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dreamiesdotcom · 3 years

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perhaps, Cupid | nct dream

Summary: You lay down in your bed, watch 13 change to 14 as the clock passes 11:59. You close your eyes, sigh, and hope that the world stops at 12:00 before promptly deciding that Valentine's Day is cancelled.

word count: 2.3k

moon's note: idk why but i usually give gifts during occasions... and out of random... but since its v-day and i caNT give y'all any gifts because idk which part of the world you lovelies are at, so maybe you can please have 2322 words of my nonsense? I tried

When Lee Jeno, the infamous Na Jaemin's best friend, walked inside the room to the dance club's meeting room with all sheepish 'Hello's and eye-smiles, you underestimated just how much havoc he could bring into your life. He seemed way too soft for his own good like he had no mischief under his sleeve — the exact reason why when he poked your sides to get your attention and asked you if you'd "help the dumb kids get together", you were more thrilled than concerned.

Right now, you think you should've agreed with Renjun and said 'that's a bad idea'.

Donghyuck, Jaemin's dormmate, wasn't even there when you planned things out, but well, you blame him. Jaemin bitterly staring at Jisung as the younger gets cuddled by Chenle? Hyuck's fault. Jisung blushing incomprehensible whenever it's Jaemin's turn to dance? Hyuck's fault. It's been days and resident sweet boy absolutely makes no move to court Jisung? Hyuck's fault as well.

"This pining is painful to watch," even Renjun can't help but point out even if he didn't even agree to the plan. Jeno sends you a victorious smile. "Jaemin, he's crushing hard on you."

"Yes, but what if he doesn't like me because—" you don't even get to clearly hear his reasons. You shake your head. Jeno's smile falters.

Jaemin sulks a lot about Jisung spending more time with Renjun than he does with Chenle, and asks the other if Jisung has a crush on him. Renjun groans in loathing, asks him to just go and make a move and repeats the same speech for days. Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, and absolutely nothing happens.

Oh, well, maybe something did. Maybe along the way, you realized that Lee Jeno is one hell of an attractive man.

"Heaven's, Jeno, stop it! Stop pushing me to the side, I can't see what they're doing!"

"They're reading a book for the subject Jisung's tutoring Jaemin in."

"It's a library. Aren't you just inquisitive? That's why they're here. Now let me see!"

"Y/N!"

"Jeno!" you hiss back, still whisper-yelling turning to decently state at him only to find that he's already looking at you. You tilt away in shock, "Flippity pancakes, distance!"

You see, when you start matchmaking, the goal is to get people together — definitely not fall in love with your partner in crime.

"Just say fuck, no one would kill you," he hisses back. The same whining tone is there as he peeks on the other table, "Saying 'flippity pancakes' in a weird accent doesn't wash away your intentions, so just say it already."

"No."

"I dare you."

"No!"

"I double-dare you."

"Jeno."

"Y/N."

"No."

"Do it," he huffs,"Say 'fuck'."

The way he mouths it as if teaching a child to say their first words make you burst out laughing, and for the rest of the day, you forget the mission and get lost into playing games of your own in the library, muffled hums and all. Renjun decides that he's not gonna get any studying done at this table and waves you both goodbye, and you watch as Jeno smiles at him, an expression worthy to compare to that of a luminous star.

And oh, you're in love.

It wasn't all your fault, though. Jeno was way too pretty, too lovely to not fall for. It just so happens that like the fate of you and all things beautiful, you don't deserve him.

You don't deserve him, so he never gets to know.

###

"Be my date for Valentine's day?"

"Hell no."

Apparently, his family has this little gathering that coincidentally matched that time, and he stubbornly refuses to go alone. Why you ask? No reason. He just doesn't want to 'go alone and be forced to socialize with mean cousins' and you spent most of the time teasing about how he's probably one of the mean kids in his family. The rest of the bus ride on the way to school remains silent aside from the neverending proposals and bribings — "I'll treat you candy for one month! I'll do whatever you say for three months! I'll even do your assignments!"

It would be a lie to say it's not tempting, but oh, isn't this just the perfect opportunity to ask Jisung out? The enthusiasm in Jeno's eyes matches yours, and the answer is obvious here: Exactly.

For a whole different reason, the bus ride home is silent too. You sit side by side in pure quiet, Jaemin tugging at your sleeves every now and then to gain your attention. You brush him off, keeping your head against the glass with your eyes closed. You don't speak even after getting inside his apartment and the indifference makes Donghyuck pause halfway his concerned nagging, deciding to usher Renjun and Jeno out with such lame excuse of buying ingredients for dinner.

You go straight to their bathroom to get some supplies, and Jaemin sits on the couch, antsy. He silently curses Donghyuck for leaving, Huang Renjun and Lee Jeno too, those traitors. You sit in front of him, doing your stuff without making eye contact.

"Please talk to me—"

"Shut up."

A dejected whimper leaves his lips, and you quite possibly break. You sigh as if to calm down, and you mutter a warning: "Don't."

"But why aren't you talking to me?"

Why... why would you even ask that?

"You promised me, Jaemin. You made a promise to me." you coldly say, dainty fingers pressing cotton against the cut in his lip. "You promised me that you'll stop getting into fights."

Realization seems to flash in his eyes. He seems torn between reasoning and apologizing, but first, he chases after the hand you pulled away from him. You shrug him off harshly this time.

"I did, for the longest time, you saw that! But he called Jisung a—" he looks at you with betrayed eyes, as if a kicked puppy. He never liked that tone. He never liked how distant that felt coming from you, so tears brim his eyes. "Don't be so cold to me..."

"Jisung let him be. Isn't that enough hint that it's not worth it?" your tone remains the same. The fear in your chest remains stubborn, and no matter how many times he squeezes the hand he's holding, it doesn't bring you ease. It only urges tears that you try so hard to hold back as you croak out,

"Jaemin, this will not make him fall in love with you."

The world seems to pause.

"But I already love him." He answers quickly, honestly, and the raw sincerity in his tone is just a fine, thorough stab in the gut. "And I just want to protect him."

It's painful how you're not even regretting this as much as you should — maybe, part of the reason you keep on chasing him is because it's painful. True to your twisted self, maybe it's the sole reason after all. You don't know why you keep on doing this to yourself — you hate it. You hate how the more things hurt you, the deeper you fall. You hate how you can't seem to tear away from him as quick as possible because you know that what comes next will be even more painful, and might even destroy you.

With all these thoughts inside your mind, you let him lean his head in the crook of your neck, holding him in the way you always wanted. Selfishly, you hope that it could always be like this.

"I know, Nana..." you whisper, his locks soft as silk as you brush them with your fingers. "and for the exact same reason, I want to protect you too."

You take a deep, shaky breath. "So don't hurt yourself. Not for anyone, not for the world... no matter how much you love them."

Why is it so easy to say the things that'd keep you safe, but so hard to even attempt just following them? It's as if the Universe wants you hurt, wants to see you bleed unshed blood. It doesn't make sense.

The rules have been pretty simple; never fall in love. You're helping people get together — you come later, priorities first. Don't fall in love; not with your partner, not with your other accomplices, and especially, not with the fools you're helping.

The rule has been simple. Only that you think, it was way easier to break them than to follow, and you've failed this rule pretty early on.

Just how can you not adore Na Jaemin?

###

You laugh loudly, almost hitting your head to your headboard as you look at Jisung's post. In the picture, Jaemin smiles bubbly, and the caption's way too cheesy to read. Even though you were the one who helped them get together, it's still hard to believe that they actually did, these messes of human beings. You type out a quick 'Congrats to surviving one year together. Give credits to my brain cells, pls' and then turning the device off.

You lay down in your bed, watch 13 change to 14 as the clock passes 11:59. You close your eyes, sigh, hope the world stops at 12:00 before promptly deciding that Valentine's Day is cancelled.

Your phone vibrates in your hold, and you grumble.

From: not hyuck

It's Valentine's day

Let's use that as an excuse to get ice cream at midnight

You stir, set on ignoring his message, but you quickly shoot up once you hear the sound of something — hopefully not pebbles, God, let it not be pebbles — hitting your window. Seriously?!

To: not hyuck

Is that

Is that you throwing stones at my fucking window

STOP YOU MIGHT BREAK THE GLASS

And that's exactly how you found yourself with sticky fingers from the desert's residue, watching red lights cover the city in celebration of love. It seems ironic. Today of all days, you don't feel dear at all — it's alright, you convince yourself, it's been a year and it's hurting less now.

It's all lies, of course. It doesn't matter that it wasn't this painful all the other days; what matters is that now it hurts, and it fucking hurts like hell.

From up here, if you spread your arms and think hard enough, the wind would make it seem as though you're flying. You do just like that, the flavor of vanilla suddenly so bitter on your tongue as you realize that there's no escape. Oh, how you hate this day. It makes you chuckle.

Renjun sighs, "What's troubling you?"

"Fun. What gave me away?"

"Your eyes." He shrugs. "They sure tell more things about you than your mouth does."

"How do they look?" you ask out of curiosity, unconsciously moving up to feel your lashes. "My eyes..."

"Well, right now... they look kind of conflicted. Sad. Happy. Somewhere in between, like the person who owns them... doesn't really know. And, well, they're incredibly..." Renjun ponders for a bit; beautiful, he wanted to say. "Hard to read."

"Doesn't sound like it if you said that much."

Did it sound so rude that you were nonchalant? Probably. You're too tired to mind, though. It'd be a lie to say you didn't expect this, to feel alone once they get together, to be scared of being erased in their lives, to be afraid of being less important now. You knew none of them would be real, but that doesn't stop you from being afraid. Would it make sense to say you don't care at all, at this point? To say you don't give a damn when truly, you do. You care so much you feel indifferent.

"You liked them, didn't you?"

And then comes along the question you're most afraid of.

"You were in love with Jisung... now, you're in love with Jaemin." he muses to himself, "Yet you're the one making sure they end up together. What the hell are you?"

Since there's no place for lies in friendship...

"Do you see the way they look? They deserve to be happy, and me... well. Well, I..." you search for words you can't seem to find. After all, you don't even know where to go now — isn't this what you wanted? For Jisung and Jaemin to get together. What's this all about? You bemusedly shake your head, "Should've just fallen for you, huh."

Accelerate, heartbeat, flying — you turn to look at his direction — your eyes tell, your eyes say so much... how do you feel?

"You'd catch me, right, Renjunnie?"

"I'm not some back-up plan, excuse you." He rolls his eyes, huffing, "But, why not? Certainly. Would be my pleasure."

You stare at him in wonder, awestruck, amused and amazed. It's just a random joke you made so you wouldn't have to answer him truthfully, but goddamn, this — you feel oddly seen, chosen; as if you've never been chosen before. Maybe he's right. His heart picks up speed as more minutes pass in silence, so he looks away and smiles sheepishly.

Renjun closes his eyes briefly, "You didn't answer my question, though. To do whatever the hell you were doing... what the fuck are you?"

Both poison and sugar linger on your lips as you smile.

"Perhaps, Cupid."

Maybe, yes, right, Cupid. Makes sense. A matchmaker who creates perfect love, and quite possibly, trouble. Always setting people up but maybe not themselves. Renjun agrees, and so he whispers,

"Suits you. An angel."

You stare at him again, only this time around it's soft but startled, and for a brief moment of losing himself, Renjun whispers in his mind — hey, Cupid. Love me, will you?

Instead, in the real world, he gives you the same exact gaze — only fonder. Renjun knows. He knows that you fell in love thrice in this journey; once, with Park Jisung, another, with Lee Jeno, and lastly, with Na Jaemin.

Maybe, just maybe, Renjun wishes that at this tale of Valentine's chapter closed, you'll fall in love with him too.

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littlepuffrosebud · 7 years

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Love, and Simon Snow

Me: Write more of your other fic. Me to me: Start a totally new one So this is a best friends au that I intended to be cute and sweet but instead turned angsty as fuck. I hope you enjoy it?? Idk how I feel about it, but here you go!

It was midnight, and Baz had never been so frustrated. The house shifted quietly around him, creaking and groaning in a way that usually lulled him to sleep. But not tonight. Tonight, there was a distraction in the form of a very golden, very shirtless Simon Snow.

Even though he knew it would do him no good, Baz couldn’t help but stare. Who could ever resist Simon? He was curled into Baz’s sheets, curls a tangled mass on the pillowcase. His arms were thrown up around his head, as if to ward off nightmares, face twisted into a slight frown. The sheets were twisted around his waist; from Baz’s angle, it looked as though Simon wasn’t wearing anything - a thought that sent unwanted thrums of pleasure pooling into his stomach. He shouldn’t be thinking like this, not when he knew the feelings were unwanted, and especially not when it was his best friend. His completely straight best friend. But it was so hard to pretend otherwise, not when his friend’s tawny skin glowed so temptingly in the moonlight. Not when even a simple touch made his skin crawl with need, with love. It was just so hard to resist.

***

“Hey Simon! You free tonight?” Baz glared at his books as the voice shattered the peace of the library. It was one thing to disturb his study, but another thing to be one of Simon’s ridiculous swim club friends. The girls were clingy and far too knowledgeable for his liking, whilst the boys were the pathetic macho-macho type. It was all ‘bro’ and ‘No Homo’, accompanied by copious amounts of energy drinks and branded sweatshirts. God forbid they ever actually use their brains. Simon slid into a seat across from him, grinning. “Hey,” he whispered. Baz raised an eyebrow coolly. “So now you finally decide to whisper?” Simon rolled his eyes mightily. “Don’t start again Baz. They’re nothing like you think they are. Besides, you’ll have to get used to them tonight-” “Tonight?” Simon smirked. “We’re going to Gavin’s. He’s celebrating our latest swimming victory.” Baz groaned and turned his attention back to his essay on the power of symbolism in literature. “I’m not going, Si.” Simon sniggered. “Yes you are. We need to celebrate!” “Celebrate what, exactly? I don’t remember winning anything.” Even without looking, Baz could hear the pout in Simon’s voice. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember, Baz?” He gasped dramatically. “It’s our friendaversary today!” “You just made that up.” Simon sighed. “I did not. Haven’t you been counting, Bazzy?” “Don’t call me that.” “You’re being impossible again. Today is officially twelve years since we became friends.” Baz looked up sharply. “Today?” Simon’s eyes were overly bright, his smile stretched thin. As Baz stared at him, he was struck by how tired his friend really seemed. “I don’t think partying is a good idea, Si,” he began. “No, Baz. Please. I need this.” Simon grabbed at his hand desperately. “It’s not all bad is it? I mean look at us. Some good came out of it, don’t you think?” Baz withdrew his hand uncomfortably. He hated it when Simon talked about it so carelessly. But then again, he was no better. He knew how much it hurt. “Fine,” he sighed. Simon gasped excitedly. “But I am not carrying your alcohol-sodden butt back to my house again.” Simon grinned wickedly. “I can give you no such promises Baz.”

***

The house was swirling with teenage hormones when Baz arrived, the house pulsing to the beat of trashy music. As he walked up the garden path to the front door, Baz resisted the urge to curl his lips back in disgust. People were spilling out of the house onto the front lawn, stumbling over one another and groaning incoherently. It was a poster image of the very reason why his father looked down so strongly on those of ‘unfortunate circumstances’.

Baz fought his way through the press of bodies inside. The rooms were dim, lit only by technicolour lights that spun from the ceiling. In the hallway, Baz collided sharply with Gareth. “Baz my man! How are you my brooding vampire bro?” Baz sneered. “I’m no one’s ‘bro’, Gareth.” Gareth laughed loudly, and slapped Baz on the back. “Of course you’re not. Booze is in the kitchen.” He disappeared before Baz could ask him where Simon might be. Resigned, he fought his way into the kitchen. If he had to battle his way through this hell hole for several more hours, then he may as well do it with alcohol.

Baz stumbled to a halt. Simon was there, propped up against the sink. Only, he wasn’t alone. A boy was with him, hands wrapped around Simon’s waist, sucking bruises into his collarbone. Baz’s stomach turned to ice. Simon had his legs wrapped around the boy’s waist, and he was smirking down at him. Baz couldn’t seem to move; his legs seemed to be bolted into the ground. He felt as though he might be sick. Dimly, he recognised that he had to get out of here, fast, before he did something stupid. But it was as if the world were mocking him. He couldn’t seem to move, and the boy kissed on, fingers sliding underneath Simon’s shirt. Baz must have made a sound, because suddenly Simon was staring at him. “Baz?”

The voice echoed in his ears strangely, as though they were full of water. The boy turned to stare at Baz, and Baz felt his heart seize pathetically. He had dark hair that grazed his chin; his eyes were glittering as though he knew something Baz didn’t. Simon began to move towards him, and suddenly the spell was broken. Baz spun around and fought his way to the front door; this time, he slipped through the people like water. He stumbled out into the cool night air, gasping for breath. Behind him, the party raged on. “Baz! Baz!” Simon’s voice fought its way through the crush of people, and Baz leaped over the low garden wall, into the street. But he was too slow. A hand grabbed onto his arm, and he stumbled forward. Baz knew by the hand alone who it was. No one else was that warm. As he whirled to face Simon, Baz attempted to school his features into a mask of indifference. Simon could never know how he truly felt. “I’m so sorry, Baz, it wasn’t-” Baz sneered. “What in god’s name are you apologising for?” Simon stared at him. “I-I-” “It’s quite obvious you’re enjoying yourself without me. I’m going home.” Baz snapped. He needed to get away from here before he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He needed to go home and bury himself in several layers of self-hatred and pity. “No, Baz. Just wait a minute. It wasn’t what it looked like, I promise!” “I’ve already told you, Snow. I don’t care.” Simon’s eyes turned round with shock. “You-you called me Snow.” Baz laughed, and the sound was cold and empty. “Five points to Snow for deduction.” Simon stumbled sideways and fell onto the street. Baz raised an eyebrow. “And you’re drunk. I am surprised.” Simon groaned from his position on the ground. “Please, Bazzy. Be nice.” The name lit a match to the sludge of unrequited love swirling in Baz’s heart. “Please, Snow. You did this to yourself.” Simon’s face twisted into a mask of hurt and anger. “Take that back, you-you-” Baz smirked. “Or what? You’re in no state to argue, Snow.” Simon lurched forward, at the same time as a shrill ringing split the air. He collapsed backwards and dug out his phone, hands shaking. “Dad?” He asked. Baz watched him warily, watched as Simon slowly deflated, his eyes flat lining. “Okay,” was all he said, before ending the call and sliding his phone back into his pocket. Simon looked back up at him. “Take me home,” he said. It wasn’t a question. There was something in his voice that made Baz silently reach for his hand, and tug him to his feet. “Care to explain?” He asked. Simon smiled, but it didn’t fit his face. “Father requires my presence, Basilton.” Baz wrapped an arm around Simon’s shoulders to steady him as they began to walk down the street. His stomach was burning with guilt; how had he fucked up so magnificently? “Simon,” he began. “I-I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t true.” Simon grunted. “If you say so.” Baz felt awful. “No, Si. I was angry, okay? And I know that doesn’t excuse what I said, but it was wrong. Anyone would feel like you do on a day like today. God knows I do.” Simon shifted underneath his arm, and twisted his head to look at Baz. His blue eyes were sad. “It’s okay, Baz. I know you didn’t mean it. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t remember any of this by morning.” Baz twisted his mouth into a thin line. He wouldn’t forget, and that made it all the more painful. They were quiet for a while, stumbling steadily through the quiet town that had imprisoned them for so long. Simon spoke up suddenly, as they were turning onto his street. “Go on. Ask me. I know you want to.”

“Are you gay?” The words hung heavy in the night air, weighed down with so many hopes and implications Baz could barely breathe. Simon laughed drily. “We live in a town where you must be one or the other. I am neither. But I can’t be nothing, can I? I am what I am instructed to be.” Baz frowned down at him. “That was utterly incomprehensible.” Simon sighed, and slid out from underneath Baz’s arm. “If only it could be otherwise, Baz.” They’d reached Simon’s house, standing grand and imposing across from Baz’s slightly larger home. A single light was on; Baz knew it to be Simon’s kitchen. Simon turned and smiled at him, “Goodnight, Baz. I’m sorry for ruining your night.” He was gone before Baz could reply. The front door opened for him of its own accord, and as it clicked shut, Baz felt a shiver of fear. He didn’t know why.

#snowbaz #best friends au #elena's words #i'm sorry for angst #i need to go soak in a bath of fluff #more chapters coming

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