman sitting next to you.

“of course he wouldn’t, dear. he knows you’re too… fragile.” she sneered at the last word, her disdain for you being glaringly obvious as the conversation carried on. your anxiety made you fragile? mark had talked about you to her?

when you didn’t respond right away, mind racing, mark’s manager stood up.

“if you want to be selfish, and ruin his chances at success then that’s fine. just know any future failures would be on you. if you truly loved him, you’d do this for him. you’d leave.” her voice changed sharply within that sentence, the word selfish becoming a thicker blanket on top of burden in your mind and it was like you couldn’t breathe.

the anxiety stemming from the words she had just said - the fears you had been harboring for months, the thoughts that you had been smothering like a fire in the back of your mind suddenly roared to life, and the sudden heat was too hot for you to handle in the moment.

the idea of mark possibly resenting you in the future for things you knew were out of your control, it shook you… and it was minutes of spiraling into yourself before you realized that his manger had been long gone and the director had called cut.

mark stopped by where you sat for a brief moment to tell you that he had to go to the the hair and makeup trailer and he would be back soon. the fact that he didn’t tell you that he loved you with a quick kiss like he usually would being the final nail in the coffin for you in believing every word.

you got up and left the set that day, going to your shared home with mark and realized there wasn’t much that you wanted to take anyway. your heart was shattered and everything you’d take would only remind you of him.

you had packed a suitcase, and sat for a long time contemplating if you wanted to leave a letter but then ultimately decided that if he was already feeling burdened by you, you’d be doing him a favor by not making it hard on him. or well, any harder.

allowing that memory to play all the way through for the first time since seeing him made you feel as if reality had punched you in the stomach, and it sobered you up quickly. the heavy weight of your anxiety was back and it settled on your chest. the bubble of happiness you felt at the slightest touch, at the first sight of him after being apart from him for so long… all gone in an instant.

remember you’re the burden, you did this for him, you chided yourself sadly in your head. you were the reason why you both were estranged.

you gently moved your hand away to rest it in your lap. mark cut his eyes to you suddenly but you missed the glance and you missed the way he was still looking at you as he said, “but i’m just happy to be here with you… with all of you again.”

he tore his eyes away from your face to look at yeji and she smiled knowingly, eyes darting from mark to you. the room felt small to you then, almost suffocating. the sudden appearance of someone to the table brought you to the present.

“dessert will be coming out soon,” the waitress said to ryujin.

your appetite was gone entirely, and you had to get out of there. you leaned over and whispered in ryujin’s ear that you loved her but you were heading up to the room. you felt the tears were coming, because reality was the bitch this time instead of fate.

the kindness mark was showing you during all of this was making your heart ache and it was bringing up the pain that you desperately fought off for five months. excusing yourself from the table, you told everyone goodnight and made a beeline for the elevator that would take you up to the room.

stepping inside and punching the floor number, you hit the close door button frantically and bit your lip to try and keep the tears from coming as long as possible. the doors were almost closed when a hand suddenly blocked it and it opened again, revealing mark and he stepped inside, awkwardly coughing at the dramatics of it all.

you stepped to the side of the elevator and didn’t look up from your fingernails that you played with to avoid eye contact at all costs. the awkward tension filled the elevator thickly and you could feel mark’s stare boring holes into the side of your head. when the elevator finally dinged with the arrival of your floor, you’d never felt more grateful for the annoying sound.

all but running from the elevator, you headed to the room only to realize that, fuck, yes you were actually staying in mark’s room and no, he wasn’t riding the elevator for fun. his steps sounded behind yours and you pointedly didn’t say a word to him as you both entered the room. his presence didn’t deter your tears that had been threatening to spill, in fact it only made them more prevalent and it was taking all that you could do to not let them fall. the click of the door being shut made you flinch a little in anticipation of what came next, and mark cleared his throat.

“so, um…” he began, hesitating while trying to find the right words on how to approach this before continuing. “i think - i think we should talk. you said something’s last night and it… it really has me confused and i just need, no, i deserve an explanation.” when he finished his sentence his words sounded pained.

you did guess that you owed him an explanation.

but you didn’t want to give it to him.

the same way you felt you deserved one as well, but you didn’t want the confirmation.

“i’m sorry, mark.” you said, voice barely above a whisper. and it was the only thing you had to say in that moment, anything over three words and your voice would have cracked. you kept your back to him as you walked over to the bathroom and shut the door, not wanting to see his face during this.

you really were a coward, you thought.

you heard mark approach the other side of the door and stop.

“you’re- you’re sorry?” he asked, and then with a hint of sarcasm, he finally decided to bring up the biggest and obvious elephant in the room. “you’re sorry for what? leaving or are you sorry for what you said last night? are you going to tell me you didn’t mean it now?” and you could only shake your head even though he couldn’t see.

“all of it.” you choked out.

“all- ha, all of it?” his laugh was dry. your silence was answer enough.

“you left me. you left me without an explanation. without a single note and then you changed your number! i thought you had just left the set but i came home to find you gone. what could i have possibly done that would have deserved that? what did i do?”

“it’s…” you started from the other side of the door, tears falling at the desperation in his voice. but mark was on a roll, months of pent up frustration and sadness finally boiling over.

“you were there with me and then you weren’t and you hurt me, y/n. you absolutely broke my heart, you know that? i almost quit the movie entirely.”

“if you had, then it would have been for nothing.” you cried from the other side of the door.

“what are you even talking about?”

you flung open the door suddenly, mark taking in your tear stained face, your eyes red and bloodshot.

“i left you for you, mark.”

“i don’t-.”

“you said i broke your heart, but i broke my own first. i left you for you!”

“i never asked you to do that!”

“you didn’t have to! she did it for you. i left so i wouldn’t hold you back anymore. i was holding you back, i was burdening you, i was keeping you from the successful career you worked so hard to achieve.” you placed your hand on your chest and took a deep breath, “i admit that i was a coward in not waiting, but i couldn’t handle hearing the confirmation of it all from you. so i did it for you, i left so i wouldn’t be selfish.” you spat out the last word like it was poison, the word that had been torturing you these past five months, all while pointing your finger at mark as if to drive home your point.

“she-? you… selfish? what the hell are you even talking about?” he asked, eyebrows fully drawn together in confusion. you scoffed.

“don’t act as if you hadn’t talked to her about me. about how you couldn’t tell me any of this because i was fragile.” your mouth twisted with that sentence, and your emotions didn’t know whether to be angry or sad. so you continued to cry because, yeah, that would cover all the bases.

marks mouth clicked shut as things started to come together in his mind. pieces falling into place and then he was suddenly livid.

mark was silent for a moment, his lips pursed and his eyes thunderous - you could only assume that fury was directed at you considering his eyes never left yours, and you swallowed nervously.

“y/n…” mark started slowly, his voice dropping dangerously low in his anger, “who exactly do you mean when you say the word ‘she’?”

you hesitated a little, never knowing mark to get this angry.

“your… manager.” you murmured and mark’s jaw clenched, and you felt your anger dissipate entirely as his took over. as the seconds ticked on, you watched as mark reached into his back pocket and withdrew his phone, he only broke eye contact for a second to click the name he was searching for and he brought his eyes back to yours. your eyebrows drew together in confusion.

who would he be calling during the middle of the argument - and finally you heard it when the other person answered the phone and you could recognize that sickly sweet voice anywhere. your jaw dropped and you made to stomp away when mark used his other hand to gently hold onto your arm, pulling you a bit closer than you were before to stand in front of him.

“mark, honey, i’ve been waiting for you to call! how’s korea? you just have to tell me all about it.” she asked loudly through the phone and you frowned at the way she spoke to mark.

“korea’s fine,” he chirped politely as if his eyes weren’t telling you otherwise. “my family is well, the wedding is going as planned, and linda, you’ll never guess who i ran into!”

“oh do tell, you know i love the gossip.” she laughed through the phone and you saw mark’s eyes darken.

“y/n.” the anger in which he said your name, but it not being directed at you, was both a relief and worried you at the same time.

the deafening silence from her end was answer enough for mark.

“and she told me the funniest story,” snark dripping from every word, “hilarious actually. but i think i’d rather hear it from the horses mouth, you know?”

“look, mark, sweetie, i’m sure she misunderstood or she must have been confused by our conversation that day, i only meant to tell her-“

“what?” mark interjected. “tell her that she was burdening me? holding me back? that i called her fragile? i think that’s exactly what you meant.”

she hesitated before answering, but her answering tone was the same as she used with you that day.

sweet condescension.

“well, yes. she was bad for you,” she said shortly.

“oh no, i disagree entirely. i think the one bad for me, was in fact, you.” and she sputtered on the other end of the phone and you couldn’t help the small upturn of your lips to hear her at a loss for words, the smile not going unnoticed by mark if the softening of his eyes were any indicator.

you realized in that moment how you let your anxiety and self doubts ruin something that was perfectly fine to begin with.

linda scoffed, the haughty sound coming in loud through the phone’s speaker.

“oh, please. you’ll thank me someday when you’re big and famous, dating some supermodel. someone at your level of fame.”

mark was silent, his eyes taking in your face and he knew how hard hearing things like this must have been for you. he knew of your insecurities, and he thought he did his best to reassure you but he realized the one time it mattered most, he let it slip through the cracks.

he realized his lack of presence in that moment ruined what you both had.

linda took his extended pause as agreement with what she was saying.

“see? you know that i’m right. anyway, mark, honey, let’s-!” mark cut her off mid-sentence.

“no, what i know… is that you’re fired.” he said calmly, and your eyebrows raised and your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to argue - yes, you hated the woman but she had helped him with his career. mark lifted the hand that had been gently holding your arm to place a finger on your lips, effectively shutting you up with a smile on his face.

linda screeched through the phone, an abrasive noise that sounded awfully like a dying cat.

“you can’t fire me, you ungrateful d-.” and mark hung up the phone, tossing it onto the counter of the kitchenette behind him.

you swallowed thickly now at the sudden silence that fell over the room. mark moved his hand from your lips to wipe the tears that had ran down your face earlier and you avoided eye contact with him then at the gentleness of his hands.

“mark, i…”

“you said you loved me, so you left. did you stay away because you loved me too? change your number for the same reason?”

you nodded, “i thought i would be making it easier for you…”

“do you still love me now?” your eyes snapped back up to his. you decided to be truthful.

“i can’t do anything but love you.” mark’s smile at your answer ignited butterflies in your stomach.

“and i…” he said stepping closer into your space, reaching down to hold your hand in his as he brought it to his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that you could feel. “i have no choice but to love you.”

you felt tears well up again in your eyes at his admission, and you bit your lip to try to keep them from spilling over.

“you still… are you still in love with me?” your voice quivered, and you cleared your throat trying to tame the burning sensation that came with holding back your tears.

“without a doubt.”

“well, if you really do love me… if you love me like i love you then…” you looked between his eyes to his lips, and as you blinked the tears you had been holding back fell. and mark tilted his head, his playful smile making you smile with him through the tears.

“then kiss me.”

mark didn’t waste any more time, one hand tangling itself in your hair and the other cupping your jaw tenderly and you melted into the kiss, wrapping your arm around his neck and pulling his body flush against yours. five months of anger and sadness and longing pouring out in the movement of your lips. you were crying still but the tears were more out of happiness this time and mark continued to kiss you through it. he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, lips centimeters from yours, his breath hitting your lips and you closed your eyes, both of you breathing heavily. his voice was soft when he spoke.

“five months spent wasted because i didn’t reassure you enough, i’m… i’m so sorry, y/n.”

“and five months gone because i was too afraid to talk to you… i’m sorry, too.” and you opened your eyes to see he had tears in his eyes this time and you let out a small laugh.

“did you miss me that much?” you joked softly, eyes shining with the happiness that you had pushed down finally seeping through.

“shut up,” he groaned and swept in to kiss you again.

that night, neither of you slept alone in your separate beds.

.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.

the next day found you and mark, surprisingly (to everyone else) friendly, almost flirty, with each other and it didn’t go unnoticed by everyone else in the wedding party. ryujin walked down the aisle to an overjoyed donghyuck and the proceedings went on without a hitch.

the reception was loud, and a bit wild as after the first dance, no other slow song was played. ryujin and donghyuck made it feel like you were clubbing, and if you danced with mark a tiny bit provocatively, no one seemed to notice or care.

during one of your breaks from dancing while you stood near one of the tables, you felt a hand tap on your shoulder and you turned to face them. once you saw their face, your jaw dropped.

“it’s you!” you couldn’t help the gratitude that laced your voice.

the old lady from the airport stood there, the wrinkles from years of smiling showing proudly on her face.

“see, i told you everything would be okay, didn’t i?”

you nodded, smiling and you couldn’t help yourself when you leaned in and gave the woman a hug.

“grandma? you know y/n?” it was mark’s confused voice that came from over your shoulder, coming behind you to rest his hand on the small of your back.

“oh, not really…” she gave you a secret smile, and continued, “but mark, dear. do tell ryujin and donghyuck it was a beautiful wedding for me, i’m sorry but i’m too old to stay up with the younger crowd nowadays.” she patted mark on the arm and said goodnight to you both, leaving you with a wink. mark looked back and forth between you and her and you only shrugged in answer, and you pulled him back out to the dance floor with a smile.

eventually, the night had to come to an end though, but not before the traditional throwing of the bouquet. you were pulled onto the floor with the other bridesmaids and the second ryujin tossed the flowers over her head, the other girls dispersed leaving you to be the only one standing to catch it. you were confused at first but when ryujin gave you a knowing smile, you couldn’t help but laugh at their group effort. and so you turned around to find mark smiling at you and clapping at the edge of the crowd, and you smiled brightly at him as if he hung the stars himself, newfound confidence in every step as you walked up to him.

you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him fully in front of the guests who remained, mostly the small group of friends who all knew each other well. mark wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you slightly off the ground, while your friends cheered dramatically behind you.

breaking the kiss you smiled at mark before he set you down, and both you and mark turned and caught sight of ryujin and donghyuck sharing a highly triumphant high five.

it all clicked then, every step had been planned by your cunning best friend… and you couldn’t even be mad anymore.

how could you be, when it all turned out to be okay?

.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.

epilogue:

you sat at the table of celebrities like you belonged there, no longer feeling as if you were the misfit amongst them.

a year and a half had passed since ryujin and donghyuck’s wedding and with it came changes.

all of them, you could say, were good.

you battled your anxiety and won… well mostly won, you still had your moments but the second you called mark for reassurance, he was there in an instant with gentle words of affirmation, which you discovered was your love language.

you and mark got married six months after donghyuck and ryujin did, and mark’s reasoning was sound in his opinion.

“i spent five months apart from you, and i think i’ll die if i have to do it again. so i’m locking you down, babe.”

you couldn’t argue with him on that.

and now this moment, the moment where upon hearing mark’s name being called you stood up and cheered, clapping a little louder than the famous people next to you. mark kissed you quickly before running up on stage to receive his award.

it wasn’t an oscar… yet.

but the golden globe would do.

his speech went as he rehearsed with you in your bedroom in the off chance he won. being nominated was enough for him, he had said but you encouraged him to have a speech prepared, just in case.

you had no doubts he would win tonight.

you were right.

his speech was coming to an end, something you could quote with him word for word, until you heard him derail from what he practiced beforehand.

“and i just wanna say the biggest thanks of all to my wife. who, without her, only half of my dream would have been achieved,” he gestured the award to you and the smile he wore was lighting up his entire face. “without you, this wouldn’t matter at all to me. so this one’s all for you, babe. thank you.”

you stood and clapped again, accepting mark back to his seat with an excited hug.

fate - well, ryujin - may have had it out for you, but it was okay in the end.

and you could honestly live with that.

#stop this was so cute #ANGST + COMFORT GENRES #HUHUHUHU #ch: lmk #gnr: fluff #gnr: angst

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