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scarlet-star-witch · 2 years

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The story of us

Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: How Steve fell in love with his best friend and found the love he deserved

Word count: 7.4K

AN: This is total fluff to heal me from Vol. 2. Steve deserves love, period.

She double checked her winged eyeliner, frowning slightly when she realized the makeup on her eyes weren’t quite symmetrical.

They don’t have to be twins, she shrugged to herself and continued on, plastering on her red lipstick. When she was finished she smiled nervously at her reflection, touching up her hair, making sure there were no tangles.

She suddenly sighed and rolled her eyes at herself, her insecurities rising rapidly.

All this work for Steve fucking Harrington, she thought to herself with a shake of her head. She never would’ve believed this day would come. The past couple of years had been a whirlwind and yet, unbelievably, falling for Steve had been the least astounding thing she’d experienced.

Creatures from an alternate dimension overshadowed anything else going on in her otherwise mundane life.

Smoothing down her outfit, she left her room before she could nitpick her look and change her clothes for the third time that night. She raced down the stairs and grabbed her purse, hoping to sneak out without any hassle.

But of course, the universe was not on her side.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Her dad called out from his spot on his recliner, eyeing her from over his reading glasses with a curious look.

“Out.” She shrugged, feigning innocence, her fingers itching to turn the door knob and hightail it out of there before she had to answer any more questions.

“Yeah, no shit. Where are you going?”

“Movies.”

“With who?”

“Dad, I’m already late, I need to go.”

“You know, I’d be a lot less suspicious if you weren’t avoiding my question.” He said with a knowing smirk, getting up from his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, a clear sign that she was about to get the third degree.

She stared at her dad challengingly, his own eyes narrowing in defiance, silently telling her she wasn’t going to win this one.

She sometimes hated how observant her father was.

“So…are you going to tell me or do I have to get the lie detector out.”

“You don’t have a lie detector.” She called his bluff.

“I can buy one. I’m sure they’re not too expensive.” He waved her off. “So…”

Clenching her jaw as her mind suddenly became void of any of her friends’ names, she settled for the first shitty answer she could think of. “I’m going with a friend.”

“This friend wouldn’t happen to be a boy, would it?”

She tensed, wondering how bad her consequence would be if she just sprinted out of the room. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed by Steve. Sure, they were a couple some people gave a double take to, purely because most people had no idea the two of them even knew each other.

But there were prodding questions parents asked about their child’s budding relationships that she couldn’t answer in the slightest.

How’d you meet?

I used to hate him and think he was a stuck up asshole until he saved my life from a monster from another dimension with a bat full of nails.

How’d you get together?

He kissed me while we were in the upside down - you know, that other dimension I mentioned - and thought we were going to be killed by a horde of demo-dogs hell bent on tearing our limbs from our bodies.

Yeah, she’d prefer to keep those details private.

At her prolonged silence, her dad’s smirk grew until he laughed, as if he found great amusement in her torture.

“All you have to do to make this end is tell me who you’re meeting up with tonight.”

“Honey, please just tell him, this is driving me crazy.” Her mom called out from the kitchen, though the amused smile on her face was evident.

She hated when her parents tag-teamed her. All her friends said she was so lucky to have such cool parents, but none of them had ever been on the receiving end of their intrigue.

With a heavy sigh, she averted her gaze down to the floor and muttered the damning name.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Steve Harrington.” She blurted out louder, causing both of her parents’ eyes to widen in surprise.

“You’re going out with Steve Harrington? How the hell did that happen?”

“Nope, you said I only had to tell you who, not how.” She sassed, grinning widely as she made her way to the door.

“Don’t think you can escape these questions forever, young lady!” Her dad called out as she left the house. She waved goodbye and let out a deep breath as she found herself in the cool night air.

When she saw the familiar car waiting idly a few houses down, a wide smile broke out onto her face and she raced forward, eager to see the man in question. As she got into the car, the smile she wore mirrored the one Steve gave her.

Before he could get a greeting out, she leaned over the middle console and kissed him deeply, her hands finding their common place at the base of his neck as her fingers curled into his wild strands of hair.

Their hearts beat in equal excited measure, their stomach fluttering with an array of delighted butterflies.

“Hi.” Steve breathed out when they finally parted.

“Hi.” She smiled and stole another quick peck to his lips.

He cleared his throat, forcing his sudden lust filled daze to dissipate. “So, movies?”

She nodded, biting her lip as she smiled knowingly, absolutely loving the effect she had on him.

Steve’s hand found its place on her thigh as he drove through the sleepy streets of Hawkins. That disbelieving feeling rose again, one that she still couldn’t seem to shake at the fact that she was in the car of the Steve Harrington.

She didn’t know why she was still so surprised by the turn of events. She’d been in his car plenty of times before and, more recently, they’d done some very r-rated things in the back seat. But their growing feelings for each other was still something she had to wrap her head around.

She had started off hating the king of Hawkins high, rolling her eyes whenever he boasted in the halls of the dreaded place. Back then, she was someone he barely even noticed. Then they quickly became a pair finding solace in each other in a crazy world they never expected to be a part of. Then, she became a friend, a confidant, giving him advice, helping with his homework, comforting him in his dark times. She became a place of healing through his break up with Nancy. And then, she soon became a person he could never get out of his mind.

She quickly consumed him, healing his broken heart and showing him a love he never thought could exist.

She became his everything.

Placing her hand over his, their fingers intertwined and she smiled lovingly, her mind beginning to wander to how this had all started.

She had been Jonathan Byers’ best friend since they were in pre-school. That alone explained the fact that they ran in very different circles in school. When Will went missing, her life changed forever.

She loved that little boy as if he were her own brother. She’d been fiercely protective of the quiet boy since he could walk and as his mysterious disappearance unfolded, she was thrust into a world she had trouble believing was real.

“You don’t have to be here.” Jonathan had told her sincerely, looking at her with a pained expression through the explosion of flickering lights above them.

“Jonathan, I’m here and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving.” She told him sternly and tightened her grip on the ax she was holding.

She’d never used an ax before, never even chopped wood before, but it seemed like the proper weapon to use against a demogorgon, a monster with no face as Nancy had described to her.

The three of them stood in a protective circle, their backs against each other’s as they scouted the ruined room for the monster.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and the last person she had ever expected to see forced themselves into the room, looking around at the destroyed furniture, the excessive number of stringed lights and the weapons in their hands with wide, horrified eyes.

As Steve’s eyes took in the scene before him, his eyes landed on her and she felt as though it was the first time he had ever truly seen her.

“W-what the hell is going on? Why do you have an ax?!”

Those were the first words he ever spoke to her.

“You need to leave, Harrington.”

And those were the first words she’d ever spoken to him.

It didn’t take much convincing for him to run out of the house, the sight of the demogorgon enough to make him run for the hills.

As the monster tackled Jonathan to the floor, she readied her ax and swung, hitting it in the shoulder. She gasped and backed up on trembling legs as it turned towards her menacingly, rearing its claws back, ready to strike her down.

Ignoring the aching in her shoulders, she raised the ax again and with a grunt of exertion, she brought the weapon down, hitting the demogorgon in the shoulder. Its wailed cries of pain didn’t last long, soon the menacing growling took its place and its sights were set on her again.

Gripping the handle of her weapon, she tugged, but it refused to budge, staying lodged within the monster, leaving her defenseless.

Her eyes widened in terror as the creature roared at her, seconds away from lunging, when it suddenly wailed, its body stumbling back from the blow to its side it received.

She watched, stunned, as Steve held the nailed bat, swinging furiously at the creature, backing it up into the hallway where they had placed the trap.

Of all the things that could’ve possibly happened that night, Steve Harrington saving her life was the last thing she’d ever expected.

That was the first time she got the inclination that he wasn’t a completely irredeemable asshole.

Later that night, as the group gathered in the hospital, most still in shock that little Will Byers was in fact alive, she found herself restless, her foot tapping annoyingly against the linoleum floor.

With a heavy sigh, she stood from her seat and made her way through the maze of halls to find the vending machine, suddenly realizing it had been over a day since she’d eaten anything. Her feet dragged her slowly through the bright hallways, the light making her already pounding headache worse.

She suddenly stopped in her tracks, a sense of dread falling over her when she noticed Steve at the vending machine, eyeing the choices tiredly, looking as if he were about to keel over any second.

When he felt her gaze he looked over his shoulder, his passive expression wavering as he smiled softly, sending her a feeble wave.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” She replied, somewhat hesitantly, not used to ‘King Steve’ paying her any mind.

But this was the guy that had saved her life only hours ago. He had stormed right back into danger to help them, and that couldn’t be ignored, no matter what she had previously thought of him.

“I uhm… I just wanted to say thank you, for earlier.” She choked out awkwardly, wringing her fingers together, feeling slightly uncomfortable as he looked at her intently. “That thing would’ve killed me if you hadn’t stepped in, so… thanks.”

Steve smiled lightly, a gesture that portrayed just how tired he was as it was barely a twitch of his lips, but it gave away his gratitude as he bowed his head, not quite sure how to take the compliment.

“It was nothing.”

“Steve, you saved my life. That’s not nothing.” She told him sincerely and the blush that coated his cheeks made her smile.

He grabbed his food and smiled warmly as he passed her, allowing her to take her place at the vending machine. He stopped before he left, turning back to look at her and he called her name softly, making her look over at him with wide eyes.

She didn’t even think he had known who she was, let alone her name.

“I’m glad you’re ok.”

With those words, she was left to stare at his retreating form in a stunned daze.

He wasn’t what she had expected.

Trauma had a way of bringing people together and by some strange twist of fate, she found herself hanging out with Steve Harrington more often than not.

They could speak to each other about things they couldn’t ever speak to other people about. The shared horrors they had seen pushed the two of them together in a way they were helpless to stop.

They were almost completely oblivious to the way they had seemingly latched onto each other since that horror-filled night of Will’s return. They started, almost unconsciously, seeking each other out at school, whether it be simple shared smiles, or Steve inviting her to sit with him and Nancy at lunch, or just simply being with each other for hours until they had to go their separate ways home.

It even developed into Steve driving her home from school day after day, the two of them spending more time together than not.

One night, as she turned off the lights in her house, preparing to head to bed for the night, the phone rang. With a quiet curse, she raced as quietly as she could to the phone, desperate to end the shrill noise before it woke her parents.

“Hello?” She picked up, her tone more pointed than she expected.

“Hey.”

“Steve? Do you know what time it is?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just… do you have time to talk?”

There was a lingering fear heard in his voice, one he tried to cover up, but one she heard nonetheless. It was the same fear her own voice held those nights she couldn’t sleep, the nights where all she could see was that faceless monster.

“Another nightmare?” She asked quietly.

It was quiet on the other line for a long moment, she could practically feel Steve’s shame through the phone, his hesitancy to disclose what he was going through, fearing the notion that this made him weak.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t- I’ll let you get to sleep.”

“No, no, Steve, it’s ok, I’m not tired.” She spoke quickly, stopping him before he could hang up. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. I get them too.”

On the other line, Steve nodded, though she couldn’t see him, his teeth worrying his bottom lip roughly. He paced across the length of his room, wondering if she could hear the pounding of his heart through the phone.

“You wanna talk about it?” Her quiet voice said again and he had to swallow the immediate urge to refuse and hang up to save his dignity.

“Not really.” He mumbled, his finger curling around the cord anxiously.

“Steve.” Her soft voice stressed, gently coercing him to reveal what was troubling him. “It’s ok to be scared. No one should have to see what we saw. Honestly, I’d be more worried about you if you were totally fine after all that shit.”

With a heavy sigh, the floodgates opened and Steve allowed himself to purge everything that was tormenting him.

It was only halfway into his explanation of his dark dream, that he began to wonder why he hadn’t called Nancy, why her name hadn’t been at the forefront of his mind when he wanted nothing more than to be comforted.

Instead he went to her.

It took him weeks to get that sinking feeling to stop.

But it didn’t stop Steve from seeking her out. She had quickly become the greatest friend he ever had and nothing, not even the guilt he felt, like he was betraying Nancy, could take that away.

At school, as the group disbanded from lunch, Steve’s arm found its way over Nancy’s shoulders, his brain fighting to listen to what Nancy was ranting about. Something about fourth period history, he thinks, but he found it hard to concentrate.

His eyes were locked onto Jonathan and the girl who had quickly become one of his favorite people. More specifically, Jonathan’s arm around her waist and their shared smiles as they spoke to each other.

He didn’t know why the sight caused unease to swell within him, he had no idea why that sinking, dreading feeling was back.

He did everything he could to push the thought aside and he was successful, until only hours later when he was sitting with her at his kitchen table, working on an english essay together.

He tapped his pencil against his notebook erratically, watching as she wrote, unbothered by his annoying habit. He cleared his throat, his brain screaming at him not to ask what he so badly wanted to ask.

“So… how long have you and Jonathan been together?”

She laughed, the inclination both amusing and downright disgusting and looked up at him incredulously. “We’re not together.”

“Oh, ok, I just… you guys spend a lot of time together, so I just-”

“He’s my brother.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed in confusion and he looked at her questioningly. “You guys don’t look-”

“Oh my god, Steve, not literally you idiot.” She laughed and tossed her eraser at him playfully. “I’ve known him forever, he’s like my family.”

“So you two have never…?”

“Fuck no!” She cringed. “It’s always been platonic between us.” She explained and didn’t know why seeing him breathe out, as if in relief, made her stomach clench.

He didn’t understand why he felt relief and he wasn’t about to question it. He didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole.

“Haven’t you had a friend like that? Someone you want to spend all your time with, someone you wanna tell your good news to right away, someone you love without any conditions?”

“Uhh, no.”

She eyed him carefully, noting the sudden shyness that overtook him, a shyness that made him seem embarrassed almost, like he was missing out on something, like there was something wrong with him for never having experienced what she was describing.

“And that definitely doesn’t sound platonic.” He added with a smirk, all traces of his insecurity gone.

She sent him a playful scowl and rolled her eyes.

“Well it is, trust me.” She assured him. “That kind of love, it can definitely become something romantic, but that sure as hell isn’t the case with me and Jonathan. He’s just… he’s one of my favorite people.”

Steve nodded slowly, looking as though he was ruminating over her words carefully, causing her to look at him curiously, wondering what had caused him to look so thoughtful, wondering what had caused that uneasy look in his eyes.

“But, I mean… you have that with Nancy though, right?” She asked slowly, simultaneously cringing at herself in fear of overstepping.

Steve sat up straighter and for a brief moment, as his eyes met hers, he looked like a deer in headlights, trapped and doomed, before he schooled his expression and averted his gaze.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, I think so.”

“You think so?”

Steve hesitated, chewing on his lip nervously before sighing in resignation, looking over at her cautiously.

“That loving without any conditions… I don’t know if we’re there.” He admitted quietly.

“That’s ok. You can get there. You two are still only in highschool. The both of you are going to grow and change as people and your relationship will grow and that unconditional love will grow.” She told him, trying her best to soothe his nerves, regretting having brought it up in the first place. “But if it’s really something you’re worried about you should talk to her about it.”

Steve nodded slowly, her words lingering in his head long after he had left her side. Guilt began to fester inside of him as his head spun with thoughts so confusing he didn’t know what to make of them.

A part of him didn’t want that to grow between him and Nancy. And that scared the shit out of him.

He continued to ignore the feeling and the constant thoughts of her, finding it easier that way. Facing his feelings head on was never one of his strengths and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be any time soon, he made sure of that.

He was almost unaware of the way his eyes would seek her out, he was unaware of how often he smiled around her, he was unaware of just how purely content he was in her presence.

She somehow had a way of making him laugh in situations that usually had him stressed. Tutoring had used to be a contentious, horrible hour of his life every Thursday evening that he would dread every second of, until she became his tutor.

“What’d you get for question 7?”

“X equals 32.”

“What?!” Steve yelled, grabbing her notebook and staring down at it as if it were a valuable ancient script. “I got x equals 5.”

She barked out a laugh, laying down on her bed as she clutched her stomach.

“Shut up.” Steve groaned, tossing her notebook back to her bitterly, though he couldn’t hold back his own smile from growing at the sound of her raucous laughter.

“Sorry, sorry, I just don’t know what the hell you did to make that possible.” She said through her laughter.

Steve’s own laughter became louder and soon their homework was long forgotten as they dissolved into a hysterical fit of laughter that couldn’t be stopped.

After a few minutes, their laughter lightened to soft giggles, the two of them sharing equally delightful smiles. Something shafted between them, their gazes lingering just a little too long, the moment dangerously toeing the line between platonic and romantic just a little too closely.

Her gaze, which had been eagerly taking in every inch of his beautiful face drifted to the clock on the bedside table for a second and the moment was broken in an instant.

“Oh shit, I gotta go. Danny’s picking me up in like ten minutes.” She rushed out as she collected her books and shoved them into her backpack.

Steve’s shoulders deflated at the reminder of her boyfriend. He didn’t like the guy, not one bit. It was clear Danny didn’t like Steve, that he was threatened by their friendship. The fact that he took every opportunity to glare coldly at Steve was telling enough.

“What do you guys have planned for tonight?” He asked casually, hoping the question came off as purely friendly curiosity and not his desire to protect her from the arrogant college douchebag.

“There’s a party on campus.”

“Oh, cool. Sounds fun.” He said with a small smile, wincing at himself for his failed effort to sound excited for her.

As she left, he tried hard not to think too hard about the kiss she’d placed on his cheek in goodbye and why it made his heart beat faster.

And he especially tried hard to not think about what she’d be doing with her boyfriend that night, because every time he did he felt like his heart would drop out of his body.

All of these thoughts of her, thoughts that confused him to no end, weren’t easy to compartmentalize. Even more so after Nancy had stomped on his heart and drunkenly tore their relationship apart.

The night after the party, the night after his relationship ended, he found himself where most could find him, at her side. He was slumped on her bed, staring up at the ceiling mindlessly.

He loved Nancy, at least he thought he did. She was the healthiest and realest relationship he’d ever had. He couldn’t just let go of that. He couldn’t ignore what the past year had meant to him, he didn’t want to throw it away.

But his mind kept returning to her.

Her, his best friend who was dating another man and who most definitely didn’t see him as anything other than a friend.

“What should I do?” He asked her, giving her a helpless look. “I could buy flowers, or chocolates, Nancy likes chocolate, right?” He continued to rant, not noticing the disbelieving look thrown his way.

“And why would you do that?”

“I need to apologize, you know, a grand gesture to sweep her off her feet kind of apology.”

“Steve, why the hell would you apologize? She was the one that called you ‘bullshit’.” She asked, looking at him as if he were crazy.

“I… well, I dunno, I guess I don’t. But I don’t wanna lose her either.”

With a heavy sigh, she leaned towards him, placing her hand over his and he had to force himself not to look in amazement at the touch, forcing his gaze to remain on her face, where he became lost in her sympathetic eyes.

Huh, I never noticed how her eyes looked in the sunlight, he thought to himself, dazed and confused more than ever.

“Steve, you deserve to be with someone who loves you as much as you love them. You shouldn’t settle for anything less, you don’t deserve anything less.”

Her words broke him out of his daze forcefully and he felt his breath hitch. The only time he had heard what he deserved was his dad yelling at him, berating him, telling him he deserved to stay in this small town, he deserved his shitty job and shitty grades.

He had never been told that he deserved better than what he had.

“But I don’t-”

“No, buts!” She interrupted him passionately and he was struck by how hard she was trying to help him, how much she truly wanted him to be happy.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so vehemently on his side. He had no idea it would feel so damn good.

“If Nancy doesn’t wanna be with you, then she doesn’t wanna be with you. You can’t force those kind of feelings and you shouldn’t have to. Steve, there’s probably a hundred girls in this town alone willing to show you how you deserved to be loved. You just need to find her.

He stared at her as if in a trance.

“Just need to find her.” He repeated her words slowly, his eyes never wavering from hers.

She tried hard not to think of how her stomach flipped under his gaze.

Over the next few days, Steve had been racking his brain, desperately trying to find a way to let her know, to find the courage to tell his best friend that he was crazy about her, that the love he felt for her was something he could no longer deny.

But the universe, as always, had awful timing, and the chaos they endured just a year ago was back in full force.

“Well, this isn’t the Friday I thought I’d be having.” She muttered, her nose crinkled in distaste as she helped Steve shove the dead demo-dog into the Byers’ fridge.

It had been a whirlwind of a week, hell the last hour was enough to have her mind spinning.

Eleven was alive, Will was possessed, the gate was open, and their lives were in danger, yet again.

“Yeah, I second that.” Steve said through his panted breath as they both forcefully slammed the fridge door shut.

Wiping his hands on his jeans and cringing at the mess the creature had left, he looked up at her again, his brows furrowing as he noticed the dull look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry your weekend got messed up, I know you were looking forward to visiting Danny.” He told her, taking a guess as to why she was in such a foul mood.

She let out a bitter sounding laugh and shook her head. “Please don’t say that asshole’s name in my presence.”

Steve looked at her in bewilderment, silently motioning for her to continue, to explain what the hell was going on with her. Despite his elation at the prospect that her douchebag boyfriend was out of the picture, her behavior kept him from jumping for joy just yet.

After a long pause, followed by an even longer heavy sigh, she leaned against the fridge, her eyes falling closed.

“I caught him cheating on me.”

Steve’s face fell, his heart aching for her. He thought his break up with Nancy had been bad, but he was thankful it hadn’t been that bad. He was beyond angry that she had to go through that heartbreak. He moved to stand beside her, leaning against the fridge of horrors, his shoulder brushing against hers.

“Jesus, I'm sorry. He’s… he’s an idiot. He has no idea what he lost.”

She laughed slightly and nudged him. “Yeah, right.”

“Hey, I’m being serious here. You’re a catch and you were way too good for that guy.”

“Steve, stop.”

“Stop what? Telling the truth?”

She looked over at him and a lump grew in her throat when she saw the look on his face, when she realized he hadn’t been joking, that he was telling the god honest truth.

She let out a long breath, blinking rapidly to quell the urge to let those dastardly tears come to her eyes again. She’d wasted enough tears on Danny and she had quickly come to the conclusion that he didn’t deserve a single one of them.

“I just wish there was a way I could get back at him, you know? I wanna humiliate him like he humiliated me.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

She chewed on her lip in contemplation until a reckless idea popped into her head. “Maybe I’ll sleep with his roommate, he was pretty cute.”

Steve choked on his breath and he felt a burning pit of dread settle within him, making him feel sick. It was bad enough to think about her with Danny, but now, picturing her with another college douchebag was making him feel dizzy.

“Uhhh, no, I don’t- that’s probably not- I- that’s not a good idea.” He stammered, floundering for an explanation, desperate to get her mind off of that plan that would tear his heart to pieces.

She smiled lightly, the sight of him so flustered warming her heart. “It’s not?”

“No, I don't think it’s enough.”

“I mean, his english lit professor’s young, I could probably sleep with him too, that’d definitely fuck with him.”

Steve’s eyes widened in horror and he shook his head, his mouth moving but no words escaping him.

“Uhh, no, nope, not what I was suggesting.” He rambled mindlessly, feeling as though he was seconds away from going into cardiac arrest.

“So what do you suggest, since apparently you know everything there is to know about relationships.” She joked sarcastically.

Steve laughed, though it was strained, his mind still racing with horrible thoughts of her tangled up with another man.

“I think, if you really wanna get back at him, you need to show him that you’re happy without him.”

“And how do I do that?”

“I think falling in love with someone, loving someone so unconditionally that you wanna spend every minute of every day with them, that whenever you get good news they’re the only one you think about telling, that you can only picture your days with them, that they’re the one person you wanna see, the one person you think about constantly.” Steve spoke, his voice becoming low as his gaze pierced hers.

He hadn’t even realized he had leaned in until they were practically nose to nose with her

He swallowed against the lump in his throat, forcing himself to not chicken out, and kept his eyes on her.

Her face smoothed out as she stared back at him, almost as if she were in a daze. His words, words that were once her own but were spoken back to her but so much more passionate, with so much more fire than when she had used them, made her feel lightheaded.

“I think that would really show him.” Steve said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, like if he spoke any louder, he’d scare away whatever was happening between them.

“Hey!”

The two of them jumped apart and looked over at Dustin who was looking at them with narrowed eyes, trying to make sense of what he had just walked into.

“If you two are done flirting, we have a problem.”

“Dust- wait, what? What problem?” Steve’s initial urge to scold the teenager faded as he realized there was imminent danger.

Despite the fact that she should’ve been focusing on the present moment, you know, with the fate of the world on the line and everything, all she could think of was Steve, the words he had spoken to her, the way he had looked at her.

She wondered if she hallucinated the entire thing, if she was just reading way too much into the moment and exaggerating what it really was.

There’s no way, she told herself, there’s no way he likes me.

As Billy harassed the group, threatening Lucas, and then beating the shit out of Steve, the valiant hero who tried his best, she couldn’t force herself to focus. Which was for the better, she assured herself, she didn’t want to watch Steve get his ass handed to him and, while she thought of herself as a pretty tough girl, there was no way she was getting in between a fight that involved Billy Hargrove of all people.

It was a whirlwind of chaos as Max handled Billy, effectively knocking him on his ass. If she knew drugging him was an option, she would’ve done that the second that abrasive asshole stepped foot in the house.

Yet, throughout the chaos, her mind never wavered from the way Steve had looked at her in that kitchen, she couldn’t stop thinking about the words he had said to her.

Even as she helped drag him to the backseat of Billy’s car, still thinking the kids’ plan was a horrendous one, she had only agreed because her mind was preoccupied with wondering if Steve had just confessed his love to her.

Get a hold of yourself, she scolded herself.

Even as the group of them trudged through the dark and dismal tunnels of the upside down, her mind refused to cease its incessant worrying. It was most definitely not the ideal situation to be hung up on a potential crush she may or may not have been denying for months.

Her mind was so preoccupied, she hadn’t been paying attention to the dangerous terrain below her. Her foot caught on a vine and she stumbled, about to fall flat on her face when a sturdy arm wound around her waist, holding her upright.

“You ok?” Steve asked breathlessly, looking down at her in concern.

She felt her throat go dry and she nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I'm good.”

She felt as though her brain was short circuiting as they continued to walk, Steve’s arm around her waist never ceasing, keeping her protected at his side.

Their plan had gone off without a hitch, they’d managed to torch the tunnels, successfully distracting the monsters so El had a chance to close the gate and save the world yet again.

As the group ran through the tunnels to get to safety, Steve’s hand remained in hers, pulling her along with him easily.

As they heard the horde of demo-dogs behind them, they all ran faster and she felt Steve’s grip on her hand tighten in fear.

They worked quickly, hauling the kids up the rope in quick succession.

“Go, go, go.” Steve urged, helping Dustin, the last kid of the group to get up, to start climbing.

“Wait, what about you?” Dustin questioned, looking down at them nervously.

“Just go!” Steve urged, pushing him towards the rope.

With all the kids safe and out of the upside down, they both let out equal breaths of relief, both of them feeling as though they had done their job, had protected those kids like they were supposed to. But as the roar of the monsters came closer, she looked to Steve, the both of them realizing at the same time that they had run out of time.

With a shaking breath, she turned to face her demise, watching as the shadows of the demo-dogs raced closer, only mere feet away.

This was it. This was the end.

A gentle touch startled her out of her dark thoughts

“Don’t.” Steve said softly, his hand settling at her cheek and moving her head to avoid looking at the creatures that would cause their demise. “Just look at me.”

The catch in his voice didn’t go unnoticed and she swallowed thickly, looking up at him with watering eyes.

“If I have to die with someone… I’m glad it’s you.” She choked out.

Steve’s expression twisted, looking as though he was pained and he bowed his head, his other hand moving to grip onto her waist. He moved his gaze up to meet hers and his eyes shone with tears.

“If we make it outta this, please don’t hate me.” He whispered reverently and before she had the chance to question just what he meant, his lips crashed onto hers.

Her eyes widened in shock before falling closed in bliss, her heart racing within her chest. He held her so gently yet so desperately, she couldn’t help but fall into him, her chest pressed against his as she kissed him back eagerly.

Her hand, as if without her knowledge, found their way into his hair and the short, needy exhale he gave made her weak in the knees. His grip on her waist tightened, his hand gentle at her cheek as they kissed with a fiery, burning passion, one they could no longer deny.

The moment was broken as she felt a bump at her leg, making her fall into his chest. He wrapped both arms around her protectively, holding her close to him. They watched in awe as the monsters avoided them, racing past them, paying them no mind.

“Holy shit.” She breathed out, her wide eyes locked onto the demo-dogs, her heart racing at how close she had been to accepting her end.

With a shaking breath, she turned her attention to Steve, only to find him already looking at her, his own expression of shock mirroring hers.

“Are you ok?”

She nodded wordlessly and her hands moved to grip onto his arms which were still holding her tightly.

“Are you?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He answered with a huff of tired laughter. “Shit, that was close.”

Suddenly, they heard the kids screaming for them from above.

“Are you two ok?!”

“We’re fine!” She yelled up to them, moving to grab onto the rope to haul herself out of the tunnels, but Steve’s grip on her arm stopped her, making her look back at him.

“Look, what I did… I didn’t- if that made you uncomfortable-”

“Steve,” She interrupted him, a small smile beginning to grow at how nervous he looked. “Shut up.”

With that, Steve was left to watch her scale the rope in a daze, frozen in place. He let out a small laugh and shook his head. Despite his raging nerves, she had a way of putting him at total ease, calming every one of his insecurities.

As he made his way out of the upside down, he found his place at her side, his arm finding its way around her waist again.

“Is it over?” Max asked, eyeing the group nervously.

“I think so.” Steve replied with a smile, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his chest and he looked over at her again, both of them sharing knowing smirks at the double meaning of the interaction.

Their anxieties were gone, the dance they had done around each other for so long was finally over.

Once it was clear that they had succeeded, once they knew Will was ok, El was ok and the gate was closed, their night of fighting was finally over.

Steve drove all the kids home, leaving the two of them in the car, driving down the empty roads of Hawkins.

There was a nervous energy that surrounded them, unspoken words lingering in the air. Neither one of them knew what to say, both too nervous to break the silence that had grown since Dustin had left the car, leaving them alone.

As Steve pulled up to her house, his expression shifted into one of disappointment, suddenly wondering if tomorrow would be different, if her feelings would be different now that the danger was gone, wondering if their moment was just a moment of weakness fueled by fear.

“So… I know I’ve asked you this like a million times already, but, are you ok?” Steve asked quietly.

She looked over at him, their eyes finally meeting and the warm smile that graced her lips made his heart stutter.

“I’m more than ok.”

He nodded, feeling his palms beginning to sweat, his stomach twisting with nerves.

“Steve,” She called out softly. “Did you mean it?”

He looked confused for a moment before he realized what she was asking. Their moment in the kitchen, the words he had spoken so gently and loving to her.

He swallowed thickly, working up every ounce of courage he had to finally say the words that had been on his tongue for months.

“Of course I did.” He told her softly, his smile growing. “How could I not?”

Her eyes softened and her chest exploded with pleasurable fluttering nerves. She reached over, placing her hand over his and intertwined their fingers, delighted when she heard the breath of relief he exhaled.

“You’ve been it for me for a long time. I was just too stupid to do anything about it.”

His words made her stomach twist in the best way she’d ever experienced.

Steve cleared his throat and looked over at her hesitantly, his nerves in full force.

“So, uhh, I mean, do you… do you feel… I mean, I know this is new and weird, well, not weird, at least for me. I’ve known I’ve liked you for like… I dunno, a while, probably more than I’d like to admit. And you’ve probably only seen me as a friend, but I think the last few months have-”

“Steve.” She said forcefully, cutting off his rant and forcing him to look over at her with wide eyes, his fear evident.

She tightened her grip on his hand and leaned forward, forcing his nervous, cast down gaze to raise, finally meeting her eyes.

“I think I was too stupid to do anything about my feelings too.” She echoed his previous words cheekily.

Steve let out a harsh breath, smiling widely, and he couldn’t help but feel as though he had accomplished a great feat. The pure relief she saw on his face made her heart lighten, as it had more times than she could count around him, a feeling she had finally come to terms with.

With a giggle, she leaned forward and crashed her lips to his.

He responded immediately, deepening the kiss as his hands grabbed onto her eagerly, as if he would die if he didn’t have her close for another second. Months of tension were released as they kissed with a fiery need that they thought would never dissipate.

After a few minutes, Steve pulled away, his brow furrowed and lips swollen as he looked at her intently.

“Wait, so, this means you like me too, right?” He questioned breathlessly and his stomach flipped as she laughed loudly. “What, I’m just checking, I mean, we did just almost die. Emotions are running high. I don’t want you waking up tomorrow morning totally repulsed at the sight of me.”

“Oh my god, Steve, just kiss me, you idiot.” She told him and he was all too happy to oblige.

As he kissed her again, this time softly, more gently than he had before, they both had to fight the smiles that threatened to grow and ruin the kiss.

More Stranger Things fics are coming!

I have an Eddie fic coming out soon to undo the emotional damage of Volume 2 xx

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine

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ghost-bxrd · 4 months

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ok you said go wild and i will fully embrace that. i wanted to brainstorm about this idea I had and had also posted but like in a sentence, when it’s more of an outline. it’s of a robin!tim that can sense dead people so when the red hood makes his debut he’s naturally curious and tim follows him around and jason obviously realizes, holds up a knife to his throat and startles when tim asks “how are you here” with just no regards for his own safety and genuine curiosity?? literally not knowing he’s jason but jason stops and goes “you know who I am?” and tim whispers “I know you died” and jason coils back because that is as much confirmation as he needs cue panic because the kid knows surely then the bat knows too and that just won’t do, so in his panic he ends up kidnapping the kid and taking him to his safehouse where he keeps pacing because jason needs answers and he refuses to get them torturing the kid (because fucking kid had gone out looking for him despite knowing the red hood had it out of his head, did this kid even have any self preservation skills? he didn’t even seemed fazed jason’s back??which wow, hurt not gonna lie) then when tim wakes up because jason knocked him unconscious the reveal happens and Tim is so shocked that Jason is shocked because bitch I thought you knew!!! what how the fuck would I know!! chaos ensues but then jason abruptly realizes this is great! his plans did not derail *looks at timbo munching his food and watching indiana jones* his plan with the bat he means

Jason, sitting in a room with all his plans on fire: This is fine :’D

No but seriously, I LOVE a Tim with the self preservation instinct of a wet paper towel. He’s a competent teen vigilante, but where it concerns the Bats (and especially his hero, Jason) he’s an absolute human disaster.

Ok but first of all we need to talk a bit more thoroughly about “sensing the dead” thing. Dead as in ghosts? Or dead as in— murder victims and such. Either would apply to Jason if we go with a “Death clings to people who’ve seen beyond the veil” scenario, but Tim’s thoughts would differ vastly upon first meeting the Red Hood.

And Jason, poor Jason, the Pit Madness didn’t stand a chance faced with what is essentially a toddler looking at him with wide and curious eyes, so damn trusting despite that knife to his throat, and he’s just losing his mind because he could have slit Tim’s throat and nobody would have found out until it was too late. What if Jason had been literally anybody else? The kid would have died.

Obviously this Robin can’t be trusted to keep himself safe/alive, that means Jason has to do it for him. Easy. He can do this. It’s cool. Jason is freaking the fuck out.

Tim, upon realizing that the Red Hood is Jason, promptly goes from mildly alarmed over his kidnapping to ✨starstruck✨ and steadfastly refuses to leave Jason’s safehouse unless Jason agrees to come back to the manor. No, he doesn’t care about the multitude of death threats (he totally calls the bluff from the get go).

Jason promptly decides to make the best out of a shitty situation and pretends to be an evil kidnapper and just— keeps dangling the baby bird over Bruce and Dick’s head, slipping them concerning photos (Tim wasn’t exactly happy about the “hostage photo shooting session” but he agreed after Jason promised to make him his special coffee flavored cake) and telling them he’s torturing their Robin with a crowbar (because Jason is a drama queen).

And you know what else would be funny? If, after a few days, Tim slips out to go on patrol with Jason. He completely ignores Bruce and/or Dick when the call out to him and actively helps Hood with his crime stuff (while also sneakily forcing Hood to cut down on the killing by about— 80-90%).

Bruce and Dick are fairly convinced they’re looking at a brainwashing situation.

#brainstorming #jason “’I did not sign up for this’’ Todd #Tim ‘’try getting rid of my NOW bitch’’ drake #and maybe his ability to sense the dead comes in handy with cases #oh who am I kidding it definitely does #Bruce and Dick tearing the city apart looking for Tim #meanwhile Tim: blackmailing Jason into making pancakes with coffee flavor #it’s a disaster from start to finish but somehow it works out #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #tim drake #red hood

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thepixelelf · 1 year

Text

Bluff and Nonsense - she/her ver.

genres: romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au pairing: female reader x hoshi words: 17.0k (01:08) warnings: cursing, alcohol notes (orig, 2020): "so the title is fluffy and this was a title fic, but then it ran away on me. I really like this one so... yeah. Enjoy!” update, 2023: this is the she/her version of Bluff and Nonsense. other than the pronouns, nothing else has been changed. you can find the original they/them version here, and the he/him version here

“Soonyoung? Yeah I know him, you should too. He’s on the uni’s dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularity’s skyrocketed. I’ve met him a few times, great guy — got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no one’s perfect. He’s smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?”

Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Kwon Soonyoung is a man of many talents. He’s the guy who could fit a whole orange in his mouth in fourth grade, the guy who always knew how to make the social studies teacher talk about his divorce instead of the world wars, and the guy who brought a live pigeon to school with no one questioning him whatsoever. He’s also the head choreographer of the university’s dance crew — you barely knew there was a dance crew until he showed up with his hand-drawn posters — as well as a totally well-rounded fine arts major. C’mon, who takes a chemistry course in the fine arts? Kwon Soonyoung, apparently.

Of his many talents though, lying is not one of them.

Which is why, when asked if he likes anyone, Soonyoung says your name instead of simply saying “no” (a much better option in hindsight). He actually likes a girl on his dance crew. Cute, funny, has those eyes you can just get lost in — lord knows Soonyoung has. But, at this relatively quiet party, with half the guests crowded on Seungcheol’s couch and the other half on the disgusting carpeted floor of his apartment, Soonyoung can’t admit his real crush because she’s sitting just a few feet away.

It wouldn’t be such a bad lie if you weren’t also sitting a few feet away.

You’re on your phone when he says your name in his heartbeat-induced panic, but you look up at the sound of it, as does Seungkwan, who was reading something on your phone from the beanbag chair you’re both sitting in.

A chorus of low, teasing ‘ooh’s rises throughout the room, almost like it’s eighth grade again and Soonyoung just got called down to the office. Except now, he might actually be in trouble. He gets a few claps on the back from his friends close enough to reach, commending him on his bravado even though he doesn’t deserve it. Really, the whole situation only dawns on Soonyoung after 6.8 seconds, which is a bit too long considering he made the situation in the first place. Blood rushes to his cheeks, not because of the alcohol in his red cup he’s yet to drink, but because you’re looking right at him, and he has no idea what to do.

Soonyoung doesn’t know you very well. In fact, he’d almost say he doesn’t know you at all.

You’re Seungkwan’s friend from one of his classes — computing science, if Soonyoung remembers correctly, but he’s not totally confident. The only reason you came tonight is because of Seungkwan. You don’t know anyone else.

With a tilt of your head, your face scrunches with question, and you look to Seungkwan for help. You know Soonyoung said your name, but you missed hearing the context. It looks like Seungkwan missed it too, seeing as the conversation you two have only makes your brow furrow more as the room chatter picks back up. Everyone else is already over Soonyoung’s sudden confession when Jeonghan starts talking about something else.

Except Soonyoung’s friends, of course. That would be too easy.

Mingyu turns to him with a stupid smile, his cheeks red from both the free opportunity to tease his upperclassman and the light beer he’s been sipping and pretending to get buzzed on all night. He nudges Soonyoung with his shoulder where they sit on the floor, leaning in to speak under the conversations surrounding them. “You didn’t tell me you like her,” he says, the jesting tone in his voice clearer than water.

“Yeah...” Soonyoung doesn’t know why he doesn’t just retract his confession, it’s not like Mingyu is close to you or anything, he’d understand. But then again, he’s bad at lying, and the girl he likes is still sitting on the couch. He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s sort of a recent thing.”

Mingyu’s smile only widens at Soonyoung’s response, his eyes turning to slits with the rise of his cheeks. “Soonie’s in looove~!”

And Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say. Nothing like this has ever happened to him before, not exactly like this, anyways. So he just looks down, scratches the back of his neck again, looks at one of his dance crew friends when she calls his name.

He doesn’t dare glance your way for the rest of the night.

Turns out you do know someone else other than Seungkwan, because once most of the guests have cleared out, leaving only half the boys to clean up, Seokmin approaches Soonyoung as he scrubs the sink of whatever that weird green stuff is.

He asks how Soonyoung knows you and says off-handedly that he’s never even seen the two of you talk. (Which is right.) He says these things shouldn’t be joked about, that you’re a person with feelings, and Soonyoung should leave you alone if he’s just doing this for comedy’s sake.

Soonyoung thinks he’s never seen Seokmin so serious.

It’s probably fine. You haven’t said anything good or bad, and other than the occasional tease from his friends, no one has taken anything too far. Maybe you’ll forget about it tomorrow. Maybe he’ll forget about it tomorrow, and it will all be okay.

Besides, it’s not like he actually likes you. And his real secret is still safe and sound.

•

Of Soonyoung’s many talents, making people sad is also not one of them.

It’s not that he actively tries to cause misery only to fail, it’s that he can’t stand upsetting anyone. He’s a people-pleaser by nature, that’s just how it is.

So he doesn’t say no when you ask him out for coffee.

And he smiles at you when you try to make conversation, even though it’s awkward and hesitant despite having a mutual friend like Seungkwan. It’s not so bad, he thinks. You’re trying, at least, and when you ask him about his interests, you actually listen, which isn’t common when he tends to over-explain his love for dance and performance. He has a coffee in his hand too, so that’s a plus.

You ask him if what he said at the party was true, and something in your eyes makes him say yes.

•

There are a few more coffee dates after that. It’s nothing official, and Soonyoung is hesitant to call the meetups “dates” because he’s not interested in dating you. But it’s a little late for that.

You seem brighter, though, every time he sees you again; he can’t bring himself to take that away, to cut the cord, to clean this mess he made.

Something about the way you two talk is nice, at least. Soonyoung can’t quite put his finger on it, and he tells himself that’s what’s drawing him back every time, not the guilt he feels sunken in his ribcage whenever you smile his way. It’s not that deep, he repeats to himself whenever you wave to him on campus, making him feel obligated to walk you to class. It’s not that deep.

He’s in the library one day when he spots you at one of the tables, books open and spread out as you scribble down notes, a pair of earbuds dangling from your ears. You haven’t seen him, so he doesn’t try to approach, just ducks back behind the bookshelf he’s been exploring. His hand is on a book he might like when a voice stops him.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Minghao leans against the opposite bookshelf, his arms crossed, locked and loaded for judgement. Soonyoung looks around, but of course he’s talking to him. They’re the only ones in the row.

“Um, how do you want me to answer that?” he asks, unsure of exactly what Minghao’s talking about. Yeah, he knows he’s a bit dense sometimes, but not all the time.

Minghao rolls his eyes. “I know you like Sehee. You haven't stopped laughing like an idiot at her bad jokes." He nods his chin outwards, gesturing over Soonyoung's shoulder and through the bookshelves towards where you're sitting. "What are you doing messing with Seungkwan's friend?"

It’s not too surprising that Minghao knows — he’s an intuitive guy, but Soonyoung is still caught off guard. He asks first, under his breath, “Does anyone else know?”

“If you mean dumb and dumber, then no.” Minghao jerks his head to swing his dark bangs out of his eyes. Everyone keeps telling him to just cut his hair shorter, but he refuses for the aesthetic, or something. “Chan is way too focused on dancing to notice your dumbassery, and Jun is about as observant as a fishcake when it comes to feelings.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders fall in relief, though he didn’t even realize they’d tensed up.

“But that’s not the problem here. Why are you playing around with her if you’re into Sehee?”

“I’m not—” Soonyoung pauses, thoughts deliberate, “—I’m not playing around, okay? I just... I don’t know. You were all looking at me, and I couldn’t just say Sehee's name, she was right there!”

Minghao cocks an eyebrow at that. “But you could say hers?”

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware.”

Soonyoung groans quietly — he’s still in a library after all. He covers his face with both hands, not wanting to look at Minghao nor have Minghao look at him. For a second, it’s blissful, awkward silence, which Soonyoung would take over Minghao’s scolding any day. But of course, no haven lasts forever.

“You’re gonna have to tell her,” Minghao says, and he’s probably right. No, he is right, Soonyoung just doesn’t want him to be.

“I can’t do that! I said I like her— twice!”

“Twice?”

“Twice!”

Minghao only drops his head for a second, scoffing at the whole situation. Soonyoung wishes he could do that too, just laugh it off because it’s someone else’s problem.

“Well, you’re going to have to say something sooner or later.” Meeting his eyes, Soonyoung realizes Minghao might actually be worried. About you, or him, or something else, he’s not sure, but the subtle fold of Minghao’s eyelids tells Soonyoung this is about more than just calling out idiocy. “And I think sooner will hurt less.”

Soonyoung knows he’s right. But he doesn’t like it.

Before he can come up with a rebuttal, though, Minghao’s hands are on Soonyoung’s shoulders, and he’s pushing him out of the row of bookshelves and straight towards your table.

“You can do it, Soonyoung, just rip the band-aid while you still can,” he whispers in Soonyoung’s ear right before one last push at his back.

Soonyoung stumbles a bit, but once he regains his footing, Minghao’s already gone and you’ve already noticed the ruckus. You pull one earbud out with a bright smile. It’s so jovial that Soonyoung almost forgets why he’s here.

“Hi Soonyoung, I didn’t see you come in,” you say, and there’s no way you’re this energized just from studying in a library.

“Uh... hi.”

“You’ve actually got the perfect timing.” Waving to him, you gesture for him to sit next to you, and he does. You pull out some sort of planner, opening it to a few months from now. “I wanted to ask when exactly your showcase is? Seungkwan’s no help at all because he only cares about his concerts and stuff. Honestly, there aren’t that many...”

You’re going to have to say something sooner or later.

Soonyoung picks later.

•

“So when are you gonna ask her out?”

Jihoon stands in front of the stove, watching his hot water simmer, a bag of dry ramen in one hand and long cooking chopsticks in the other. It’s Soonyoung’s turn to make dinner tonight, but since he says he isn’t hungry, Jihoon’s scrounging it out himself.

Soonyoung, on the other hand, sits at their tiny dinner table, his forehead pressed to the cool surface, arms hanging limp at his sides. He mumbles something of a response, but it’s nothing more than a questioning grunt, if anything.

“Oh, you know.” Even when Jihoon says your name, Soonyoung stays still. “Only the girl you’ve been on several “dates” with ever since you confessed to her at Seungcheol’s party. When are you gonna ask her on a real date?”

Tired, Soonyoung groans. “When the time is right, I guess.”

•

You work on campus. It’s some part-time job you don’t care about enough to even complain over, despite the fact that you have to deal with annoying university kids every day. Soonyoung finds this out when he has coffee with Minghao in one of the buildings he doesn’t normally frequent, and only goes to today since Minghao has a class nearby in the next hour.

The coffee isn’t great, and it’s too expensive, but Soonyoung drinks it anyways. He much prefers the coffee from the cafe he goes to with you. Because the coffee is better. Obviously.

He hears your voice first, words indiscernible with distance and overshadowed by a much louder, angrier one, but still. Minghao sees you first, though, and he points past Soonyoung to the student printing center, where you’re standing behind the counter and arguing with some guy. You don’t seem too riled, but Soonyoung can tell you want to be anywhere but there, especially when the angry guy’s voice keeps getting louder and louder.

Soonyoung’s feet bring him over before his brain can register what to do. You haven’t seen him yet, he could just walk away, but he doesn’t. Your voice becomes clearer as he approaches.

“Listen, the printing center is for education, art, or business. I can’t print this for you.”

The guy goes off about personal freedoms or whatever, Soonyoung isn’t really listening.

“No, I get that this is a student printing center, but I really don’t think your big tiddie anime gf poster has anything to do with education, art, or business.”

And that’s when the guy grabs your arm. Which results in Soonyoung grabbing his arm. Which results in the accusatory question, “What are you, her boyfriend or something?”

Now, in a perfect story, this would be the first time Soonyoung meets you. Or maybe you’ve been close friends for a while. And this would be when Soonyoung says that, yes, he is your boyfriend, and he would save the day. Except you’d be all “why would you do that?” which would result in you both having to fake date to keep that guy off your back. In this perfect story, there would be no Sehee to like and no Minghao to judge, just you and Soonyoung fake dating. Eventually, you’d both catch real feelings instead of fake ones, and then boom, happily ever after.

But this isn’t a perfect story.

Soonyoung still says yes, and the guy still backs off. In reality though, because Soonyoung never thinks before he lies, you momentarily duck behind the counter and bring a hand up to your face to cover your ever-brightening smile. In reality, Sehee still exists at the forefront of his mind every dance practice, even though you’re the one he just promptly claimed to be the boyfriend of. In reality, Minghao watches from a little ways away, sipping his coffee and shaking his head in what can only be called disappointment.

Soonyoung’s never been good at lying. One would think he’d stop by now.

•

So, it’s official.

You’ve put a heart next to his contact name. He’s put one next to yours — red, because he doesn’t know your favourite colour. Seungkwan’s done the whole if you break my friend’s heart I break you spiel and Soonyoung finally realizes he’s in too deep.

It's almost too natural, how easily you bring him into your life and how easily he finds himself fitting. It's all so wrong.

Soonyoung feels like an imposter, like there's someone meant to be by your side, but it's not him.

You pluck up the courage one day to hold his hand, and he can't pull away because the lies tying him to you are too strong. The small bluffs he's spun have weaved themselves into a net he's tangled himself in.

His dance crew congratulates him when Jun spills the news. It's all mundane, really — dating in university isn't all that uncommon. Mostly, Soonyoung gets casual "you go, dude" comments or the like, but then Sehee says nothing. She smiles, and it has to be one of the most tragically beautiful things Soonyoung's ever seen. His heart fractures, just a little, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to fix it.

He smiles it off. Tries to, anyways.

Chan complains that Soonyoung's too harsh that day.

•

Jihoon likes you.

Not in a "Mister Steal Yo' Girl" way, but he laughed at one of your jokes the first time you came over to Soonyoung's apartment, and ever since then, he's been convinced.

"You must feel like the luckiest guy on earth with her around," Jihoon says once you leave for the night.

Soonyoung has no idea how to tell him he's felt nothing but unlucky these past few weeks, so he doesn't.

•

He polishes up on his acting. As awful as it is to think, Soonyoung has gotten really, really good.

His smile looks genuine. It has to — he shows it to Minghao, who says it's "adequate," which basically means perfect to the lowly humans beneath him.

He's gotten good at responding to you too, copying how the male leads do it in dramas and movies. It's sort of easy.

He hates how easy it is.

Soon enough, you try befriending the whole group. Being Seungkwan's friend, you've always wanted to, but apparently this is the push you needed. The boys are quick to warm up to you because, as Soonyoung's new girlfriend, you're now a new teasing target besides Chan. The youngest was always the brunt until you came along.

You say you don't mind — that his friends are amazing despite all the jokes and chaos. He believes you.

Minghao keeps his distance, saying he doesn't want to get himself involved. He's still the only one to know the truth, and his judging stare only grows worse as the days pass. Soonyoung wants so badly to make it go away, but he knows the only way to do that would be to tell you the truth, and he's just not ready.

Soonyoung's never broken a heart before. He's never planned on it.

Sometimes life makes its own plans.

"My shift got moved to tomorrow," you tell him when he picks you up from class, one hand in his and the other in your pocket. He knows it means something, but he doesn't know what. Your lips purse into a line as you stare at your shoes. “I was thinking... could I come watch your dance practice? If that’s okay?”

Now, Soonyoung loves dancing. He loves dance. He loves to dance. Performing sends an unparalleled thrill rushing through his veins like the solar system hurtling through the universe, and it’s something he’s never felt doing anything else. Dancing with others is a beautiful connection, an emission of silent truths communicated through the body. Practice, however, is the dirty version of dance. It has to be built up first — polished. Which is why Soonyoung says what he says. He doesn’t even think it over.

“No.”

It’s what he says every time someone asks. He doesn’t invite people to practices — never has. Even after his prompt refusal, he doesn’t register his mistake until the light in your eyes wavers. It doesn't disappear — just ripples. Comes back weaker than before.

"Oh," you say. The word should sound dejected but it doesn't. There's a smile at your lips, and Soonyoung can't help but think it looks kind of like his. "That's— that's okay! I was just — I don't know, I guess I just thought... I wanted to..."

Meeting his gaze, you look at him with shaking eyes, almost as if it takes great strength to keep them on his. He tries to backpedal, but you continue.

"I'll be going home then. I've got an assignment due soon anyways, so..." You pull your hand from his grip and, from where you two were walking toward the fine arts building, turn the opposite way. Your dorm is on the other side of campus. "See you tomorrow, Soonyoung. Have fun at practice."

Something about your smile haunts him.

It's hollow; feels empty when you flash it at him before going. He thinks fake smiles all look like that — insincere. His smiles at you must be the same way.

For an awful moment, he's hopeful. Maybe this will be the trigger. Maybe you'll end this tonight — whatever "this" is that Soonyoung has with you. Maybe he won't have to tell any harsh truths at all.

He turns and walks to practice.

The routine feels lighter tonight, though Soonyoung can’t pinpoint why. His body almost floats, and while that sounds good, it’s not. The rhythm is off. He’s not landing when he should be.

His crew notices, especially Chan, who complains that Soonyoung’s too much of a cocksure choreographer to be making repeated mistakes like this. They tell him maybe everyone should take a break. He agrees, but only because he’s frustrated — and he shouldn’t channel his anger into dance. Not this one, at least.

Everyone spreads throughout the studios to the edges, where they lean their body weight on the walls and slide down, water bottles in hand. The room reeks of sweat and feet, but Soonyoung’s used to it by now. He guzzles down half of his water in one go and pulls out his phone.

[❤] Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to react all... cold? Seungkwan told me you never invite anyone to practice, so it makes total sense why you said no

[❤] If I’m ever crossing any boundaries, let me know, okay?

Of course you’d be understanding. Soonyoung wouldn’t be that lucky.

He tosses his phone haphazardly in his bag, groaning and throwing his head back so it hits the wall with a dampened thud. The pain is dull compared to the thoughts top-spinning in his mind.

Across the studio, Minghao clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at Soonyoung when he opens his eyes to look at him. It only takes two reluctant nods for Minghao to understand the source of Soonyoung’s groans, and he does nothing to react but look away. Soonyoung thinks that’s almost worse than the judging eyes. At least at that point Minghao thought he was something other than a lost cause.

He doesn’t text you back. By the time he thinks of something a boyfriend would say, the time to say it has passed.

•

How much longer is he going to let this go on?

Soonyoung wonders that to himself as he sits, returned to Seungcheol's apartment for another one of his "getties" as people are so apt to call them. He's never understood the difference between a getty and a party, and he's always been too stubborn to ask, knowing he'd be mercilessly made fun of for not knowing something apparently all university students knew.

This one isn't so different from the last. More or less the same crowd, the same atmosphere as the night goes on. Only this time, when everyone's settled down in what can hardly be called a circle, Soonyoung's on the couch, sunken into the too-old cushions with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You're far from your last claimed spot with Seungkwan on that ratty old beanbag chair, sitting comfortably under Soonyoung's arm with a plastic cup of whatever Jeonghan concocted for you — which you've yet to drink much of.

Sehee sits across from you both while she laughs at something Wonwoo says. You laugh too, but Soonyoung barely notices, eyes glued to the girl they've been stuck on since she joined his dance crew over a year ago. He wants to tell her how beautiful she is when she smiles, even under the light of Seungcheol's dingy apartment, but he can't. He wants to tell her how he's felt for months, but you're next to him. He wants to have a fucking drink but all he has in his cup is fucking iced green tea because he knows if he drinks he'll fuck up again.

Just like last time.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear at one point.

He turns to see your concerned expression, and it only makes Soonyoung hate this even more. He doesn't deserve your concern.

"I'm fine."

But he's not fine.

He doesn't participate in much conversation — only speaks when spoken to, and even then with few words. You seem to become tense next to him, but he does nothing to try and fix it. Just tonight, he's going to let himself be tired.

Three times, you offer to leave, and all three he refuses. You give up eventually, though he can tell you know something's off. God, if he were drunk, he wouldn't even have to think about you for a whole night.

Somehow the topic of discussion turns to couples, and suddenly, an entire room of eyes is on you and Soonyoung. He barely catches the question before you're already pondering your answer.

What do the two lovebirds love most about each other?

You look at him. At him, at him. He feels your stare in the dip of his throat because he can't seem to swallow anymore. It's like his soul is being scanned for viruses.

"Hmm..." You let your chin fall into your palm with a smile. It's real. Too real. "I like his resolve," you finally say. "If he wants to do something, he does it." With a loud exhale through your nose, you tilt your head, still meeting his eyes with your own. Soonyoung's mouth slightly parts, slack with something he can't name. "I could learn a thing or two from him."

The room bristles with your answer, various response piping up around. Soonyoung sort of registers Chan saying, "That's cute. I wanna vomit," but he's too busy thinking about you, about how you've come to like something about him as deep as that when all he's done is pretend to even like you at all.

And even when his mind swims with that, Sehee asks again.

"Then Soonyoung, what do you like about her?"

It sort of hurts. Soonyoung's not afraid to admit to himself that hearing Sehee ask what he likes about you sends pain straight through his ears to his heart. There's an awkward pause and everyone's looking at him expectantly and, god, he wishes he stole your drink when he had the chance.

"I..." His throat goes dry. His lips part, but there aren't any words to slip past them. "I, um..." He looks to you, and your eyes speak volumes. Everyone else in this room has a sort of... hungry look. They want to know Soonyoung's answer for one reason or another, maybe to tease with or to ridicule or even wish for themselves. But you, your eyes meet his and he knows you're not expecting anything. That hurts too. He doesn't know why. But even then, he can't think of the words. Any words. He steals a glance at Sehee, whose expression is curious, doe eyes slightly giddy from alcohol. She's pretty.

"I like her laugh," he says. It's not about you. "Whenever she laughs, I think to myself, 'What I wouldn't give to see her laugh again'."

Your eyes move to the plastic cup you've got gripped between two hands in your lap, and Seungkwan points out your flustered state to the entire room despite the fact everyone can see it as long as they've got working eyes. You purse your lips together to contain a smile, but it doesn't work. Even Soonyoung can see that.

He needs a drink.

Having to go to the bathroom is a lousy excuse, and Soonyoung knows it, but he whispers that in your ear anyways and retracts his arm from your shoulder before escaping. He does go to the bathroom, a small thing with a shower and no bath, but all he does in there is stare at himself in the mirror. And when that becomes too much, his feet.

Someone else eventually has to use the bathroom for its actual purpose, so he opens it to the banging fist outside and slides past the person back into the hallway. He pauses before walking all the way back. You're caught up in some other conversation now, laughing and dramatically waving your hands as you deny some crazy embarrassing story Seungkwan's trying to spill about you. Seems you've already integrated yourself with his friends more than he thought.

Since your attention is occupied, Soonyoung instead ducks into the half-kitchen — not necessarily out of sight, but no one's really paying attention anyways. He knows he shouldn't take any chances, but he really, really wants to let go. He's been wearing a facade ever since he said your name that night.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

Minghao's voice has Soonyoung jerking up and banging his head on the door of the open fridge he was rummaging through. He winces in pain, kneading his fingers into his scalp as if that will do anything.

"Wouldn't what?" he snaps.

"I dunno." Minghao shrugs, and it's almost infuriating how nonchalant he is. "Do something you might regret, I guess."

He takes the yet unopened bottle from Soonyoung's hands, reaching beyond him to put it back in place. There's no point in fighting against him since he's undeniably right, but Soonyoung grumbles anyways. His eyes glance every few seconds to you on the couch. If you happen to hear anything...

Well, he doesn't know exactly. But he doesn't want to find out.

"You have to end it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just—" Soonyoung takes in a breath, too loud for his liking. He lowers his voice. "I can't, okay? I don't want to hurt her."

"So you're just going to date her based on false pretenses because you're too much of a coward to admit your mistakes?" Voice laced with sharpness, Minghao places his palms flat on the counter.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twisting in frustration. "Yeah, okay? Yeah," he whispers. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

A second passes. Minghao's brow furrows.

"And quite frankly," Soonyoung continues, "I'd rather you keep your nosy ass out of my business from now on."

He nearly storms off right then with the last word, but Minghao's fingers around his elbow stop him.

"You're going to get yourself hurt," Minghao warns through his teeth. He nods towards you. "And her in the process."

"We'll see about that."

Soonyoung has acted on impulse before. It happened with the pigeon, it happened with your name, and it's happening right now. Nothing is compelling him other than the absolute need to prove Minghao wrong, and even then, he doesn't know why.

He sits back down next to you, his spot saved by some miracle considering the surrounding company. The look on your face is happy, jovial. You must be having a right old time. His nerves strike with a feeling he's never quite experienced before.

When you study his face, no doubt not nearly as cheerful as yours, the expression you held falters to worry.

"You okay?" is once again the question on your lips, quiet, meant for his ears only.

Impulse is a scary thing. Soonyoung hates it almost as much as lying.

He leans in, crashing his lips on yours with his eyes half closed. His lips move and yours don't. Soonyoung can't even be sure you've closed your eyes, but at this very moment, he doesn't care. All he knows is he's angry and Minghao is watching.

This isn’t your first kiss — he knows because you’ve talked to him about this very topic. This is, however, to your understanding, the first “real” relationship you’ve ever been in. You told him yourself that you don’t really count that past kiss as your first, that you felt a bit... violated when it happened.

Soonyoung thinks this isn’t all too different.

He steals your second first kiss, and later, staring at the water-stained stucco ceiling of his bedroom, he kicks himself so hard it hurts.

•

You show up to movie night. Apparently Jihoon invited you — explained it like this:

“You won’t have to be so clingy with me if she’s here.”

At first, Soonyoung thinks Jihoon just wants to drop their roommate movie nights because he’s always complained about them, but Jihoon sticks around during Anastasia; sings along with you during Once Upon a December despite the fact that neither of you really know the words. He sits right in front of you two on the couch, cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, that of which he only offers to you twice and Soonyoung once.

Whatever. You’re a better cuddler than Jihoon anyway.

Somehow it doesn’t feel forced when you lean your head on Soonyoung’s shoulder, or when he wraps his arm around your waist to get comfortable. He blames it on how tired he is, how he always gets on movie night after a week of classes and practices and too much work for one person to handle. Jihoon complains all the time that he’s too touchy when tired.

You absentmindedly play with his fingers for most of the movie. He doesn’t mind.

It’s been about a month now.

Soonyoung doesn’t kiss you again after the first time. Doesn’t stop you, either, but you’re more of an on-the-cheek kind of person. He thinks you think he wants to take this slow, even though he initiated the first big step (as convoluted as it was). He lets you think what you want.

Nasty business, it is.

Cleaning a bowl that once held popcorn. All the grease that sticks to the side because Jihoon likes to use too much butter. All the grains of salt that get underneath Soonyoung’s fingernails. He’s washing, Jihoon’s drying. It’s an arrangement of sorts.

You’ve already left for the night, gone back to your dorm since it’s only a five minute walk or so through campus. Jihoon insisted on Soonyoung escorting you, but you only smiled sweetly and refused. Maybe Soonyoung should’ve argued harder against you. He didn’t though. That’s why he’s scrubbing a bit too harshly now — he doesn’t like messing up.

Seems that’s all he’s good for lately.

“You’re unhappy.”

Soonyoung stops scrubbing. The only noise in the whole apartment is the slow gurgle of the sink because even with a plug, such an old thing just lets the hot water seep away as the seconds go by. Jihoon’s gaze is on the pan he’s drying, but Soonyoung knows his heart is in the question. It always is.

“I’m not,” he tries to deny, but it’s difficult to fool a person like Jihoon. (Especially since Soonyoung can’t even convince himself.)

The non-stick pan from yesterday’s dinner clangs against an older one when Jihoon puts it away. He looks at Soonyoung, but by then he’s turned back to washing the popcorn bowl, so their eyes don’t end up meeting.

“I’ve known you since tenth grade. You think I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

Soonyoung finds it hard to read Jihoon’s feelings most of the time. He didn’t realize he was such an open book the other way around.

Sighing, he continues to scrub the bowl, which has probably been clean for a minute already. “I’m just... stressed.”

“About?”

Minghao already knows; already thinks lowly of Soonyoung for it. If Jihoon knew... Soonyoung doesn’t know if he can take that.

So he lies. Again.

“Just the dance showcase.”

It isn’t a whole lie, not really, but he can’t call it the truth either.

Jihoon takes the bowl from Soonyoung’s grasp and rinses it under the tap. Since that’s the last dish, Soonyoung is stuck with nothing for his hands to do. They rest on the edge of the sink, but his fingers ache for a task.

Jihoon, the friend that he is, says, “That’s not for three months, though. I’m sure you’ll be perfect by then.”

“I don’t know...”

“Well I do.” Eyes meet eyes, a pair determined, a pair apprehensive. “Everything will work out.”

“...Okay.”

•

Soonyoung measures time in terms of you now.

When he last texted you. When he last saw you. When he last spoke to you.

It’s all a very elaborate calculation — how much time he’s spent on you versus how much time he should spend on you. No relationship is quite like this one, he thinks, and it’s quite the romantic notion out of context. The fact remains, every interaction he has with you only pulls him further and deeper into his lie.

Soonyoung’s time moves a bit slower now.

Faster, sometimes, but only when he doesn’t want it to.

•

You tell him you might be in love with him.

He says he might be in love with you.

He’s never hated lying more.

•

Jihoon is cleaning out the fridge when the buzzer goes off, so since he’s close by, he picks up the old corded phone attached to the wall. From his spot on the couch, Soonyoung looks up from his phone to see Jihoon cover the receiver and mouth your name. Jihoon makes some sort of gesture with his hands, and somehow Soonyoung understands that as, were you expecting her?

His eyes widen as it settles in that no, he’s not expecting you. The apartment is a mess.

Jihoon buzzes you in, hangs up, and immediately moves from the fridge to the coffee table, throwing the laundry he was planning on folding back in the plastic hamper and shoving the pile in Soonyoung’s lap.

“Take care of this,” he says. “I’ll clear up the kitchen.”

Right. Can’t have you thinking your boyfriend and his roommate are slobs.

Soonyoung reacts quickly, standing from his spot on the couch with the laundry basket in hand. He dashes to his room, where he plans to stuff the laundry in his closet and save that problem for later, but once he gets there, he realizes his room is even worse. There are dirty clothes dispersed all over his bed and old coffee cups littering his desk. Scrambling to shove the new laundry in his closet, the dirty clothes in the now empty hamper, and gather all the paper cups in his arms, Soonyoung’s breath starts to catch.

When he emerges from his room with two armfuls of garbage, he finds you at the door with Jihoon, your face hidden in his shoulder and your arms wrapped tight around his waist. Jihoon’s arms are up, almost like he’s being held at gunpoint, and his eyes widen even further when he catches sight of Soonyoung.

“Uhh... it’s for you.”

Soonyoung can hear your quiet hiccups even though they’re muffled in Jihoon’s shirt. He can’t bear it when people cry.

Yeah, maybe he’s been pretending to like you for a long time now, but he’s not a monster.

Right?

He likes you as a person. As a friend. And there’s no way he’s letting his friend go through pain like this.

Soonyoung swiftly discards his trash into the garbage bin and approaches you and Jihoon. At the commotion, you lift your head from Jihoon’s shoulder, eyes all red and puffy. Your lips press together, emotions nearly bursting at the seams, but they finally break out when Soonyoung opens his arms wide.

“C’mere.”

You practically flail into his embrace, arms wrapping around his torso in a vice grip as you hide your face again. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay — he knows you’re not.

Jihoon stands in the doorway for a few seconds, just looking at you and Soonyoung clutching at each other in the middle of the apartment before he shuts the front door and clears his throat.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll be — um. Mhm. Yup.”

He escapes to his room.

Soonyoung squishes his cheek to your temple as you both stay there. You’re shaking, and his arms squeeze tighter. If only he could make it stop. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make you feel better.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, though quiet and hesitant.

You shake your head, mumbling something he can’t quite make out. He pulls back a bit, just enough to see your face and gently cup your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs rub at your cheeks, smoothing any stray tears across your skin.

“What’s that?”

“Just...” Your eyes glisten. His heart beats. “Could you please just hold me?”

And he does.

Decidedly, his bed is much more comfortable than standing in the living room, so he sways, rocking side to side with small steps that force you to walk backwards. His smile, though, is reassuring, and you follow his guidance without much complaint. He sits you down on his bed, thankful that he cleaned up beforehand, and slowly leans you down so you’re both on your sides, facing each other. Pulling you closer, he lets you rest your head on his chest. Your hand lies flat on top of him, but eventually your fingers curl, clutching a bit of Soonyoung’s shirt between them. Silent tears fall from your eyes to his chest, but he doesn’t care.

His arm underneath you wraps around, hand landing on your back so his thumb can rub soothing circles.

It’s quiet.

Funny. Soonyoung used to dislike silence with you — always felt the need to fill it with conversation or jokes or laughter. He wonders when it was last since he felt that way.

Soonyoung doesn’t know how much time passes. His eyes stick to his bedroom ceiling as he holds you close, thoughts on everything and nothing all at once. Are you asleep? Your tears stopped some time ago.

His question is answered when your voice, small and unsure, breaks the long-standing silence.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you about it?”

He cranes his neck to look at you, but it doesn’t really work. “Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re not.”

You look up at him finally, and seeing your smile sends warmth through his blood. Your face is still looks wrecked from tears gone by, but your smile pushes all that out of the way.

“Thank you,” comes past your lips in a whisper. Then, after a moment of waiting, you say, “It’s just that... I... this — ugh.” You hide your face in his shirt again. “This is so embarrassing. I don’t even know why I got so worked up.”

Soonyoung doesn’t respond to that, just pats your back a few times and encourages you to keep going. You toy with the fabric of his shirt.

“This guy I used to know — I thought I’d never see him again, but he showed up today. Ran into him when I was walking back from the convenience store.” You bite the inside of your lip. “I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but, I don’t know, I guess seeing him just brought all these memories back all at once.”

“Bad ones?”

A breathy laugh escapes you. “Sure, you could say that.”

The silence comes back, and your brows furrow, almost like you’re trying to solve the problem all on your own. But you don’t have to. Soonyoung is here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my first kiss? Like, my real first kiss?”

Soonyoung hums. Of course he remembers.

“Back in high school, I used to have this friend. Sammy. She was — god, she was beautiful. And kind, and smart, and just... amazing. I miss her a lot. She’s abroad now, travelling the world with her sister. I think she’s in Peru now.” You chuckle at the mention of your old friend, but soon your smile twists into a frown. “This guy... I don’t like saying his name, but he liked Sammy. Everyone did, I don’t blame him for that, honestly. He was pretty popular back then — one of those sports boys, you know? Thinking about it now, he could’ve easily gotten with Sammy if he hadn’t been so conniving.”

“Conniving?”

“Yeah, he was... I don’t know how he got the idea in his head, but he came to me first. He kept hanging out with me, taking me on these... dates? But they weren’t really dates, all we did was talk about Sammy — what she liked, what she didn’t like. I knew he was using me, but I just... let him, I guess. Maybe back then I was just so caught up in being needed that I didn’t really mind being used.”

Soonyoung hugs you tighter.

“I guess he felt sorry, maybe? Right before he went to go ask Sammy out, he just... laid one on me. It was stupid. Like a pity kiss for my service or whatever. I wasn’t in love with the guy or anything, but it felt so... degrading. Like all I deserved was some action from a conventionally good-looking guy."

Your tears come back, brimming at the edge of your eyelids.

“I don’t know, it just — it just made me feel so...”

You take a breath. Exhale.

“...worthless.”

Soonyoung doesn’t fail to see the irony here, at least, but he feels slightly lifted. Whoever this guy is, Soonyoung’s a million times better.

“You’re not worthless,” he says — because he knows it’s true.

“I know.” You readjust yourself curled around him, wiping away the tears which haven’t fallen. “I mean, I know now.” Sighing, you wrap your arm around his waist, somehow pulling him closer than he already was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you. For letting me be me.”

“It is my absolute pleasure to serve you, your majesty.”

You wack him with the sleeve of your sweater. “You’re such a dork!”

Your laugh is nice. Soonyoung hopes to hear it again soon.

“You know,” you say, eyes closed as you lie there with him on his bed. “Normally I would’ve gone to Seungkwan with my problems, but tonight...”

“Tonight?”

“You make me feel safe, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

His eyes close. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “That, and if I told Seungkwan, he would’ve found the guy and beat him to a pulp.”

“Why can I see that?”

“Because it’s true.”

You stay the night.

•

With a group of friends as big as Soonyoung’s, it’s about once every blue moon that the boys find a time that works for everyone, especially coming up on finals season. They all have their own worries around this time: the dance showcase, the big play, last-minute assessments, and — of course — finals.

So when they’re all free for barbecue one night, everyone’s ecstatic. Reservations are made, gratuities are calculated, and the group chat blows up every few hours with various changes to plans. (Mostly from Mingyu, who’s eager to show off his grilling skills.)

But of course, university is university, and it’s inevitable that someone has to bail out. That someone being Soonyoung.

The dance showcase creeps up a bit faster than anyone likes, and now Soonyoung’s professor is forcing him to choreograph an entire song for some freshmen only a month before the whole thing goes onstage.

First of all, who signs up for a showcase only four weeks before the performance? Who lets them sign up?

And second of all, doesn’t his professor realize Soonyoung has a life? He’s got other dances to work on, other classes to study for, friends to have barbecue with. How is he supposed to cram an entire choreography — not the mention the time it’ll take to teach the freshmen — into his already hectic lifestyle?

But Soonyoung is a people-pleaser. He doesn’t say no.

Instead, he regretfully messages the group chat, saying he can’t hang out tonight in favour of attempting to choreograph at least a quarter of the song in one sitting. He gets the usual whining, but they all know they can’t change his mind, so it fades out fast.

What he doesn’t expect is for them to invite you instead.

“It’s a thirteen person reservation,” Seungcheol reasons. “Besides, she’s basically one of us by now.”

Soonyoung can’t exactly argue with that.

So, you go to the restaurant with them while Soonyoung heads to the studio. Minghao picks you up along with Vernon and Chan, which sends an anxious bit of worry down Soonyoung’s spine, but he does nothing about it. If Minghao wanted to tell you, he would’ve by now.

You send him a good luck text.

[🍥] Don’t let those kids work you into the ground!

He stares at your words for a bit, distracted from finding the song he’s supposed to use. Your contact name is different now — one of those naruto fishcakes because of that time you took him out for ramen. That night had been full of laughter and loud, borderline obnoxious slurping, ending with the beautiful finale of Soonyoung throwing a fishcake straight into your open mouth.

You were the one that sweet-talked you both out of getting banned.

Soonyoung finally opens his music app and finds the song the freshmen requested (a rather boring one, if you ask him) which he sets to max volume. He doesn’t bother plugging his phone into the speaker system, not when he’s the only one in the studio.

Maybe he can do this.

•

“The trick is to add eggs and use less water,” you say as you scoop more batter onto the waffle iron.

Jihoon snorts from where he sits at the table, still shoveling more whipped cream and strawberry-smothered waffle in his mouth. “Are you sure the trick isn’t to just not be Soonyoung?”

“Hey!” Soonyoung pauses his own eating just to pout. “My waffles are good!”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

Both you and Jihoon laugh at Soonyoung’s expense, only further accentuating the pout on his face. You and Jihoon are too alike in that aspect. Well, actually, Soonyoung knows you’d never laugh at him, but he still can’t be sure about Jihoon. One time, back in high school, Soonyoung tripped over (what he thought was) a dead bird, and Jihoon laughed for hours — though Soonyoung always exaggerates the story into him laughing for days.

You sit down next to him with your own plate of waffles. There’s flour dusted on your arms, but you don’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got a little...” You point a finger at the corner of your mouth.

He knows. Soonyoung can feel the cool whipped cream right where you say it is.

He smiles wide. “I’m saving it for later.”

“Hmm...”

You say nothing, just smile as you lean in, kissing the corner of his lips. It’s quick, chaste, and barely a real kiss, but Soonyoung’s heart bounces in his chest. He’s never been kissed like that before.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

That thought, though, he pushes back for another time.

“Gross. You guys made me lose my appetite,” Jihoon says. He keeps eating.

•

With eyes drooping shut every few seconds, Soonyoung decides it’s time to call it quits on the chemistry homework. It’s nearly one in the morning, anyways. He flips his textbooks shut and gathers up all his notes, putting them all in a haphazard pile that he’ll worry about in the morning. Swivelling in his chair, his eyes land on you.

Oh. He forgot you’re here.

You’re snuggled up on top of his covers, one arm wrapped around the pillow your head should be on, eyes closed as even, slow breaths come past your slightly parted lips. One of his hoodies is draped over your legs like a blanket. He wonders why you didn’t just get under the covers.

Well, he has been walking you home ever since he hadn’t some time ago. Maybe you were waiting.

He feels a bit guilty as he brushes his teeth and washes his face, but not too bad since you only have afternoon classes tomorrow. Maybe he can treat you to something in the morning to make up for it.

After he tucks you under a fluffy throw blanket, he crawls into bed and lies on his side, facing you.

Your other hand is lax, palm up and fingers curled, almost like you’re holding something invisible.

His hand would fit perfectly.

The tips of his fingers graze over the lines on your palm. Slow. Trepidatious.

You shift, fingers unconsciously curling around Soonyoung’s hand.

He closes his eyes.

•

The moves aren’t working.

The moves aren’t working and the music isn’t working and the dance isn’t working and nothing is working.

Soonyoung groans in frustration, almost screaming with his fingers threaded through his damp hair as he messes up yet another landing. He’s drenched in sweat, and it’s only been so many hours since the rest of the crew left for the night, not that he’s kept track.

It’s less than a week until the showcase. Six days, as Chan is apt to remind everyone with his stupid holiday countdown app.

That freshmen choreography is already over and done with — Soonyoung’s made it, he’s taught it to those over-eager nuisances, and if they need anything more, that’s on them. They’re no longer his responsibility.

That’s not what has him in such a state right now.

His solo — the one he’s been planning for the entire semester — it just doesn’t... feel right. He’s been slaving over it for days now, reworking the steps, figuring out what to take out and what to replace. But the more he fixes it, the more it feels wrong.

He can’t get the steps right. He can’t get anything right.

What is wrong with him?

He starts the music again at exactly one minute, thirty-eight seconds. The moves are clear in his mind. One step. Two steps. Sweep. Spin. Jump—

He falls.

The music goes on.

Soonyoung slams his fist onto the softwood floor, cursing at his ineptitude. He stays like that for a moment, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms. The song ends, only to restart again, but Soonyoung barely notices.

Screw the music. He stands; positions himself; tries again.

Again.

He falls.

He yells out at the floor, at his feet, at whatever is holding him back.

His reflection in the mirror stares back at him.

Mind blank, he sits there, legs stretched out in front of him as he hunches over, eyes closed to the world around. His breaths come out shaky and uneven, but even though every moment sitting still feels like eternity, his lungs fail to calm.

Someone knocks on the door, and for a second, Soonyoung thinks it’s Jun coming to tell him to go home for the night. He doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t look up.

The door opens, he can hear the quiet shuffling of hesitant feet that have removed their shoes just because the sign on the door told them to.

“Soonyoung?”

Your voice is clear — like a single drop of water coalescing into a whole — and it cuts through the sound of blood rushing past Soonyoung’s ears.

He looks up to see you standing a good length away, almost like you’re scared to approach. You’re wearing pyjamas, a thick sweater pulled over your shoulders and fuzzy socks donning your feet. Something bulges from the pocket of your sweater.

“What are you...”

“Minghao called me.”

In the back of his mind, a small part of Soonyoung wonders exactly when you and Minghao have gotten close enough to call each other, but the thought doesn’t stay for long. It can’t, really, not when you’re in front of him.

When Soonyoung says nothing more, you take another step forward. “What’s wrong?”

To anyone else, he might say nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong.

His voice breaks when he tries to laugh.

“Everything.”

Your eyes soften, a small smile tugging at your lips. It’s not one of those pitiful smiles, he can tell, but it’s not fake, either. You bring your hands together in front of you, fiddling with the tips of your fingers as your eyes move from them to his gaze again. “I’m coming over. Is that okay?”

He nods.

First, you find his phone and turn down the music until it’s gone. You sit right behind him, legs spread on either side of his body, and you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing flush to his back and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He squirms a bit.

“I’m all sweaty,” he tries to argue, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Yeah, you are.”

He stops resisting. It’s much too hot, what with his hours of constant exercise and your thick layers, but he can’t complain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” This time it’s your turn to ask.

“...Just hold me?”

And you do.

You press a kiss to the back of his neck. Slow, soft, and when your lips leave his searing skin, your forehead replaces them.

That’s when the dam breaks.

Hot, fat tears roll from Soonyoung’s eyes down his cheeks as sobs rack through his chest. The vibrations shake him and you all at once, but your hold never falters. He can’t see anything, only a blur of what should be his legs and your arms wrapped around his stomach. His hands go to clutch at your arms, desperate to hold onto something; to not let him sink.

It’s ugly, the way he cries, but you let it happen. You hold him.

This is what it’s like.

Eventually, his desperate hands find yours, his arms crossed so his right is over your right, his left over your left. His fingers roam over the smooth backs of your hands until they reach your fingers and interlock. The palms of your hands are warm compared to his fingertips.

You’ve locked onto his body language by now — you’re fluent, so you know to continue pressing reassuring, slow kisses into his skin. You know to whisper little words that should mean nothing, but coming from your lips, mean everything.

He’s going to be okay.

For some reason, coming from you, he believes it.

You hold him until the hiccuping stops, until the tears are just dry streaks on his face, until his breath comes out in long streams instead of bursts.

His eyes stay shut as he feels you shift. One of your hands slips out of his grasp, your arm reaching back, and Soonyoung almost whines until he feels its return.

“Look,” you whisper.

It itches to open his eyes, but when he does, he sees what’s in your hand, right in front of him. A small stuffed tiger sits in your palm, positioned anatomically incorrect like a teddy bear, a velvet heart between its paws. Stitched white letters read:

Go get ‘em, tiger!

You chuckle lightly, repositioning yourself so your chin hooks over his shoulder. “Cheesy, I know. I was going to give this to you the day of the showcase, but I think you could use it right about now.”

Gingerly, Soonyoung lifts his hands together, and you place the plush in his awaiting palms.

His voice is slow to restart, but he manages to say, “Thank you.”

Hands now free, you wrap yourself around his waist again. “Anything for you.”

Such a simple sentence, that, and yet the confession sends blood to Soonyoung’s ears in the form of an awfully embarrassing blush. He runs his thumbs over the fuzzy fabric of the tiger plush.

“Soonyoung?”

“Hm?”

You press your lips to the crook of his shoulder, voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “I won’t force you to stop practicing. I know this is important to you.” Soonyoung feels your breath fan over his skin. “But I also want you to rest — you shouldn’t overwork yourself.”

One of your hands rises to his chin, guiding it up so he looks forward at the studio mirror and meets your gaze in the reflection.

“Whaddya say we do, hm?” You tilt your head, and Soonyoung thinks his pupils may be heart-shaped. “Do you want to practice more? Or can I take you home?”

“Just...” He swallows what’s left in his dry mouth. “Just once more.”

You smile. “Okay.”

As you get up, you run your hands up to Soonyoung’s shoulder and down to his hand, where you playfully pretend to pull him up with you. He laughs, hiding his face behind the tiger plush for a second before he stands, tugging your hands as he does so you fall into him when he rights himself. Both your hands are squeezed between him and you, while his unoccupied arm finds its way to your side.

Another smile tugs at your lips at the proximity. You shift your hands up so they wrap over his shoulders, linking behind his head. Leaning closer, your eyes gleam under the fluorescent lights. To the sound of silence, you sway together, waltzing in the dead of night.

“I’ll be outside, okay?”

Soonyoung’s expression tightens, eyebrows shifting in confusion. “Why?”

“Well,” you say. “I know how you feel about audiences during practice.”

Something about your smile right now makes Soonyoung feel so undeniably safe. You understand him. Never once have you questioned him over why he doesn’t invite you to practices, never once did you pressure him to change that.

“Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Hmm, do I?”

Do you?

“Stay.”

And you do.

•

Here’s the thing about dance showcases:

They’re big, they’re flashy, they take the entire year to plan, and they’re over in one night.

Soonyoung stands in the wings, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, hopefully not loud enough for anyone to hear. He watches as the group performing before his solo finishes up their dance, though he knows there is at least a minute before he’ll have to go on.

A tap on his shoulder makes him turn his head, and he sees Sehee’s smiling face.

“Nervous?” she asks, her voice hidden beneath the music.

She’s all dolled up, dressed in her costume with a sleek leather jacket to bring everything together. Her eyes glimmer just as much as her eyelids.

“You have no idea,” Soonyoung jokes, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Sehee tilts her head; blinks a few times. “You’ll do amazing. You always do.”

For what it’s worth, Soonyoung hasn’t forgotten his attraction. Sehee’s words soothe him to some extent, pump him up, even. It’s slightly terrifying — how much she still affects him even now.

You’re in the audience tonight, third row from the front, somewhere in the middle. Your seat is between Seungkwan’s and Jihoon’s, whereas all the other boys came (almost) too late and had to find seats elsewhere.

The music ends, applause erupts, and Soonyoung knows it’s his turn. He waits for the group to exit on the opposite side, and when the resounding claps quiet down, he takes the first step onstage.

Something Soonyoung has almost always known: stage lights are blinding. If they’re set up right, anyone onstage will have a damn hard time seeing anyone in the audience. He can’t see you — couldn’t during his previous performance with the crew, either. The only reason he knows you’re there is the million assuring texts you sent him before you had to turn off your phone for the show.

But he knows you’re there. He knows you’re watching.

Soonyoung stands with his left foot on the spike mark, right where he’s practiced time and time again ever since they transitioned into the space. Music floods his veins, and the world is gone.

He wouldn’t call it an escape. Soonyoung doesn’t use dance to get away, it’s not like that. This world he creates with dance — this other space where nothing exists except him and the music and the floor and the feeling — he chooses to go there. Euphoria, he thinks it might be called. Euphoric.

The space takes him. He lets it.

And then it’s over.

Soonyoung’s breath leaves him in bursts, his shoulders heaving despite how hard he fights to keep them still in his final pose. His back faces the audience, his right arm stretched out and up, fingers curling around nothing. Stars dance before his eyes — which he fails to catch with his outstretched hand.

He thinks he can faintly hear applause, but it’s nothing compared to the heart beating in his chest. Your voice plays in his ears, yet he knows it’s simply his imagination — his recollection.

I like your dance, you’d said that night. I’m no expert, no judge, but I like it. I love it, honestly. Your dancing... I don’t know. I wish I had the words. It’s like... a little box.

A little box?

You’ve got a little box in your hand. Brown, maybe the size of your palm. You open it and there’s no bottom, no sides, no shape, just an expanse of universe in blues and pinks and purples and whatever colours we don’t know exist. You look inside and reach your hand in, somehow fitting in the tiny yet infinite space. Your fingers brush through starlight like strands of silk, like the rays are minnows you’ve met during a summer dip. Like that. A little box.

I thought you said you didn’t have the words?

I don’t. Not enough.

Soonyoung vaguely registers the lights going black, the way his feet drift him offstage, the music of the seniors’ finale.

At some point, the lights are back on. Not the stage lights, but the harsh fluorescents once the audience has fully filtered out into the lobby. Most of them will leave, but the family and friends of performers are sure to stay, waiting there to congratulate and fawn over the dancers as soon as they’re let go for the night. Somewhere in his mind, Soonyoung knows his friends are outside waiting for him — him, Jun, Minghao, and Chan.

Roses are passed around. He’s never seen a blue rose before, but some dancers walk around with them as they change out of costume and gather their things. He points out a yellow rose from the bunch presented to him, but it turns out to be a bouquet for him specifically, and he takes the whole thing with his jaw slightly hanging. Everything’s a bit... slow. Soonyoung feels like he’s wading through water.

He hasn’t changed yet, simply standing in his costume as he watches people go back and forth. Other performers move from dressing room to dressing room, cleaning up what they have to while simultaneously patting each other’s backs. Techs go around making sure everything’s in order, nothing lost or forgotten. They put away the MC’s microphones and bother the dancers for not taking proper care of props even though it’s only been one night.

Another tap on his shoulder; it’s Sehee again.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

He follows her to a corner of the stage, where the curtains hang and hide the two — for the most part.

She turns almost too abruptly, causing Soonyoung to stumble over his own two feet to avoid bumping into her.

“This is really hard for me to say,” she starts. “But I have to get it out.”

Soonyoung nods, maybe saying something close to a confirmation, but he can’t really tell. He’s a little lightheaded. Sehee has changed out of her leather, instead now in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. That’s the thing about Sehee, though, she has that unnamed sort of... effortless beauty. Even with her stage makeup wiped off, she glows.

“This might be one of the last times I ever work with you, you know? Next year, my parents are making me quit dancing so I can focus on my major. It sucks, yeah, but they’re right. I need to focus if I want to succeed. You know that too, don’t you? The need to succeed?” She takes a breath; laughs bitterly. “Sorry, I’m getting off track... I just — I wanted to tell you this because if I don’t tonight, I might never get the chance again.”

Maybe Soonyoung has dreamed of this moment. He can’t be sure, not yet, so he lets her continue.

“I like you, Soonyoung. I have for a while. But things happened, and you got together with...” her voice trails off. “And you seemed happy, after a while. I thought maybe I could just keep it hidden but, I don’t know, I think I need to tell you, to get closure because I'm not sure if I can go on without at least—”

Choices. Soonyoung — and everyone else in the world — has only made it through life with decisions. He’s made good ones. Bad ones. He’s had regrets and he’s had none. This, though, this choice is intensely apparent.

Apparent in the way he knows it will affect much more than he wishes.

He kisses her.

God, this is what he wanted, right? What he’s wanted for so long. He used to toss and turn at night over the thought of Sehee’s eyes; her smile; her lips.

And on his, they were heaven. Plump and soft just like the romance novels say, moving at the exact pace of his heartbeat.

The hand holding his bouquet drops to his side as the other goes to cup Sehee’s cheek. Faintly, the sound of paper fluttering to the ground reaches his ears, but nothing can distract him from this moment.

Until, of course, it ends.

Sehee pulls away. “We can’t— I don’t—”

Someone clears their throat.

Soonyoung turns, finding Minghao standing just off from the curtains, arms crossed and face contorted in thinly-veiled anger.

And you.

You’re standing next to Minghao, obviously shocked — over being seen or what you’ve seen, Soonyoung doesn’t know. Hands fisted and held close to your chest, your eyes widen as they meet Soonyoung’s.

It’s not so dramatic as the movies.

Soonyoung stares at you, tongue unmoving with nothing to say. You stare back, almost frozen, until Minghao gently takes you by your shoulders, forcing you to turn and leave the way you must’ve come. Nothing happens in the time it takes. Soonyoung simply watches.

He’s never been good at reading lips, but he thinks he knows exactly what Minghao whispers in your ear.

There’s something you should know.

Sehee mutters, “Sorry,” and leaves. She looks guilt-ridden as she does, but even in his half-frozen state, Soonyoung knows all of this is on him.

He stands alone in that corner of the stage, the only noise being the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of the last stragglers in the dressing rooms. His hands clench, and the brown paper of the bouquet crumples. He looks at it then, at the yellow roses and baby’s breath, at the beige note that’s fallen to the floor.

Slowly, he crouches, picking up the note with his thumb and forefinger.

Congratulations Soonyoung!! I know how hard you’ve worked for this night, which is why I ordered these to be delivered. Joshua told me yellow roses represent happiness, or something. Pretty, right? You deserve every happiness, so I decided to start with flowers. Tonight may be over, but who knows, maybe we’ll find happiness in tomorrow, too.

It’s stupid. It’s not a love letter. It’s laced with love, though, and he hates that he recognizes your handwriting.

Time moves heavily as Soonyoung turns to the backstage door. He’s the only one left now, his station in the second boy’s dressing room is messy, unlike everyone else’s. His reflection stares back at him while he sits in front of the mirror, motions halved in speed as he wipes off his eye makeup.

It’s over.

When was the last time he thought about how it would end?

He changes out of costume, arms growing stiff, and stuffs everything in his bag without much care for how. His regular clothes itch; he longs to scratch at his skin, but he doesn’t.

He leaves your bouquet on the counter.

His friends stand in a circle in the lobby, brows furrowed and voices hushed as they discuss... something. Soonyoung has a bad feeling he knows exactly the topic. Minghao isn’t there. Nor are you.

Jihoon isn’t around, either, but Soonyoung remembers he had to leave immediately after the performance. Something about an essay. It doesn’t really matter now, not compared to this.

When he approaches his friends, they quiet down further. Half of them look his way with a frown, while the other half choose to avert their eyes. What do they know?

Seungkwan stands out the most. His arms are crossed, his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and anger radiates from his very being. Of course he’s mad. You’re his friend.

The silence consumes Soonyoung as he nearly shrivels under his friends’ gazes. He must have taken his time, the lobby is empty except for them.

“Where’s Minghao?” he asks.

Seungkwan lurches forward, but both Seungcheol and Wonwoo bring up their arms to hold him back.

“Where’s Minghao? Where’s Minghao?” he seethes. He jabs an accusatory finger in Soonyoung’s face. “You just kissed some girl and broke my best friend’s heart and you’re asking about Minghao?!”

So they don’t know. Not really.

Soonyoung endures the scolding. The looks. The questions. The noise.

No answers are really given.

The great thing about having best friends is that they know not to pamper you when you’ve done wrong. That’s also the worst thing about having best friends.

Seungkwan would go on and on, surely, but soon enough the boys notice how little Soonyoung is reacting — how his face and expression is slack and dull.

Joshua holds up a finger to quiet down the ones still complaining, then gestures towards the front entrance.

“Minghao left with her a while ago.” The look on his face is one of pity. Soonyoung hates it.

He nods; stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to the door.

“Wait! I’m not done—!” Seungkwan struggles against Wonwoo and Seungcheol, but he’s no match.

Soonyoung doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what happens next.

He has no sense of what to do when he walks out that door. Go home, maybe.

The night breeze hits him with more force than it should, making his eyes go dry and his lips tremble. Outside, everything is almost too loud. There’s traffic on all sides, surrounding the lot of the theatre; the sound of humming engines and honking horns assaults his senses.

He walks — though it feels like wandering — to the parking lot, where he plans to look around for a bus stop.

You’re there.

A mirage, he thinks at first, but you’re really there, sitting on one of those concrete barriers, legs outstretched and ankles crossed. You have your head lowered as you sit, hands braced on the cold concrete.

His held breath escapes him, and you look up.

“You’re here,” you say. The smile on your lips, ever so slight and ever so bitter, causes a ringing in his ears. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“I...”

“It’s a lie, right?” Your eyes glisten, but no tears fall. “You wouldn’t— I’m not— I’m not that naive, am I?”

Soonyoung’s lips part, but nothing moves past them. His hands itch to leave his pockets, but with nothing to reach for, they stay still.

“...I see.”

You drop your head again, bringing your hands together to fiddle with your fingernails. He hears your breath, shaky as it is, and his lungs constrict.

“God, it felt so real. I thought— I guess I don’t know what I thought, huh?” A shiver runs through you. “Was any of it real?” you ask the ground.

Soonyoung longs to answer. That’s the thing, though.

He doesn’t know.

Can any of it be real?

You laugh. Before, your laugh was spring strawberries; summer warblers; winter snowdrops. Now, your dry laughter echoes in Soonyoung’s mind like a pebble in a failed attempt of skipping stones.

“Guess not.”

You hop off the concrete barrier, wiping off your pants of dust and dirt. Still, you don’t meet his eyes.

Soonyoung’s heart beats in a way he knows isn’t natural. Guilt seeps through every orifice. “You’re not... you’re not yelling at me. You’re not crying — you’re not angry,” he stumbles through. “Why?”

It’s then that when you meet his eyes, he notices the dried tracks lining your cheeks. You have been crying, just in the time it took for him to come across you.

“I’m just disappointed in myself, Soonyoung,” you say. “I’m the one who fell for it so easily. I’m the one that was tricked. I’m the one who—” a breath “—who loved someone that didn’t love me back.” You step closer, arms limp at your side. “Once I get home, sure, I’ll cry my eyes out. Is that what you want to hear? I’ll curse myself for being so... so stupid.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“No, it’s not. This is not my fault. All I did was believe the words you said to me. All I did was hand myself to you on a silver platter.” Unshed tears brim at your eyelids, but it seems you refuse to let them fall. “But you know the worst part, Soonyoung?”

Everything?

“The worst part is I can’t yell at you. I’m not angry because I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back and it hurts and I can’t bring myself to hate you despite being told you’ve never thought about me the way I think about you.”

A breathy gasp escapes you, and you turn on a dime, the sight of your back an icy reminder to Soonyoung of what he’s yet to learn. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, shoulders rising and falling.

“I’ll be going now. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Soonyoung doesn’t move from his spot when you walk away, or when you get into Minghao’s car, which pulls away after a moment of sitting there in its parking spot. His feet are stuck in stiff mud, unable to shift, even.

Perhaps he stands there for too long. It’s not until he’s staring down the front of his apartment that he realizes one of his friends must have dropped him off.

•

He hasn’t heard from you in a few days. He hasn’t heard from anyone in just as long.

Jihoon already knew (not everything, but enough) by the time Soonyoung rolled out of bed the day after. He hasn’t said anything about it, but Soonyoung can tell this silence isn’t the same as usual. They rarely eat meals together anymore. Last movie night, Jihoon didn’t even pretend to be busy, instead saying he simply wasn’t in the mood.

Seungkwan hasn’t left your side ever since... that happened. If Soonyoung happens to see you on campus, which is almost never, he backs out of approaching you because of the sheer force that is Seungkwan’s glare. Besides, he wouldn’t know what to say even if he did find the courage to face you.

Classes go by in blurs. Not quickly, like scenery past a car window, but so slow that once Soonyoung leaves, he remembers nothing but hours upon hours of staring at his empty notebook, even if the lecture was only fifty minutes long. Days are kind of like that too.

•

Sehee apologizes. She shouldn’t, but she does.

Soonyoung didn’t really hate what he did at first. He liked her, after all.

But when Sehee chokes on her own words, pleading to whoever will listen that she’s not that kind of girl, Soonyoung regrets kissing her more than he ever wanted to kiss her in the first place.

•

please let me explain

I’m sorry

it’s been a while, but still

I’m sorry

[🍥] Explain what?

[🍥] ...

[🍥] Soonyoung?

sorry I just

I wasn’t expecting you to answer

[🍥] Maybe I shouldn’t have

wait

I’m sorry

[🍥] So I’ve heard

I just want you to know why what happened, happened

[🍥] But I already know why

it’s not that simple

[🍥] You lied because you suck at lying. Because you knew Sehee was there that night and panicked. I was just collateral damage

[🍥] ...

[🍥] No answer, huh?

[🍥] So it really is that simple

please wait

I’m just trying to figure myself out

[🍥] Let me help you

[🍥] You want my forgiveness because you feel guilty. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you want me to say I forgive you just so you won’t have to carry this around for the rest of your life

[🍥] I know this isn’t some romcom. I know you’re not here to get me back

[🍥] So just let it go

[🍥] Let’s just forget about this. About what happened

what if I can’t

[🍥] I don’t know

[🍥] Figure it out, I guess

[🍥] But do it on your own

•

Soonyoung doesn’t measure his time anymore.

He wakes up. He eats. He goes to class. He skips lunch. He goes home. He eats. He falls asleep.

When was the last time he went out with someone? When was the last time he had a real conversation?

He doesn’t know.

•

[Minghao] You should tell everyone else

why

[Minghao] Would you rather they think you’re a cheater or just an idiot?

I don’t know

[Minghao] I think they deserve an explanation

[Minghao] Want me to do it for you?

does it even matter anymore

[Minghao] It’s your choice

[Minghao] You just have to make it

then tell them

I don’t care

[Minghao] Are you sure?

tell them

•

These days, Soonyoung stays late at the studio. No one really practices there anymore, not since the showcase finished and finals have rolled around. Actually, Soonyoung should be studying too, but he can’t find the motivation. He thinks it might be the guilt.

You were right. He doesn’t want to carry this around.

The thing is, despite spending entire evenings in the studio, he can’t remember anything as he walks home. It must be hours spent in there, and yet, when he walks out, he can’t recall a thing. Like he was never there at all.

Where does the time go?

With his luck, the elevator is broken when he returns to the apartment building, so he has to take the stairs. Normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but after hours of mindless, sloppy dancing, he’s much too tired. He fumbles with his keys when he tries to open the door, and he rests his forehead on the cool wood for a moment, sighing before he tries again.

The door creaks open. Though it’s late, the lights are still on, which Soonyoung frowns at when he realizes. Lately, Jihoon is never up when Soonyoung comes home. But there he is, sitting at the table right next to the kitchen with his eyes on his hands and his feet tucked under the chair.

Soonyoung freezes after shutting the door behind him, not wholly sure what to make of the scene before him.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon looks up from his fingers and meets Soonyoung’s gaze.

“Minghao called me today,” he says.

Soonyoung gulps, but doesn’t respond — doesn’t know how to.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first, you know.” His voice is slow, croaky; tired. “But it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it. I don’t know how I didn’t see it from the start.”

Slowly, Soonyoung slips off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. “So now you know. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“I just have a question.”

Soonyoung pauses, halfway through the apartment and only a few meters from his bedroom door. He turns to face Jihoon, sighing through his nose and digging his palm into his eye sockets. “Fine,” he concedes. “What?”

“If you never loved — never liked her, why are you acting like this now?”

“Acting like what?”

“Like a dead man walking.”

Soonyoung scoffs, a dry, empty sound as he looks away for a moment before meeting Jihoon’s gaze again. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks. “I lied to someone for months. I pretended to love someone I didn’t. I used her because of my own stupidity and pride, and then I used Sehee, too—” Pausing, he closes his eyes; takes a breath. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s guilt. I feel guilty for... for everything.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Excuse me?”

Jihoon rhythmically taps the pads of his fingers on the table. It’s not loud enough to be heard, but Soonyoung’s eyes train to the sight. “It’s only the guilt?”

“What else would it be?”

This time, it’s Jihoon who sighs. He looks at his hands again for a second. “Do me a favour,” he says without looking up.

“Look, I already—”

“Just do what I say.”

Soonyoung groans, but he knows he can’t argue with Jihoon and win — not now at least. He rubs his eyes, shoulders rising and falling as he takes in a deep breath. Mumbling under his breath, he says, “Fine.”

Jihoon stands from his chair, and in such stagnant silence, the sound of the legs squeaking on the floor is profound. He points to the middle of the apartment, the large bit of floor-space that’s too big to be considered part of the kitchen but too small to house any furniture.

“Stand right there.”

“...What?”

Without answering, Jihoon simply points at the floor again, and Soonyoung can only groan in defiance as he moves to stand in that spot. Grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, Jihoon steps a few feet away, facing Soonyoung with the pillow held in one hand at his side. He seems to consider something for a moment.

Soonyoung has never been unable to read Jihoon this much, so he asks, “What is this all about—”

Jihoon screams. Not a high-pitched screech, but a guttural battle cry, and Soonyoung’s eyes widen. Faster than he can comprehend, Jihoon runs towards him and tackles him to the ground. Soonyoung’s legs crumble as he falls, and he feels the throw pillow pressing onto his face.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies.

“Jihoon!” he cries, but his protest is muffled by the pillow. “What the fuck are you—!”

“You fucking idiot! You don’t know shit!”

“I know that!” Soonyoung thrashes to get the pillow off, but Jihoon is way stronger than he looks.

“You miss her you fucking buffoon! You’re all in your doom and gloom because you had a good thing going and had to go fuck it up!”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t try to argue with me, fucker, I know you better than anyone. Now scream!”

The pillows squishes further down, and while Soonyoung can still breathe, it’s far from comfortable. He continues to struggle even though he knows it’s useless.

“What?!”

“Scream into the pillow! You’re mad at yourself and you should be! Let it all out!”

“I—”

“Scream!”

And he does. He lets out a loud bellow that’s nothing but sound roaring from his lungs. He does it mostly to appease Jihoon — so that maybe he’ll finally get off.

But it feels good.

No, not good, really. It feels awful. Everything feels awful. Yet, something about screaming makes him want to do it again. He yells once more into the pillow, the sound muffled in the fabric and yet intensely remarkable. He screams and he screams and he screams until he can’t scream anymore and his voice is raw and there’s no more sound aside from the fractured gasps of his sobs. Tears soak into rough fabric, and he doesn’t even notice that Jihoon isn’t holding the pillow anymore — he’s pressing it to his face himself. His body shakes under Jihoon. Soonyoung feels pathetic, but he can’t stop.

He tries again to scream into the pillow, but his voice cracks and all he knows is to cry.

This is what it’s like.

Quietly, Jihoon maneuvers himself so he sits by Soonyoung’s head. He slowly lifts a corner of the pillow and peeks at Soonyoung’s red face. “So,” he whispers, voice soft and full of care. “What are you going to do now?”

Soonyoung wraps his arms around the pillow, hiding his face again.

“I don’t know,” he says. He’s never felt less sure of anything. “I don’t know.”

•

That night, Soonyoung cleans his room. He doesn’t reorganize or anything, just picks discarded clothes up off the ground and throws them in a hamper, spreads his blankets so his bed actually looks bed-like, and takes his overflowing garbage bin out to the door, where he’ll take it out tomorrow morning. As he stretches his arm between his bed and the wall, his fingers close around the sweater he’s trying to reach and... something else. When he brings his hand back up, a small tiger plush stares back at him.

Go get ‘em, tiger!

He stares at the words for a moment, sitting up on his bed and leaning his back against the wall. The plush feels frail in his hands, almost like the velvet heart held in the tiger’s paws could crumble at any moment. Maybe it will.

Soonyoung settles down above the covers that night, and the tiger sits on his other pillow.

The one that still smells like you.

•

He cries. (For the second time since you left.)

•

After everything that’s happened, one would think it would take a miracle to fix what’s been broken. Soonyoung thinks it will take more than that, but still; he’s no miracle worker. He thinks it will take magic to just see you again.

Turns out, it takes a coffee.

Jihoon forces Soonyoung to join him in visiting one of the campus cafes. He doesn’t think about it too much, just believes Jihoon’s trying to keep him alive with a little kick of caffeine. That thought is pushed away when Jihoon blocks him from sitting at the little table, pointing instead across the space to the student printing center.

You’re talking to a customer at the front counter, forearms rested on the white faux marble. A smile is on your lips as you say whatever it is you’re saying to the girl, and Soonyoung finds it almost impossible to tear his eyes away. But he does. He scans the rest of the building for a second. Seungkwan is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Minghao.

He turns to Jihoon, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“She told the bodyguards to back off,” Jihoon explains without needing to be asked. “It’s been a few days.” He nods his chin towards you. “Go on. Talk to her.”

Soonyoung shakes his head, gulping down the words he can’t yet think of. “I don’t... I’m not... ready.”

“If you back out now, you’re going to keep backing out until it’s too late.”

Jihoon’s eyes blaze with an unfitting determination for such a setting. He looks stupid, like some self-made, all-knowing relationship guru who likes the coke he’s gripping too much. Still, he’s right.

Soonyoung licks his dry lips and looks at you again. You’ve sat down, relaxed after having helped that customer and now conversing with one of the other students working there. He misses the way you looked when you were happy — when you were happy with him.

What will it take to see that again?

What will it take to hold you again?

His feet move before his doubts can stop him, and the scene feels awfully familiar. This time though, Soonyoung can’t help but feel like the bad guy.

You don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, and he doesn’t know what hurts more: the immediate frown, or the fake smile you use to cover it up.

“Hi, what can I do for you today?”

If Soonyoung had to define heartache, he might use this moment. Feigning to forget rather than acknowledging the past... it’s effective, but it hurts.

“Can...” He hesitates and curses himself for it. “Can we talk?”

“About printing, yes. About anything else? I really would rather we didn’t,” you say under your breath. It’s hushed, and you don’t shy away when Soonyoung leans closer to hear. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

“But there’s something I need to say.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anymore apologies, Soonyoung.”

“It’s not that,” he argues.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “It’s not an apology?”

“No— I mean, well, yes I want to apologize. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing, but— but that’s not what I—”

“Soonyoung.”

He stops at your word, knowing that speaking will only get him further into trouble. Around you, his words keep failing. Instead, he meets your eyes, which under more inspection, seem hardened.

Have eyes ever looked so hardened when brimmed with tears?

“I don’t know if you know this, but seeing you makes me hate myself.” By now, your coworker has walked to the back, probably to respect your privacy. Your voice almost cracks. “I’ve felt worthless before, but Soonyoung, do you even realize what that — what you did to me?”

He barely breathes before saying, “What if I... what if I said I fell in love with you? Somewhere along the way?” A pause. Your eyes waver, but steady themselves. “What if I said I love you?”

“Soonyoung,” you say after a second.

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

•

[🍥] Give me a reason to give you a chance

this is real right?

[🍥] It’s not a dream if that’s what you’re asking

all of a sudden??

[🍥] Minghao and Jihoon said I should

[🍥] And I think I should too

[🍥] But it’s hard

[🍥] What you said yesterday... I don’t know if I can believe it just yet

will you meet me?

I want to see you

[🍥] Can you give me some time?

yes

all the time you need

but will you?

will you meet me?

[🍥] I don’t want to

[🍥] But then again, I do

[🍥] Just give me some time

•

A strange thing, time. It passes by much too quickly when you want it to last, and it drags on when all you want is to be there. There; right then; right now.

Soonyoung stays up late turning on and off his phone, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.

It’s only been two days.

Jihoon thinks he’s crazy, though he hasn’t said it out loud — Soonyoung can tell.

He also thinks he might be a little crazy, but that’s okay. If it means he’ll get the chance to make it up to you... maybe he’s fine with being crazy.

At some point, Jihoon barges into his room and takes away Soonyoung’s phone, snatching it straight out of his hands like the little thief he is. He keeps it out of reach despite being shorter, preaching bullshit like, “You need to calm down and act like a normal person!”

Fine, whatever.

Soonyoung goes out for some air. And instant ramen.

There’s a twenty-four hour convenience store right on the edge of campus, manned by a single tired university student that everyone is aware of, yet no one really seems to know his name. It’s one of those spots where time doesn’t exist; maybe names don’t, either.

Compared to the blackness of night, the blanch white convenience store sticks out like a sore thumb, especially with all the bright posters and fluorescent tube-lights. Soonyoung feels just as out of place with no people around just outside the store, but really, it’s to be expected at a time like two in the morning.

He’s right at the door when it chimes and slides open. And so are you.

Both of you freeze where you are, you in the doorway and he just in front. His jaw slacks slightly as he takes you in.

You’re in casual clothes again, a thick sweater and presumably pyjama pants. This version of you comes with good memories — for some reason he likes it more than he cares to admit. Maybe he liked that you could share a more vulnerable side to him, and he to you in return. Although, you’ve shown this side to even the unnamed convenience store guy.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his reverie.

“Soonyoung,” you say, and it’s softer than before. Maybe your voice is lighter from the fact that it’s two in the morning, maybe just because you’re tired, but a small part of Soonyoung wishes that it’s something else — that you sound softer because you’ve missed him too.

He hopes it isn’t just hope.

He says your name, the sound beautiful and battered on his tongue. A small smile passes your lips, so fast that he almost misses it, but he doesn’t. That’s one thing he knows about you: how much you care. Even if someone hurts you, you always take the time to hear them out. You give them chances. Soonyoung should thank his lucky stars that you’ve done the same for him.

“Hi.”

You smile again, and it reaches your eyes, however sad.

“Is it time?” he asks.

“It can be.” The plastic bag in your hand crinkles as you sway it back and forth. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out like a breath. “Please.”

“Then that’s what we’ll make it.”

You gesture to the ground, where the curb meets the asphalt, but Soonyoung is still a little shocked that he’s even met you here in the first place, so he watches, dazed, as you sit down on the curb before joining in. He stays silent as you pull out an ice cream cup and hand it to him. He stays silent as you procure a second one and peel open the plastic lid, digging into it with the wooden stick spoon-wannabe that comes with the package. He stays silent as you look at him, the wooden stick hanging from your mouth.

“So,” you say, scraping the side of the paper cup. Meeting his eyes, you sport a sly smile. “I hear you’re in love with me.”

The ice cream stays unopened in his hands. He finds it so easy to smile back.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“You think you are?”

“I’ve never loved someone like this before,” he tries to explain, though the words are slow to his tongue. “I can only think.”

“I guess so.”

“But—” he looks at his fingers, fiddling with the plastic lid of the cup, and a small laugh escapes “—I’m thinking really, really hard.”

You laugh too; his heart blooms.

“Is that so?” you tease, smiling around the wooden spoon. “It’s gonna take more than that.”

“I think I can do it.”

“You think?”

“I think really hard.”

Soonyoung might be in love with every part of you, even if he never realized. Your laugh, your smile, your tells, your habits. He wishes he knew sooner, that this laugh could’ve been his forever long before now.

You scrape the last drops of ice cream out of the paper cup and leave the stick in your mouth, a bit chewed up. Your shoes tap against the asphalt, the rhythm something that draws both his and your eyes.

“You know...” you say, turning your head to meet his gaze once more. “You know you hurt me, right? You know this won’t be easy?”

“None of what we had was easy.”

A scoff runs past your lips. You bump your shoulder against his. “Speak for yourself. I fell hard and fast for you, asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.” You take the still unopened ice cream from his hands and stuff it right back in the bag it came from. “Say it again, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm... maybe it’ll take a few more times.”

“I’m—”

“But not tonight,” you say. “Tonight...”

Your hand beside him closes the distance, grazing over his and pulling it over to your lap.

“...just hold me?”

And he does.

Bonus (gn) epilogue: Fluff and Context Bonus (gn) blurbs: [a fate of my choosing][pick a struggle]

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penmansparadise · 2 years

Text

Eddie Munson ~ Call My Bluff

*I DON’T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mild language (what else is new?)

Requested by @nimalucius Ugh, I just really need some Eddie Munson in my life! I totally see him as acting all cool and shit, but turning into a dork and all shy, when you actually egg him on. Like, he'd act all cool and you would just totally flip it, by acting on it? Sorry, really bad at explaining it, my mind is just overwhelmed by the thought of him! ❣️

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope that it is everything that you wanted!! Thank you again for requesting! I hope you all enjoy this, and please don’t hesitate to send in more requests!

The clamor of students talking and plastic trays slamming against particle board filled your ears. Lunchtime was always a welcome reprieve from your boring fourth-period chem class, and you sighed as you entered the busy room. Each table was designated for each clique. The math geeks sat closest to the door. The band geeks sat near the middle of the room. And all the way in the back was where you sat. Your eyes fell on the table just as Eddie climbed on top of the table and began calling out groups one by one. A smile pulled at your lips as you made your way toward him and the rest of the Hellfire boys.

You and Eddie had been friends since you were children. You could never forget the day your unlikely friendship began. One day in third grade, a group of older boys was pushing you around on the playground when Eddie approached them. He was so much shorter than them, but he still puffed his chest out and said with so much conviction you could feel it in your soul, “If you keep messing with her, I’m gonna kick all of your asses.” The older boys stopped messing with you. But then they turned their tyrannical attention onto Eddie. You remember them calling his bluff, and when he began to backpedal, they proceeded to kick his ass instead of the other way around. When they left, you walked up to him and offered him a helping hand. The moment your palms touched was the beginning of your friendship and the start of your crush on Eddie Munson.

From that day forward, you found it incredibly entertaining to call Eddie’s bluff and egg him on when he started acting big and bad. One time when you were ten, Eddie said he could totally climb this big ass tree. So, naturally, you told him to do it. When he started to deflect, you egged him on until he finally did it. Eddie ended up in a cast for the remainder of your fourth-grade year. Another time, when you were thirteen, Eddie swore he could totally walk into the local bar and order a drink. Again, you told him to do it, but as per usual, he grew nervous and tried to back out. So, you egged him on for five minutes before he finally trotted into the bar and did it. Well, needless to say, that was the day Eddie got banned from a bar at the age of thirteen.

As you navigated through the crowded lunchroom, you chuckled at the memories until you finally made it to the table. When you took your seat next to Eddie, everyone was discussing the current D&D campaign. All but Eddie. You followed his gaze to a couple in the corner of the lunchroom, nearly swallowing one another’s faces. Your eyebrows furrowed, but before you got the chance to ask what his problem was, Eddie slammed his hands onto the table. You jumped as you moved to meet his gaze.

“Look at that,” he said, pointing to the couple, “we get a bad rep for playing a game, but these prissy little rich kids can practically be undressing each other in public, and it’s totally fine.” Eddie threw his arms into the air, “I mean, who does that!? It’s like watching two suckerfish fighting for dominance. They’re in the middle of the cafeteria, for Christ’s sake!” He cupped his hands over his mouth and faced the couple.

“Get a room you, two heathens!” He shouted, earning a dirty look and a middle finger from the two teens. The group of boys at the table laughed at Eddie’s outburst. Normally, you would have done the same, but you decided on doing something much more amusing. You let out a long dramatic sigh, gaining the attention of everyone at the table. You looked directly at Eddie. His signature smirk was playing on his lips and wreaking havoc on your heart.

“I think you’re just jealous,” you said. At your words, Eddie’s smile fell and was replaced with a look of disbelief.

“Of what?” he asked, exasperated by your statement, “Not having my soul sucked out of my body by some chick? No, I’m not jealous.” You did your best to control the grin that was trying hard to break free.

“I think you’re jealous because you don’t have a girlfriend.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up at that word, and he paused, his eyes still trained on you. You could feel your cheeks warming under his stare, but you couldn’t find it in you to peel your eyes away. It felt like minutes before you and Eddie finally snapped back to reality. Eddie squared his shoulders.

“I could totally land a girlfriend if I really wanted to.” He said with a cocky grin. And that’s when you knew you had him. The familiar game you had been playing since you were kids was alive and well still even in your teen years.

“Oh yeah?” You asked, and he nodded, leaning a little closer to you.

“Without a problem.”

You leaned even closer to him, his curly tendrils tickling your face, and whispered, “Then do it.”

Eddie’s confident façade fell as he shrunk away from you.

“Wh-what?” He stuttered. This time it was your turn to square your shoulders.

“Then do it,” you said, leaning back in your chair, “Go get a girlfriend. I mean, if it’s so easy, you know?” Eddie looked like a nervous wreck as he began to wring his hands through his hair, trying to come up with an excuse.

“Uh, uh, I mean, I-I can’t just, you know, ask some chick out. Th-that would be like wrong, right? You don’t just go ask someone to be your girlfriend.” He was frantic as he searched the table for anyone to have his back.

“How else do you get a girlfriend if you don’t just…ask…them?” Mike asked, his voice growing softer with each word. Eddie’s eyes landed on the boy, and if looks could kill, Mike would have dropped dead right there.

“Yeah, Eddie, how else do you get a girlfriend?” The smile you had been trying to contain was slowly seeping through. Eddie’s leg bounced up and down under the table as he scrambled to come up with something. When he didn’t answer, you jumped back in.

“You did say it was so easy to get one. So, then go out there and get one. I’d love to see who the King of I-Hate-Everyone would choose.”

Eddie’s leg picked up speed as the rest of the group began to egg him on with you until it abruptly stopped.

“Fine!” He shouted, silencing the table. “I-I’ll do it.” You smiled triumphantly.

“How fun,” you said, “go ask out the one girl you can see yourself having a future with.” Eddie’s eyes widened at that as he held your gaze. But just as he was about to speak, the bell releasing you to your fifth period rang. You hopped up and, without a second glance, left the cafeteria and a befuddled Eddie behind.

Your mind was racing for the last bit of your school day. All you could think about was Eddie taking you up on your dare. You didn’t think he would actually agree to do it and now you were regretting even egging him on. You had developed a crush on Eddie when you were kids that had grown into an animal. There was absolutely no controlling your feelings for him. You knew your poor heart wouldn’t be able to handle it if he brought some random girl to lunch the following day.

When the bell finally rang, you hurried out to the parking lot. Just as you reached your car, the familiar ring of Eddie’s voice stopped you. You turned to see him jogging up to your car, and your heart nearly fell to your ankles. Here it comes, you thought, he’s going to tell me he found the perfect girl, and he’s going to ask her to be his girlfriend, and I’m just going to have to run away forever. You swallowed hard, plastering the most believable smile you could muster onto your face.

“What’s up, Eddie?” You asked, hoping your fear wasn’t painted all over your face. Eddie wasn’t looking at you, though. His eyes were glued to the pavement in between the two of you. He was bobbing up and down, fidgeting with the many rings on his slender fingers. You tilted your head to the side. He was definitely not acting like himself. He was never this anxious or shy around you.

“Hey, Y/N. So, um, I was thinking about our conversation at lunch. And, uh, um, I…” He let out a nervous laugh and ran his hands over his face. “This is the hardest one yet,” he said more to himself than to you.

Eddie scratched the side of his head while emitting a high-pitched groan. “Wow, okay, this is harder than I thought.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you shook your head, urging Eddie to clarify.

“I wasn’t scared to climb that tree in fourth grade.” He said, and your eyes narrowed even more at the random statement.

“Sure,” he said with a shrug, “I fell and ended up with a broken arm, but I wasn’t afraid to do it when you called my bluff. I didn’t even mind walking into that bar even though Uncle Wayne absolutely handed me my ass when he found out.” You chuckled at the memory of Eddie’s Uncle nearly blowing a gasket in the trailer park.

“But this one,” he said, shaking his head, causing his curls to create a curtain over his face, “man, I should’ve weighed the pros and cons because right now I feel like there’s a whole lotta bad that’s gonna come outta this.” Eddie began to ramble, spiraling down his own rabbit hole.

“Eddie,” you said.

“Like, I’m really having some second thoughts.”

“Eddie.”

“I don’t even know why I’m doing this.”

“Eddie.”

“Fuck, what the hell was I thinking?”

“Eddie!” You shouted, taking his hand in yours. His eyes quickly met yours, and that same fire from earlier was there, brighter and stronger than before.

“What’s going on?” You asked, giving his hand a little squeeze. He let out a little laugh that sounded more like a yelp, and his eyes softened as his lips pulled upward.

“It’s you, Y/N.”

You shook your head, still not comprehending what he was going on about.

“What?”

Eddie took your other hand and stood up straight. You craned your neck to maintain eye contact with him. His confidence was back, making him radiant.

“You’re the one girl I can see myself having a future with.”

His words hit you like a brick. Your knees felt like they were going to give out, and your stomach did about a million somersaults. You had spent many a night wishing that Eddie would reciprocate your feelings and there he was, finally confessing them to you. Eddie could see the twinkle of hope in your eyes, so he continued his spiel.

“I can see myself graduating with you. I can see myself leaving this shit hole town and going who knows where with you.” He let go of your hands and cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “Everything my future holds for me; I can see doing with you. And since I’m a man of my word and have never bailed on you calling me out, I’m here to hold up my end of the dare.”

Your mouth was slightly agape, but nothing came out. You couldn’t bring your mind to form a coherent thought. All you could think about was Eddie. He could see a future with you. The guy who never thought about tomorrow or even what he was going to do later that day could see a future with you. Your heart was soaring in your chest. But Eddie took your silence as a bad thing and slowly let go of your face. Your cheeks burned where his fingertips had just touched.

“Well,” he said, letting out a long sigh, “it is clear that my worst fears were right.” He began to fidget again, completely lost to reality.

“I probably just completely ruined our friendship, didn’t I?”

“Eddie,” you said.

“Fuck. Okay, yeah, this was a really bad idea.”

“Eddie.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

“Eddie,” you dragged out the last syllable but still couldn’t seem to grab his attention. He was rambling again, so you did the only thing you could think of to make him focus on you. You grabbed his face and smashed your lips into his. At first, he was stiff as a board. His shoulders were touching his ears, and his arms hung at his sides. But after a few seconds, he melted into the kiss. His hands found your waist and pulled you as close as humanly possible to his chest. You could feel his fingers dig into your hips as he leaned even deeper into the kiss. His curly hair fell over your face, engulfing you in his scent. A perfect mixture of cotton and earth. It was euphoric the way his lips felt against yours. And you would have stayed that way, trapped in his grip and with his lips moving so smoothly against yours, but you couldn’t.

When you pulled away, you were a giggling mess. Eddie almost fell over in his attempt to try and keep his lips on yours, and he let out a little whine when he couldn’t.

“What’s going on?” He asked, his forehead crinkling at the question. You shook your head, a smile you couldn’t contain spreading across your face.

“I was hoping my little dare would finally give you the balls to confess your feelings.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and his mouth fell open.

“What? How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” you said, with a shrug, “I was just hoping that the feelings were mutual. I’m glad I was right.”

Eddie let out an amused laugh before a wide grin took over his face.

“You’re something else, do you know that?”

You shrugged and bit your lip to hold back the giddy giggles that threatened to spill out.

“So,” you said, giving his biceps a little squeeze, “are you gonna ask me out, or what?”

As if a switch had flipped, Eddie’s nervous energy returned. His fingers dug into your hips again, and his foot began tapping as if it were keeping tempo with an Iron Maiden song.

“Um, uh,” he averted his eyes again, “s-so, Y/N, would you, I don’t know, maybe want to, you know,” he met your gaze again, “go out with me? Like, b-be my girlfriend?”

There it was again. That one simple little word. Girlfriend. And you were officially going to have its title. Your lips twitched as you tried to contain the excitement that was rapidly bubbling up inside of you, and you nodded.

“Yeah, Eddie. I’d love to be your girlfriend.” You said before planting a swift kiss on Eddie’s lips and hopping into your car. You turned the key in the ignition, and immediately Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me” started blaring through the speakers. Eddie scrunched his nose in disgust. You just blew him a kiss and then peeled out of the parking spot. As you looked in your rearview mirror, you could see Eddie dancing around where you had just left him. He looked like a complete idiot, but he was your idiot, and that was all that mattered.

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fandom

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thedaythatwas · 8 months

Text

I need to know what goes on inside akechi’s head on the evening of october 24th.

like. look at it from his perspective. he comes to leblanc early. he has his priorities straight: he’s going to play some mind games, really get under joker’s skin.

(bear with me while I get serious about a profoundly unserious conversation)

he’s staking his claim on enemy territory. he’s sitting patiently, waiting for akiren to walk through the door. surely, it will intimidate his rival to know that he’s made himself at home in his living space. look how close he managed to slip without akiren noticing! he even went so far as to strike up a conversation with his odd barista caretaker. akechi would drop some quick political jargon here, reference some continental philosopher’s name there— all in the name of making akiren look totally incompetent.

really, joker should be terrified. he should feel violated, even. akechi would! hence:

look— he’s so self satisfied! yes, he totally won this round!

🚨 BUZZER NOISE! 🚨

see, akechi is playing 4D chess. so is akiren! but they’re using drastically different playbooks. we know this because goro akechi procedes to get hit with the following:

I know you as the player don’t need to select that dialogue option (I could go on about the implications of that, but other posts have already said it better). but you can! and I, for one, do.

not to get too deep on what is obviously a joke post, but I think this offers some insight into those little rants that akechi goes on sometimes. you know what I’m talking about— “oh, you’re so special, so interesting, it’s like we were fated to meet each other!”

yes— they were basically fated to meet each other, but that’s not the point.

as silly as it sounds, the fact that dialogue options like this exist proves the oft-stated fact that akiren is the antithesis to akechi’s thesis.

akechi plans his interactions with akiren down to a tee, and still, akiren manages to throw akechi off his rhythm! every. single. time. nobody else does this.

part of this is because akiren sees his interactions with akechi for what they’re worth. it’s all a gamble, a chess match. akechi appreciates that akiren is an equal player in their game. he respects that. it takes intelligence to see a bluff for what it is, and to call it. flirtatiously, too!

that respect is what makes their relationship so compelling. it holds true whether you read what they have as love, hate, obsession, or, hell, even all of the above! you know it isn’t indifference, because that doesn’t make any sense coming from either of them.

call me crazy (I certainly deserve it) but if akiren responds “honey, I’m home” to akechi, he hears another message loud and clear: I see what you tried to do here, I’m calling you on it, and you don’t scare me. you’ve made your move, and I’m going to undo it with flair, because I’m joker, and you love it.

and when you look at it like that, it makes sense why little things might set off akechi’s thoroughly-stated appreciation of akiren. they aren’t “little” to him at all. I’m sure he doesn’t wax poetic just to fuel akiren’s ego, anyway. that isn’t quite his style.

and hey! even if akiren didn’t mean to communicate all of that (he totally did though), it doesn’t make the sentiment any less real to akechi! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. the guy has issues. let him plot the downfall of his enemies (real and perceived) in peace <3

#this started as a joke post I don’t know how I got here #before you say ‘there’s no way a reasonable person would think that way’#consider! akechi is not all that reasonable!#I just want to hear his internal narration you know?#anyway october 24th is like being kicked repeatedly in the ribs this whole convo is a fever dream #persona 5 #shuake #goro akechi

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octopiys · 8 months

Text

I've been rewatching HTTYD and of course I had to combine my two interests

John MacTavish (27) is a native to the village, most recognized for his shaved sides and long mohawk. He's the village blacksmith, with an affinity for crafting new weapons, large ones that counter even a dragon's fireball.

Once when he was a teenager, he got his hands on a craftsman's items, and decided that he needed some of it to slick down a part of one of his contraptions. It exploded, as those kinds of things do, into a mass of bubbles and sweet scents, earning him the nickname of Soap.

John Price(37) is a trainer. He was an older viking whose battle seemed all but over when a dragon took his arm. He was still the same, just more experienced, and 10 years older.

He's had a few apprentices, his most recent being a younger man named Kyle Garrick(28), or commonly referred to as Gaz. If you ever ask why he's called that, Price will mutter something about it being "need to know", and he'll sick a particularly nasty dragon on you the next time you train with him.

There's a common pattern amongst Price's protégés.

Most of the times they're outcasts, alone. Gaz's parents were killed in a dragon attack when he was a child, but he didn't consider himself alone. He had plenty of friends, of course he did, there's Soap...-

No but totally, he was fine. He's fought dragons! Sure, he hasn't killed any yet, and sure, Price has saved his ass more than once, but he's come out unscathed!

Most of the time.

But Price's most famous protégé, or shall I even say very close ally, was the Lieutenant: Simon Riley

From the stories, Simon Riley was a man who fought dragons like no other. They both learned from each other, Price and Riley. He was a beast of blades and man, they slayed more dragons together than the entire village combined.

It would be a lie if I said that the two boys didn't look up to him, a lie if Price didn't see Riley in each of them.

It would be an even bigger lie if he hoped they didn't turn out like him, either.

Neither Gaz, nor Soap had ever met Simon Riley.

He was killed in one of the worst dragon attacks the village had seen in its entire 300 years of history.

They descended from the heavens, flying warriors sent from hell, carting off men and cattle, snapping them up in powerful jaws and flame. Price was one of those men, it was how he lost his arm. He was also the only one to survive a personal attack of that scale.

Riley had thrown everything he had to save Price. There were tricks he had up his sleeves, some that not even Price had known, that he used to get the Captain back when even he thought he was done for.

All they knew was that Simon Riley had been killed that night in place of John Price.

Those parts of the stories were left untold.

It wasn't a sensitive subject, but Price had a tendency to shatter the glass he was holding if someone asked one too many times.

It had been ten years since Riley's disappearance. His name was inscribed on the village memorial in the square, a remembrance statue to all the greatest warriors in the village's history.

It was a particularly late night when Price had let Gaz go early, as the dragon tournament was coming up, and he wanted the man to get some rest. That's how both Gaz and Soap were out by the bluffs overlooking the ocean. It was hidden through a mile of brush and trees, but tonight was one of the first clear nights since the winter, and they were excited to see the stars.

It wasn't until stars had started blinking out, half the sky was black, that they realized something was wrong.

"Dragons...." Gaz breathed suddenly, as mouths began to light up, hundreds of feet in the air above them. "It's dragons!"

Gaz pulled Soap to his feet and they began running like their lives depended on it, which in this case, it did.

Their lungs were already sore, their voices hoarse as they shouted to a few men on the outskirts.

"Swarm! Swarm!"

Vikings readied their weapons, and minutes later, the beasts shot overhead. Flashes of red, blue, greens, and yellow, silver glinting unnaturally in the moonlight.

There had been rumors about dragon riders. Those who had tamed the beasts, or maybe found a common ground with them.

There was nothing more dangerous than a man-tamed dragon.

"It's Kingfish!" Someone down the hill had shouted, and Gaz's blood ran cold.

There were whispers about a man they called Kingfish, one who hid in the shadows with armies of the scaled monsters, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting villages and pillage them for himself. No one knew his real name, where he came from, or where the nest was. But everyone knew that once Kingfish set his sights on a village, they were as good as dead.

They saw Price leave his house, half armored, but a fire in his eyes as he heaved his Warhammer behind him, disappearing behind the body of a massive dragon that was scaling the watchtower down by the water.

"Soap! C'mon!" Kyle shouted, dragging his friend down the hill. The Blacksmith paused at his shop window, pulling a few weapons away from the sill and into his arms. They kept running. Soap passed an axe to Gaz, and they ran first to a house that was lit aflame. A few people were tossing buckets of water, while a woman pulled arrows at a Whispering Death.

Farther away, they heard the crunch and splintering of wood, and Gaz looked over in horror to see the watchtower fall, both the dragon and Price going with it.

"No!" He had screamed, all but dropping his axe as he started running like mad down towards the docks. "Captain!"

"Gaz!" Soap was shouting behind him as a trebuchet fired, throwing a large stone at some dragon above him. "Gaz, look out!"

Large, leathery wings kicked up a storm of dust around him as he was tackled to the ground, rocks digging into his knees and elbows as he fought to get the beast's claws out of his shoulders. It pressed his face into the dirt as he struggled to fight against it. It cut through his shirt, digging straight into his skin. He cried out, fighting against it, but his movement was impaired, he wasn't able to swing his axe around to-

The dragon opened its mouth and screamed, the shriek going directly to his ear drums, and springing the worst headache he'd ever had, his head felt like it was going to explode, he couldn't feel his shoulders. Gaz squeezed his eyes shut, praying to Odin to make it stop, make it-

A dagger sunk directly in between two of its center scales, shocking the dragon into dropping him as it turned on its next enemy. Someone was shouting, but Gaz couldn't get his eyes to focus enough on the figure.

They were waving wildly at the dragon, now weaponless, and shouting for its attention. The dragon cocked its head to the side and stepped over Gaz, who was struggling to stand to his feel, his whole equilibrium thrown off from the noise.

And he glimpsed the the mohawk just behind the scales as the dragon lunged forward, grasping Soap in his claws and shooting off into the air.

"No!! Soap!!" Gaz shouted, chasing after the dragon as it flew. He could just see the outline of Soap, struggling, screaming as the claws pierced his leather armor, sinking into his chest. He was too high, and there was nothing Gaz could do, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't try. He shoved past people, ran through fights, passing the dark clad enemies of Kingfish's men, all while shouting for his friend, never once taking his eyes off the Whispering Death that was slowly growing smaller and smaller in the night sky.

An arrow pierced his shoulder and he cried out, stumbling, but he kept going forward, ducking behind a house. "Soap! Soap!"

A fireball exploded the wall next to him and he hit the wall hard, his consciousness leaving him before he even realized what had happened.

Soap was helpless as he squirmed, gasps being torn from his chest with the leather apron that fell away into the ocean below. He was gonna die, this was it. He couldn't see the island anymore, but he wasn't giving up. And yet this wyrm of a Whisper wouldn't let up, only shrieked until the pounding behind his eyes made him too lightheaded...

He wasn't sure what was happening when he woke up from a faint, but he sure as he'll knew he shouldn't be plummeting to death, rocketing towards the sea below him in a free fall. "Och! Shi-i-i-ite!" He flung himself onto his stomach, spreading his arms and legs apart to catch the air. His braid had come loose, whistling around his ears as the moonlit waves approached him too quickly.

Something else snatched him up like he was free prey and he shouted out again, the wounds on his chest screaming from the strain. His hands scrabbled at the beast's nails that wrapped around both his shoulders, carrying him like he was precious cargo. This was a different dragon, unfortunately for him. It was red, from what he could see, with long claws and a pale underbelly. There were antennae like appendages that dropped off the sides of its head, fading from red to orange to yellow towards the end, like leaves in autumn. But what jarred him the most was the straps of a saddle that tucked underneath its belly, and wrapped up the sides. There were a few ropes attached to the tail and- oh fuck he was falling again.

"No no no no-!" He shouted, flailing in the free air, before he hit something hard beneath him. But he wasnt.... dead...? No, he was sitting-

He was sitting on a dragon.

There was a man who sat in front of him, blond hair peaking out of his hood and helmet. Most of the helmet covered his face, save for the dark brown eyes glaring at him from behind it. In the darkness, the moon light shone off of the raised texture of pale skin that Soap could see, before smoothing off. He'd seen scars like those around the village, but only rarely. People like him never usually survived dragon's fire.

This person wasn't wearing black like Kingfish's men were. Instead, he was wrapped in a camouflage of browns, greens and furs, similarly to the dragon. He was tense, his shoulders bunched up as he glared at Soap, radiating a dark, or in other words, mysteriously powerful energy.

It occurred to him, then, that he wasn't staring at just a dragon rider.

And it occurred to him, then, that they had been wrong.

This.... this was Lieutenant Simon Riley.

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sluttywonwoo · 10 months

Text

instead of you [part nineteen] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, reader has emetophobia, mentions of sex (mdni)

word count: 4.7k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

“Why not?”

“You’re asking me why I can’t admit to wanting to kiss you?”

“Who said I wanted to kiss you?”

He was backtracking, trying to dig himself out of a hole that he’d already buried himself in. He cocked an eyebrow at you, somehow still arrogant in the midst of vulnerability. You called his bluff.

“I’m not stupid.”

He leaned away from you, a fraction of an inch. “I never said you were.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes. “Don’t act like you were testing me, like you had Jisung’s best interest in mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that for an actor you’re surprisingly transparent. No one leans that close to a person’s face for no reason. You were going to kiss me and now you’re trying to play it off like you were just testing me to see if I’d cheat on my boyfriend,” you paused for a beat, wondering if you could turn it around on him. “Because I was testing you, and you failed. Horribly.”

Minho blinked. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Does it look like I’m fucking with you?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I can’t tell.”

“Guess you’ll never know.”

“Guess so…” he trailed off, settling back into his own seat.

The moment was gone, dissipated along with the breath you’d been holding. It was like the tight line of tension running between you, inexplicably tying you to each other, had been given an inch of slack. It was still there, buried under layers and layers of repression and guilt, but subdued.

You couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed. You didn’t want to admit to yourself that it was likely a bit of both.

Suddenly the bus lurched around a corner, sending you flying into Minho in an cruel, ironic twist of fate. Your head landed in his lap. As if that wasn’t bad enough, a speed bump caused your head to bounce up and come down back onto his thighs, face planting into his crotch again. You didn’t even want to think about what it looked like to the people across from you. This was not how you envisioned his dick pressing into your cheek would go.

Minho winced, helping you sit up. There was a tiny dark spot on his jeans, damp from where your open mouth had left an imprint on the fabric.

Mortified didn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling.

“Are you ok?” Minho asked, seeming totally unphased by the series of events that had just taken place. He was holding your shoulders like you’d run if he let go. He did a quick scan of your body, looking for marks as if you’d been hit by a car and not simply tossed into another human being.

“Fine, just absolutely humiliated,” you sighed, rubbing your cheek.

“Don’t be.”

“Well too late, I already am. And, uh, sorry about… that.”

Minho followed your gaze to the wet patch on his jeans. “Oh, don’t worry about it. It happens.”

“Does it though?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like the right thing to say.”

You slumped down in your seat, pinching the bridge of your nose. Minho brought his hands to his lap and turned to look out the window.

“Are you okay?” you heard yourself ask just moments later. “I mean,” your eyes flicked down to where his hands were resting on his lap. You thought he might have been holding himself in pain, but then you realized-

“Fine,” he answered through gritted teeth, and that was the end of the conversation.

The next stop was Mt. Fuji’s 5th station, another lookout- this time on the mountain, that provided an even better view. You felt a little dumb for taking all of those pictures at the first stop but then remembered what Jisung had said about sending him lots of photos and relaxed a little.

This stop also served as the lunch break. Meals were provided to guests that had added the option on their tickets. The Hans had elected not to spring for the included meal, leaving you and Minho to fend for yourselves. They invited you to join them at a noodle shop inside the station, but you declined, opting to use the time to explore and find something on your own.

More time alone, you thought to yourself. Great idea. The day wasn’t even half over and you’d already had a close call. Too close of a call. Was it really that hard to control yourself around your best friend’s brother? What was wrong with you? Maybe it’d be easier if he wasn’t such a fucking tease. Regardless, you needed to have a little more self-restraint.

The break period was only about an hour long and then you’d be driving to the next stop so you had to be quick.

You walked with Minho through the narrow passageways, nearly breaking into a jog to keep up with him. There were only three or four restaurants in the surrounding area, narrowing your selection down by a lot.

“Looks like our choices are kind of similar,” Minho said as he scanned the menu on the wall of the third restaurant you’d stopped in front of.

“Here seems as good of a place as any.”

It was relatively busy inside, but you and Minho were able to find a little corner table out of the way. You figured these places must make a fortune, seeing as there was so little competition and dozens of buses full of hungry tourists came through each day.

The exterior of the building was painted black, as were the walls inside to absorb heat. There were floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the dining room, showing off the breathtaking view of the mountain range in the near distance.

“What sounds good to you?” Minho asked, leaning over the table to see your menu even though he had one right in front of him.

“Seems like everyone’s ordering soup,” you mumbled and nodded to the tables closest to you to prove your point. “I guess that does sound kind of good, especially because it’s so cold up here.”

“We could order a couple different kinds and share?” he suggested.

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed nervously.

You might as well share soup with your best friend’s brother that you almost kissed just an hour prior. Yeah, makes perfect sense.

Minho ordered for both of you when the server noticed you were ready. You watched him effortlessly make conversation with the waiter, cracking jokes like he’d known the man his entire life, and it made you think of Jisung. Jisung who always ordered for you, Jisung who counted the dishes he ordered on his fingers to keep track of them, Jisung who made friends in every situation he found himself in.

“What?” Minho asked, yanking you from your thoughts.

You hadn’t even realized you’d been staring.

“Nothing, sorry.”

“You okay? You didn’t hit your head earlier, did you?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, rolling your eyes. “Thanks for ordering for me.”

“Oh, you’re welcome. I noticed Jisung always orders for you so I just assumed you might’ve had some anxiety when it comes to that.”

“I do, yeah.” you admitted. “But it’s just something he’s always done for me, even before we started dating.”

The word dating seemed to snap Minho back to reality and he leaned away from you, straightening his posture and seeming to take great interest in the napkin in front of him.

“That’s sweet,” he muttered, sounding completely unconvinced.

“He can be when he wants to be. Shocking, I know.”

After lunch you took a walk around the lookout together, pointing out different signs with Japanese characters and trying to guess what they meant. Minho had paid for both of your meals, unsurprisingly, and you hadn’t even put up a fight. You already knew he wouldn’t let you pay for your own if you tried, slapping his card down on top of the bill before the server had even left the table.

You were listening to Minho talk about why he thought a sign by the bus stop said ‘no baseballs’ when you felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. Minho had given it to you on the bus so you could listen to music on the ride up the mountain and you just hadn’t remembered to give it back to keep in his bag.

It was a text from Jisung. Minho stopped talking as soon as he noticed you weren’t paying attention to him anymore.

How is everything? Haven’t heard from you all morning! Send a pic of you and Minho when you can :)

“Ji wants us to send a picture.”

“Of what?”

“Of us.”

“Us? Like, both of us?” Minho asked, looking as confused as you felt.

You shrugged. “I guess he wants to make sure we haven’t killed each other yet.”

He nodded in understanding. “Proof of life photo, got it.”

“Where should we-” you paused, looking around for the best place to snap a selfie.

“Well we should get the mountains in the background, right?”

“Yeah, good idea. Let’s go over there.” You pointed in the direction of a cluster of benches gathered at the ledge of the mountain where people were taking pictures with their families.

The section was fenced off to prevent guests from falling off the face of the cliff, but that wasn’t stopping kids from climbing the railings or couples sitting on top of them. You settled for simply leaning against it, not trusting yourself enough to balance your weight on top of it.

“Here, you have longer arms,” you said, offering your phone to Minho.

He took it without argument and extended his arm so that both of you were in the frame. You’d forgotten that he was a practiced expert at taking selfies. You wondered how many phone cameras he knew how to use just from snapping pictures with fans at every event he attended.

You weren’t sure how close to stand to him, or what to do with your hands. You leaned towards him, not touching, and smiled awkwardly. You weren’t doing anything wrong at that very moment, so why did you feel so guilty? Minho snapped a couple photos and was about to hand the phone back when you were interrupted.

“Do you want me to take a photo of you?” a woman with a thick German accent asked. “You know, couple? I take photo for you, and you take photo of me with my family?”

You were about to politely decline, correct her, and just offer to take the picture of her family, but Minho was already handing the phone over. You were going to kill him.

Minho slung his arm around your shoulders like it was the most normal thing in the world and you forced yourself to wrap yours around his waist, resting your head on his chest as you bit the inside of your cheek. You could hear his heartbeat if you listened closely. It was steady, rhythmic. Not at all panicked or rushed like you were sure your own was. You faked a smile and waited until the camera stopped clicking before letting yourself breathe again.

Minho thanked the woman and traded places with her, taking a few pictures of her with her family while you paced anxiously in the background. You checked the time on your phone, wondering if it was time to go yet when you realized you still needed to text Jisung back.

You scrolled through your gallery, selecting all the pictures the nice lady had taken of you and Minho. Your finger hovered over the delete button, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to press it. You hit cancel, sighing in defeat.

You opened your messages again and stared at the blinking cursor. You flipped through the options on your camera roll, unsure of what to do. At the very least, you knew you couldn’t send one of the pictures the woman had taken to Jisung. He probably wouldn’t even question it, the pose was normal enough for friends, but then again what if he did? You couldn’t risk it.

You chose one of the selfies Minho had taken and hit send, promptly locking your phone as soon as you saw it was delivered.

“We have to get back on the bus.”

You looked at the time on your phone and then back at Minho, squinting in confusion. “We still have a couple minutes before we’re supposed to leave.”

“No, that woman’s son started talking about K-pop when I was taking their picture.” You glanced over your shoulder and saw the family huddled together, all indiscreetly staring at you and Minho.

“Don’t look!” he hissed. “Come on.”

He tugged you by the arm until your feet caught up with you and you were able to walk in step with him.

“They recognized you?”

“The little boy did. I don’t know if the others believed him.” You were tempted to look back, but you knew you’d probably be yelled at again. As if Minho could read your thoughts, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Keep your head down.”

“I don’t get it, doesn’t this happen to you all the time?” you asked. “What’s the big deal?”

“It doesn’t happen to me all the time, and when it does it’s usually not a big deal,” he explained as he ushered you up the steps of the coach. You shuffled your way to your seats, nodding in acknowledgment at his parents as you passed them. You got to the row first so you took the window seat. It was easier than having to shuffle around. “I don’t mind taking pictures with fans or signing things for them most of the time. It can get annoying, but I try to remember that I’m incredibly lucky to be in the position I’m in in the first place. And I’m just like them when it comes to football players and golfers, anyway.” You chuckled. “I’m serious! I stumble over my words when I meet them, and my hands are shaky when I ask them for an autograph- I’m a fucking mess. But we already had one close call this week with someone seeing you alone with me. Twice is asking for it.”

“Asking for what?”

“Rumors, articles, blog posts- I don’t even want to think about it.”

“I don’t think that little boy is going to start any rumors about us,” you said.

“You don’t understand.” Minho was serious, something you weren’t used to seeing from him. “It’s not that simple. Someone from that family posts a picture on Instagram, they tag me and they see you standing next to me. My fans… can be really invested in my personal life. And they’ll want to know who you are because they think we might be dating. That’s why I told you to keep your head down so they wouldn’t be able to see your face.”

“But guys and girls can be friends,” you reasoned.

“It’s the internet, y/n. No one cares. I’m seen alone with a woman and suddenly everyone wants to know everything about her from her high school GPA to who her mother voted for in the last presidential election.”

Oh. Ok, maybe Minho was right and this was a bit serious. Your social media wasn’t the worst there was out there, but it certainly wasn’t the cleanest per se… you had a whole story highlight dedicated to you and Jisung competing to see who could down a shot the fastest. Yeah, you were those people at parties. And even though you lost most of the time, you could already imagine the things people would say about it.

“I didn’t realize you were so popular,” was all you could say.

Minho chuckled bitterly. “I try not to advertise it.”

“I can see why.”

“It’d be hell for you to be associated with me.”

“I kind of already am,” you pointed out. Minho gave you a blank look as if he didn’t know what you meant. “Through your brother.”

“Right, Jisung.” Minho sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t know what he’d do to me if you got tangled up in all this bullshit.”

“You’re always saying shit like that. Jisung is pretty harmless, you know.”

Minho shook his head in disagreement. “You only think that because you’re wearing rose-colored glasses when it comes to him.”

“That’s not true!”

“Oh, come on, yes it is.”

“We were friends for years before we started dating! I haven’t always seen him romantically.”

“Still, you haven’t known him as long as I have.”

“Well you have on… whatever the opposite of rose-colored glasses when it comes to him because you’re related to him!” you argued. “He can barely hold me on top of him- don’t ask how I know that.” Minho pursed his lips, suppressing a smirk. He’d clearly been about to ask. “I’m just saying I think you could take him.”

“I’m flattered, but I think you’re forgetting how protective he can be,” he protested. “Has he never gotten jealous?” Minho pressed, his body rocking slightly as the bus began to move. He stabilized himself against the seat in front of him, looking at you expectantly. “He’s never been possessive of you?”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to decipher whether or not this was a test. Did Minho suspect anything? Was he just being nosy or did he think there was something you were lying about. Was he trying to get dirt on his brother, prove to you that he’s not a good boyfriend? You weren’t sure what to think. You scrambled for something, running through your memories as you tried to piece together a story with fragments of half-truths.

“There were a couple of times…” you admitted, trying to even your breathing to sound more natural. “Like this one time, we were at a bar and this guy was trying to buy me a drink while he was in the bathroom and when he came back he just kinda came up to us and wrapped an arm around my waist and the dude fucked off.”

What had actually happened, was a guy tried to buy you a drink while Jisung was in the bathroom and you agreed, asking him to buy one for your friend Ji too. You let the dude assume it was short for Jisoo or whatever and entertained him while the bartender mixed the cocktails. As soon as you saw Jisung emerge from the bathroom you took both the drinks and ditched the man the second his back was turned. You presented your best friend with one of the drinks and toasted the man who bought them for you, clinking your glasses together in celebration. After you downed them, Jisung pulled you onto the dance floor with him, telling you to follow his lead. He made sure the stranger was watching and then kissed you hard right in front of him. You took it a step further, slipping your tongue into your best friend’s mouth and cupping his face between your hands. When you came up for air the man was walking out the door with a scowl on his face.

“Another time before we started dating he dropped me off on a date with another person, and wouldn’t even let me walk into the restaurant when he saw the guy through the window.”

That was true, but the real reason he didn’t let you go into the restaurant was because he knew the guy from one of his classes and had overheard him talking about how bi girls are freakier in bed which is why he actively sought them out.

“So I guess you’re right, he’s always been protective of me, even when we were just friends. But I don’t think he’d hurt anyone. He might say something brutal, but he wouldn’t swing at you unless he’s defending himself.”

“Well, I don’t want to take any chances.”

You thought Minho would be satisfied with your answers, but you couldn’t tell from the expression on his face.

You sat in silence for the rest of the bus ride to the next stop. There was that tension again. You curled into yourself, bringing your knees to your chest and pressing yourself against the window as you pulled your phone out of your pocket to text Jisung back.

J: dorks ;) looks like you’re having fun. love you!

Y: it’s ok i guess… would be better if you were here

J: that’s because everything’s better when i’m there

Y: nvm i take it back

J: rude

Y: how are you feeling??

J: just ok :/ mum sent lix and i some soup, but i couldn’t keep it down

J: sorry, i shouldn’t have said that part

Y: it’s ok

J: no it’s not- i know how you feel about that stuff

Y: ji, i promise it’s fine.

J: if you say so…

Y: i do

Y: btw… minho was asking if you’re ever get jealous

J: why

Y: idk it was weird- i told him about that time at the club near campus

You hoped he remembered which time you were talking about. You flirted with a lot of people for free booze.

J: i remember that night

Oh, so he did remember. Or he was bluffing just in case Minho was reading over your shoulder. You checked discreetly, sneaking a glance over at his brother. But Minho was scrolling through Twitter, completely in his own world.

J: did you tell him about what i did to you when we left >:)

Y: he’s not reading these, dumbass. you don’t have to do all that

J: i was referring to spilling my slushie down the front of your dress idk what you’re talking about

Y: i can’t stand you

“Hey, y/n.” You jumped at the sound of Minho’s voice, clutching your phone to your chest protectively. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just, we’re here.”

You hadn’t even realized the bus had stopped, but passengers were already getting off, eager to see the mountain from yet another view. Minho slid out of the row and stepped back to let you off in front of him.

“Where are your parents?” you wondered aloud as you passed their empty row.

“Guess they ditched us again,” Minho sighed. “Really loving this family trip. Not that hanging out with you isn’t cool and all,” he amended.

“It’s fine, I get it,” you assured him. “Except I’m going to take it very personally and give you the silent treatment for the rest of the day.”

He shook his head but laughed. You followed the rest of the tourists in your group who were getting into a fast-moving line and joined them at the end. You and Minho had been the last two on the bus so there wasn’t anyone else behind you.

You weren’t even sure what you were in line for, hell, you didn’t even know where you were, but men in beige coveralls were ushering the queue forward impatiently. They gave directions mostly through hand signals, pointing, thumbs up, thumbs down, probably so guests from all around the world could easily understand them.

Before you could even understand what was happening you were enclosed in a cable car that was ascending God knows how high with Minho and one other couple. They looked to be in their seventies, and were speaking Vietnamese to each other, completely oblivious to the seven stages of grief you were going through on the other side of the car.

“Minho” you whispered.

“I know,” he murmured back. He looked quite pale himself, but you knew it likely had more to do with being concerned about you than anything else. He hurriedly glanced around the tiny cabin as if there might be something in there that could help you.

“Minho,” you repeated, this time with more urgency.

“I-I” he paused, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know this was part of the tour. I didn’t mean for- if I had known I would’ve suggested we stay back.”

“I feel sick,” you mumbled.

“Let’s sit down.”

Minho tried to cross the car over to you, but his movement caused the gondola to shake. You barely managed to muffle a scream of terror with your fist. The car swung violently on the wire and you suddenly wondered how up to code these cable cars were. When was the last time they had been inspected? How old were they in the first place?

If you looked closely you could see rust corroding some of the bolts and paint chipping from the benches. It took everything in you not to collapse to the floor and assume fetal position.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Minho apologized. “I’m going to move again, okay?”

“No, please don’t!” you begged.

“I have to! I have to move to get over to you. It’ll just be one more time, I promise.”

You nodded, even though you were dreading it and screwed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the rocking. The jolt was bigger than you expected and for a moment you thought the cable had snapped and you were plummeting towards the ground, but when you opened your eyes you were still moving steadily upward and Minho was by your side.

“Why did you jump!” you cried. “We could’ve died!”

God bless him for his patience. He wasn’t even phased by your accusations, instead he just took you by the hands and eased you onto the bench behind you, sitting next to you a moment later.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you groaned, wiping your sweaty palms on your hands.

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“That’s not true, I yelled at you.”

“I’ve had worse, trust me.”

He was trying to make you laugh, but you were still terrified out of your mind. Your whole body was trembling and your stomach was twisting with nausea. You were trying not to look down, but the whole cabin was made of glass. It was impossible not to look, and closing your eyes only made you feel sicker.

“Want to hold my hand like last time?” Minho offered.

You were quick to accept, grabbing his hand as soon as it was outstretched.

“I’m sorry my palms are clammy.”

“Mine are too, it’s okay,” he assured you, even though they were completely dry.

You squeezed his hand hard, just like you had on the rollercoaster. But it wasn’t making you feel any better.

“Minho, I’m scared.”

“I know, y/n. It’s okay though. You’re safe with me. I’ve got you, I promise. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“How can you say that?” you whined, eyes darting around to all of the windows. “You can’t control whether or not we fall out of the sky!”

You suddenly felt horribly guilty for the other couple trapped in the cable car with you. They were probably just trying to enjoy their vacation and there you were having a mental breakdown thousands of feet in the air with nowhere for them to escape to.

Minho laughed despite himself and used his free hand to grab your face, turning your attention to him.

“Hey, look at me, okay? Don’t look out the windows. Just focus on me.”

“Okay,” you gulped.

You focused on his face. On the way his soft features hardened around the edges. His sharp jawline and perfect nose, easing into the light blush of his cheeks and warm, brown eyes. The dichotomy was striking, and the late afternoon sun that was shining in through the dirty glass made him look angelic. The way the light cast a golden halo around his curls was enough to draw anyone and you found yourself leaning closer and closer to his face.

You were the one to kiss him this time, but he more than reciprocated. The moment your lips touched he was tangling a hand in your hair, groaning softly against your mouth. His lips were just as warm and soft as you remembered, but the kiss was a million times more damning. You were both completely sober, even if you’d been consumed by terror moments earlier. You knew what you were doing. You both did. And you had the first time, but now there was no excuse.

You pulled away a moment later. “I-I’m sorry. I just had to see…”

Minho brought a hand up to your face and you flinched, but all he did was run a thumb across your cheek, collecting a stray tear on his fingertip. You hadn’t even noticed you’d started crying, and whether it was from fear or guilt you couldn’t be sure.

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