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sungbeam · 1 year

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OFF THE RECORD ▷ PART ONE (EP1-8)

nonidol!ji changmin x fem!reader

everyone thinks changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.

▷ genre, part warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, (extra) slow burn, fluff, angst, mentions of childhood trauma and parental manipulation, arguing, bittersweet galore, nct ten is there for the sole purpose of being nosy like the rest of us or for being a 2nd male lead who knows!, swearing, hurt/comfort, ji changmin dancing. (need i go on), symptoms of panic/anxiety, a lot of non-tbz moments sorry i meant it when i said extra slow burn, pining haha...ha (very subtle)

▷ PART ONE WC. 18.5k

this is the third installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but i encourage u to read jacob and eric's storylines too! all prev and future yns will be referred to as _!yn ;) / otr part two

a/n: this was going to be a very quirky author's note, but it's not anymore bc i'm really mad at tumblr. pls enjoy :')

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OFF THE CLOCK

"NIGHT, Yn!"

"Good night, Yn-ie."

"Make sure you get some rest, Yn-ah! Good luck with the report."

The door out of the laboratory building shuttered closed after your last coworkers and peers swept out to leave you to the white noise of the lights above your head and the cooling units. You were probably the only person crazy enough to still be chained to your lab workbench on a Friday night, especially when it was already six o'clock. Your stomach growled its complaints as you tucked a pen behind your ear with a sigh. There was probably a bag of shrimp chips in the break room snack stash, and you pushed your stool beneath the workbench to head into the break room.

Now that the laboratory was practically barren except for you, it wouldn't be a bad idea to take the reign of Kun's speaker…

The sound of your phone ringtone blared out loud from your pocket, and you scrambled to grab it with your other hand not occupied with shrimp chip crumb dust (after having washed your hands, of course). You put the call on speaker then deposited your phone onto the countertop so both hands could be used for eating. "Yo."

"You've been hanging around Mark too much," Yeri answered from the other end.

You snorted, covering your mouth for a moment, then replying, "Well good evening to you, too, my beloved. What's up?"

You could hear the muffled sounds of your friends from the other side of the phone. A car door slammed shut. "Hey-yo, is that Yn? Yn, what's up, my dude?"

"Mark, can you speak like a regular human?" That was Seungkwan. "Hi Yn-ie! We miss you, mwah!"

"Look, man. Me and Yn are homies, and this is literally just how I talk—"

The car door opened and Yeri must have taken initiative to get out of the car herself at this point. You laughed at her audible eye roll. "Okay, now that you've heard what I have to deal with, will you tell me that you're coming to the dance draft show tonight?"

Your mood soured.

It wasn't that you didn't want to go for Yeri's sanity's sake, you just didn't want to go, period. What the performing arts called a rehearsal, they referred to as a "draft" stage, where they planned rough runs of acts for the showcase. It just so happened that the dance department was holding their draft show for people to sit-in to watch tonight; their final showcase would be held on the Friday night of finals week, which was only in a few weeks now.

(Why did they call it a "draft" stage instead of simply a "rehearsal"? Well, you had no clue, and you didn't have any plans to ask anyone who would know the answer.)

When you didn't immediately answer, you heard Yeri's grumble. "Don't nerd out on me, Miss Yn Ln."

You gasped. "Nerd out on you? I'm being responsible—"

"You're being a workaholic!"

You pursed your lips together and quickly rinsed your fingers of shrimp chip crumbs. "Fair. But I'm sorry, I'm not going."

A brief pause. Then, the sigh. "Okay. That's okay," she said. "Wanna meet us for dinner afterwards at least?"

Your stomach grumbled, right on cue. It wasn't loud enough for Yeri to hear on the other end, but the timing made you laugh to yourself. "Definitely."

There was a smile in your friend's voice. "Cool! I'll text you details once we figure out what's happening. In the mean—" her voice was interrupted by the sound of muffled yelling on the other side, and Yeri pulled her mouth away from the phone so she could screech at Seungkwan, Mark, and now, Kim Jungwoo, to be quiet and put their seatbelts on. You heard vaguely about Jungwoo being late for his call time, and you were not at all surprised. She returned to the phone with a grumble. "You're really leaving me with the kids, Yn?"

You giggled. "Sorry, Yeri. I'll pay for your dinner."

"Deal. See you soon, babe."

"See ya, love!"

When the phone call ended, you realized just how thick the silence fell around you. It settled like a blanket over your senses, and it all became a bit overwhelming, especially after such a loud phone call.

You sighed, putting the shrimp chips back in the snack stash. You might as well go find where Kun hid his speaker to fill the silence then.

— ✶

People were yelling. And tripping. And crying.

In retrospect, this constituted as a normal backstage environment for something like a finals showcase draft rehearsal. It was hardly even a rehearsal, but more so a sneak peek showcase. There were people in the audience, after all.

Ji Changmin would know. This would be his third winter draft show out of his three years here in university. There were always showcases at the end of each quarter, but the winter show wielded the title of most anticipated. With the cold and rainy weather keeping most people indoors, it allowed for a larger crowd to come flocking toward said indoor modes of entertainment. Thus, the winter showcase and all of its hype.

Changmin lingered in his little corner of the backstage area, calmly stretching out his lanky limbs while chaos erupted all around him. He had two acts this time around—a duet with Lee Juyeon, as well as a solo performance. It had been enough to keep him busy for the quarter, among his other classes.

"—Jungwoo, you're late!"

He raised his head at the sound of Lee Minho’s voice from across the room, the dirty blond sending a deadpanned glare at the man in question. Kim Jungwoo’s eyes were wide with doe-like innocence as he made his way toward his friend, his posse following behind and taking in the chaos with amused awe. Changmin could easily recognize those present—Kim Yeri, Mark Lee, and Boo Seungkwan.

He turned his head away; it wasn’t his business, and he had much bigger things to worry about.

He raised his hands to his neck to put his headphones over his ears, but paused when he caught a few more echoes of their conversation.

“ — sorry Minho, but you know I can’t resist getting a free carpool ride,” Jungwoo said while setting his duffle bag in the corner and swiftly joining Minho in stretches. If Changmin was a hard ass when it came to dance and schedules, Minho was much worse. But Changmin respected him a lot, especially in a craft like dance and performance—he saw him as an equal.

A sigh from Minho. “Yeah, yeah. Poor Yeri.”

Yeri huffed, her hands shooting up into the air. “Thank you!”

Minho folded his arms over his chest as he stood up straight to stand next to Yeri as the two of them absentmindedly watched Jungwoo fold himself in two to stretch his long legs out. “Huh, no Yn tonight?”

Changmin didn’t know why he was still listening. He slowly lowered his headphones back to their position around his neck, then resumed stretching out his hamstrings. He could wait a couple more minutes before getting into his choreography…

“You know you’re not gonna see her anywhere near this place,” Yeri said with a pointed look. Changmin held back a retort, or even a snort. “Wanna get dinner with us tonight? She’s coming to meet us after the show.”

“Ah, I’d love to, but I promised Jisung I’d swing by the studio afterwards. Hey, have you met Ten yet? You should ask…”

Changmin decided that this was an appropriate moment to tune out. He swiftly donned his headphones and reached for his phone hidden in the pile of his duffle bag and jackets in the corner. He didn’t even know why he listened in when your friends brought you up. Why were you even still connected to the dance and performing arts department people anyway? He huffed, rolling his eyes with a small shake of his head. It wasn’t like you wanted to be connected to dance anyway. So why give him a constant reminder of your existence and the past you shared—

“Changminnie!” Juyeon appeared in front of him, waving to him with that goofy smile to get his attention.

Changmin broke into a smile as he shifted one side of his headphones from his ear. “Hey. Wanna go over some of the routine?”

Juyeon nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready. I was trying to get your attention, but I think you were just occupied.”

Whoops. Changmin flicked his wrist as he followed Juyeon down the hallway to a more private place to practice with his friend. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking of something.”

“Oh, okay,” Juyeon ducked his head into an empty dressing room in the back hallway, beckoning Changmin to follow him in. “Nothing to worry about though? You can talk to me; no judgment.”

Changmin chuckled and closed the door behind him. “Nah, nothing important. Let’s just focus on the performance.” Anything involving you? Definitely not important anymore.

— ✶

Late February brought the cold, bitter winds of night to the university, so the trek all the way across campus from the laboratory buildings to the performing arts hall was a hellish one. You kept your head tucked into the puffy collar of your puffer jacket, hands stuffed into your pockets, a happy tune blasting in your ears to keep you going all the way up the road. It was around nine o’clock by the time you made it to the front of the performing arts hall, and you could already see the sea of people meandering outside its doors post-draft show.

You shivered and pulled your phone out from your pocket to see where your friends were waiting for you.

“Yn-ie!”

Your head lifted and you grinned, waving your hand at Seungkwan who was making his way over to you. “Hi Kwannie,” you greeted and wrapped your arms around him in a warm embrace.

When you’d pulled away, Seungkwan made a face as he shuddered. “Jesus, it’s cold. I should have brought a scarf or something. Did you walk here?”

You began to nod, but he tsked. “Aish, Yn. You should’ve called! No one should have to walk in this torturous cold.”

You laughed. “It’s no big deal. We’re about to go get some hot food, so it’s cool.”

“We might have to wait for a little longer.” Both you and Seungkwan turned toward Yeri, Mark, and Jungwoo who were walking over. Jungwoo had a sweatband holding his bangs out of his face and his duffle slung over his shoulder. He had his jacket draped over his arm; he was probably warm from the showcase. “We’re waiting on Ten to finish up.”

“Hi Jungwoo,” you greeted him, and the man returned the expression with a side hug. You furrowed your brows. “Who’s Ten?’’

Mark replied with a sniffle from the cold, “Oh, he’s a new exchange student! Well, he was originally admitted here, but he went abroad for a year. He's with the NCT frat. Super cool, super funny. He’s great at dance though.”

“I think you’ll vibe with him, Yn,” Yeri chimed in. “He’s asking a couple people for their opinion on a few parts of his routine, so I think he’ll be out soon.”

You nodded in understanding. You didn’t mind waiting, but you hoped what Yeri said about him was true. Hopefully you did get along with him, because you were honestly far too tired to forcefully play nice. You were hoping for a chill night anyway. Then again, as long as you could avoid a certain someone tonight, this would turn out to be a chill night in general.

You and your friends chatted for a few minutes only before Jungwoo caught someone’s eyes from behind you, Yeri, and Mark. He brightened. “Ten! Ten, over here!”

You all swiveled.

Ten was just as lean and lithe as Jungwoo was, but with black bangs, a pair of round spectacles hanging from the collar of his white T-shirt, and a cute smile on his face. You and he made brief eye contact before Jungwoo was hopping on the balls of his feet to greet him.

Jungwoo slung an arm around Ten’s shoulders as he brought him over to the group. “Yn, this is Ten Lee. Ten, this is Yn-ie—the friend we mentioned earlier.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Why was I mentioned?” You laughed nervously.

Ten flashed you a boyish kind of smile. “Oh, it was nothing; don’t worry. It’s nice to meet you though.”

Your heart didn't slow at his assurance. “Ah, okay then. Uh, nice to meet you, too!”

“Did you get your routine settled?” Seungkwan asked as the lot of you began to move in one, loose blob toward Yeri’s car. (How all of you would manage to fit, that was something you mentally were trying to figure out. In Yeri’s tiny sedan, you might have to squish four people into the back seat.)

Ten nodded enthusiastically. “Yup, it’s all sorted. Minho and Changmin were really helpful with their comments.”

You felt the people around you freeze at the mention of Changmin’s name. You stiffened as well, but tried to force the strange feeling to go away. Your friends knew the drill, too, but you saw the way they glanced at you from their periphery.

Ten was smart, you realized, when his head tilted at all of your reactions.

Time for damage control. “That’s—that’s good!” Mark’s voice cracked and coughed to clear it. “I mean, Minho’s always been really attentive to details and stuff. I think he was almost recruited to become an idol or something like that…”

Ten pursed his lips, as if silently saying, ‘I’m not buying this bull’. You decided to just… do it. “Changmin’s a great dancer, too,” you said, and everyone shot disbelieving glances your way, but you could already see how Ten was grasping onto everything you were saying. You forced a neutral tone into the way you spoke, forced yourself not to let the bitterness seep through. No one deserved to fall victim to the feelings that were only meant for one Ji Changmin. “I’m glad he helped you out. He’s really good at sharp movements and isolations.”

“Oh, do you dance, Yn?” Ten piped up with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Ruh roh,” you heard Seungkwan murmur, and he shuffled away from you to go to the other side of Yeri’s car.

Maybe you purposefully let him see right through you. “Not really. It was a long time ago.”

You and Ten held eye contact, the silent tension like communication passed between the two of you—this was personal, but Ten could figure out that there was more to the story. It was odd though; the way he didn’t fear prodding just a little bit. You didn’t know why you were letting yourself feed him more bait, but Yeri was hollering for the two of you to squeeze into the backseat, and you snapped out of it.

Weird…

Ten held the backseat door open for you. “Looking forward to getting to know you, Yn,” he said pleasantly.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you slipped into the backseat. “Same to you…”

EPISODE TWO: OFF THE TABLE

YOUR curiosity won you out.

In fact, it won you over so much that you agreed to get coffee with Ten Saturday afternoon—with Mark and Yeri, of course. The four of you had coordinated stopping by one of the coffee shops in the shopping mall just down the hill from the university to hang out and destress a little from the incoming second wave of STEM midterms. Well, you needed to destress. Mark was in communications, Yeri in psychology, and Ten was… what was Ten’s major again?

“Foreign affairs,” he answered before lifting the straw of his iced americano to his lips. “Lots of foreign language classes and politics and history. Politics and capitalism classes are not my favorite, but all the cultural courses on campus are really great.”

You bobbed your head, propping your chin onto your palm. You sat across from him at one of high tables in the cafe; Mark and Yeri’s stools were barren, save for the belongings they left for you and Ten to watch, while they literally sprinted across the mall to the grocery store because they forgot they were supposed to bring booze to the NCT-RVE joint alumni homecoming tonight. You probably weren’t going to go just because social energy came in short supply these days, but you promised to send a card for your friends in RVE.

“I can imagine,” you commented. “I took a really neat course on African tribes and culture in freshman year, and I miss my professor a lot. I sometimes wonder what would have happened had I joined his study abroad program in Ghana instead of staying here.”

Ten’s head did the tilt thing again, the one you recognized from last night as something he did when he was intrigued. “That does sound really cool. What made you stay?”

Where do I even begin? “My major,” you replied simply. It wasn’t really a lie—not entirely a lie. You sipped on your latte, a faraway look in your eyes. “I was so set on a plan that I guess I got nervous about the unknown should I have gone on that trip.”

“Mm, I understand.” He had taken on a softer look now, something more akin to empathy. “It is a little scary, but while I was in Indonesia, I realized I wouldn’t have traded such an experience for anything else."

You set your cup down. "Have you always wanted to dabble in global affairs?"

"Uh, I'm not sure," he said, head tilted upward with a scrunch in his nose. He nudged his glasses up the smooth slope of his sculpted nose. "I was kind of put in a situation where I had to learn a lot of new languages, and I luckily turned out to be pretty good at picking up on them."

"Wow, that's really cool," you chuckled. A talent you definitely envied. And it seemed like Ten had made the decision to pursue this future of his on his own. You wished you could say the same.

From the counter of the café, you heard one of the workers call out your order number for cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven.

You began to slip off your stool, and Ten spoke up, "Oh, I can totally go get those."

"It's no problem," you chirped, "I'm already down anyway." You were swift to scurry over to the counter and pick up your table's tray of cinnamon rolls with a smile at the worker in deep gratitude. The thick, warm sweetness wafted into your nose, and you inhaled the delights with a blissful grin.

However, as you turned to head back to the table, you halted abruptly, nearly knocking the plates on the tray into each other.

There, standing next to your table and chatting with Ten, were Ji Changmin and Choi Chanhee.

Great.

The sweet dessert smell soured and tasted like acid on your tongue. Bitter, like the taste of hot coffee straight from the pot. You schooled your face into neutrality, but there was no way all of the uncomfortableness could stay away.

You made your way over; the tray was getting heavy.

"—actually here with Yn, Mark, and Yeri—" Ten was pointing your way and you had to control your urge to hide.

Changmin and Chanhee's heads turned in sync, but only Changmin's eyes narrowed at the sight of you. You returned the expression wholeheartedly.

Chanhee held his breath, muttering a "Yikes" under his breath, while Ten observed the interaction with slightly parted lips. Huh.

"Ji."

"Ln."

You deposited the tray onto the table and your biceps sighed in relief. Those four cinnamon rolls truly were quite hefty on their own.

You could still feel Changmin’s eyes on you as you slid onto the stool across from Ten. “Something you’d like to say to me?” You addressed him with ill-suppressed snark.

Changmin’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing that you’ll take into importance anyway. Just didn’t think you would ever hang out with someone from the dance department.”

“Ten’s got a life outside of dance, Changmin,” you replied. You flashed him a thin-lipped smile. “He gets it.”

“And you’re so much better than me for having a so-called life,” he rolled his eyes. “You know, some people are just really passionate about dance—something you seem to still not understand.”

“I really don’t think you want me to bring up the trove of things you don’t understand—”

Chanhee subtly moved over to Ten’s side as the two of them observed the sparring match between you and Changmin. A sigh fell from his lips, and his eyebrows raised up all the way to his pink-dyed hairline.

Ten had taken one of the plates of cinnamon buns in front of him, silently offering Chanhee some. The latter refused, and Ten began to peel away one of the sultry, sweet dough layers. “Is this… normal?” He asked Chanhee under his breath, motioning to the still-bickering couple across from them.

Chanhee snorted. “It’s their mating call.”

It seemed he had said those four words loud enough to catch yours and Changmin’s attention. A miracle, indeed.

“Ew,” both you and Changmin immediately grimaced at Chanhee. Then you looked at one another with a greater degree of disgust. “Stop copying me!”

…Or, less so a miracle, but rather, a tragedy.

Chanhee let out a haggard sigh, eyes sullen to a deadpan. “One of the few things the two of you will ever agree on.”

“The last thing we’ll ever agree on,” Changmin grumbled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “C’mon Chanhee. We should probably order before JC!Yn and Kei finish loading up the car.”

Changmin was already making his way over to the cashier when Ten managed to get in a final question, “Are you guys coming to the NCT-RVE homecoming tonight?”

“Sure—”

“No.”

Chanhee sent Ten an apologetic look for Changmin’s brusque answer. “Sorry about him. We were thinking of it, but he might be practicing with Juyeon tonight. See you later, Ten—and Yn!” He chased after Changmin, ambushing his friend by practically leaping onto his back and then smacking his shoulder.

Now that Changmin was away from you, the red in your vision had begun to clear away, and you finally remembered the set of delicious cinnamon rolls waiting for you.

Ten propped his cheek against his fist. “So… you and Changmin…”

You made a sour face as you cut off a slice of your cinnamon roll. “What about the gremlin?” You asked. As soon as the buttery, sweet delight hit your tongue, you felt your body lighten and you did a little happy dance in your seat.

Ten chuckled at your behavior. “Lovers gone wrong?”

You choked on the bite.

Your new friend’s eyes widened comically to the size of saucers as he literally pounced across the table to pat your back. “Shit—sorry, Yn. I probably should’ve waited for you to finish swallowing, huh?” He winced when you’d managed to breathe correctly and washed the bite of food down with a sip of coffee. He returned to his perch, letting you recover while he talked through his thoughts. “I don’t mean to pry—actually—” he paused, reconsidering, “—I do mean to pry. Sorry, I’m kind of a sucker for this kind of stuff.”

One of your eyes squinted at him as you massaged your throat. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

He beamed at you boyishly, the kind of expression that almost had your defenses slipping. Almost. Ten was one slippery fellow. For some reason, you kind of respected him for being upfront about the nosiness, and if you were being honest, if this drama wasn’t yours, you would also be curious about the whole thing.

“Can’t help myself sometimes,” he confessed with a mere shrug. “You don’t owe an explanation or backstory, of course.”

You sucked in a breath, opting to hold back on eating your pastry until you and Ten were done with this topic. “I’m just going to say that Changmin and I were not ‘lovers gone wrong’,” you said, body shuddering.

“Mm,” he hummed. His eyes wandered behind you and over your head, swiftly followed by the action of waving to Changmin and Chanhee on their way out of the cafe. “It’s just interesting to me. Didn’t you just advocate for him the other night at the draft show?”

That rang a bell, unfortunately. “It’s complicated.”

Ten pressed his mouth into a saccharine smile. “I can imagine.”

EPISODE THREE: OFF THE PHONE

THERE was an avid knocking at the laboratory door, usually done by those who didn’t actually work at this specific lab. This lab area was usually reserved for upperclassmen and graduate students and their work.

“Yn-ie, could you get the door, please?” You heard Kun called out to you from his office. It wasn’t just the two of you tonight, but rather, just a few others you didn’t know as well as you did Kun. He often worked late hours like you did, always overworking himself even more as a fresh grad student. You, on the other hand, were trying to finish up this one research paper resulting from last quarter’s research project. If you were lucky, you would be able to send it off to be peer reviewed soon.

You slipped out from behind your workbench and maneuvered the maze of workbenches to head out into the corridor. Exhaustion wore at your bones from having such a long day, but you really did need to get some productive work done so you could focus specifically on your midterms approaching at the end of this week and the beginning of the following week.

However, as you turned the corner into the corridor, you nearly missed your footing. At the end of the hallway where the glass door to the outside was, you found yourself identifying one Ji Changmin and his friend, someone you didn’t recognize. The latter wore a gray hoodie beneath a black puffer vest, and he reacted the opposite to how Changmin did when they caught sight of you.

“Hey! Could you open the door, please?” Not-Changmin hollered through the glass, furiously shaking his sweater-pawed hand down at the door handle.

You didn’t want to. God, you really didn’t want to.

Changmin stared you down, as if daring you to come closer.

You opened the door, and let the cool gust of late February air and two outsiders into the safety and warmth of the laboratory building.

Hoodie Guy shuddered violently to get the cold out of his system. “Jesus, it’s cold outside. Thanks,” he said to you. Then he nudged Changmin with his elbow, as if jolting the man into reality.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, words directed toward Changmin in particular.

His dark bangs were tucked beneath a black beanie with his pair of black headphones hanging around his neck. “You think I want to be here?”

His friend sent him a look, his eyes flickering between you and Changmin furiously until the pieces clicked into his mind. “Well, uh oh…” he muttered while turning away slightly to scratch his head. He gathered his wits then. “Uh, Yn, right?”

You perked up. “Yes.”

“Uh,” he drawled. “We’re actually here for Jacob Bae. You see, we told him we’d come pick him up to take him over to—”

“Is he here?” Changmin asked.

Your eyebrow shot upward. At least they were here for a proper reason. You crossed your arms over your chest, glancing back toward the main laboratory floor way down the hall. Man, the safe zone felt so far away. “He actually just left like, ten minutes ago. Sorry.” The apology was said to Changmin’s friend, the one who seemed to have been able to figure out who exactly you were to Changmin. Not that you were anything to him. And did Changmin just talk about you to all his friends or something—?

“Oh.”

Changmin tapped his friend with the back of his hand. “C’mon Sunwoo. We’ll just meet him over there.”

Sunwoo wrinkled his nose. “I just think it’s weird that he didn’t text us to let us know before we came over here.”

There was a pause and you could practically see the gears in Changmin’s head turning. You would have left them to their own company, but you technically weren’t allowed to leave unauthorized students alone.

It was strange seeing Changmin break into something akin to sheepishness. You saw the dimples appear in the apples of his cheeks as he cupped the back of his neck. “I might not have told him we were coming…”

Sunwoo’s eyes and mouth widened and he whacked his friend with the length of his hoodie sleeve. Changmin let out one of those hyena laughs that set off triggers in your mind. It’d been awhile since you heard that… “Hyung! You’re so unreliable sometimes, oh my god. Even Eric would have remembered to tell him!”

Changmin made a noise of dismissal, slinging an arm around his friend. “Ah, it’s fine. We’ll just meet him there—as you said.”

“Worst texter award goes to,” Sunwoo rolled his eyes.

“I guess some things never change.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and both Sunwoo and Changmin suddenly remembered that you were in the hallway with them. Sunwoo had perked up as if he were surprised you would even comment on their situation, but Changmin cut an unreadable expression your way. You didn’t want to read into it.

“You literally forgot to answer a text I sent for three days,” Changmin quipped.

Well, if he was going to play the back and forth game. “That was once out of how many other times,” you scoffed. “You refused to answer anyone’s texts in the mornings anyway, so don't get on my case about that.”

“He did that to you, too?!” Sunwoo cut in with fire behind his words.

You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest bit of blush grace Changmin’s cheekbones as you hid a laugh behind your hand. “He did that to everyone—”

“Hey, I’m better over call; you know that!” Changmin argued. “Sunwoo, you can’t even talk about being a bad texter. I have to hunt for you on discord sometimes to get a straight answer.”

Sunwoo groaned, “Yah! Whatever. It’s still better than your average three-business-day reply speed.”

Changmin stammered, “It is not an average of three business days.” If your ears were not deceiving you, Ji Changmin was whining. “It’s a couple hours at least.”

“A couple hours means half a day,” you said to Sunwoo.

Changmin whipped his attention back to you, finger jabbed accusingly in your direction. “Hey, missy! You always fell asleep on-call, even when you promised that you would stay up to help me study.”

You shook your head. “Not my fault! You know that I always fell asleep around midnight back then.”

“Well, back then—”

“Is everything okay out here?”

Everything in the corridor came to a stand still, and Changmin closed his mouth, mid-sentence. Kun had his head poking out of the door to the main floor, a crease pressed between his brows and right above the rim of his thin spectacles. He eyed the two non-laboratory students with a slight grimace. Of course, Kun was aware of who Changmin was. He could recognize him because of his famed performer reputation on campus, but he knew his history with you because you had spent far too many late nights here at the lab with things plaguing your mind. You and Kun both had a problem with trouble sleeping and being workaholics.

You turned slightly to Kun. “Yeah, everything’s okay, Kun-ge.”

He sent you an unimpressed look.

“We,” Changmin piped up as he urged Sunwoo to the door, “were just leaving.” The mirth and fire from the bickering just a few seconds ago had faded, and you could feel him slipping away.

Kun drummed his fingers along the doorframe, eyebrows shooting up for a second. “Oh-kay… Yn-ie, Ten says he’s right around the corner and asks if you want some company walking home.”

The door to the laboratory behind you was held open, and the night breeze brushed through your hair. When you looked back, you saw that Changmin had stalled in the door for a second. But, it had only been that second before he and his friend were gone.

“Oh.” You made your way over to Kun. “That’s really cool of him. I’d love that.” Some company on a late-night walk back to your apartment did not sound bad at all. You’d done plenty of trips on your own, but sometimes having even one person with you would have been nice.

Kun nodded, pursing his lips, as the two of you walked into the main lab together and toward his office off to the side. “Okay, I’ll let him know. You’re for sure okay though? That must have been… not nice, seeing Changmin here.”

You gave a stiff shrug, your hip leaning against the door of his office while Kun settled back at his desk. “It’s fine,” you said. To be honest, you weren’t even sure if that was a lie or not. You’d heard Changmin laugh for the first time in years. You’d seen the dimples in his cheeks, the sheepishness in his expression—you swallowed.

Once upon a time, you associated all of those things with something like happiness. Your happiness.

Kun fixed you with a pointed look. “If you need to talk.”

You gave a firm nod. “I know where to find you.”

He clicked his tongue, shooting you a finger gun, then shooed you off to finish your work and pack your things. Ten was just around the corner, after all.

EPISODE FOUR: OFF THE RECORD

CHANGMIN liked to think that he became nosy, and that he wasn't born this way. But ever since he overheard that Kun guy asking about Ten wanting to walk you home, he couldn't help but wonder…

He shook his head, brushing his hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, before those same bangs flopped back into their place. He walked back onto the main stage of the performing arts hall to the soundtrack of a hype playlist blasting from the ears of his headphones. As he made his way past groups and individuals doing their own thing, he absentmindedly searched for one person in particular.

Conveniently, he found Ten setting himself up right by Changmin's things. He was shouldering off his black puffer jacket, rolling the material up into a manageable ball to shove into his duffle bag.

"Hey," Changmin greeted, bending down slightly to grab his water bottle.

Ten straightened and flashed him a smile. "Hey."

It wouldn't be awkward would it? Probably not. Just be cool about it, Changmin. He smiled slightly, the dimples in his cheeks disarming his acquaintance. "I didn't know you and Yn were close."

Your name felt so… foreign, yet familiar, on his tongue. It was like tasting déjà vu, like eating a treat from childhood that had been associated with good feelings, but he couldn't decide if it was still as good as he remembered or a trick of his mind.

The mention of your name brought a jolt of energy to Ten's body and Changmin saw the man lean into the conversation. Curious… "Oh? Well, I mean—" he gave a shrug, "—she's really cool. She just seems like a good person to get to know, y'know? Why do you ask?"

Changmin couldn't tell how much he trusted the slight narrowing of Ten's feline eyes. There was no way you hadn't mentioned him to Ten at some point or another. To be honest, he didn't like the feeling of you still lingering in his head if he didn't linger in yours. It meant a myriad of things that he loathed to admit.

He let the feeling slide away, let his mouth tilt upward like his eyes to the spotlights in the ceiling. "Just be…" He shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing." He flicked his wrist, as he spun his water bottle cap on tight. "You can forget about it."

Ten sent him a look that Changmin pointedly ignored.

Somewhere within the depths of the performing arts center, Changmin could hear the howling laughter of his friend Hyunjae as he most likely bugged his best friend out of her mind, both to her chagrin and her delight. That was another can of worms entirely.

Ten piped up as he settled onto the backstage floor while Changmin mentally went through some of the problem sets he had to review today. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you and Yn on such… uneven ground with each other?"

There it was. Changmin snorted. "Uneven ground? I don't even know if we're on the same ground."

"You're both really friendly people," Ten added, "so it just doesn't make sense to me."

Changmin pursed his lips. He never felt the need to divulge this stuff to anyone but his friends, but he didn't know what Ten already knew. He didn't know what you told him, but based on the fact that Ten wasn't looking at him the same way you did… Changmin scratched the back of his head and leaned his side against the wall to face him. "Something happened a long time ago. I guess we just both hold a grudge well."

Ten huffed a laugh in response. "Remind me never to get on your bad side then," he joked.

— ✶

There was a buzz about the university newspaper room. The Daily had only a handful of crew members onboard, mainly because it was so selective. Over the past few years that you had been apart of the staff, you and a few others had gradually loosened the reputation of the Daily's elitist interview process—there was still some level of intimidation that ensured the publication took on the hard workers and not those simply looking for an extracurricular to put on their resume though.

So when there was talk of a new staff member, everyone knew about it.

You let yourself in the door with a sigh, brushing the hair from your eyes held up with a random, blue claw clip you found on your bathroom sink. The bus had been late this morning because it broke down, but you luckily were able to make it to your lecture on time. You had run over here for a quick meeting that Kim Doyoung had summoned you for, no doubt about the new hire.

"Hey guys," you said as you passed by clusters of desks piled with copyedits and heads buried in monitor screens. The sounds of typing stopped briefly with each head you walked past:

"Yn!"

"Hi Yn!"

"Sup Yn—HEY! I just did my hair this morning!" Mark yelped, hands smoothing down the braids in his hair.

You giggled as you patted his head. "Your hair needs a break, Mark."

As you disappeared around the corner, you heard him shout back, "So do you, but you never hear me complaining!"

You rolled your eyes with an ill-concealed smile. The door to Doyoung's little editor in chief office was right down the hall next to the office for the sponsoring professor. As much as you and the others teased him about getting the "Boss man" office, he always complained to you about being on edge with the professor's office next door. You didn't quite understand since Professor Woo was almost never in his office anyway, but you supposed you could see.

Doyoung's door was open, and the fourth year's head perked up at the sound of your voice and nearing footsteps. He didn't even wait for you to knock or say hi, before beckoning you inside. "Yn, thank god you know how to hustle. Close the door on your way in. Thanks."

Your eyebrows shot up at the terseness in his tone, but didn't question him until you'd closed the door and settled into the chair opposite him. His desk, much like those outside, was covered in a sea of paper, with his laptop being the only land in sight. "What's up? You sound stressed."

He shot you a look over the rims of his thin glasses. "When am I not stressed?"

"Valid."

"Okay," he began with a sigh that made your concern rise just a bit more, "you know the situation with our performing arts review section, right?"

You nodded. "Of course."

The situation with the performing arts review section of the paper was inherently a mess. For a handful of years, the performing arts section was written under a pseudonym (lovingly dubbed Opera Glasses)—the identity of the reviewer was anonymous—which was a product of an incident a few years ago where a performer was unhappy with a review left by someone on the paper and came to ask, very unkindly, for a rewrite. Since then, the paper had been swallowed up by so much that finding a permanent writer or reviewer for the section became less and less of a priority.

When you joined the publishing team, it had been in the middle of freshman year when you were also putting your application out for research projects. Joining had felt like the right thing to do, as much as it was an act of rebellion against your mother and your childhood. They had asked if you knew anything about dance of all things.

And well, you did know.

You'd written one piece—one piece that was entirely you. It had been for one of the dancers just debuting at his first winter showcase. Since then, you couldn't stomach writing another one or watching another one.

You ghost wrote, you edited, you advised—but you stuck to putting your energy into covering the STEM-related sections of the paper now.

So Doyoung already knew your relationship with the performing arts review section. "Well," he cleared his throat, making a vague flourish with his hand, "I'm sure you already know that I just interviewed a new prospective recruit. I was wondering if you would be willing to take them under your wing and to show them the ropes."

Oh. That wasn't exactly what you expected him to say. Your heart kicked up for an entirely new reason, however. You'd always wanted to be someone's mentor. To be someone's older sister. "I mean, yeah. I'd love to," you stammered, a smile slowly curling onto your lips. "That would be really cool."

Doyoung sighed, his shoulders sinking in relief. "Thank you."

"But wait." You cocked your head to the side as you asked, "What does Opera Glasses have to do with this?"

"I want her to eventually take over for it," he explained. "She knows quite a bit about theater and music—little less about dance, though. I know that you have your issues with the dance department, but out of everyone here, you probably understand dance stuff the most. I just ask that you help her out a little with that, and maybe even introduce her to some of the people there so we can ease her in with interviews—"

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he sent you a pointed look. He continued, "Just hear me out, okay? If you're uncomfortable at all, you can back out. And you don't even have to back out right now or completely; maybe you could have Mark introduce her to Jungwoo for interviews, and you can just stick to the behind-the-scenes stuff."

Doyoung exhaled. "Okay, so what are your thoughts?"

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. What did you think… What did you think?

Even the thought of stepping foot into a practice room made the yelling and screams echo in the caverns of your mind. But you'd missed them—missed the polished wood floors, the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the people. God, you couldn't even stay away from the people if you tried, no matter how much you tried convincing yourself you could.

You weren't fooling anyone.

You swallowed. You'd always wanted to be a big sister.

What was the harm in giving this a try?

(Changmin. You'd probably run into Changmin a lot more often than if you didn't accept. But you could see him from that one night: the sheepishness, the dimples, the laugh. Why couldn't you get over that interaction?)

You mustered up your courage and straightened in your seat. "I'll still do it. When do we start?"

EPISODE FIVE: OFF THE MARK

IT turned out that Doyoung intended for you and your new recruit, Bae Sumin, to get started right away. With the winter showcase only a couple weeks away, it was imperative that the two of you dived right in.

"—so what made you interested in joining the team?" You asked, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets to hide signs of nervousness from your underclassman peer. The two of you were walking from the Daily's newsroom and over to the performing arts center. It was about a ten minute walk, but you figured that it would give you two the opportunity to get to know one another.

Sumin was a multimedia major, as you had been told earlier when the two of you just met for the first time in the entryway of the Daily newsroom. She was cute and well-dressed—she wore a pleated skirt and sweater with a white collar peeking through. Her smile was dazzling, and reminded you of someone who would do well on stage. No wonder she had theater and performing experience.

"Oh!" She shot you one of those dazzling smiles, her hand shooting up to shift the white, fluffy earmuffs seated over her head. "I actually had a cousin who came here and shared with me some of the Daily's earlier issues. She always said it was kind of competitive to get in, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try."

You bobbed your head. "That's really cool." A small laugh fell from your lips, "I'm glad you did try! Lots of people just assume they're gonna get turned away and they don't try at all, you know?"

Sumin hummed in understanding.

Something had settled nicely in your chest throughout this walk. Even if your past anxieties were beginning to bubble up to the surface at the sight of the nearing performing arts buildings, Sumin's easy conversation calmed you. It was one less thing to worry about.

Yesterday, when Doyoung had proposed this job for you, you had asked Mark to accompany you and Sumin to the arts buildings. He couldn't walk with you two, but he promised to meet you there. Now, you were kind of glad you got to have this bit of bonding time with her.

“I think Doyoung said that I should introduce you to a few people in particular,” you said offhandedly and pulled your phone out to check yours and Doyoung’s text thread.

Sumin did the same, most likely taking out any notes she had taken from Doyoung’s instructions. “Yeah, something like Lee Minho, Kim Jungwoo… the Hwang?—the Hwang siblings, uhm and Ji Changmin…?”

Your footing faltered for a second, and Sumin asked if you were all right, but you recovered quickly. You let out an embarrassed laugh, feeling heat crawl up your neck. Why in the world did his name catch you off guard like that? Maybe it was because you assumed Doyoung would just let you avoid Changmin, but realistically, if Sumin was going to do an interview with the dance department’s most prominent members, then there was no avoiding Changmin.

You just had to suck it up and be an adult about it.

It was three years ago… What was the big deal?

But as you moved to open the door to the backstage area for Sumin with your ID card, you felt your throat tighten in on itself. You forced a smile to your face as you let Sumin go in before you so you could turn your head out to inhale a large lungful of fresh air. Then, you ducked in after her.

The backstage corridors were as hustle n' bustle as you expected them to be. The lights were dim-looking from the black walls and floors marred with scuff marks from years upon years of use. It was an overwhelming tidal wave of sensory details—what, with the clashing sounds of chatter and music, the smell of some kind of polish (or maybe that was resin?), the warmth of energy in the air and all around you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood like you could sense someone was coming this way.

You gestured down the opposite direction to Sumin. “Come on; I’m pretty sure they’re down this way.”

It was a curious thing, memory. You could recall late nights of catching the bus to these very practice rooms and backstage rooms from when you were in high school. Performing on the stage was a whole other experience in itself, and though part of you missed it, there were other feelings that dominated the hints of nostalgia now.

You could hear the chatter even clearer now, even if their words were muddled.

The door to one of the larger practice rooms were left ajar, and though you only peered in, you felt the warmth hit you like a wave. Your throat was closing up again—breathe—

“Hey,” you said into the room, catching quite a few eyes. From an initial scan, you determined that Changmin wasn’t amongst the crush of people socializing in here, and you couldn’t identify the feeling manifesting in the pit of your stomach.

Jungwoo was the first to bound over toward you, swiftly followed by Minho and Hyunjin, one of the Hwang siblings. “Yn-ie! I can’t believe you actually came. I thought Doyoung was joking.”

A smile made its way onto your lips and you accepted Jungwoo’s side hug. “Yeah, well Doyoung doesn’t joke around.”

“He really doesn’t,” Hyunjin said with a grimace. “He’s kind of scary, that one.”

“If you can survive Minho,” you said to him, “then you can survive Doyoung.”

Minho made a face at you. “What have I ever done to you, Yn?”

Nothing; this is just me trying to pretend I’m not seconds away from quivering like a leaf in the wind. You laughed. “Nothing yet. Guys, I'd like you to meet Sumin. She’s our new recruit at the Daily, and she’s gonna be the one conducting interviews for the winter showcase this year.”

Sumin didn’t need much prompting to smile and wave at your friends in that same charming way. “Hi, nice to meet you!”

The three dancers before you replied in kind. Jungwoo offered to introduce her to some of the others in the room, and before you knew it, she was swept away.

Hyunjin made a comment about needing to go check up on a friend of his, leaving you and Minho chatting to the side of the room.

“Wow,” Minho said offhandedly as the two of you watched Jungwoo and Sumin work their way around the room, “she’s a natural at this. Where’d Kim find this one?”

“She saw some of our older issues,” you replied. You watched as Sumin ignited a sort of brightness in every conversation she started. You struggled to swallow; now that you didn’t feel obligated to keep up appearances, especially in front of Sumin, your jitteriness was beginning to come on just a little stronger. You absentmindedly massaged your throat, willing it to loosen up.

Minho glanced over at you, his eyes catching your anxious actions. “Must have a lot of confidence in her if he’s throwing her straight into taking charge of interviews. How’re you holding up?” The latter was said lowly and under his breath in case someone just happened to be close enough to catch onto your conversation.

Minho didn’t know your history with the dance department as thoroughly as your close friends did, but it didn’t take a genius to see that you weren’t at your absolute best right now. You gave a stiff shrug. “I’m alright,” you managed to say.

He nodded, though it was probably more for your sake than him saying he believed you. “It’s funny,” he drawled, “one might think that by sending you here on behalf of the paper, that you were behind Opera Glasses.”

Now that, you could let out a genuine chuckle at.

Minho gauged your reaction but smiled to himself. He wasn’t one to really care for the drama and gossip side that came privy to the performing arts review section, but you couldn’t blame him if he was curious.

“That would be really stupid if that was the case,” you mused.

“It would be,” he agreed. “Is this a sign that this will be the end of Opera Glasses then? Finally a face to the name?”

You pursed your lips. “Actually, I’m not too sure what Doyoung will end up doing. I’m sure he’ll call for a board meeting to decide what the review’s fate will be, but it’s not exactly our top priority—”

Your voice and words trailed off as your eyes met a pair coming into the practice room. You and Changmin froze at the sight of one another, two deer caught in headlights, and you felt your heart palpitate violently in your chest. Your breath left your lungs—his expression was filled with surprise, until it morphed into something you couldn’t read.

“What are you doing here?” He deadpanned.

Minho’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t know Yn was stopping by? We all got the email from Director Lee, man.”

Changmin pressed his mouth together and it made the dimple in his cheek deepen. He looked you up and down, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but paused when you unconsciously brushed your thumb against the hollow of your throat. (Dear god, why couldn’t you breathe? Breathe, breathe, breathe—)

He seemed to lose whatever he was going to say. You swore the sharpness in his gaze softened.

But then his jaw tightened; you didn’t know why. “I didn’t think you’d actually show,” he muttered under his breath.

Ouch.

The words from his mouth pricked uncomfortably at the back of your mind. You found your voice again. “I’ll be gone before you know it,” you replied tersely.

Your response touched a nerve for him, too. He cut his attention to the rest of the practice room. “Where’s your new girl?”

“Over there,” you said, inclining your head across the room where Sumin and Hwang Yeji were currently swapping contact information. Something soared in your chest at the sight, but you couldn’t tell if it was pride or envy.

Without any additional prompting, you watched Changmin make his way toward Sumin and away from you. You didn’t realize you were holding in a breath until you finally exhaled—

“Yn! Sorry I’m late.” Mark bumbled into the practice room, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead as he quite literally crashed against the wall next to you and Minho. He was panting and gasping for breath, and you and Minho couldn’t help but express your amusement.

“It’s all cool, dude,” you assured while patting his head.

“I should probably get back to it,” Minho said as he began walking away from you and Mark. “Nice to see you, Mark. Feel free to take a water bottle from the green room.”

Mark thumped his head against the wall with his eyes closed. “Thanks, man,” he huffed.

With a snicker under his breath, Minho went his separate way.

You gave Mark a moment to catch a breath or two, and you slid down next to him against the practice room wall. Folding your knees up against your chest, you copied Mark’s position with his head tilted back as you both inhaled through your nostrils and breathed out through slightly parted lips. While Mark might have been trying to get a moment of rest from (no doubt) running here from the bus stop, you were trying to steady yourself.

The anxiety was starting to make your hands feel numb cold.

“You don’t have to stay, y’know,” came Mark’s voice, followed by the back of his hand gently nudging your arm. When your eyes fluttered open, you found him already looking at you. “You asked for my help; you can go take a breather outside and come back in—or maybe don’t—whatever you’re comfortable with. This can’t be easy.”

You were struggling to swallow again. One of your hands drummed messily against your kneecap. “It’s—” you shook your head, “—I’ll be okay. Thanks for coming though.”

“Yeah, dude. Of course.”

Something prodded at the side of your head, like someone was staring at you, but when you turned to see, it was just Changmin talking to Sumin. They were both smiling and making good conversation, it seemed.

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes again. Wishful thinking.

— ✶

Mark stayed behind to “vibe” with the remaining dancers still at the performing arts building while you and Sumin pushed out into the crisp, cool evening. Even after walking all the way to the bus station, your hands were still numb, and the cold definitely wasn’t helping.

“How do you feel about the dance interviews now?” You found yourself asking Sumin as the two of you sat on the bench at the station waiting for the bus to come pick the two of you up.

Sumin beamed. “I definitely feel a bit more secure about conducting them. I’ll definitely need some help with dance terminology and editing and stuff though.”

You nodded. “No problem at all.”

“The people are all really so chill and nice…” Your eyes definitely weren’t tricking you when you saw the bashfulness that her expression took on, and the little giggle you heard could not have been the wind. “Especially Changmin.”

Ha. What.

A weight fell to the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were hearing things… “Sorry?”

She blinked, and the blush on her cheekbones darkened. “Oh, haha, it’s nothing! I just… he was really sweet, and he has a really pretty smile and stuff—do you—uh, do you know if his previous dance showcase performances are online?”

(Something about that detail—he has a really pretty smile—rang a bell for you.)

It was really an innocent question, but you knew if Sumin went searching online for Changmin, and if she went deep enough, she’d find you there, too. You sucked in a breath. “I can—” you winced inwardly, “—send you some of his performances, if you want?”

You couldn’t deny the warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest when Sumin practically lit up at your suggestion. “Would you? I would really appreciate it, Yn! You’re the best.”

From your periphery, you saw the bus approach from down the street, and you gestured for the both of you to stand up and get your ID cards ready to board. You sent her a small smile—at least it felt good to help her out. You could pretend for a second that this was just a little crush or infatuation on some other colleague of yours that Sumin had. “Yeah, no worries.” No worries at all.

EPISODE SIX: OFF THE [TOP OF YOUR] HEAD

FRIDAY night brought you, Seungkwan, and Doyoung to the hotpot place located in the university district. The three of you were the unconventional combination of your friends, but Kun and Ten were supposedly on their way over as of five minutes ago. Thus, with the last of your party nearing, the three of you deigned to begin ordering almost everything off the menu—just to whet your appetites, of course.

Doyoung slumped down in his seat across from you and Seungkwan as soon as the waiter left to input your table's hefty order. "Ugggggggh."

Seungkwan snorted. "Ah, my favorite sound."

Doyoung passed him a dirty look over his lenses. "Is that sarcasm I hear, Boo Seungkwan?"

"I have no idea what you mean," he said with feigned innocence as he looked away and scratched the side of his head.

You chuckled to yourself, drawing your phone out from the inner pocket of your puffer jacket when you heard the series of buzzes. Your screen lit up with notifications from Sumin, all of them thanking you profusely for the spam of links you'd sent her way. These were on top of the videos you had dug up from your secret locked folder in your phone—and here you were, wondering why in the world you were doing this to yourself and for her?

"I can't decide if I dread Doyoung's noises of discontent or your expressions of pain more," Seungkwan commented, effectively pulling your focus away from your phone.

Both of your friends were now looking at you, patiently awaiting your answer to what ailed you tonight. Where should you begin?

"I'm not in pain," you scoffed. You set your phone facedown on the table next to you to avoid looking at the notifications. Huh. "Did I look like I was in pain?"

Doyoung's smile was wide like his eyes as he nodded. "Yup," he chirped in that sweet sarcasm of his. "Like you'd just watched a video of someone stubbing their toe against a doorframe."

Seungkwan blinked. "That's so—specific."

"You do not want to know what my For You Page looks like—"

You recreated the look of pain from earlier, holding your palm up. "Respectfully, Doie? I don't."

Seungkwan let out another snort of delight and had to hold a hand in front of his mouth.

Doyoung leveled a half-hearted scowl at you. "You're lucky I'm not your boss right now."

"As opposed to every other moment in time?"

"You have a mouth on you tonight."

"I do like to use it every so often," you quipped, the corner of your mouth lifting in an amused smirk.

Doyoung sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't get paid enough for this."

"You're literally not getting paid at all—" Your words were sliced off at their end when you gasped—it was all a blur: a mass of reddish-brown hair, your phone snatched from right in front of you— "SEUNGKWAN!"

Seungkwan held his breath with an impish grin as he turned his back to you and shielded your phone from your attempts to get it back. "I just wanna see!" He said with a cackle. "Every time you've looked at your phone today, you looked like you wanted to fall into an abyss."

You glared at him, pulling away to cross your arms firmly over your chest. "You can't just steal my phone, dude!"

"What's so important on your phone anyway, Yn-ie?" Doyoung asked good naturedly, reaching for his glass of ice water. "You're usually not so attached to that thing."

Your lips snapped shut and you wondered if the heat creeping up to your face was obvious.

"You've been sending Changmin videos to Sumin?!" Seungkwan bursted out, his eyes so wide that you could see your reflection in his pupils. As you'd feared, Seungkwan still had his fingerprint registered into your phone from before (long story; don't ask), and had cracked the device open, as well as your most recently opened application—yours and Sumin's text messages.

You did nothing but stare at the table like you were getting war flashbacks, while Doyoung had even gotten up out of his seat to take a peek at your phone, too.

"I haven't even seen this video before," Seungkwan hissed as if you weren't right there.

You fixed them both with a stink eye, but at the same time, maybe this was for your benefit. They could help you without you actually asking for help—

Doyoung's face contorted into a laughable expression of shock (eyes wide, mouth wider, eyebrows pinched, nose wrinkled) as he viewed what Seungkwan had selected. "Oh my god. He's a child in this!"

"Actually he was a senior in high school—" You slapped a hand over your mouth. Whoops.

Both of their heads whipped over toward you. "I thought you deleted all your high school shit!" They chorused together. If it had been any other situation or context, you might have laughed at the hilarity if it all.

Instead, you averted your gaze, making a show of looking for the waiter or maybe even Kun or Ten. What was taking them so long anyway?

"Yn," Seungkwan addressed with a tone akin to that of a parent on the verge of lecturing their child, "what in the name of god are you sending Sumin and why?"

Helpless, you held both your palms up in a sheepish shrug. "The kid has a crush on him, and being the best mentor figure ever, I… did some compiling for her." You paused, "Now that I say it out loud, it does sound pretty stupid."

Doyoung returned to his seat. "Ya think?"

You wrinkled your nose at him. "Hey! Sometimes, some of us have bad nights and we wanna feel something." Out of context, this was a really suspicious conversation.

"Isn't this just you torturing yourself?"

Seungkwan slapped his hand against the table, and both you and Doyoung startled. "That's it! I'm calling for an intervention."

Your mouth parted open. "Right now?"

He deadpanned at you. "No, when Kun and Ten get here—of course, right now!"

You returned his deadpan expression. The adrenaline from all this back and forth was slowly fading, and what you were left with was something that felt like emptiness. So… now they knew.

Doyoung and Seungkwan exchanged looks with another from across the table, but it was the former who spoke first. "Why do you still have videos from back then, Yn-ie? I thought you told us you deleted them all?"

"I mean, we're not trying to be judgmental or anything," Seungkwan added firmly, but not unkindly, "they're your videos and photos, your past and memories, but… based on everything you've already told us before, wouldn't it be best to delete them?"

You didn't like the emptiness. The adrenaline had stripped you of energy and confidence when it faded. "I," you stammered, "I just… I couldn't bring myself to delete them." Your voice was quiet, almost inaudible compared to the liveliness of the hotpot shop around you and your friends. "I mean, how could I? Sometimes, I want to watch them and try to find the courage to say that I'm sorry first."

Yeah, you wanted to feel something. That "something" was actually a lot of things—courage, happiness, nostalgia, anger, melancholy, love, passion, pride. A life and childhood you had lost; who's fault was it but your own? You felt nothing short of pathetic.

Seungkwan frowned deeply, his eyes softening. He leaned forward and drew you into his embrace, his hold warm and comforting. "Oh, Yn. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have pried like that."

You wrapped your arms around him, eyes shuddering closed. "Yeah, you shouldn't have."

He grunted into your shoulder, a noise of defiance and attitude.

Doyoung had a similar expression of sympathy present on his face. You didn't often see something like that from him, but after years of friendship and working together, you'd begun to see a lot more of him. "I'm sorry too, Yn. It probably still hurts, and I know I was probably really insensitive when I asked you to introduce Sumin to the dance department—"

"Hey guys! Sorry we're late."

Everyone jolted at the sight of Kun and Ten arriving at your table. Kun sent Ten a sharp look along with a sharp jab with his elbow for interrupting. Kun shot you an apologetic look. "Sorry, we didn't interrupt anything, did we?"

You shook your head as Seungkwan pulled away. Doyoung and Seungkwan were both looking to you to make the decision of whether or not you would let Kun and Ten in on the prior conversation.

No, you didn't want to put a damper on dinner any longer. "Ah, no worries. We were just… discussing a couple work things. What took you guys so long?"

Luckily, no one (namely Ten) called you out and the two newcomers slid into their respective seats. Dinner would arrive soon, and you could fill your belly with something other than negative thoughts for once.

— ✶

boss bunny: hey, i didn't get a chance to say this earlier, but i'm so sorry for expecting u to introduce sumin to the dance dept

boss bunny: i didn't think at all abt how that might trigger u, and i still want u to know that u can back out whenever u feel uncomfortable. seriously.

your phone: it's okay, doyoung. i get it, i really do. and i promise that it didn't feel like u were forcing me or assuming that i would do it either

your phone: i knew it would probably trigger me like this too, but i kind of really wanted to be someone's mentor yk? it just… called to me ig

your phone: sounds kind of sad lol

boss bunny: nonono! not at all :( i understand that too

boss bunny: i admire ur strength, yn

your phone: DOIE 🥺

boss bunny: …okay love u and all, but let's not use that emoji yeah? T-T

your phone: okay wtv 🤧 now stop texting cuz ten is starting to realize ur not slick at this

boss bunny: AM TOO. >:(

— ✶

"He kept looking at his phone and then at you, like, every five seconds," Ten giggled, his shoulder absentmindedly brushing against yours as the two of you strolled side by side through the numbing cold night. Dinner had concluded just about half an hour ago, and while Kun ferried Doyoung and Seungkwan home, you and Ten decided to head down a few blocks to get milk tea and hang out.

You clapped your hands together in delight, your laughter lighting up the night. “That’s what I’m saying! He just wasn’t subtle about it and he kept arguing with me that he was.” You shook your head, tongue darting out to lick your lips, “It’s okay though. I think Dad Doyoung’s antics are charming.”

Ten grinned. “Dad Doyoung? I think he’s more of an uncle; ‘Dad’ is Kun’s title.”

“Fair enough.”

“Ayo, Ten!”

Both yours and Ten’s heads whipped upward at the sound of his name being called. You didn’t actually recognize the voice, but when you saw the lineup of four young men coming toward you from the opposite end of the street, you didn’t need to recognize it. Because, well, you recognized their faces.

Huh, you had been running into Changmin and his like a lot more often recently.

Heading straight for you was Changmin, Chanhee, Juyeon, and—you thought his name was Kevin. Kevin was the one who had called out to Ten, and he waved excitedly over to your friend. Based on Changmin’s not-so-subtle frown at Kevin, you could assume that this was not expected. Maybe he was going to advocate crossing the whole street to avoid you.

“Oh, hey Kev!” Ten greeted back cheerily, glancing at you beside him. “Do you know Kevin and Juyeon?”

You bobbed your head. “Briefly,” you replied. The two of your groups met in the middle, two blockades in the smack middle of the sidewalk. Impromptu meetups like this always seemed to end up clogging up the sidewalk for some reason.

After a swift greeting, Chanhee was already gesturing to the direction his group had already been headed in. “Hey, I’ll probably run up the street and get us a table. Haknyeonie says the tables fill up fast after eight o’clock.”

Juyeon perked up. “Oh, I’ll come with!”

Chanhee made eye contact with Changmin from across the group, and a silent form of communication passed between them. You watched this happen quietly, standing to the side with your hands tucked into your pockets while Ten and Kevin caught up from the last time they saw each other (apparently, it was a drawing and painting course from last quarter). However, instead of leaving with Chanhee and Juyeon, Changmin lingered with the three of you.

He naturally came to stand semi-close to you since he wasn’t exactly a part of the “drawing and painting” conversation. The frown from earlier had disappeared, though, and you didn’t know if you could call that a win or not.

Perhaps to you, the tension between the two of you was palpable. There were… far too many things up in the air at this moment, and it was nearly impossible for you to figure out just one thing to start with.

Plus, now was no time to get into all of that baggage. You needed to finish that intervention with Doyoung and Seungkwan before you could handle that kind of conversation—at least, that was what you would have preferred.

But for now, you found yourself clearing your throat and sparing him a glance. “Hey.”

Changmin’s eyes darted over to yours in ill-concealed surprise. “Hey.”

And that was that.

Luckily, Ten nor Kevin dragged on their conversation longer than it needed to be, and soon, you and Ten were passing by Kevin and Changmin as both parties went their separate ways. (You were going to pretend that you hadn’t looked back to watch Changmin walk away. Definitely not.)

“All good?” Ten asked, though, his voice was quieter than it had been before.

You could meet his eyes and nod. “Yeah.”

Ten followed up with an idle sort of humming noise, like he was one of those really loud computer fans (what in the world led you to think of that—?), “A few days ago, I kind of asked Changmin what the deal between the two of you was.”

“Oh?” Nervousness bubbled up the column of your throat. “What’d he say?”

He gave a shrug. “Something like a long-standing grudge.”

You let out a laugh that didn’t exactly sound like a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.” Was that how you would put it? In a way, that was what it was, but there was so much more to that, wasn’t there? Did Changmin think so little of what transpired between the two of you or was he just trying to deflect Ten’s interrogation?

The two of you had arrived at the tea shop by now, and Ten opened the door for you. The shop’s insides were warm and bright, and the tables were already filled up with fellow students who decided to hang out with friends on their Friday evening. You and Ten shifted over to the self-order kiosks to the side of the room and continued your conversation in low volumes.

“How would you put it then?” He asked. When you looked over at him, you realized that there was something scarily disarming about his eyes. “No pressure, of course. I mean, you can call me out on being nosy whenever; I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

You pursed your lips as you turned back to the screen to absentmindedly swipe down the page to find your preferred order. On the inside, you fought for the right words. “Changmin and I were best friends since we were kids,” you started, inputting your preferred level of sugar and ice like clockwork, “and we met through dance.”

Ten nodded to signal he was still listening, and the two of you swapped places so he could input his order.

You cracked your knuckles and rubbed your palms together to generate some kind of heat between them. “I didn’t really like dance at first. It was just one of those things my parents put me in to occupy my time after school and while they were working. But… well, you know how Changmin is with dance—it was and is his livelihood.”

“Even then?”

A nod. “Even then.”

When your orders were paid for, the two of you moved to a quiet corner of the shop to wait for your number to be called from the counter. You leaned your side against the wall next to Ten, your eyes staring blankly at a crack in the floor. “He was actually the reason I grew to love dancing,” you confessed. “As we got older and went into high school, sneaking out to practice together and performing together on stage became as easy as breathing air and as normal as…” You shook your head. “It was just a lot easier I think, back then.”

Ten tilted his chin toward you. “What happened between you two, Yn?”

You swallowed roughly. “In my first year of high school, my parents got divorced. I always suspected it would happen, but my mom kind of changed after that.” Your eyebrows crinkled as you recalled the memories of your early teenage years and tried to grapple with an adequate way to express them aloud. “And, to be fair, the more I danced, the more I didn’t want to focus on school work, but my mom became really hard on me about all that and I started to crack down on that stuff.

“Eventually, she got tired of taking me to dance practices and shows, and she blew up at me about how useless dance was going to be if I was going to become a doctor or something like that.”

Ten heard your number being called and nudged you to follow after him. He handed you your drink, and the two of you pushed back out into the chilly night. You didn’t really know where you were trying to go, but you didn’t really care. You both ended up in one of the small parking lots squeezed between two fast food restaurants, and you sat yourself down on the curb.

You continued, “And so, she would purposely forget to come home in time to take me to competitions and rehearsals. By the time I realized she wasn’t coming, I was already late every time. I would start walking myself there and taking the bus instead. Changmin started noticing that I was slacking, but I…”

“He didn’t know?”

“No.” You didn’t want him to know. Maybe it was your stupid pride that was preventing you from admitting that aloud. Maybe you were ashamed that your mom wasn't as accepting of dance as his parents were. You let out a shuddering breath and watched it come out in a visible puff in front of your face. “She made me grow spiteful toward dance,” you said stiffly. “I would be trying to stretch or practice movement in my bedroom while studying for exams, and she would come in and berate me.”

The yelling echoed in your mind, all too vividly. Your mother never physically hurt you, but there were still scars. “She’d discourage me from rehearsals or signing up for competitions by telling me I was nowhere near good enough, that dancing wasn’t going to put food on the table, and that I was—” A complete disappointment. You could pick those exact words out of a line up.

Ten’s eyes glistened with silver in the amber glow of the streetlight above you. “Jesus, Yn. I’m so sorry; that’s—that’s awful.”

You didn’t know how to accept the sympathy, even after having received so much from your other friends already. No matter how many times you retold your story, it was never quite right or in the way your brain wanted to portray it. You didn’t want to portray anyone as the villain; you figured that maybe you could have done something back then to prevent this. (You couldn’t have, actually, and that was the most difficult part to accept.)

“Yeah,” you murmured, setting your drink on the ground as you curled in on yourself slightly. “Anyway, by senior year, Changmin was obviously really into dance and was probably really stressed about auditions and end-of-the-year competitions. We basically… we basically took out our anger on each other. He said some things, I said some things. The rest is history.”

It was quiet for a moment as you let the words sink into the open air. Your chest loosened a bit after being able to tell another person about it, but for the most part, your hands still trembled. You reached for your drink again to take a sip and to force some kind of liquid down your throat.

After a while, Ten piped up, “Yn… I hope you know that you are not whoever your mother was trying to make you believe you were. You’ve probably realized that already—or maybe you’re still working on it—but please know that you’re probably one of the strongest people I know. It must have been really hard for you and I…” He exhaled, “Sorry, I’ve never been great at this.”

You sent him a small smile in return. “It’s okay; I still appreciate it.” After a beat, you added, “I know I act like I hate him, but I still want to see him succeed. I can’t think that ill of him, especially when he wasn’t the only one at fault.”

“Ah, that’s why ‘it’s complicated’, huh? I get that.”

“Yeah.” Your hands—god, if they could just stop shaking—

Ten reached over and covered your hands with one of his, and you let the heat of his palm warm yours. “You’re doing great, Yn. You know that, right?”

You couldn’t choke out an answer to that. You could only really say, “I just miss him sometimes.”

A sad smile. “I know. Maybe he does, too.”

You wanted to laugh, or maybe cry, at that. Anyone who got in the way of Changmin’s passions was no one to him. You would know exactly how that felt.

EPISODE SEVEN: [ROLLS RIGHT] OFF THE TONGUE

WHENEVER Changmin was feeling unsure of himself, he would retreat to his safe space: the practice rooms. Even if it was some time in the ungodly morning, like 2am as it was now, he would make the trek beneath molten gold streetlights and barren cobbled streets. It was the one place where he could focus his energy solely on dance, and forget about everything else.

Once upon a time, it had been your safe space just as much as it was his.

Changmin huffed a sigh as he hiked up the remaining flight of stone stairs that led up to the backdoor area of the performing arts building. It was a handful of hours since he and Chanhee parted ways with Kevin and Juyeon after enjoying dinner together. Chanhee was probably dead asleep by now—he was probably going to wake up and continue studying for his exams anyway.

As he turned to his right, his breath hitched as he caught sight of someone standing right outside the door. Usually, he had no trouble getting in and security wasn’t exactly strict in this area of campus. In fact, he almost never bumped into anyone, as strange as it sounded. Maybe he should have counted his blessings.

But then he recognized your jacket from earlier this evening, the very same one you were wearing while walking next to Ten—practically squished up against each other, two peas in a pod. He didn’t like how irked he was by that detail. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you had said “hey” first.

You weren’t looking at him, rather, your body was completely turned toward the door as if you were trying to decide whether or not you should go in. You were as still as a statue, frozen in time.

The moment, however, faded as quickly as it had come. You must have sensed his presence, and your head whipped around to face him.

There.

His heart leapt into his throat—dear god, why did you look so afraid? And then he noticed that you weren’t frozen still, but rather, channeling all your energy into keeping your body from trembling. Were you cold? What were you doing here so late? Why weren’t you with Ten?

He watched your throat move as you gulped. And then you were walking toward him—no, past him—wait, come back— “So that’s it?”

The grip he had on his duffle bag strap tightened when you stopped next to him just as you were going to walk past him toward the stairs. Your gazes clashed like a pair of twin lightning bolts slicing through the night sky. There had always been a sort of energy between the two of you, and when you were young, he had been so very attracted to that kind of power, one so similar to his… he didn’t think he was mistaken back then.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, still there. Your voice was low, but he could detect the edge.

He didn’t know what it was supposed to mean; he just didn’t want you to leave without knowing why you were here. Were you looking for him? “You’re not gonna say anything to me? Why are you here?”

(He swore it wasn’t supposed to come out that brusque-sounding, but he also didn’t know what it was supposed to come out sounding like…? He felt like he didn’t know you anymore.)

There was a narrowing of your eyes, and you both angled your bodies to face one another like a standoff. “No one said I had anything to say to you. And I—” You tripped over your words, “—I don’t know why I’m here. That’s why I was leaving.”

Oh.

Why was he disappointed by that answer?

“So you’re not here with Ten or something?” He asked, unsure what else he could say to keep you here, even for just a couple seconds longer.

Your mouth curled. "Clearly not. Why are you so pressed about me and Ten?"

Changmin pressed his lips together. "I'm not." Okay. Very believable.

The face you made said the same thing. "Okay, yeah. I didn't expect you to care so much anyway."

For a reason he loathed to admit, anger spiked in his blood and he felt the distinct need to defend himself. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," you replied sarcastically, your volume rising, "maybe it's that you've never really cared that much about things that concerned me in the first place?"

"Now that's rich coming from you."

Your glare pierced his. "Oh, please. As soon as I started slacking—god, it took so little for you to just abandon me."

His jaw fell slack. Where the fuck did this conversation just turn to? "Abandon you? You abandoned me!" He exclaimed, finger flicking between the two of you as if he could impale both of your chests with the sharp edge of his accusations.

"How could I have possibly been the one to abandon you?" Your face contorted with so much more emotion than Changmin had ever seen from you over the past three years. Suddenly, he could see the underlying desperation and devastation hidden beneath the lines of bitterness and anger. His heart sank, but his blood still boiled and pumped. He couldn't get the distinctly awful hole in his chest to stop aching. He could remember exactly when you just stopped coming to practice with him. He could remember exactly the day he gave up hope.

"You—" you stammered, your hand flying to your throat. It was the same action he had seen from you just a few days ago while you were in the practice room. He recognized it as a habit of yours for when you were anxious or overwhelmed because your throat closed in on itself. If that wasn't enough to make him want to lay down his sword… "—you stopped caring. When did you stop caring? I just want to know."

Everything went silent for him, just for a split second. You thought… you thought he stopped caring? How could he ever stop caring about you? Wasn't that why he was so upset in the first place?

And when the world zapped back into play, he was sure his skin was ashen. His throat bobbed. "How could you think so little of me?"

Your forehead creased. "Little? Changmin, you were everything to me."

Dear heart—

You were shaking your head and taking a step away from him then. "You couldn't possibly understand."

Just like that, there was fire in his veins again. "That's because you never gave me a chance to understand!"

You threw a look back at him and again, he could read everything there like an open book, so much unlike the wall he had been met with all this time. "And I can say the exact same thing about you. If you think I kept things from you, Ji Changmin—" you said with the undertone of a snarl, so fierce that, as you turned on your foot to face him again, your breath came out like that of a dragon's smoke, "—then how much have you kept from me?"

His nostrils flared and his hands gestured wildly, vaguely—he pressed his palms to his eyes with a haggard sigh. "Why are you here, Yn?" He asked again, finally. He lowered his hands and took a step toward you. "Are you here just to pick a fight with me?"

You paused.

He watched you open your mouth, then close it.

You pursed your lips, finally murmuring, "No. I didn't come here for you."

For some reason, that hurt even more.

— ✶

The practice room was colder than it usually was.

Changmin kept the lights dim for the sake of his stinging eyes, and he dumped his duffle bag in the corner of the room before making a beeline for the aux cord for the speaker system. He hooked up his phone and opened up his music files, his forehead pressing against the cool mirror wall.

For a moment, he simply let his eyes flutter shut and his lungs to breathe.

You were long gone by now, and Changmin considered just going back to his apartment, but he knew he would just lie in bed awake for hours if he did.

When he opened his eyes, he swiped out of his music and instead went to a file kept deep down in the depths of his storage. He had purposely named it so it would remain at the absolute bottom of the list when alphabetized, and the pass code on it was supposed to dissuade him from accessing it.

Supposed to.

He punched in the four digits of your birthday and the lock clicked open to reveal a hefty file of video after video. There were photos of you, too, somewhere, but the videos were all at the top of the file because of their size. He didn't know what he was gonna do when his phone ran out of storage; he figured that when that day came, it would either be when you and he finally figured shit out, or he got closure and could delete them all.

He sighed.

His thumb hovered over one of the video files near the top, one where he could see your face in the thumbnail.

When he opened it, his younger face filled the screen. His tongue poked out from his lips as he carefully settled his phone against the wall next to yours as both of your phones recorded the run-through that was about to happen.

"Changminnie! Come on, I'm starting the song!" Your voice echoed against the practice room walls, and his laughter soon followed as he scurried into place next to you.

Changmin watched his younger self transform his expression into something more serious, while you had looked at him through the mirror and burst out laughing.

Younger Changmin broke his facade, the dimples in his cheeks deep, his smile bright. "What?"

You grinned back at him. "Sorry, sorry! Nothing; it's just interesting how you can just shift your facial expression like that."

"You have to practice like you perform though!"

"I know, I know. I just like your smile better, y'know?"

Changmin could see the hearts in his younger self's eyes. Jesus, had he really blushed that hard? Younger Changmin cupped the back of his neck bashfully. "Really?"

You punched his arm playfully. "Yeah. It's really pretty, Changmin. I thought I told you this before."

"Well yeah, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again—yah! Hey, I can bite back, you know—!"

Changmin's eyes shuddered as the familiar melody of the song flowed into his ears. He abruptly slammed his thumb down onto the pause button.

No, he couldn't stomach hearing it. Not when he could recall every move from memory and not when he had no partner to complement those moves. It just reminded him of the gaping hole in his chest and the emptiness of this room.

"Let's get to work, Changmin," he muttered to himself as he swiped out of the folder and back to his music files. He had an actual to-do list in mind, after all, and it did not include a dive into the forbidden folder. (No matter how much he needed to hear your voice again, for once, not arguing with him.)

EPISODE EIGHT: OFF THE HOOK

"HE'S been pissy all morning—"

Changmin suppressed a groan of frustration as he heard his friend's voices nearing the dressing room he was in. All morning, the performing arts building had been a madhouse, even worse than the night of the draft showcase. Everyone just decided to be here today, whether they were his fellow dancers trying to score a practice room, one of the prospective actors auditioning for a part in Hyunjae's best friend's thesis play, or one of the tech members trying to make sure everything worked behind the scenes.

Changmin had gone from room to room in an attempt to find an empty one where he could have some peace in working on his own. He would have just gone home at this point, but Chanhee was stressing over his own exams, so Changmin was stuck here.

So taking all of that into account, including the rough encounter he'd had with you a couple days ago, plus a lack of sleep and coffee—not the happiest squirrel on campus.

(How could you just drop a bomb like "You were everything to me, Changmin" in his lap and expect him not to think of anything else for days on end?)

The door to the dressing room he was hiding in cracked open, and all of the cacophony from the outside flooded in, as well as a crush of his friends.

"Don't you guys have class?" Changmin moaned, his hand coming up to rub his sleep-deprived eyes.

"Well, yeah, but this is much more fun," came Younghoon's teasing chuckle as he walked over to Changmin and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

Changmin made a face. "I just wanted some peace and quiet."

Sunwoo scoffed. "Peace and quiet? You've come to the wrong place, hyung."

"Yeah," Hyunjae added on, "might as well take a break for once and come watch auditions with us! HJ!Yn needs help judging people anyway."

Changmin cocked a brow at the blond. "You should call Chanhee for that then. Shouldn't you be out there, Younghoon?" He nodded toward the tall, lanky drama major present.

Younghoon shook his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet. How did he have so much energy? "Nope. I'm auditioning for a part, so she's gatekeeping me from watching."

Changmin turned from his friends slightly as he reached down for his phone that he had situated on top of the small bluetooth speaker he had the good sense to bring. Then again, maybe he should have just stuck to earbuds… whatever. He was too tired to care. Part of him wanted to add to the chaos anyway.

"What's her thesis play about again?" He asked no one in particular. Sunwoo waddled over to him and stole his phone right from his hands and began browsing through the music selection.

"It's a modern take of one of Shakespeare's plays: Much Ado About Nothing," answered Younghoon. "It was really funny actually, like the original play. Lots of matchmaking, lots of stupidity. I think they dump someone in a lake..."

Hyunjae perked up. "Oh yeah! That was probably my favorite part of the whole script."

Changmin chuckled. "I was expecting you to say something like 'the whole thing's my favorite because my best friend wrote it'."

"Oh, no, that still applies."

Changmin, Sunwoo, and Younghoon all exchanged knowing looks with one another. Mhm… so they thought. There were a few too many in their friend group who had interesting relationships with their other friends. Exhibit A: whatever the fuck was happening with Hyunjae and his.

Hyunjae caught their silent communication and furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

Sunwoo snorted, but Younghoon was the one to drawl, "It's absolutely nothing."

Changmin pressed his lips into a cheeky smile, brushing the bangs from out of his vision. Hyunjae's lips quirked to the side in a frown, but didn't make any comment on it. It wasn't a new reaction from the group, by any means, but… oh well. That would be a tale for another time.

With that being said, Changmin followed the three of them out of the relative privacy of the dressing room and out into the hustle-bustle of the main backstage corridor. As soon as that dressing room was vacated, however, somebody was swift to occupy it. Changmin cursed inwardly; guess he wouldn't be able to come back to that room later.

With the switching of theater leadership over the past year (a changing of the guard, if you would, but with professors and sponsors), the management of the entire performing arts department was a mess and a half. There were a few stand-out graduate students and undergraduates who were keeping everything in check for all of the events happening over this year—like Hyunjae’s best friend, Lee Jihoon (a graduate student specializing in sound and music production), and Moon Taeil (a graduate who was a soloist in the chamber choir).

As the four young men made their way closer to the immediate backstage, the sound miraculously dulled down. The lights were a lot dimmer here, as the spotlights were turned toward the main stage. Changmin spotted a few people scattered throughout the backstage area with phones or folded script packets in their hands as they recited their lines to themselves, with some even making exaggerated facial expressions and grand hand gestures.

Hyunjae’s best friend was one of the up and coming director-screenwriter “prodigies” that the drama department championed. She was a year older than Changmin was, and he didn’t need to be a genius to know that there were a crowd of people vying for a role in her graduating thesis play. It must have been stressful as fuck, but he knew that she had a good head on her shoulders—

“—I’m gonna stop you right there.”

HJ!Yn’s voice resounded from the other side of the hefty velvet curtains separating the backstage from the main stage. Hyunjae made a show of pressing his index finger to his lips to signal his friends to be quiet—Sunwoo thus made a show of rolling his eyes (“Duh, we’re gonna be quiet.”). They all huddled to the side of the curtain and poked their heads out to see what was going on.

The university performing arts hall was likely one of the most magnificent places on campus. It featured a vast array of floor seating, while also boasting three levels of balcony seats. Changmin remembered once briefly learning the anatomy of the theater seating: the floor or nosebleeds, the slightly lofted box seats, the grand circle, loge circle, and upper circle—the gods. It was all very antiquarian, but it was a place Changmin had become quite familiar with over the years.

The director herself sat in the dimmed nosebleeds section, in the smack middle. Someone had dragged out one of those plastic, foldable tables for her to set her paperwork and a small, battery-operated lamp on top of.

Curiously, sitting next to her was none other than Bae Sumin, your new recruit.

Changmin straightened, accidentally bumping into Younghoon’s shoulder as he did. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Younghoon shook his head to say that it was all good, his hand lifted in acknowledgement.

“Did you know Sumin was here?” He asked his friend.

Younghoon’s expression was thoughtful. “I think so? I left to go find you when I thought I heard someone say they saw her come in. Why? Did she not tell you when the dance department interviews were gonna be held?”

Changmin recalled receiving no notice. “No. I—I figured Yn would be here, too, then. Right?” Was he ready to face you again so soon? Would you even acknowledge him this time—?

Younghoon passed him an amused glance with a small smile fitted over his face. “That would make sense,” he murmured with his arms crossed over his chest. One of his hands reached up to idly massage his jaw. “I’d imagine she would be with her friends, somewhere around here. Though, it would also make sense that she would be sitting with Sumin, too. Then again—”

“You are… no help,” Changmin deadpanned.

His friend chuckled lowly, eyes upturned into slim crescents.

“Uh Jihoon-ah?”

Changmin and Younghoon’s attention flitted over towards the far side of the backstage and they watched as a girl chased after the resident sound producer graduate student. He was, perhaps, smaller than one might anticipate from the intimidating man, but he still harbored so much scary energy and talent within his body. Like all of the staff on the technical team, the pair were clad in all black.

Jihoon glanced up from his clipboard and at the girl. “Hm?”

The girl nodded toward the curtains. “Director is calling for a break and is asking if the house lights can be turned on.”

“Ah okay, come on then. Follow me.”

As the two of them strode across the length of the backstage, the girl’s eyes found Changmin and Younghoon, and… She was looking past him now at someone else. She lifted her hand in a small wave, paired with a smile, “Hi, Sunwoo.”

Changmin whipped his head around, only to realize that Hyunjae had disappeared, but Sunwoo was now standing on Changmin’s other side. He watched in utter delight as his younger friend flushed, even in the dim lighting, at the girl’s greeting. His eyes were wide as he squeaked out a quick, “Hey!” in return.

When Jihoon and his charge had gone out of view, Changmin turned on Sunwoo with a hyena cackle. “Oh my god! Who was that, Kim Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo seemed to shrink into the collar of his hoodie. “No one.”

Changmin’s laughter lit up the room just as the house lights thunk-thunk-thunk’d to life. Younghoon had slipped away, most likely to meet Hyunjae in the nosebleeds, which left only the two of them there alone. “Do you have a crush on her?”

“Yah! You’re such a menace,” Sunwoo groaned, whacking Changmin with the extra length of his sweater paw. “You can’t even talk, dude! You’re in love with a girl who can barely stand to be in the same room—” Sunwoo realized his slip up and slapped a palm over his mouth.

Ouch. The truth hurt, didn’t it? Changmin chuckled, though it was noticeably quieter now. “Well, you’re not wrong—” He shook his head, eyebrows creased together, “—wait, no. Wait, I’m not in love with her!”

Sunwoo rolled his eyes so hard he must have seen his brain up there. “Oh, please. The last time you were drunk and emotional, you showed us that secret little folder in your phone.” He jabbed his finger accusingly at the phone in Changmin’s hand.

Changmin scowled, pressing his phone to his chest as if to protect it in case Sunwoo decided to have wandering hands. “That was told to you in confidence!”

“No, it was told to me in a drunken stupor—” The two of them began to make their way back toward the edge of the curtain, ducking out from its shadow and onto the main stage. Hyunjae and Younghoon were indeed in the nosebleeds now, but Sumin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had only been here to observe the audition process. “And you guys say I’m the lightweight.”

“That’s because you are the lightweight.”

Just as the two of them hopped down from the stage and onto the ground floor of seats, Juyeon came in from the doors located at the back of the seats. He raised a hand in greeting to all present, cheerfully waving with that golden retriever-esque grin. “Hey guys! Oh, Changminnie, I was just looking for you.”

Changmin’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh? What’s up, Juyeon?”

Sunwoo retreated into the rows up where Hyunjae and Younghoon were, while Changmin met up with Juyeon in the rightmost aisle.

Juyeon threw a thumb behind him toward the direction he had just come from. “Sumin was asking if you would be willing to do your interview right now.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Right now?”

“That’s what I just said, wasn’t it?”

Changmin pressed his lips together, before nodding. “Uh, for sure. Yeah, lead the way.”

The two dancers hiked their way back up to the back of the area and through the door Juyeon had originally entered through. The main lobby was much less crowded—it was practically barren, which made it the perfect environment to conduct an interview in. Sumin was setting herself up at one of the couches, setting her laptop, phone, and coffee cup on the coffee table opposite to her.

She raised her head when she heard the door open and close, and a bright smile graced her features. “Oh, you found him! Thanks, Juyeonie.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he chirped. “I’ve got a couple things to handle first, but just ask someone to come find me once you and Changmin are done.”

With Juyeon swiftly taking his leave, Changmin was left to take a seat on the other end of the couch that Sumin was sitting at. “Hey, nice to see you again, Sumin,” he said, crossing one ankle over the other and resting his arm along the back of the couch.

The corners of her smile widened. “Nice to see you, too, Changmin! Sorry this was so sudden; I figured that I could get started on some of the interviews while I was here.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” he chuckled.

She reached for her phone, fidgeting as she swiped to a simple recording application. “I hope you don’t mind me recording this…?” At his consent, she nodded. “Okay, cool. I did wanna say something before we started.”

He sat up just a bit. “What is it?”

There was a sort of twinkle in her eyes, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her manner became a lot more bashful all of a sudden. “I have to confess that I asked my mentor, Yn, if she could send me some of your dance performance videos and I’m literally in awe of your talent. Like, I wanted to tell you how starstruck I am just being able to tell you this right now, but I just wanted to say this before we started.”

He broke into a boyish grin at this, his dimples becoming craters of joy in the apples of his cheeks. “Ah, thank you—that really means a lot,” he smiled.

Sumin added on, one of her palms pressing against the couch cushion as she leaned toward him slightly, “I mean, I don’t even know how Yn was able to find videos of you from high school, but I’m so glad she did, because—”

Wait what. Changmin was watching Sumin’s mouth move as she talked but he wasn’t truly hearing what she said. His humble, albeit a bit dumbfounded, smile remained, but her words from just before resonated in his head. There were definitely a few of his dance performance videos online from his high school days, but did you keep links to them? Did you keep the recordings on your phone?

The fact that Sumin asked you meant that she probably had no clue about your past, only that you were the person Sumin could rely on if she had any questions.

What did it mean? What did it mean?

His heart pounded in his chest at the thought that maybe he could possibly have an excuse to get you to talk to him, even if it was one, truly dumbass excuse.

“—ready?”

Changmin snapped out of his dazed state. “Sorry?”

Sumin blushed slightly, clearing her throat. At some point, she had pulled her laptop onto her lap and prepped her phone by placing it in between the two of them to record the following conversation. “Are you ready to start?”

He coughed, straightening and adjusting his position. “Oh, yeah—uh, sorry. Yeah, whenever you’re ready.”

Sumin gauged his reaction carefully, but instead of pressing the record button, she hit the power button. “If I may, you seem a little distracted. I don’t really want this to feel like a burden if you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

Shit. “No, I mean,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry. I guess my mind just wanders really easily when…” He huffed a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m a little tired, that’s all.”

“I totally get that,” she sympathized. “You’ve probably been practicing non-stop lately for the winter showcase. We don’t have to do this today if you’re not in the right headspace.”

He sighed and couldn’t help but feel just a little relieved. He needed to talk to Chanhee about this, math exam or dance practice be damned. But there was a part of him that definitely felt awful about having to cut off her interview even before it began. He gestured to her phone. “How about we reschedule? We could meet up sometime else during the week to redo this and I promise I’ll be all yours.”

He didn’t know what he did, but the pink on her cheeks deepened to a cherry red. “Oh, uh, sure!” She giggled, taking her phone and passing it over to him. “You can just put your phone number in there and I’ll text you to ask when you wanna meet up.”

Changmin nodded his agreement and swiftly inputted his contact information into the given slots. “Definitely,” he said before handing her phone back to her. The phone fumbled between the two of them, but Changmin was already standing up with the goal to go retrieve his bag (wherever it was), and to go consult Chanhee and the man’s infinitesimal opinions. “Really sorry again, Sumin.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it!” She dismissed his worries with a flick of her wrist. “Would you mind finding Juyeon, though?”

Changmin sent her a thumb’s up over his shoulder on his way to the door. “Yeah, for sure.”

She returned the gesture, watching as he disappeared out of the main lobby. It was only when he was definitely gone, she covered her mouth with her hand and stared at his saved contact in her phone. Then, with a silent scream of happiness, she ran to her text chain with you to tell you all about it.

a/n: PLS STILL REBLOG THIS PART EVEN THO ITS NOT THE FULL THING PLS PLS PLS IM BEGGING

read part two here (also linked at top)

permanent taglist: @honeyhuii @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @ethereal-engene @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @vatterie @yogurteume @justalildumpling @hyunjaespresent-deobi @hongyangi @pxppxrminty @nerdypastacalzonespy @jcmdoll @kflixnet

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#kflixnet #the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #changmin x reader #q x reader #the boyz fanfic #the boyz drabble #the boyz fluff #the boyz oneshot #the boyz angst #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #ji changmin oneshots #ji changmin drabbles #changmin imagines #changmin oneshot #changmin fluff #changmin angst #changmin scenarios

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underscorehealy · 2 months

Text

producer in crime - matty healy x labelmate!au

chapter 1: part of the band

wc: 1.1k

cw: none

an: hiya!! this is the new and improved au i've been working on and i'm sorry again for deleting the last one. it really just wasn't it for me. but i'm so stoked abt this one!! this was a lot of fun to write and i genuinely hope you like it as much as i do :)

-------------------------------------------------------

you trip over the main flight of stairs as you enter the main room of the studio. today's the first day of production on your new album, interstella. the name came to you like that, mainly because your name is stella. you'd never really worked in a proper studio before, as before this, you had usually made all of your previous works on your laptop in bed. so naturally, this was a huge deal.

you'd recently been signed to indie label, dirty hit, who is home to a few notable names like the japanese house, beabadoobee, and the one you're most excited about, the 1975. they were such a big inspiration for you to even start making music. but you had been friends with amber (aka the japanese house) for a few years now so when she introduced you to jamie, the label owner, you were ecstatic to finally have a place to showcase your talents. so some hope and a few paperwork signatures later, you were finally about to record your debut album.

"you okay?" a deep, male voice said as he watched you trip over the stairs. "oh yeah!! thanks" you chuckle. when you look up, you notice george daniel, the drummer and producer for the 1975. you had felt honored to be in his presence. jamie had usually set new artists up with george and matty healy because of their level of skill but you still felt incredibly honored.

"yeah thanks!" you catch your breath with a slight blush of embarrassment. george leads you into the studio and you're automatically in love with the sight in front of you. recording booth, guitars galore, it's everything you've dreamed of and more. "george. nice to meet you. first time in a studio?" he says giving off a cheeky grin. "yeah. pretty nervous actually. from a laptop in bed to a full studio really is a big progression." "yeah, been there." you show george some of the writing you've done and the demos you've made when all of a sudden you hear running footsteps rushing into the room.

"fuck. am i late?" a decently tall man (taller than you anyway), with coffee brown curls that look like little croissants at the top of his head and tapioca colored eyes, completely out of breath while almost dropping his guitar case pronounces. "yeah, where the fuck were you mate?" george shoots the man a glare. "alarm didn't go off." "mhm. sure." george passively says. "matty, this is stella. stella, this is matty." you and matty both introduce yourself to each other. from your understanding (what jamie told you), matty is co-producing the album with george, and providing backups on whatever he needs to. you involve matty in the discussion of presenting demos and having them listen to some of the voice notes you recorded on your phone.

both matty and george seem pretty impressed on what you already have. now you just have to bring all of the demos to life, but you have the fantastic duo to help you along the way so in reality you're incredibly lucky to be in this position.

today was mainly spent going over the album, listening to demos, playing around with different sounds and coming up with ideas to make the album even better. though you would be lying if you didn't feel a bit awkward in this position. you're with 2/4 of one of the most popular bands in the world who are so much more experienced than you. to be fair, they've been doing this for 20 something years so next to them, you feel like a tiny ant next to a big tree.

"yo, scarlett!! i have this little intro guitar idea thingy for the 6th song. you wanna hear??" matty shouts from the other corner of the room but you're too busy thinking about the potential of the album and hoping you'll make it work. you feel a sudden slap on your shoulder. "you good?" he says as he lets out a chuckle. "oh! yeah! totally fine! what's up?"

after you guys are done at the studio for today, you get a text from jamie just asking about how today went and setting up a label meeting to talk about the album, it's visuals and the future of your career. you tell him your down for a meeting on monday, which is only 3 days away.

george is the first to leave the studio, having to go take mayhem on a walk. "you excited?" you hear matty's dark but somewhat girly voice across from you, while putting out a cigarette. "yeah definitely!! as well as completely and utterly nervous at the same time. this is my first time ever in like a professional studio so this is a giant leap for me." you say as you continuously spin around in the spinny chair. "yeah, feel ya there." matty says. "we've worked with small artists a lot, especially with ones that are just getting used to the industry. this shit is crazy so it's good to have mentors that can start you out and guide you but its not like we're gonna leave you off after to fend for yourself. hell, george produced ambers last album and she's been doing this for a bit, you know?" "i can't really say i know but i'm totally grateful to have you and george guiding me." you say as matty shoots you a smile .

"well, stella, it was great meeting you!!" he says as you hands you a small paper slip. "here's my number just in case you need anything. cya around!" you didn't get the chance to say goodbye before he packed up his guitar case and left but you were too exhausted so after he left, you followed not too far behind. you hopped in your car and headed off back to your flat.

right after you enter your front door, your cat, eloise, nuzzles up against your ankle and you can't help but laugh and snap a picture. you pick her up and head to your couch, plopping you and eloise in front of the tv. nothing good on, but you decide on some dumb reality show anyway. you pick up your phone and shoot matty a text.

(your texts | matty's texts)

hi!! this is stella btw :)

yo, you good??

yeah. everythings okay. just wondering if you wanted to have a coffee or something before the meeting monday.

yeah, that sounds great actually. 9am-ish??

yeah, sounds great. cya there!!

you smile with excitement filled in your eyes as matty reads your last message sent to him. and at that moment, you feel incredibly lucky to be in this position and to produce your album with 2 of the most inspiring people on the planet.

#matty #matty the 1975 #drive like i do #the 1975 #bfiafl #matty healy #iliwysfyasbysuoi #at their very best #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x labelmate!au

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steddie-thirst · 2 years

Text

Prey VS Predator | Steddie X Fem! Reader 18+ |

🔞⚠️ Warnings ⚠️🔞:explicit language, cursing, daddy kink, a little Halloween fun, stalker Steve, Steve being a mean daddy and pervy Eddie, a lot of smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, rough sex, oral (male/fem receiving), voyeurism/watching/being watched, dom/sub dynamics, slight overstimulation

Summary: Steve and Eddie have always been a big fan of theatrics. However, close to Halloween they make a suggestion to change things up in your sex life, you didn't plan on them going through with it while you were at work. Leading to a very thrilling chase that ends with them pleasuring you for hours on end.

"Finally." You sigh in relief, "Closing time." The best part of the day had arrived. After a brief few hours of suffering you are more than enthusiastic about this time of day. Getting to go home, relax, make some time for your very needy boyfriends and maybe catch up on some things. Pulling the gate shut you glance over at the brightly lit 'Scoops Ahoy' sign. Steve and Robin were scrubbing away at the floor. Steve must've felt your piercing gaze because he looked up across the way over at you.

"Ahoy sailor!" Steve shouts across the way a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. Grabbing your keys and ducking under the security gate Steve watches as you hurry over to him. Robin still scrubbing away in the background. He glances over his shoulder, before sliding the gate aside to quickly peck your lips.

"I saw that!" Robin grumbled displease with the horny, childish behavior. The two of you grin like lovesick children and smiled. "Hey, I'll see you after I clean up. I told Robin I'd clean the ice cream tubs today so I'll be out around 9:45."

"M'kay." You agree leaning up to kiss him once more. God, Steve's lips were so soft. The faint taste of cherry and vanilla still present on his lips. When you pulled away Steve was smiling. You reached up and run your fingers through his hair checking to make sure Robin wasn't listening. "I've got some books to put up on the shelves anyway. I'll be waiting for you and Eddie by the food court." With that said Steve kisses you one last time before he gets back to scrubbing the remnants of spilled ice cream and sprinkles.

You walk back over to your store just as the phone line rings, "Ugh, stupid customers." Reaching for the phone and answering with a huff. "Books Galore, this is Y/N speaking to tell you were closed."

"Aww, that's to bad. I was hoping to see that really hot chic who works there." You scoff at the comment.

"Eddie!" You whine. "I told you to stop calling the store after hours, you're gonna get me in trouble."

"What if I like trouble, baby?" He replied. Smug little shit he was. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson were your terrible duo. They both always had bad ideas and an even worse sense of humor.

"You're such a pain in the ass, Eds." You grumbled through the phone. Eddie laughed.

"Sorry, baby." He apologizes though it was probably another open-ended apology for him to do the same shit again.

"Why did you call, Eddie?" You ask turning back to task at hand of stacking books on their proper shelves.

He chuckled, "Wanted to let you know I'd be running late today. Had a little trouble."

"Okay, are you okay, Eddie?" Your usual quirky and caring boyfriend was acting a bit odd. His voice was low, husky, as he spoke. "You sound.. different?" You posed it as a question.

He only chuckled in response. "Do I?" You heard his voice again on the other line. As you were about to say something else, you heard the line go dead. Did he hang up? With a huff, you put the phone back and slowly continued to close up. With each of your men being late, you didn't really need to rush. Continuing with the task of setting the empty boxes in the back for them to be dumped the next morning. In this process you noticed the back door had been left cracked open.

“What…?” Dropping the box that was in your hand rushing to pull it shut with a loud THUD. You sighed, “Shit.” It was only open just by a crack, so the worst thing that would’ve snuck in was a fly. Walking back to the register it was time to begin the count for the safe deposit. As you do this there is a sort of overwhelming dread that pools in your gut. Trying to put all focus on counting the money, you lose focus and glance over at Scoops Ahoy. Maybe catching a glimpse of Steve would put all fears you had to an end. However, there was no Steve and definitely no Robin the mop bucket he’d just used was set haphazardly on the floor which was very unlike Steve.

"Steve? Robin?" You called out. There was no answer. Maybe Steve went into the bathroom or something? "Fuck.." You physically shook your head to clear out the anxiety and moved on to fully close the security gate.

Halfway through closing it the gate screeched to a halt. "What the-" You noticed the metal gate wasn't shutting fully. "Fucking shit!" You cursed in frustration. Something that should've been fixed a week ago had never gotten done. As you attempt to push it down further the phone rings again. “Fuck Eddie..” You muttered already tired of tonight’s endless bullshit.

"Ugh! Hold on!" You snap, forcing the gate down. It finally went down with a loud clang and immediately locked into place. Then, you stormed over to the phone and picked it up. “Sorry we’re closed!”

"That's not a proper way to talk to a stranger young lady." A raspy voice scolds you over the phone. You froze, "Who's this?"

"No one you know. Or maybe you do."

You looked around the cashier's desk to see if anyone had snuck into the store. "Listen, I'm going to hang up. It's been a long day and we're closed."

"I don't give a fuck if the store is closed. You're about to be split open."

"Ugh!" You hung up and half-laughed at the audacity of that guy. "Jesus Christ.."

You finally finished with the cash and grabbed the keys. Bending down to grab your purse and jacket you scoff. Steve and Eddie are going to owe you a drink later. When you stand back up and look at the gate you freeze. It's open. Wide open.

"But... What?" You walk slowly to the gate and look around. There was no one inside the mall that you could see. And how did you not hear it come open?

You walk out of the store and into the open. Okay, it was definitely time to go home. Then from home you could file a complaint. "Steve!" You call out his name as you dart over to his own store. You rap your knuckles on the gate, "Steve please!"

You sighed in relief when his familiar face rounded the corner. "Baby, you look as pale as a ghost."

"Yeah, this weirdo scared me on the phone."

"Aw, you got scared?" Steve cooed down at you as he sauntered over and leaned on the gate. You couldn’t believe he was choosing now to be an arrogant little shit

"Yeah! You should have heard him. I think he threatened to kill me."

He didn't look to serious about the situation. "Then the back door and.. and the gate." As you explained it became increasingly clear that Steve didn't seem to be taking it seriously.

"Baby, just relax. You're just getting worked up about nothing. Why don't you go to the food court and sit down."

You whimper, not willing nor wanting to be on your own at the moment. "Steve, I'm scared."

He walked off without a second thought and you whined. Steve was obviously in a bad mood tonight, but you knew better than to argue. Overcoming your current fears and sense of dread you slowly walk towards the food court. On your way you pass the game store Eddie was working at. Part of you wanted to see if he was still in, but you didn't want to disobey Steve. You just leaned over to see if you could spot him, but unfortunately, it was completely closed. But wait.. if it was closed, where was Eddie? "Eddie?" You called out softly. Two hands suddenly grabbed you by the waist and you let out a horrified scream. Chest heaving as you turn around to swing at whoever dares to touch you. A very confused, but concerned Eddie stands there hands up in the hair. "Woah, woah, easy sweetheart. Didn't mean to scare yah."

"Eddie.." You were relieved and immediately collapsed into his arms. The familiar scent of smoke, pine, and mint filling your senses.

"What's got you so on edge, princess?" His fingers run through your hair and he rests his chin atop your head.

"Someone's scaring me and Steve doesn't care." You whined.

"He doesn't? Dump him."

"Eddie that's not funny. Why are you both dismissing my concerns so quickly?" You whined. "It's not funny and I feel like shit!"

"I'm sorry, babe! I was just joking. Trying to cheer you up." Eddie claimed a grin forming on his lips. The brunette was acting a bit odd, if not more so than his counterpart.

You weren't feeling too comforted by Eddie now either. "Was it you on the phone?" You find yourself asking. Eddie had pulled pranks on Steve and you before. Having such a knack for scaring people it always bothered you deep down. "Yeah, I called you earlier-"

You shake your head and pull away. "No, was it you on the phone threatening me."

"Why would I want to kill you?" Eddie scoffed.

"I don't know, you say stupid shit-- hold on." You paused and looked at Eddie with wide eyes. "I never told you about what he said."

"Baby." He furrowed his brows as he looked down at you. The pieces had begun to fit together. Eddie's game store connected to yours through the back door. He was the one who had a direct line to your phone. You couldn't believe it, "Eddie.. how could you do that to me?"

"Do what?" Eddie asked. You shook your head and started to walk towards the mall entrance doors. The boys were being a bunch of assholes towards you for no reason. You didn't care if you had to hitchhike home. This was not okay and it was bullshit.

As you reached the doors and pushed nothing happened. "The fuck?" You gave shove after another against the doors, but they didn't budge. Eddie huffed, "Quit playing around, Y/N. If you wanna leave then leave-"

"I can't the door is-" When you looked back there was a strange figure moving behind Eddie in the distance, "...locked.." You trailed off. The figure was closing in fast.

"Eddie!" You tried to warn him. Eddie looked around, and somehow, the figure slunked behind one of the many decorations and plants throughout the mall. "Oh come on! He was just behind you!" You argued.

You were growing frustrated and decided to just leave Eddie there on his own. "You both aren't getting head for a week!" You snapped at Eddie, but hoped Steve could hear as well. He watched you walk off towards the back entrance arms crossed and teeth grit in anger. "Fuck." He hissed quietly. You had made your way back past the bookstore and Scoops Ahoy. This time all the lights were out. The store was closed? Why didn't Steve meet you back at the foodcourt? Something wasn't right about tonight. Eddie was being a piece of shit and Steve was being dismissive two very unnatural behaviors from both boys. Was it because it was Halloween?

"I just wanna go home." You whined to yourself and thought maybe you should just picklock your way out of here. Worst case scenario, you'd text security and they'd get you out of here. As you finally made it to the other side of the mall and went to push on the doors they were locked to. "Shit! Stupid door!" You curse. From your right you heard a crash followed by glass breaking. "Hello?!" You call out slowly walking towards the noise.

"Eddie? Steve?!" You called out. What if they got hurt? You could never forgive yourself if they got hurt or worse while you stormed off. "Fuck, answer me, guys!" You called out. From around the corner a dark figure appeared. It wasn't Eddie or Steve. It was some sicko in a Halloween costume, "Uhmm I'm looking for a way out.." You began, but are cut off when the figure starts sprinting towards you.

"Fuck!" You ran in the opposite direction as fast as you could. Unfortunately, the figure was taller, therefore had longer legs than you and could run faster. He tackled you to the ground and flipped you over on your back, clamping a gloved hand around your mouth so you couldn't scream.

You let out a scream into the palm of the hand although it was silenced. Their weight kept you pinned to the ground and not feeling like being a victim tonight you reach your leg beck and kick the fucker between his legs. The person let out a pained groan and lost their grip on you allowing for you to sprint off. However your cut off by the same figure. Glancing back the other one is still very much recovering from the damage dealt to his balls. However, the other was up and ready to go. You noticed the furniture store's side door was open and made a run for it.

As you ran, you could hear the second figure was close behind. Tears pricking in your eyes, you try and run past all the furniture and weave your way to an exit. Unfortunately, the second grabs your hair just as you enter the couch section of the store. He pins you on the couch in the dark and makes sure your legs are pinned.

You let out a pathetic whine struggling against the masked figure. Managing to free your hand you reach up and punch the attacker in the face. "Aw, Shit!" A voice whines.

You freeze up a little, the voice sounding eerily familiar. You struggle again, but this time he growls at you. "Just fucking keep still."

"Steve?!" You cannot believe this for a second.

A chuckle escapes him as he removes his mask. You stare up at him horrified, "Steve what's going on?"

"She fucking kicked me in the balls!" You look over your shoulder and watch the second figure approach and remove their mask. Eddie?

“Surprise, baby girl.” Eddie smirks. No, this couldn’t be happening. Had they done all this just to scare you?

"You fucking deserved it, asshole!" You cried. "You scared the shit out of me, I can't believe you two! Let me go! I want to go home!"

"Babe, no--"

Your eyes were focused up on Steve."Fuck you! I hate this! I just want to go home without you! I don't wanna see you!" You were livid. They put you through a nightmare that most people don't wake up from. It was shitty and they didn't even bother to give into the concerns you had earlier.

"No, fuck you!" Steve hissed back at you making you bite your tongue. Steve rested his hands by your head as he peered down at you."This was all your idea, baby."

"Sure was." Eddie agreed. His gloved hands find their way to your shoulders. Gently rubbing them as you take in the information. "Remember?" You shake your head and the two lock eyes with each other. Eddie decides to elaborate. "You, me, and Steve were watching that horror movie and you," Eddie's fingers wrapped around your throat squeezing it as Steve watched. Eddie was so pretty when he was angry, eyes dark with lust, and lips carefully whispering every word.

"You, naughty thing," Eddie pressed a kiss to your jaw making you squirm, "Told us how completely arousing it was to be chased around, going on about how horror was the greatest form of foreplay." Eddie's lips were dangerously close to your ear as he whispered each word. Steve chuckles, "Then you went on about how Halloween was around the corner and would be fun if we tried it. But we," Steve gestures between himself and Eddie," We decided how much fun it would be if you didn't expect it."

However, this wasn't how you had wanted it to happen. "That's the thing princess." Eddie cooes, "We didn't want you to know. We wanted you to have a bit of a thrill. Something about the adrenaline pumping through you affects how aroused you are. That rush got you going didn't it?" He asked lips curling up into a grin. You now noticed how trapped you were between Steve's legs that rested on either side of your hip preventing you from escaping. Eddie's grip on your throat wasn't letting up either.

"But.. I thought I was gonna be killed. That's not hot." You whined, reaching up to rest on Eddie's hand on your throat. "I was so scared."

"I'm sorry baby." Steve leaned down to kiss you while Eddie's grip started cutting off the oxygen to your brain a little bit. Everything was becoming foggy. What was going on? The mix between those soft lips and the lack of oxygen was affecting the way your thinking. You wanted to be mad, but it felt so good. Eddie and Steve were always so attentive to you but not like this. You moaned softly into the kiss, Steve's lips left the lingering taste of vanilla against your tongue and he chuckled. "You look so pretty, princess." The blissful feeling Steve's kiss left behind was cut short by Eddie.

Letting out a short whine when Steve pulled away, his hands roaming up your sides slowly. "You, know you really pissed me off back there." Eddie hissed in your ear. Your chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.

"I'm sorry--" You whimpered lips trembling in fear of being in trouble.

"Sorry doesn't heal the bruise you left on my fucking balls." Eddie grit out removing his hands from your throat, the flow of oxygen rushing back into your lungs making your head spin. "But maybe you should try to make it better with that smart mouth." He stands up and removes his gloves, tossing them aside.

Steve smirks down at you and laughs. "So much for 'no head for a week' huh, princess?" The way he managed to make you feel so little was intoxicating. Steve was always the one in charge. Eddie could make suggestions but Steve was always in control. "I did catch her first, Munson. But I'll let you have her mouth, I've been waiting to taste this sweet little pussy all night." It was very rare you got to hear Harrington be so vulgar. He normally was a passionate man, but not tonight. Not with the way you ran them in circles.

You didn't even know what to do, let alone say. Eddie however was quick to let you in on his plan. "Flip her over, eat it from the back. I'm gonna fuck her throat." Eddie's voice was gruff. Steve took you by the arms and flipped you so that you were on your stomach, shoving a pillow under you so your ass was angled in the air. Eddie cooed down at you, "You've been a little brat today. Got anything to say for yourself?" All you can manage is a pitiful apology.

Good thing they had caught you in the furniture store. Things were about to get real out of hand. It would be highly uncomfortable anywhere else. The sound of belt unbuckling brings you from the trance you were in. Catching Eddie's and yours attention. Steve takes his belt and pulls both arms behind your back and loops his belt around them. "No more fighting from you tonight, sweetheart. We have had enough of that today. You're going to do what we say and when we say it, got it?" Eddie loved it when Steve got like this. It made his cock harder than it already was. You nodded and Steve delivered a quick pop to your ass.

"Respond, properly." He demanded.

Eddie watched as you got all flustered trying to respond.

"Y-Yes, Daddy." Your voice was a little hoarse from being choked earlier.

"Good girl." Eddie praises. He grabbed your hair near your scalp, bringing it closer to his crotch. He unbuckled his pants with one hand and tugged his boxers down. You stare up at him, with wide eyes at the cock that springs free. For someone like Eddie he was always talked a big game, but only you got to experience it. None of the girls at Hawkins High would ever believe that Eddie Munson was truly a freak in the bedroom.

He sighed in relief, "Doesn't he have such a pretty cock, baby?" Steve questions hands busy moving your dress out of the way.

"Yes." You moaned quietly. Earning another pop to your ass making you cry out.

"Don't tell me. Tell him, look him in the eyes and say it."

Tonight was definitely different and the boy's behavior was proof of that. Eddie was just ready to fuck your throat and Steve was going devour you like his last meal. "Y-Your cock is pretty, Eddie."

"Such a slut. She'll do anything I tell her to. Right baby?" Steve inquired and you nodded eagerly. "Go ahead, Eds."

"Come on, pretty girl. Open up." You look up at his soft brown orbs gazing down at you, hazed over with lust. "Come on." He encourages again. Steve pushes up the skirt of your dress and delivers yet another smack to your ass, yet again making you yelp out in pain giving Eddie the chance to shove himself inside your mouth. His grip on your hair tightened and he sighed lips parting as his hips thrust forward, shoving his cock further down your throat.

"See, that wasn't hard. Was it, angel?" Steve's fingers are already teasing the hem of your panties ready to rid you of them. You squeaked in surprise as he thrust into your mouth, but it was so erotic, you didn't care. Just as Eddie got what he wanted, you could feel Steve completely rip your underwear off and dove tongue first into your pussy. The way his tongue moved was making you weak in the knees.

Your moans had adverse effects on Eddie as he was inside your mouth. The vibrations from your little noises fueled his pleasure. "Fuck, Steve. If you keep that up I'm going to cum down her throat." Steve pulled away, letting out a chuckle.

"God, do it. Make a mess." Steve groaned. Eddie grabbed your hair with both hands and thrusted in and out of your mouth.

"Fuck.. oh fuck.." He panted. "Take it, baby.. such a little slut."

You were completely riding the high that came with being pleased at both ends. Both of your boys were. Taking care of you in a way you didn't think was quite possible before.

Steve took a break from his assault on your clit and leaned over your back to grab Eddie's chin. His lips captured his and Eddie groaned as his dick twitched in your mouth. Steve bit at the metalhead's bottom limp earning a soft moan from him. He pulled back and looked him in the eyes, "Who's my pretty boy, hm?"

Eddie whines, "I-I am."

"That's right, pretty boy." Steve praises as his fingers brush over your clit electing a whine from you. "You close?" He asks gently, caressing his cheek. Eddie's speed in fucking your throat picks up as he whimpers pathetically.

"F-Fuck.. shit.." He cursed. Steve taps his cheek, and Eddie's eyes flick back up to him. "Yes." He replied almost in a whisper. Steve's fingers dug into the skin of Eddie's cheeks and he growled.

"Good, then fucking cum down that pretty bitch's little throat." He demanded. Eddie held your head in place as he shoved his cock all the way down your throat. He grit his teeth as he came. "Fuck!" Steve smiled and let go of Eddie. He slowly pulls out of your mouth managing to swallow every drop, some leaking down your chin.

"Good boy. Now pull up a chair." Steve sits back and pulls you with him. Your back pressed flush against his chest, arms still tied with his belt. You are placed in his lap legs dropped over each of his own. Eddie quickly grabs a chair from one of the furniture displays and takes a seat in front of you and Steve.

He holds the skirt of your dress up so Eddie has a full view of your pretty little cunt. He's practically drooling at the sight. Thank God this store's cameras never worked, because whoever was watching would get a full show.

Eddie slouched back in the chair, legs spread as he gripped his cock. Steve's careful fingers tease your clit leaving you a moaning mess as Eddie watches on stroking his cock. To them you were the prettiest like this, out on display, for them to use and touch freely. "Mmm, Steve.." You rock your hips forward to obtain more friction. Which only earns you a pinch to your little bud.

Eddie's lips curling up into a smirk as he locks eyes with Steve. Watching as your body trembles beneath his grasp. "That's not how you say my name, angel." He growled in your ear.

"Daddy." You sigh out lout as his fingers get back to work torturing your clit. As he picks up the pace that oh so familiar feeling begins to coil in your abdomen. Steve could tell as the little moans, and whimpers became more desperate louder.

As Eddie watches his hand tightens around his cock picking up the pace as Steve does. Stroking himself in rhythm with the circular movements on your clit.

Steve was so smug as he watched on, leaving wet kisses along your jaw and neck, nipping at the skin. "D-Daddy… I'm-"

"Are you,slut? Huh? Going to cum all over Daddy's fingers while he watches huh?" You whimpered at his words. "Such a dirty girl. You like being watched don't you, angel?"

"Yeah she does." Eddie agrees watching as her walls flutter, on the verge of her orgasm. Steve smirked he knew the day that he and Eddie picked you out to be theirs you'd be perfect and tonight was proof.

"Then cum." At that exact moment you feel as if your world comes crashing down. Eddie looks on as Steve's fingers continue to rub at your clit as you cum.

"Fuck, Daddy! I-I'm…" You whimper and he shushes you kissing your cheek as he helps you ride through your first orgasm of the night. It was going to be a long night after all.

"There we go, angel. Shh, that's it. That's my girl." Eddie halts his movements and stands up.

Your head leans back against Steve's shoulder trying to catch your breath when he speaks up. "Now, baby. Who do you want first? Eddie or Daddy."

Your eyes flick between the two boys and you can only whine out a name, "Eds, I want you."

"Hear that pretty boy she wants your cock first." Eddie had already came. Steve always came before him and he knew that.

"But, Stevie." Eddie tries to argue as Steve stands up and positions you as he wants on the couch. Arms still fastened behind your back, which was trapped between the cushions and your own body, legs still spread, closing them surely would get you in trouble.

"No buts, pretty boy. Do it." Steve now takes a seat in the chair, legs crossed over another as Eddie makes his way over to you. You and Eddie lock eyes as his hands carefully guide his cock into your walls.

"Shit!" He cursed. The way your walls tightened around him would've usually made him cum on the spot, but he'd already warmed up, therefore could last longer. Which was exactly what Steve wanted.

He had planned this from the get go. Telling Eddie where to go and which way to run to so he could get to you last. Steve wanted to be the one to catch you and the last to fuck you.

You sigh as Eddie fills you to the brim hitting that magical spot inside you. His lips capture yours in a heated but sloppy kiss as he begins to thrust his hips forward. "Eddie, you better fuck her like you mean it." Steve spoke up. The silence fell around afterwards as the sound of skin on skin filled the room.

"There we go, now it's a fucking show." Steve encourages the scene before him. Watching his boyfriend fuck the daylights out of their girl. "Come on, Munson. You're always going on and on about how good you are. Let's see it."

Eddie's fingers dig into the side of your hips as he picks up the pace at Steve's relentless teasing. "Eddie." You moaned softly struggling at the resistance that the belt provided you. "Please.."

"Baby, just fucking keep quiet." He snapped at you with one hand coming up to grip your throat. You let out a moan and he chuckled. "Now I know why you picked me, princess. Thinking I'd let you out of your restraints huh?" You whimpered and shook your head at the accusation.

"Choosing me over Steve cause I'm nicer huh? Is that it?" He suddenly out of nowhere had switched temperaments throwing you for a loop. Steve chuckled as Eddie suddenly picked up the pace. He unbuckled his belt and removed his own cock stroking it as he watched the two of you.

He swiped his thumb over the tip and slowly stroked himself to full hardness. God, he could watch you get fucked for hours. It was his own personal show all put on by you and Eddie. Tonight though he needed to feel your mouth around him.

"Stop." He orders. Shocking both parties as he stood up, circling around the two before speaking.

"Pull out. I've got an idea." Steve finally elaborated as he pushed Eddie aside and helped adjust to your lack of mobility. He places you down on your knees before him and looks back to Eddie. "Now, baby boy. You fuck her while she warms my cock with that smart little mouth of hers." He explained and Eddie is quick to pull your hips back to him as he slides back in with ease.

Steve sighs as your lips wrap around his cock, revealing in the warmth provided. "Fuck, angel. Your mouth is just as warm as your pussy." Steve compliments fingers brushing through your hair reassuringly as Eddie works on taking you from behind. The moans going muffled by Steve's cock down your throat.

"God, Harrington. She's so fuckin' tight."

Eddie grunts.

"That's because she's a slut. She likes being stuffed and filled." He replied nonchalantly. "Don't you baby?" His eyes are on you, mouth filled with his cock, and unable to respond or struggle. It made him feel in control of something he never got outside of the bedroom at work or around the gang, but here. What he said would be what goes.

His eyes were half-lidded and clouded with a feral hunger. Eddie was practically fucking you down on his cock. "God, Steve, she's squeezing me. I think she's getting ready to cum."

"Yeah, is that right?" Steve looked down at you and watched you shut your eyes to avoid looking at him. He pulls you off his cock by your hair and you grit your teeth to prevent yourself from whining. "You ready to come, angel?"

"Yes, Steve, please." You beg. "I'm sorry I've been such a brat, just let me cum again." He chucked at the pathetic attempt, but would allow it this time.

"Go ahead and cum then, princess." You let out a strangled cry as your walls fluttered around Eddie's cock buried deep within you. Steve starts stroking his cock ready to cum with you, "Open baby." You take him in your mouth moaning around him as Steve finishes inside your mouth and Eddie inside you. His hips slowed and he sighed.

"Fucking hell, sweetheart." He groans finally after coming for a second time tonight. You lock eyes with Steve as he comes down your throat letting out his own string of curses.

"Fuck! You're such a dirty fucking girl." He hissed. You whimpered around him, but swallowed what he'd given you. The torture was finally over and Eddie moves to undo the belt allowing you to climb up into Steve's lap. His fingers brush back your hair and he kisses your forehead. "Good girl. You did so well tonight." He praises and Eddie flops down on the couch next to them completely spent.

"Fuck, that was hot. We've gotta do that again.." He sighs. Going to light a cigarette as you curl up in Steve's lap. He snatches the cig and tosses it.

"What the hell Steve?!" The metalhead huffed.

"Sprinklers." He replied gently, running his hand over your back in calming circles. "You okay, baby?"

You reply in a quiet voice, "Yes, Daddy."

"Good, both of you did very well." The rest of the night was spent at Eddie's trailer cleaning up and relaxing on the bed. You curled up between your two boys.

The very next morning Steve awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs. He opened his eyes searching for the both of you, turns out Eddie had gotten up, but you were still tuckered out. Eddie came back to the room with two plates of food. "Sorry." He apologized noticing Steve was wide awake.

He sets one plate down and leans down to kiss him on the lips.

"Morning, Eds." Steve grumbled and they stare at you adoringly as he takes the plate from Eddie's hands.

"She really must be tired huh?" He asked Steve with a grin and he chuckled. "I'd be to if I got brutally fucked." Harrington joked lightly and Eddie had the biggest smirk on his face.

"Ugh, later Munson." Steve grumbled and Eddie chuckled.

#eddie munson #stranger things eddie #eddie i love you #eddie munson gif #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fandom #eddie munson x you #steddie #steddie x y/n #steddie x you #steddie x reader smut #eddie x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut

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dangermousie · 2 years

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Do you like your men to have private armies but prefer access to antibiotics? Come right on in...

Watching the delicious trashiness of Maid’s Revenge has inspired me to make a listing of my favorite (and not so favorite) warlord and warlord adjacent cdramas. If like me, you like your male leads with polished boots and a side of murder, come right in. From most to least fave.

Siege in Fog

My most favorite on this list, this is visually gorgeous and emotionally visceral. Plus, it’s not just ONE warlord, it’s a whole family of them! It follows a deeply dysfunctional marriage between a beautiful woman and a warlord’s second son, where they fight and angst and love and fight some more, all the while bullets are flying and bodies are piling up. If you like incredible visuals, insane chemistry, dysfunction by the bucket and not one, not two, but THREE hot warlords, come right in. It’s based on a Fei Wo Si Cun novel so I assume you know you need a lot of tissues.

To sum up:

Too Late to Say I Love You

Another FWSC adaptation! This is an older drama, done long before cdrama’s recent unwelcome slide into wholesomeness, which means epic makeouts but also a warlord that revels in murder (at one point he takes out all his potential rivals, including his loved sister’s entire fam.) The OTP is dysfunctional - they hate, then they love, then they break up but he can’t let go - and the chemistry is beyond insane, with Wallace Chung and Li Xiao Ran melting my computer. Also, for once, a happy ending!

Winter Begonia

Probably the only genuine masterpiece on the list (tho I love FWSC dysfunction best for purely personal reasons), this is a MM story (though being cdrama it’s not explicit, though quite clear) and Huang Xiaoming as a trader with a private army and Yin Zheng as an opera singer with whom he forms a bond are both!!! I highly recommend it.

City of Streamer

Should be called “City of Steamer” because those make-outs and chemistry are epic! Timmy Xu is a son of a shady businessmen (with a small army of gun happy goons) who falls hopelessly in love with an older governess (Jing Tian) who is out for revenge on his family. She starts out using him and ends up using him in a different sense, if you know what I mean! The plot derails a bit by the end but it’s still a great watch.

PS...

Maid’s Revenge

I am watching it right now. At only 10 minutes per ep, it skips plot and gives us the melo and chemistry we (and I mean I) crave and a guy whose muscles should be in a museum.

The Lady and the Liar

Hawick Lau is the ML and we all know this means “hot bastard.” He’s a crime lord with a goon squad falling for a lost heiress who loses her memory so he lies she’s his fiancee and deliciousness ensues. MMMMM

Arsenal Military Academy

Xu Kai is warlord jr but this is here mainly because of his awesome brother the businessman with murder squad. The drama is so-so (patriotism overtakes the amazing chemistry between Bai Lu and Xu Kai) but might be worth a peek.

Cruel Romance

(Can you say no to this face?)

Joey Chen has never worked in anything for me and this is no exception, but Huang Xiao Ming is dashing as hell as a sexy gangster.

Love In The Flames of War

The heroine is terrible (I kept rooting for her to get accidentally shrapnelled) but Shawn Dou is sexy as hell as a warlord. (In the novel he was apparently a rapey headcase; they made him lovely in the drama without making his wife saner which is...a choice.) I’d say worth it on FF for hotness and whippings.

The Mystic Nine

I tried. I tried to watch this drama three times. I could not. But William Chan as a warlord in a three-piece suit and cape is mega mega fine!

I suffer so you won’t have to:

Fall In Love

The worst drama on this list, insulting to intelligence of anyone above pre-school level, 90% of the cast, including the leading lady, incapable of acting, a plot that makes a picture book seem complex and fashion disasters galore. However, Chen Xing Xu, playing the smirky warlord, carries this mess harder than Atlas and deserves to be in another, better drama altogether. Oh, what wouldn’t I give for him as a proper FWSC warlord!

Honorable Mention: Forward Forever - haven’t watched that one but keep meaning to.

#cdrama #fall in love #siege in fog #winter begonia #love in flames of war #forward forever #the mystic nine #cruel romance #the lady and the liar #city of streamer #maid's revenge #too late to say i love you #arsenal military academy

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icey--stars · 11 months

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Born For Tragedy: Part 9

Series Index

She was tragedy. Nothing except death, fear and pain followed in her wake. When she was young, she was beaten. Now she’s the one doing the beating as an assassin. A mysterious stranger comes to her, paying an absurd amount of money for her to kill Beron Vanserra, and protect the eldest son until the job is done. She stumbles across a story much similar to her own, and knows what must be done.

a/n: alright, lets review cus its been a bit rq: eris and val have decided they will attempt to kill beron at the calanmai ball- three days after calanmai. valda plans to pose as a nobility for the ball. (and lady merle, eris's mother, will be making the dress :D) also val is eris's "personal servant" now lmao

WARNING: some light mentions of sexual preferences. also, eris is a bit affected by calanmai, and his advances are unwelcome. he snaps out of it quickly though :)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Luckily, the servants in the Forest House do get Calanmai as a holiday, so Valda was free to wander the cleared out areas for the bonfires and celebration. The celebration in the Spring Court had been massive, and everybody everywhere went to celebrate. Around the manor, it was the biggest, as the Great Rite occurred there. She wondered how Beron does the Great Rite. Gods, it seemed wrong to think about that.

In the morning of Fire Night, Valda made sure she was strapped with daggers galore. Her identity would be hidden well amongst the crowd, so she could slip more weapons in. Especially since she didn’t plan on participating in the more sexual parts of Calanmai. She’d participated once, with some black haired male that’d been visiting from the Winter Court. It wasn’t a bad experience, per se, but it wasn’t that good either. She preferred choosing her partners, and taking the lead with them, both of which she couldn’t do on Fire Night.

“You don’t seem too ecstatic about this holiday,” Eris noted, walking up behind her. Valda turned mildly to see Eris dressed nicer than usual. A white dress shirt paired with a deep, blood red vest and black slacks. She had to admit he did look quite good. She was just dressed in a black turtleneck, black leathers and a knee-length skirt to hide her weapons.

“I spent forty-nine years in the place where this holiday was at its height,” Valda answered. “The Spring Court makes this much too big a deal.”

“Not traveling anywhere interesting?”

“No reason,” she responded. “Where would I go?”

“Fair,” Eris hummed.

“Where is the Great Rite held here?” She asked curiously. “I have yet to see a big cave.”

“Ah,” Eris said. “Seeing as the Maiden has been chosen the same for quite a long time, they do a chase instead of choosing at a cave’s entrance.”

That did make sense, but Valda felt a bit bad for Lady Merle. She was truly at the whims of her husband.

“I suppose you’ll have to complete the Great Rite the old fashioned way when you’re High Lord,” Valda chuckled. “Oh what fun. Perhaps I’ll visit to see the chaos. And you unhinged.”

“I will not be unh-”

“Tell that to the magic the High Lord faces. It’s nothing compared to the magic in the air normally,” Valda snickered.

Eris sighed in defeat. “Are you participating?” He finally asked, changing the topic after a moment of silence.

“No,” Valda stated. “I’ll watch.”

“Oh really? To think I would’ve guessed Prythian’s best assassin would’ve loved these types of parties,” Eris teased.

“Shut your trap,” she scolded lightly at his careless mention of her title. “I used to like them, now they just give me off feelings,” she admitted.

Eris rolled his eyes. “My mother agreed to find a dress,” he admitted. “She’s very interested in who I’ve deigned to invite personally.”

Valda scoffed. “I’ll just morph my features a bit with some makeup and it’ll be a flawless show.”

A little flare of fire went up in the air, cutting Eris off. He grumbled. “That’s Hue telling me it's time to light the fires.”

Valda rolled her eyes. “Do enjoy your night, general.”

“You too assassin,” Eris winnowed away and Valda elected to slump against an oak tree to watch the bonfires be lit.

The sky began to darken and almost too soon, it was time for the Great Rite to begin. Valda watched the intermingling of fae from atop her little hill. She was able to easily catch sight of Beron and Lady Merle. The latter was dressed in almost nothing amongst the fire light. The “hunt” or “chase” as Eris called it, began. Beron was freed from whatever daze he’d been in when Merle began to sprint away.

That’s when the true celebration began as music lifted higher and higher than before, and fae began dancing, or some ran off into the woods for a bit of fun. One couple came a bit too close to Valda, so she wrapped her darkness around herself and winnowed a little ways down the hill. The wind shifted and she huffed as she lost the scents of the celebration and instead gained the oak, dogwood smells that she normally smelled out here.

There was a shift in the magic filling the air and everyone paused for a moment and accepted what that meant. The Maiden had been caught and spring had arrived. Valda snickered as she saw Jax struggling to manage three females vying for his attention. Ah, but Eris was probably worse, she guessed. She stood up a bit taller to try and spot the Autumn Heir.

“There you are,” a voice said from behind her. "I've been looking for you."

She tensed and whirled around, dagger already drawn from her thigh as she faced whoever had snuck up on her.

She did not expect a particular red-haired fae to be standing there, looking a bit more unkempt than usual.

Eris stalked forward, pupils blown wider than usual. Valda tsked and narrowed her eyes.

“Eris, I do believe you should be down there with the other celebrators.”

“I should be here with you,” he hissed. Valda knew that males, especially powerful ones, could be affected by the magic that filled the air on Fire Night, but she never imagined Eris Vanserra to be here, stalking towards her.

Valda took a step back when he got too close and he didn’t hesitate to take another two towards her. His eyes were fixed lower than her face and she knew exactly what the male was staring at on her chest.

“Get your head out of your ass,” she snapped, still holding her dagger in one hand.

“Oh but darling, I could make you feel so good-”

Valda’s breath hitched as Eris finally stepped into her space and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Eris, take a step back,” she ordered clearly. “Or I’ll take off your hand.”

“What could a precious little fox like you do to me? I’ll take good care of you sweetheart.” Eris’s hand tightened on her shoulder and she wrenched it away from him.

Precious little fox?! She thought, appalled. Did Eris have alcohol? This could not just be the magic speaking. He didn’t say things like this.

“I’ll coax you into it…” Eris purred. “I’ll protect you sweet thing.”

Valda slapped his hand away with her free hand and bared her teeth. “Back off,” she commanded.

Eris took another step and Valda promptly held up her dagger at his throat. “I said no,” she growled. “Back off.”

Eris’s blown pupils stared at hers for a few moments before she pressed the blade a bit closer, taking a step to the side. “Snap out of it,” she snapped. “You are Eris Vanserra, the general and heir of the Autumn Court and you’re acting like a fool!” He reached his head forward as if he was going to kiss her.

She raised her other hand again and slapped him across his face hard. His head snapped to the side and Valda pushed forward again, forcing him back towards a tree trunk. How was she going to get this idiot out of this state or at least away from her?

Eris’s breathing was ragged and then a hand pushed the blade away from his throat and he looked at her. His pupils looked to be a normal size now, but he still looked incredibly, incredibly dazed. His knees were weak when Valda took a hesitant step back and he only just barely managed to catch himself.

“Have you snapped out of it, asshole?” Valda asked, threatening raising her palm again, prepared to slap him.

Eris raised a palm as a shield and curled his other hand over his mouth and chin. “Fuck,” he muttered.

Valda relaxed at that. It looked as if he’d come back to himself. “How much have you had to drink?” She asked. “That was incredibly odd.”

“It was,” he agreed raggedly, and stood up straight, not leaning against the tree trunk. “I apologize for that. That was… horrible of me.”

Well, at least he was sensible now. She sighed, and slid her dagger back into her sheath. “Does the magic normally affect you like that?”

“No,” he replied. “Not normally. I only had a bit of alcohol. Almost nothing.”

Valda nodded and hummed. “Perhaps you need to head back to the house to rest, Eris.”

His breathing hitched when she uttered his name and she narrowed her eyes. What an odd reaction. He finally looked up to meet her eyes properly. He looked, honest to the Cauldron—awful. The hand he’d raised as a shield went to rake through his auburn locks and the other unbuttoned the first button of his vest and shirt.

She heard the crunching of leaves behind her. Valda’s nostrils flared as she sent her darkness up as a shield.

It smelled intensely of arousal, so she assumed it was just a couple passing through. Eris, however, still refused to breathe properly, even as she softened the darkness around them. It floated slower and more… pillowy than before.

Eris wiped his eyes with his forefinger and thumb and then seemed to make some type of final decision as he leaned against the trunk again, but with more ease in his stature.

“Your darkness is different,” he said aloud, probably trying to shift the conversation away from him toward something else.

She sighed through her nose. “There are different types of darkness, Eris.”

“Tell me about it,” he urged.

She searched his amber eyes for a moment before finally deciding to just let the event in passing go. “It’s hard to describe,” she began. “There is darkness like the type I tend to use, the more rageful and terrifying darkness I can wield with an iron fist, and then there are the types that are softer and calmer. This is one of those types.”

He nodded briefly as acknowledgement. “I should go,” he coughed out.

She hummed. “Don’t make me put a knife to your neck again,” she stated. A warning, a threat, that should he decide to try and push his luck again, she wouldn’t be so merciful.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he purred and winnowed out. She huffed and pulled her darkness inside again, and shook the electrical tingle she felt going through her. It was odd to feel such a thing. That tingle centered around the points that Eris had touched her, most notably her shoulder. That tickling in her chest made a reappearance. She knew that magic didn’t fully create feelings of wanting, it only heightened them exponentially.

Which meant some very serious things. First, Eris clearly had something for her, which she wasn’t completely unaware of. She was well aware that she had some features that were desirable. He had many as well, and she knew it.

Second, it meant that Eris cared about her. “I’ll protect you sweet thing.” She didn’t know how to feel about that. She might’ve given Eris the clear indication that those sorts of things were prohibited, but in all honesty, she’d never had someone offer to protect her. The tingling on her shoulder increased tenfold when she considered the implications of that. He’d tried to kiss her; what the hell did that mean?

She shook her head and swore loudly. No, she needed these thoughts out of her headspace. She had someone very important to kill soon, and she needed her head about her for it. She did not need to get distracted by all the clear evidence that said that Eris cared for her. She needed it out.

Valda huffed as she entered the Forest House again, sitting on that bed and swiftly putting her daggers in their designated places.

One thought kept her awake for the entire night though.

Eris cared for, and she couldn’t help but care for him in the same way.

Whether that be just caring to kill off his demons and take the heat for it, or much, much more. Eris was a desirable male.

But she was an assassin. A killer for hire. She did not deserve to even consider the implications of liking Eris, or even the aspect of considering him a potential lover. She’d failed to protect her previous lover, and she did not deserve a second chance from anyone. Her failure rested squarely on her shoulders, and she knew that. She had to pay for it everyday. She deserved to love nobody.

Not even that somebody was an attractive heir of the Autumn Court and soon-to-be High Lord.

She grit her teeth at that thought. He was going to be a High Lord. He might pretend to want her around, but he could not be interacting with assassin rubbish like her for long. He’d get his wits about him soon enough. She just had to make sure that during the Calanmai ball, she had her head screwed on tightly, and was able to bolt and never give him the chance to try and keep her around.Yes, that would work, she decided in the early light of morning.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @imma-too-many-fandoms, @mali22, @sassybluebird, @bubybubsters,

THE URGE WAS TOO GREAT NOT TO ADD THE RHYS QUOTE IM SORRY LMAO

#eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #original character #oc #mywriting

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my-otp-list · 2 years

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[POTENTIAL BROMANCE ALERT - Bonus: If you’re a DMBJ drama fan, you’re probably gonna like this]

So I finally live till the day I get to see a Xiao Ge and an Wu Xie (from two different DMBJ adaptations) team up in a drama. Better yet: This is a duo male lead, investigation drama adapted from a relatively famous novel *chef’s kiss* You know what that means, yes, bromance galore. (I’ve read parts of the novel, so I can tell you if the adaptation goes along with the original story, the bromance is definitely guaranteed 😉.)

Introducing you: The Lotus Casebook (莲花楼), featuring Cheng Yi (aka Xiao Ge of The Lost Tomb 2) as male lead Li Lianhua and Joseph Zeng (aka Wu Xie of Ultimate Note) as second male lead Fang Duobing.

Probably fair to say, it’s another bonus that these two are such pleasant treats to the eyes *drool* This is certainly something worth looking forward to ( ˘ ³˘).

#lian hua lou #the lotus casebook #莲花楼 #cheng yi #joseph zeng #zeng shunxi #(potential) bromance drama #c drama #dmbj-relevant

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demonsatmidnight · 6 months

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Update 2/26/24 sick of these as females. They should not be females. It should be my jealous boyfriend like he always was. I would not want to subject myself as a female to the competitive nature and instinct to kill another female (when it’s a man it’s another male) like males would do naturally in primal instincts.

In the feminine, it seems like only females with the middle name Marie can be Asmodeus. Whereas, AS is the first name and US is the last name. The mode in mathematics is the most common variable in a data set. ‘Marie’ is the most common middle name for a female.

Another name for Asmodeus is Asmodai or Asmoday.

Asmodeus is a demon that can be very destructive (especially to the home and marriages as he’s a demon of infidelity, leading men astray and tempting them to cheat on their wives,) or a tool of self-discovery bringing light to our darkest urges. For more on Asmodeus, please see this demonology page on him.

Asmodeus is also an Asteroid, numbered 2174. For more on Asteroids, please see my other blog Asteroid Galore.

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agnezluf · 1 year

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Intoxicated Love

Plot : 6/10

The yandere : 7/10

Artwork : 8/10

Artist : Shui Qian Cheng and Zuo Da

Author : Wandering Grass Studio

The main character endures a one sided relationship with a popular singer whom he has been in love wholeheartedly with for 7 years. The singer sleeps around, treats him like crap, yet he is at the singer’s beck and call in every turn. Until one day the scale tipped to one side, and no one can hold the balance anymore.

In the typical fashion of manhuas, the story is quite melodramatic, focusing on the angst, all the while brushing off many details that are (in my opinion) novel in manhwas. Unfortunately, for me, Gods are in details. The lack of necessary details make the story flow rather choppy, the character rather bland. I wanted to bask in the angst galore, but I just couldn’t get behind the character’s motivation. The main character and male lead’s inner musings became rather annoying at some point. Too many pointless back and forth.

The good thing is, the art work is Top Tier. The manhua is fully colored and it does not disappoint. Check the studio’s profile link on MangaUpdates above, they have other titles under their belt.

The yandere traits appear during the supposedly redemption ark. The male lead turned yandere when the main character decided to leave him. Among others, there are kidnapping, manipulation, cornering, stalking, possessive and clingy behaviors. If you like the “shitty seme is getting his comeuppance”, then this title may be interesting for you. However, unfortunately for me it just does not hold the punch I was hoping for.

#male yandere #yandere boy #yandere #yandere recommendations #maleyandere #yandere male #yandere boys #yandereboy #yanderemales #yanderemale #nez bl manhua review #yandere manhua

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sungbeam · 1 year

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OFF THE RECORD ▷ PART TWO (EP9-17)

nonidol!ji changmin x fem!reader

everyone thinks ji changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.

▷ genre, part warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, (extra) slow burn, fluff, angst, crying lol, mentions of childhood trauma and parental manipulation, arguing, bittersweet galore, nct ten is there for the sole purpose of being nosy like the rest of us or for being a 2nd male lead who knows!, swearing, hurt/comfort, kissing!, ji changmin dancing (need i go on), symptoms of panic/anxiety, a lot of non-tbz moments sorry i meant it when i said extra slow burn, im literally writing abt people who dance like gods but im a plebian w two left feet i have no idea what im looking at except for hips—, pining haha...ha (more subtle until the end), he's in a bathrobe near the end sorry children

▷ PART TWO WC. 17.6k

love in unity series m.list / otr part one

a/n: if u haven't read part one GO AWAY GO READ PART ONE ??? WHAT'RE U DOING HERE

EPISODE NINE: OFF THE AIR

IT was common knowledge that the week before finals week was referred to as the dreaded Dead Week. Campus was barren, coffee shops and libraries were packed, and almost everybody lived in some variation of sweats, hoodies, and eye bags. You were actually holed up in the research lab (yes, again) because your deadline to get this paper to your graduation advisor was literally looming over your shoulder, and though you were practically done, you were too paranoid of not catching some dumb typo before you turned it in.

Plus, the coffee in the lab break room was free and sponsored by your resident graduate student supervisor, and beloved older brother figure, Qian Kun. God rest his workaholic soul and empty pockets.

There weren't many people here this afternoon; most had retreated to their own homes or offices or wherever they dwelled during the Week of the Dead.

Then there was Ten.

"So do you guys just wither away here by yourselves?" Amongst the empty workbenches, his words seemed to unnecessarily resonate. From his perch in Kun's office, he spread his arms wide to gesture to all the empty space.

Kun pressed his fingers to the space between his eyes. "Yes, now let me wither in peace."

"No, I don't think I will."

You felt yourself smile. Ten had come in a few hours ago with lunch for both you and Kun. Supposedly, when he had heard that the two of you habitually ran on only coffee and dreams during Dead Week, he took it upon himself to swing by the nearest fast food restaurant and pick up a very belated lunch for you both. You’d chomped down on it with Kun in his office, but as soon as you were done, you retreated back to your desk.

The sky outside of the research laboratory was already beginning to bruise to a gray-blue-purple, the color of a dusty blueberry. Soon, you would have to surrender yourself to the night and head back home, but hopefully before that, you would decide that you were at least too tired to continue staring at these same seventeen pages for hours on end…

All three heads perked up at the sound of the laboratory building door opening and closing in the distance. None of you were exactly expecting anyone, especially when people usually indicated when they would come into work. You craned your neck from your workbench to see who had come in—

“I’ll only be a minute,” you heard and recognized your colleague Jacob Bae as he strode in from the outside corridor and into the main laboratory floor.

He met your eyes and smiled. “Hey, Yn.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

He let out a sigh as he jogged past your desk and headed toward a cupboard in the back corner. “I forgot that I left my—” His voice cut out as he ducked into the dark cupboard and withdrew a giant plastic tub. From the plastic innards filled with paper, he fished out a specific packet of paper shoved into a flimsy manila folder. “Forgot my thesis draft.”

You coughed out a laugh. “Dude.”

His grin was innocent and boyish, standard Jacob. “What? A guy’s gonna forget some things sometimes.”

“Is that what you tell your girlfriend?”

He sent you an unimpressed look. “Ha ha, Yn. Very funny. For your information, she’s more forgetful than me sometimes.” He stuck his tongue out at you as he passed by your workbench, and you, as the very mature person you were, stuck your tongue out back at him. It was only fair.

A cough sounded out from the entrance to the laboratory, and you turned your head to find Changmin, out of all people, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Peering out from behind the corner of the wall, however, was his friend Sunwoo from that other night. And yanking Sunwoo back behind the wall was Chanhee. Strange.

Someone (you suspected Chanhee) gave Changmin a firm shove into the laboratory, sending the latter stumbling in before he caught himself and regained his balance. He was swaddled in a dark colored puffer jacket and a red scarf, his red-tipped nose and cheeks bitten by the cold. For the first time, he looked smaller than he was, almost shy or nervous. You hadn’t encountered this Changmin in a long time.

He wasn’t one to look vulnerable out in the open like this.

As Jacob passed by Changmin, he clasped his shoulder in reassurance.

“Hi,” Changmin said slowly as he approached your workbench.

You were still a little dumbfounded that he was here again. “Uh, hi. What’re you doing here?” The argument the two of you had earlier in the week replayed in your mind, and you almost grimaced. You’d both said even more hurtful things, and you supposed you had just been so sensitive that your brain just automatically went into defense mode to protect yourself.

No, you hadn’t been there that night for him. You hadn’t expected to see anyone there at that time of night. That was the whole point of you going so late. You had been trying to get yourself to go into the practice room on your own, but the longer you had stood there, staring at the door, the more you realized you couldn’t do it. It still didn’t sit well with you, how affected you were by your mother’s past words.

Changmin kept his distance, but he came close enough that you could hear what he was trying to say without the others listening in too much. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

You blinked. “Talk? Like right now?” Your eyes darted to your computer screen and the practically finished paper displayed. It wasn’t like you wanted to keep working on it, but your heart beat startled at the sudden thought of having that very important conversation right now, when you weren’t ready.

He caught onto your movements though. “No, no—I mean,” he stammered, recovering with a quick swipe of his tongue over his lip, “just whenever. It doesn’t have to be now. I just figured it’d be best to get that… out in the air, you know?” I think it’s what we’ve been needing all this time. Something proper; no more yelling matches.

For a second, you thought you could see some of the old Changmin in this one. It wasn’t like he had changed, per se, it was more like he was finally showing that part of himself that you had been missing all along. You swallowed, nodding. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll, uhm, text you sometime tonight after I turn this paper in.”

He nodded back at you. “Yeah, cool.”

When you saw him begin to back away, a thought suddenly occurred to you. You called out to him to get him to stop, and you could have sworn that there was a gleam in his eyes then. “Changmin—about Sumin…” You inhaled deeply as you fought for the right words to express your next thoughts, “be gentle with her, okay?”

Even then there was a pang in your heart as you uttered those words. Sumin had texted you all about her interaction with Changmin a day or so ago regarding his “interview”, and she had been gushing about her crush on him. She had even asked you how much you knew about him and if you could give her a crash course in all things dance or even Changmin. Suffice to say, you felt trapped between a rock and hard place, but you didn’t want to let her down. (You’d always wanted to be a big sister; you didn’t want to push her away because of feelings that you were too petty to address.)

Changmin’s head tilted to the side as he made a confused face. “Huh?”

You sighed, “You seriously didn’t notice?”

“No, actually,” he quipped.

You pursed your lips; why weren’t you surprised? It wouldn’t be very cool of you to reveal Sumin’s crush on him if that wasn’t what she wanted. You would have to be subtle, but also not subtle, then. “Just—” you made a vague gesture with your hands, “—don’t be brash.”

“Brash?”

“Don’t be mean,” you amended.

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You thought even Ten rolled his eyes from where he was in Kun’s office. “You’re hopeless, really.”

Changmin’s face pinched, and he was moving back closer to your workbench. “I’ll have you know that we’re both hopeless.”

You deadpanned. “Now I’m pretty sure we’re not even in the same ballpark,” you muttered in exasperation. “Whatever. Your friends are waiting for you, Changmin.”

His lips pressed into a line. He glanced quickly over his shoulder where his friends were pretending to not be eavesdropping, then looked back at you. “Okay, yeah. Just don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” you promised.

EPISODE TEN: OFF THE MARKET

CHANGMIN glanced up at the entrance to the coffee shop, matching the sign in the window to the one he had searched up on his GPS app. It seemed to match from what he saw.

Today was the Friday of Dead Week, a handful of days after he dipped out of his interview with Sumin and confronted you at the laboratory. He had consulted Chanhee that day, regarding his mess of feelings about the situation with you, and Chanhee had practically forced him to go with him and Jacob to the laboratory. (Sunwoo just happened to tag along because he, apparently, felt left out.) Changmin wondered how Chanhee could have possibly known that you would be there, but Chanhee dismissed his worries by assuring him that after he asked you, he would feel a lot better and less like a hot pile of shit.

Chanhee was right, as per usual. Not that Changmin was going to admit that aloud to him ever.

But today was important because of two things in particular, and they both had to do with things that occurred several days ago. The first item on the agenda was going into this cafe to finish up that un-started interview with Sumin. After he had given her his number that day, she was swift to send a greeting text to him to set up a time and place to meet. Changmin actually had yet to visit this coffee shop in particular, but then again, he was a bit partial to the one Jacob introduced to the group last quarter.

Your words of advice, or caution, rang in his ears like the bell that twinkled above the door as he walked into the building. Be gentle with her. Don’t be brash. Don’t be mean. What did all of that even mean? He liked being interviewed, especially when it was about dance, so why would you think he would be anything but well-behaved? Part of him thought it was based off of the two of your interactions for the past three years, but he knew you had the good sense to know he didn’t treat just anyone like he treated you.

The thought remained fresh in his mind even as he scanned the room for a familiar face.

Sumin was seated in a secluded booth in the corner of the coffee shop. When she saw him, she waved him over excitedly, slipping her compact into her purse. Her laptop was left on the table in front of her, but unopened. Huh, maybe she just got here, too.

Changmin slid into the booth across from her. “Hi, sorry, were you waiting long?” He asked as he shouldered his jacket off and set his bag on top of it.

Sumin perked up a little bit. “Oh, no! Don’t worry. Did you have a good week?”

“Ah, as good as the week before finals can be, I suppose,” he chuckled, leaning back against the booth seat. His eyes darted to the unopened laptop still in the middle of the table and he cupped the back of his neck. “Did you wanna order anything to drink? Or have you ordered already?”

She shook her head, her hand reaching up to fidget with the end of one of her curled locks of hair. “Hm? No, I didn’t order yet! I was waiting for you so we could order something together—I mean, at the same time.”

“Cool, yeah,” he cleared his throat, signaling for one of the workers’ attention with a wave of his hand. “We can order and then get started.”

“Ah, ha, right.”

Once orders were taken, Sumin finally cracked open her laptop and got a couple things set up. Changmin patiently waited for her to get all settled, his eyes wandering about the shop and absentmindedly observing the workers behind the counter as they bustled about to prepare drinks and pastries.

Sumin coughed, “Okay, I figured that recording is a little unnecessary, so I’ll just be jotting some notes down on my laptop.”

Changmin bobbed his head. “Sounds good.”

She shifted in her seat, her posture straightening, as she figured out how exactly to start. “I hope you’ll be patient with me since I haven’t been doing this for a long time, but Yn gave me some pointers to start with,” she said sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“No problem! I totally understand; take your time.” He cocked his head to the side unconsciously, “Yn didn’t offer to sit in for your interviews?”

“Oh! Uh, she did, but I insisted that I was feeling confident enough to do them on my own,” she laughed lightly. “Definitely a bit nerve-wracking, but I think the interviews with Juyeon and a few of the other dancers went well earlier in the week.”

“Hey, I mean, I admire your courage,” he said with what he hoped was an encouraging enough smile. “Just take your time with it, Sumin. We’ll make sure to get you all the info you need.” There. Was that what you meant by not being mean? Wasn’t this just being considerate, though?

His foot tapped against the ground absentmindedly as he thought about the next thing on his agenda after this interview: talking to you. It was weird, having to almost set an appointment to have this very needed talk, but as you had said, you texted him your availability and the two of you just happened to both have this evening free. He just needed to finish this interview… There was still plenty of time.

His words to Sumin seemed to make her shoulders relax a little bit, and she jumped right into her first question. Changmin would answer as thoughtfully as could, which wasn’t too difficult seeing as he was literally talking about one of the things he was most passionate about in this world. He could probably talk about dance and his love for dance for days on end. Sumin, in turn, would skillfully and naturally continue the conversation so it felt a lot less like an interview, and more like an interaction between friends about dance.

Perhaps he didn’t even realize when the questions became less about his experience about dance and more about him; when Sumin gradually stopped typing notes down on her laptop and instead leaned her chin onto her hands to watch him; or when she suddenly asked—

“Is that your ideal first date then?”

Record scratch.

The words on Changmin’s tongue died instantly, and his brain scrambled to process what she had just said. “Sorry?”

Sumin’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. “I—I mean, you were talking about going to see live dance shows with your former partner and I just…” She shook her head with an embarrassed laugh, “Sorry, was that too forward?”

Changmin blinked once, twice; dear god, he must have been running his mouth without even realizing. “I was talking about Yn?”

That ripped Sumin right out of embarrassment—well, it was closer to mortification. The color on her cheeks had turned pale. “Yn is your ex?”

Fuck— “No, no, no! She’s not. She’s definitely not—”

Sumin covered her face with both of her palms in distress, a sentiment that was definitely shared between both parties in the booth. “Oh my god, and I’ve been telling her all about my crush on you, too. I must have looked so stupid.”

His eyes flew open. “Huh?!”

“Please, I’ve been so obvious, Changmin!”

Not to me, he thought. Jesus, was he really so blind? Was this what you meant this whole time? Changmin waved his hands around in an X formation, trying to reign the conversation into some level of sanity. “Sumin, I can assure you, that you definitely weren’t obvious until you literally just said it,” he began. “And so we’re clear, Yn is not my ex-girlfriend. She was my ex-dance partner and friend, but not a significant other.” As much as it sucked to admit that—

Sumin slowly lowered her hands from her face with the light reflected in her eyes wobbling. “Oh… okay, I guess that makes sense then.”

Changmin let out a haggard sigh, holding his hand to his head. “Yeah, well… I guess I should say that I’m sorry, but I don’t really share the same feelings for you?” He shook his head to himself, trying to rephrase: “What I mean is that I’m not exactly looking for a relationship. I’m kind of messed up right now.” Understatement of the century.

She pursed her lips, but nodded. “I get that. Thanks for being so cool about it.”

“Least I can do,” he said, clasping his hands together over the table.

“So,” she drawled with a wince, “I take it this interview is over?”

He brushed a hand through his hair. “If you have everything you need and there are no hard feelings?”

She inclined her head in the affirmative, and that was that.

— ✶

Even on a Friday evening, if it was the week before an exam season, the library study rooms were always packed, one occupier after the other. Attempting to score one was the equivalent of launching a stakeout, complete with charging cables, two cups of coffee, and a will of steel (to wait hours for a room to open up). Someone must have been looking out for you though as you managed to snatch a study room as soon as you arrived on the second floor of one of the main student libraries on campus. When you and Changmin had exchanged an, albeit brief, bit of texts, you both agreed that meeting somewhere that could serve as common ground would be good for the both of you. It had to be semi-private, as well, since neither of you wanted to let anyone else in on your private, personal problems.

The library study rooms were your solution, and maybe this was the universe’s sign that this discussion needed to happen.

As soon as the door closed gently behind you, you set yourself up in one of the chairs around the small, rectangular table at the center of the room. Changmin said he would be a couple minutes late because the bus had been late to pick up his stop and Chanhee was borrowing his car, so you texted him to let him know which room you were in.

While you waited, you attempted to ease your mind by scrolling through social media and flipping through emails and returning to social media, and wait, did you ever get a reply back from that one TA? All the while, your knee would bounce up and down ceaselessly, your fingers shaking and cold and numb. You were perhaps seconds away from your throat closing in on itself again, but then the door opened.

Changmin murmured a “hey” to you as he closed the door behind him and lowered himself into the seat across from you.

The room was quiet. “Hey,” you said back, clearing your throat.

You watched as his nostrils flared slightly as he exhaled. “What did you mean by ‘when did I stop caring’?”

You were a little startled that he decided to start right away, but on the other hand, relieved that he did. You wouldn’t have known how to begin anyway. “When did you stop caring?” You parroted in case you hadn’t heard him right. If you weren’t mistaken, he was referring to what you had said that night in front of the practice rooms.

He gave a nod. “Yeah, I was thinking about what you said…” He scratched his jaw, continuing lowly, “...y’know, on the bus ride over here. And I just don’t understand where in the world you got the idea that I ever stopped caring about you.” He met your eyes then, and you could see the tightness in his jaw, but the gleam in his irises.

This wasn't about being right anymore; it was about making things right.

"You—" you grappled for words, finding yourself pinned down by Changmin's relentlessly piercing gaze, "—I just got so much radio silence from you."

"You were giving me the same excuses."

"Because it was the same, exact problem," you fired back. "And, okay, so they were excuses, but god, Changmin. I could just see how with each passing day, you looked at me differently because I was late or I told you I couldn't make it. Didn't I give you reasons why? Just that disappointment and cold shoulder…" It broke my damn heart.

Changmin's arms were crossed over his chest as he considered your words, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. "I never," he began, "thought poorly of you, Yn." It sounded like he was struggling to piece together the right words, too, and he choked down a swallow. "I was going through a lot of shit around that time, and my patience was always paper thin by the time it was our usual practice time, y'know? It was never you specifically I was mad at."

He paused for a moment. His head hung, and he picked at a stray thread on his jacket cuff. "My parents said they wouldn't support me if I majored in dance."

Your heart stopped clean.

"They basically said I'd have to finance myself for all four years if I wanted to make dancing a career," he said with a flippant, helpless gesture. "I was given some scholarship money from the school, but it was nowhere near a full ride. So I was stressed the fuck out because I knew I needed to win those comps to get more money. They were cool with me dancing as, like, a hobby or a way to get into college, but as soon as I told them my intended major was dance?"

Well, shit.

Horror pooled in your gut, the kind that started up at your shoulders and spider-crawled down the length of your spine. "I'm so sorry, Changmin. That must have been so much pressure for you, oh my god."

This entire time, you'd been under the impression that his parents were fine and dandy with their son becoming a dancer. He'd always had a natural, prodigal talent for the art form. He was the absolute cream of the crop from your class, and you couldn't believe they could be anything but proud of having a son like him.

But you supposed you shouldn't have assumed. There was a cost to being a hypocrite.

Changmin nodded, but it wasn't very affirming. It was like he had heard it all before and had already accepted it all grimly and reluctantly. "Yeah, well… I won all those comps, but what did I lose in the process, y'know?"

He gestured to you. "I just thought I'd always have you to run back to, but you were going through your own stuff. I'm not trying to pin the blame on you—it's… just that… you were my best friend. My partner."

"It's funny you say that," you said then, drumming your fingers anxiously against your leg. "I thought I could rely on you, too. And I definitely drifted away from you, but it was because of my own reasons."

Changmin nodded, settling his hands on top of the table and leaning in slightly.

Still, every time you told someone, you could never get it right. But maybe you could get it right this time. "You know how my parents got divorced and I said that my mom had changed?"

His forehead creased then, and he nodded again.

"She started yelling a lot," you said. "Would always make me listen to her scream in my face about how dance was useless, how dance would never help me in the real world, how I was absolutely awful at it and that I should be focusing on something worth my time." You swallowed, continuing on, "And when I told you I couldn't make it or that I was late, it was because she started refusing to take me to practices and competitions and shows.

"And I mean—I tried really hard to keep going, Changmin, I really did." You raised your eyes to meet his and found him staring at you still, but this time you saw that glisten in his eyes again. The tension in his jaw had slackened, and had been replaced with that same dread you had while he was telling you what happened to him. "I thought that I could get past what my mom kept telling me, and that once I got to the practice room—I just needed to get to the practice room—it would all be worth it."

There was a stinging feeling in the back of your eyes, at your tear glands. Your vision was blurring and you blinked back the traitorous tears.

Changmin pursed his lips, his face contorting slightly as he too tried to contain the emotions welling up in him. "And then I shut you out."

"We shut each other out."

"Why—" he rasped, his hand coming up to cover part of his mouth, "—didn't you tell me? I would've—god, I would've—" He didn't know, actually, but all he knew was that he would've been better. Would he have though? Truly? Would you have?

"I didn't like talking about it," you confessed, sniffling. You were ashamed of yourself, both then and now. You raised your hand up to wipe the corner of your eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No, fuck, don't apologize." He stood, arms opening and palms turning upward like an offering, "C'mere."

Both of you, teary-eyed messes, stumbled out of your chairs to close the distance in each other's arms. It was the feeling of finally holding each other after three years that made the two of you break down completely. The study room's quiet was filled with sounds of messy, blubbering sobs—hands grappling at the other's jacket, faces shoved into the warmth of a neck or shoulder.

Two pieces of a puzzle having finally been reunited.

This was where you belonged.

"This was all I wanted," you bawled into his shoulder.

It seemed to make his body tremble harder. "I would've given it to you—god, I would've given you anything. I'm so goddamn sorry."

"Hey," you mused half-heartedly, "if I'm not allowed to apologize, then neither are you."

He gave a watery chuckle. "Okay, fine." His wet eyelashes fluttered as he closed his eyes and tightened his hold around you. "That must have been awful, Yn. How…? Just how."

You rested your cheek against his toned shoulder. "Somehow… I don't really know. I'm proud of you, though, you know? I'm really proud of you."

"Thank you. I'm proud of you, too." He sniffled, mouth pressing against your shoulder. "All this time, I thought you hated dance and hated me."

"Oh, god no," you sniffled, sucking in a breath. "I—I knew I couldn't be strong anymore; I didn't want to disappoint you." And when you could no longer attend those practices, you had believed it would be better to not be there to drag him down. You thought that without having to wait on you every time, he would have been all the better. You see now that perhaps you were wrong in your logic.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in the other's arms as words settled and feelings sunk in. The realization that this tension between the two of you was possibly over now was crazy.

"For the record," Changmin murmured, "you're a great dancer. No matter what your mom told you, you'll always be a great dancer."

You laughed a little, shaking your head. "Not anymore, I'm not."

"That's where you're wrong." He pulled away from you and you saw the tears staining his dimpled cheeks, but the smile he was giving you was something out of a dream. He gently, playfully punched your arm. "You're still my partner, after all."

EPISODE ELEVEN: OFF THE SHELF

EVER since Changmin, Chanhee, JC!Yn, and her roommate Kei decided to change the weekly grocery shopping session to Saturday mornings, Changmin had never been so grateful for such a change until now. It used to be on Sunday mornings during the fall quarter because JC!Yn volunteered at the local children’s club on Saturday mornings, but since the Sunny Side Up Club had begun closing its doors on the weekend until summer break, her Saturdays had suddenly freed up.

Kei, as usual, had waltzed off in search of her own shopping list items, leaving JC!Yn and Changmin with the shopping cart of groceries and Chanhee sitting in the middle of it, cross-legged and swaddled in a pink hoodie.

“That’s awful,” JC!Yn lamented as she slowly trailed after Changmin while pushing the cart. There was a frown etched into her face, as well as Chanhee’s, while and after Changmin had caught them up on the events of the previous day’s talk with you. “I mean, I know some parents are super strict about their kids studying, but…” She shook her head, “You’ve both been through a terrible amount of shit, man.”

Chanhee nodded his agreement, peering up at Changmin who was at the helm of the cart, staring at the label on a container of canned corn blankly. “Yeah, for sure. How’re you holding up, Changminnie?”

Changmin shrugged half-heartedly and rather mopey. “As well as I could be.”

“Well, are you guys good now?” JC!Yn asked. “Y’know, after clearing all the air?”

Changmin made a face at the canned corn, but handed it to Chanhee to place amongst the other things in the cart with him. “I mean, kind of? Not really?” He scratched the side of his head, and his two friends looked on at him, then exchanged worried glances. Usually Changmin was the one cracking jokes, but to see him in such a state… “It’s just a little awkward now because we’ve been on ice around each other for years. Going back to normal shouldn’t be easy, should it?”

Chanhee pursed his lips, his head tilting from side to side. “That’s true. When you guys were still in grudge era, you let all the angst between you do the talking.”

“Angst? I was not angsty, for your information.”

Both of his companions scoffed their disagreement. “Every single time her name was brought up around you, you gazed far off like some kind of angsty main hero,” Chanhee retorted. “Like Kevin at that one dinner when we were interrogating Eric.”

JC!Yn laughed. “That feels like so long ago.”

Changmin sent her a look, the corner of his lips tilting upward like the arch of his eyebrow. “That’s because you and Jacob act like you’ve been married for ten years.”

Her face heated at those words, but she held her chin up in pride. “I’m gonna pretend this is your jealousy talking.”

“Oh, please,” he quipped back and turned back to the shelves to hunt for any other familiar labels that would trigger his hunger. “If I wanted to be so grossly in love—”

“Then you’d go find Yn?”

“—Then I’d go find Y—HEY!” Changmin sputtered as his cheeks lit up like the can of roasted red bell peppers in his hand. Chanhee and JC!Yn exploded into equal fits of delighted cackles, the former extending his arm back so the latter could return his fistbump. Changmin scowled through his flustered haze. “Whatever; taking advantage of my vulnerable state is not cool, guys.”

Chanhee beamed up at his best friend with the kind of smile that no one could be mad at. It was impish, adorable even. “Aw, it’s only ‘cause we love you.”

“Gross,” Changmin muttered, wrinkling his nose dramatically, then nudging his glasses up his nose.

As she stopped the cart behind Changmin, JC!Yn rested her arm against the bar and let her chin sit atop her fist as she and Chanhee watched Changmin scour the shelves again. “Didn’t you say you had feelings for her back then, Changmin-ah? Would you say they were still present or not?”

He sucked in a breath at the question as he let the question marinate in his brain. After yesterday’s world-altering talk with you, neither of you were able to stay too long afterward to catch up. You’d both, unfortunately, been called to your own separate summons. But this morning, when Changin had woken up with the information having been properly processed in his brain and given him room to overthink as he did… Truthfully, he had no idea where the two of you stood with one another. It wasn’t going to be the same, not like childhood and not like the past three years.

He didn’t exactly know what to say to you now, only that there was still that emptiness in his chest. He hadn’t expected the feeling to go away, but he also hadn’t expected it to remain. What was he supposed to do? He was pretty sure you didn’t even like him like that back then, so there was no way your feelings would have changed in that sense over the past three years. Some said that distance made the heart grow fonder, and while Changmin wasn’t one for cliche lines, he did feel an ache for you. He wanted to make up for lost time. Even if you didn’t feel the same way he had back then, it didn’t mean that he still felt the same… right?

“I think we lost him,” came Chanhee’s very loud stage whisper.

Changmin shook out of his mind and leveled a glare at his two friends. “I’ll think about it.”

“Didn’t you just think about it?”

“Hey, if JC!Yn-ie can take an entire quarter to tell Jacob-ssi her feelings, then you can give me like, five minutes to think about mine!” He squawked, waving his arms around in the air like one of those car-wash balloon people that flopped around in the wind. Except this one was high on emotions and his round lenses were slipping down his nose, adding to his overall mad man-like look.

JC!Yn deadpanned, shaking her head as she began pushing the cart after Changmin. She muttered under her breath, “He’s just astounded that he has feelings for someone, JC!Yn. Let him be touchy today.”

Chanhee, who had heard her speak to herself loud and clear, twisted around to grin and pat her arm reassuringly. “He’s just malfunctioning because he might actually have a chance now.”

“I can hear you!”

Chanhee chuckled, and the sound was villainous.

The three of them, as per routine, met up with Kei at the checkout lanes. There was one occasion where one of the workers was so tired that they tried to scan Chanhee and make them pay for him, but other than that, most people just offered him a sweet from the jar on the counter. As groceries were bagged up, and Kei was caught up on the situation at hand in verbal bullet point format, she took only a moment to suggest: “Why don’t you invite her to the dance showcase?”

All eyes went to Changmin, even as JC!Yn pushed the cart out with the group.

Changmin chewed his bottom lip. “I would, but... I dunno. I don’t want to trigger anything for her.” He winced to himself, “It would be really cool to have her there, of course! But I literally saw her in the practice room a week ago and she looked like she was seconds away from having a full-on panic attack.” As much as inviting you to watch him perform for the first time in three years thrilled him (and nearly sent him into cardiac arrest), he had seen you that day—blanched, struggling to breathe. He couldn’t imagine just what thoughts were running through your head then, especially after hearing what you had told him yesterday.

He was so—god, he was so angry at your mother. He knew about the divorce and the negative effect it had on her, but for her to practically take all that energy out on you? It was something simply unforgivable. His heart hurt for you.

Chanhee dipped his head in a slight nod, mouth curved down into a frown again. "That's fair. But I mean, it wouldn't hurt to ask, would it?"

"I just don't want to come off as insensitive, especially after three years of the cold shoulder." Your words from yesterday had penetrated him deeply—he hoped to never make you feel abandoned ever again.

Kei peered around at Changmin from the other side of JC!Yn. "If it counts, I don't think she'll take it as being insensitive, Changmin."

"She might feel better about getting, y'know, a personal invitation from you," JC!Yn chimed in. "Even if she isn't comfortable with going, she'll know you're thinking of her."

Changmin pressed his knuckles to his lips, bouncing on the balls of his feet anxiously. It was amusing, and perhaps a little concerning, for his friends to see him like this. He flapped the ends of his sweater sleeves in the air like he was hyping himself up. "Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll invite her to see me perform."

He raised an arm into the air toward the sky. "The next time I see her, that's what I'll—"

"Oh, look, she's right there," said Chanhee, pointing in the distance from his cart throne.

Changmin squeaked, "She's what?!" He slid behind JC!Yn in a very poor attempt to hide himself from the oncoming party.

Said party consisted of you, Yeri, Mark, and Ten—again. Except, instead of the coffee shop across the shopping mall, it was the parking lot on his friends' turf. Mark and Yeri were the first to see Changmin's friend group, both of them making unsubtle glances at Changmin. They passed by with friendly greetings, excusing themselves as they argued over the possibility of the store having watermelon (the answer was no; sorry Mark).

You and Ten lagged behind slightly, seemingly deep in conversation. The latter listened intently, but he felt eyes on him and looked up. His eyes twinkled as he made eye contact with Changmin—Changmin couldn't tell whether or not he liked that feeling.

You realized that he was looking outward and onward, and so you followed his gaze. Your eyes widened a tad at the sight of Changmin's friend group manifesting out of nowhere. "Hi guys," you said with an awkward smile when you and Ten met them in the middle.

"Hi Yn-ie," Chanhee giggled, turning around to wag his eyebrows at Changmin.

Changmin threw back a very unimpressed scowl. He let a smile grace his face just as he looked back at you. "Hey Yn, Ten."

JC!Yn unsubtly began pushing the cart to uncover Changmin. "Hey, you two. Changmin was actually just talking about you, Yn!"

Traitor! Changmin's jaw dropped.

Ten grinned. "That's really funny, 'cause Yn was just talking about you, Changmin."

You glared daggers at your friend with the same level of betrayal in your eyes as Changmin expressed. At least you were both getting thrown under the bus.

Kei nudged him. "Don't you have something to say to her?"

"We'll get out of your hair!" Chanhee chirped, patting the side of the cart as JC!Yn resumed her pushing on the cart past you and Ten. "See you at the car, Changminnie!"

As Changmin's last line of defense walked away with JC!Yn and the shopping cart prince, Ten inclined his head to you. "Should I stick around for this?"

You sighed under your breath. "Probably not. I'll see you inside?"

"Whatever suits your fancy," he mused, shrugging. As he passed by Changmin, he winked, then whistled some random tune as he went on his merry way.

"So what's up?" You asked him then. It seemed to be a cozy morning for you as you fidgeted with the ends of your big, woolen sweater. There was something delicate about the way the corners of your lips curled up into a smile.

Changmin cupped the nape of his neck. "Oh, uh, I know we had that whole talk yesterday, and I was wondering if you'd wanna come see my performance at the winter showcase on Friday?" He added quickly, "No pressure, of course. If you're uncomfortable, then you don't have to worry."

Your lips pursed together in a slight pucker. "I'd actually love to go. I mean—" you swallowed, "—I haven't gone to one since freshman year, but I'd love to."

"You can leave whenever you start feeling uncomfortable," he assured you, but he was smiling widely now. "It'll be cool to, y'know, have you in the audience."

"That means a lot, Changmin," you said earnestly, your smile sweet. It was almost weird to not have you frowning or glaring at him. It felt… good. It felt really good. “I will try my best.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked on his heels, teeth biting down on his bottom lip to suppress the eager grin threatening to come out. “That’s all I could ask for.”

EPISODE TWELVE: OFF THE CHARTS

YOU were late. You were extremely late, actually, and to be honest, if you had known the bus was going to break down in the middle of the stupid road, you would have gotten off and walked. But then again, you were practically buried in all of the bundles of flowers you wanted to bring for your friends performing tonight. There were four bundles in total that you bothered to pick out just about two hours ago, one for Minho, one for Jungwoo, one for Ten, and of course, you could not forget one for Changmin.

When Changmin had personally invited you to come see his performance tonight earlier in the week, you couldn’t deny that the feeling made your chest warm and fuzzy. Even as you trudged your way up the stairs to the front of the performing arts building, you were filled with adrenaline and antsy energy. You’d waited so long for this, hadn’t you?

The last time you had come to see the winter showcase was in freshman year, the year the Daily asked you to write a review piece on one of the performers debuting that year, and even that had been enough of dance for the years following. It would be nice to know, this time, that you were wanted in the audience. (Changmin would have wanted you in the audience all this time, but you didn’t know that.)

Because you were unquestionably late, the doors to the hall would be closed shut now.

That was why having a friend like Boo Seungkwan was paramount.

“Thank you,” you gasped as one of the doors to the performance hall burst open and allowed you into the warmth of the lobby. You could hear the bass of whatever song was on and the audience’s cheers from here.

Seungkwan swept half of the bouquets from your arms with a click of his tongue. “Yah, you’re insane for taking the bus all the time. Yeri even asked to pick you up!”

“I know, I know!” You cried, the two of you scurrying over to one of the doors in the hall. “I panicked at the last second to get flowers and then I had to go all the way to the shop on fifth! By the way, did you know they’re open until 11?”

Both of your voices quieted as you slipped into the darkened auditorium. The stage was the only part illuminated in blinding, searing hot spotlights. You had just walked in on a brief break between acts as performers switched on and off stage. Seungkwan led you to one of the rows of seats in the nosebleeds that was relatively in the middle.

All of your friends practically occupied the entire row, and they lit up in delight at the sight of you.

“Yo Yn!” Mark whispered as he leaned over Yeri. “You’re actually here!”

Yeri reached over to squeeze your hand as you took the open seat next to her, and Seungkwan took the last seat in the aisle. “I’m so happy you’re here, Yn-ie.”

Doyoung and Kun peered out from around Mark, and you recognized a couple others from the NCT frat and RVE sorority further down the row. “Hey guys,” you said quietly to them as you wrangled your purse into your lap and adjusted the flowers in your arms, “how much did I miss?”

“Not much at all," Doyoung replied. "It's just been a few of the first years."

"We've got a little while until the older batch," Kun said with a wave of the program in his hands.

You nodded your understanding and settled into your seat to get comfortable. The performances went on one after the other. There was a mix of all different genres, ranging from contemporary ballet to tap and popping. Because everyone in the final winter showcase were in some kind of dance course on campus, a lot of the acts displayed a ton of experience already, even as first-years.

The longer the night went on, the less you believed your antsiness was a result of a nervous tick, but rather the bottled up adrenaline building up from watching all the performances. At some point, you realized you weren't even analyzing the performances anymore, but rather, sitting in awe of each one.

When a brief intermission was announced, Yeri and one of her sorority sisters squeezed past to head to the restroom while a few others from the row headed out to stretch their limbs and find some other friends. You and Seungkwan lingered in your seats, discussing your favorite performances so far, as well as how your finals weeks had gone for each of you.

"I'm just so glad we have spring break now," he groaned, his head hanging with exhaustion. "I might have skipped tonight if that meant I could sleep early."

"You would have regretted it though," you pointed out to him.

He gestured with his hand. "Right, you are." He let out a sigh as he raised his head and met your smile with a tired one of his own. "Well, Yn, you did it. You're watching your first full winter showcase. How do you feel?"

Your gaze flickered back to the stage. The house lights had come on for intermission, leaving the stage drenched in darkness. You could have sworn you saw the heavy red curtains shudder as if someone had poked their head out to view the audience. You remembered when you and Changmin used to do that when you were kids.

You turned back to Seungkwan. "I feel surprisingly okay," you confessed. "I was a little nervous before, but I think that I'm doing good."

He nodded. "Good. I'm glad you're here."

"Thanks, Kwan." You exhaled. "I didn't fully realize how long this was gonna be," you mused.

Seungkwan raised a brow at you. "Well, didn't you only stay for like, Changmin's performance last time you were here?"

"Well, yeah—"

The house lights suddenly shuttered off, and people rushed back to their seats. Your friends who were coming back squeezed past you and Seungkwan, effectively cutting off your conversation from before. The last half of the night would be handed over to the students who were majoring in dance and had been a part of the program for over two years.

You were properly in awe of the next performances. They had decided to put Ten out first, dancing to a song called Baby Don't Stop. He had mentioned the song to you once, but you hadn't really thought much about it until now. It was a side of Ten you hadn't seen yet since you had never seen him dance properly, but… you were definitely going to need to gush about this to him afterward.

You were pretty sure the crowd didn't quiet down for five performers in a row, as crazy-talented dancers such as Minho and Jungwoo followed after.

Each performance was incomparable to the next, and soon, you were sucking in a breath to the sound of Changmin's name being announced.

You slapped your hands onto Seungkwan's and Yeri's on either side of you, both of whom squeezed and shook your hands back as the curtain rose.

The lighting began a deep, electric purple, painting Changmin to look like a dark silhouette on stage. You almost couldn't make out the details of his white and black suit-like uniform. It was dynamic and unique with the suit cut outs and gloves, and he paired it all with an eye look that made his eyes feel darker and smokier.

He was still at first—until a set of horns, like trumpets, blared from the speaker's and he began striding forward.

You heard Mark gasp from two seats over. "Holy shit, he's dancing to Action Figure."

You vaguely recognized the title, but if you were thinking of the right song, then the room was about to get a lot louder. Unconsciously, you squeezed Seungkwan and Yeri's hands as you leaned forward and lingered on the edge of your seat.

The performance was everything you expected and more. Changmin was, as you had expressed before, the absolute cream of the crop. Each movement was brought with sharp precision, like the blade of a knife. Even during the slower bridge portion, he somehow executed the legato-like movements with a crispness of 4K HDR quality.

Everyone in the room held their breath (or screamed it out) with each sultry gaze, each lick of his lips, each smirk—a great dancer, a great performer; he would forever be one of the greats. That, you were very certain of.

When the song came to an end and he raised his head to peer at the audience through his bangs, you and everyone else erupted into applause, whistles, yelling—all the works. Your heart palpitated so hard in your chest that you thought it was trying to mimic his own dance. You were practically shaking from all of the bottled energy, and…

"Wow," you breathed out as you leaned back in your seat as the stage was reset for the next act. Your knee began bouncing fervently, sending the flowers in your lap up and down as well.

Seungkwan murmured his agreement, "Whew. I can't tell if I'm attracted or intimidated."

You snorted, patting his hand with your palm. "Both?"

"Probably."

You laughed, your hand lifting up to absentmindedly press against the base of your throat and sternum.

You couldn't help but think about what Changmin had revealed to you that day. How could a pair of parents not be absolutely floored to have a son as talented as Ji Changmin? It was so unbelievable to you, but you couldn't imagine how it might have felt to suddenly have all that support be ripped out from beneath your feet like his support had been.

The performances following would finish off those of the solo category. Afterwards, a handful of groups performed, including repeats of a few performers. Minho and Jungwoo had performed a stage together (Finesse, if you weren't mistaken), while Changmin and Juyeon made a return to the stage with another sultry hit by the name of Light a Flame.

By the end of the night, you were eager to head backstage to see your friends who had just performed their hearts out.

Plus, the bouquets were wilting.

Once the house lights had thunked to life, and the crowd was beginning to lessen, the row you were seated in with your friends stood together. Some of them were going to head straight home, but a few others planned to stay back to congratulate the performers on a night well done.

"You guys ready to head back?" Mark asked while nodding toward the stage with his hands shoved into the pockets of his puffer vest.

The high you were on was gradually fading out, and you had to clear your throat. "Can I meet you guys back there? I think I'm gonna take a quick breather and then just go in through the backdoor."

They were more than okay with accommodating you, encouraging you to take as long as you needed. Mark and Yeri both took the remaining two bouquets from your arms as Seungkwan ushered you out the door to take that breather.

As you hit the cool, early-March air, you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself and inhaled deeply. All around you, people lingered and chatted with each other, gushing about their favorite performances and reenacting the most memorable parts. You smiled to yourself when you overheard a group of boys near you talking about Changmin's tasteful choice in music, as well as the cohesion of his entire performance, ranging from not only the music choice, but down to the costuming as well. (And the choreography, of course. Everything about his performance, as emphasized, was breathtaking.)

With a sigh, you began rounding the building toward the back entrance.

Now that you had the space to deconstruct your thoughts, you realized that although you felt an indescribable amount of pride for your friends, you couldn't help the pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. In a way, you envied the performers onstage. You wished you had held on a little longer; maybe then, you could have been one of the people on stage tonight like you had wanted when you were just a teen.

When you reached the back door, you managed to gather your strength and let yourself in.

Like that day you had taken Sumin backstage, it was all hustle and bustle, but ten times that. Pandemonium erupted as performers raced past you left and right trying to find their friends, fellow performers, and even the location of their hairspray. (They should have put their name on it, you thought cheekily, but even then, it might not have worked still, you supposed.)

You kept your arms crossed over your chest as you squeezed past people toward where you were hoping to find your friends. As you walked into the dressing room corridor, you nearly collided with a silky dress shirt.

"Yn! I can't believe I found you," Ten chuckled.

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him in an affectionate embrace. "Ten! I can't believe you found me either. It's a madhouse here." You scanned the faces and bodies buzzing about for any sign of your friends. "Have Mark, Yeri, or Seungkwan found you yet? They have the flowers I was gonna give you."

Ten's lips curled up into a smile as he pressed a hand to his chest. "Gasp, you got me flowers?"

"Yes, and please never say 'gasp' aloud ever again," you winced.

That only made his smile grow. "No promises. But what'd you think of the show tonight? I'm glad you stayed the whole time."

"It was incredible! You were incredible," you amended with your eyes likely the shape of stars. "Who gave you the absolute audacity to be so talented, sir! I swear I heard some girl faint a couple rows behind me," you joked.

His eyes narrowed into sly, little crescents. "Oh? And did you faint for mine, too? Or did you save that reaction for another special someone?"

You flushed, your eyes averting to anywhere but the nosy feline before you.

Ten threw his head back in a loud guffaw. "Okay, okay. I see how it is. He's been looking for you, by the way."

Your eyes went wide. "And you wait until now to tell me?"

"I wanted my dose of Yn affection, too," he shrugged, giggling like a schoolgirl. "Plus, the look on your face was well worth it."

"Sometimes I hate you."

"Some is not all," he pointed out.

"—you said she was over here? Yn!"

Yours and Ten's heads turned and you watched as Changmin's eyes found yours in the crowded room. He began pushing his way toward you, sweat still dampening the strands of hair and falling into the collar of the dark blazer he wore for Light a Flame.

Ten snickered under his breath. "Well, I'm gonna go find Mark to get my flowers. Text me later, 'kay? Okay!"

Before you could blink, Ten had disappeared into the masses. You swore that man was so slippery sometimes.

You glanced back in the direction that you saw Changmin coming from,but when you couldn't find him, you frowned. It really was awfully hard to find people in here…

"Boo!"

You swore your soul left your body for five seconds. You whirled around, glaring daggers at the impish squirrel man who somehow ended up behind you. "You're such a menace."

Changmin grinned so wide it looked like even his dimples were strained. "Sorry," he wheezed, not sounding sorry at all. "The opportunity presented itself on a gold-plated platter."

"You should feel very lucky that I wasn't holding lemonade this time."

"Okay, but why were you drinking that without a cap on the cup? Did they not give you a plastic lid or something?"

You felt the corner of your mouth lift. How was it so easy to recall these things? "It's just the universe telling you to end your pranks."

He shrugged helplessly. "I can't help that you are so easy to sneak up on."

"You're gonna say that when I somehow heard you asking if I was in here from across the room?"

"That's because I let you hear that; there's a difference," he said, leaning against the corridor wall next to you. He looked you up and down, tongue darting out for a moment. "Thanks for coming tonight."

You leaned your shoulder against the wall next to him. "I enjoyed myself," you said in reply. "You did really well tonight though, Changmin. It was a great performance."

He grinned, and his tongue had to poke the inside of his cheek. "Just great?"

You raised your eyebrows at him and decided to bypass that question for the moment. "Did my friends give you your flowers?"

Changmin showed his empty hands and you deadpanned.

"What?" He giggled. "I'm just stating the obvious."

"You're so infuriating sometimes."

He gently bumped your shoulder with his. "Nothing new."

Nothing new, indeed. It was strange, actually, falling into this kind of easygoing, light-hearted banter. You'd seen how easy it was that night in the lab, but this was nice, you had to admit. Banter and arguing were two different things, you learned, and the latter always took such a toll on those involved.

How did the two of you stay away for so long? Maybe you were both too prideful, too afraid to break the ice.

Changmin's expression sobered a little as he observed your expression. "What're you thinking about?"

You blinked, glancing over at him. "Nothing, just…" Your voice lowered to something like a whisper, "I missed this." I missed you.

And as you met his eyes again, you knew that he had heard you. He swallowed, roughly. "Me too."

EPISODE THIRTEEN: OFF THE CUFF

THE quad was in bloom with the coming of spring and spring break. It was tradition at your university to take pictures and to take a stroll through the freshly bloomed cherry blossom trees lining the rectangular lawn. Only in spring did the trees reveal their beautiful, baby pink flowers, so it was optimal to go frolic amongst them while they were full.

Changmin had been dragged out by Chanhee. Well, he liked to say that Chanhee forced him outside, but in reality, Changmin had put just as much effort into his appearance today as Chanhee did, just not as formal. And luckily, it wasn't just the two best friends who were out with them among the crowd of people, but also the entirety of their friend group—plus the significant others, too.

"I hate this more than Valentine's Day," Sunwoo grumbled as he blew a curl out of his eyes. He was referring to the couples all around them taking pictures and holding hands and kissing.

"You're telling me," Kevin sighed as he messed with the settings on his camera for the pictures he wanted to take of the scenery. "At least on Valentine's Day, people won't photobomb you."

Sangyeon had his phone out and was already taking photos of the blooming flowers around him and in the trees. He suddenly turned his phone around, set at point five zoom. "Hey guys, look here and smile!"

Everyone in the shot (all the singles: Chanhee, Changmin, Sunwoo, Kevin, Juyeon, and Hyunjae) slapped smiles onto their faces. As soon as Sangyeon put the phone down, their smiles dropped.

"Who was that for?" Juyeon asked as he slung an arm around Sangyeon's shoulder to peer at the eldest's phone screen. He made a groaning noise before peeling away. "Ahhhh, 'The Girlfriend'. I see."

Sangyeon cocked a brow at him. "Have you finally accepted that I have a girlfriend?"

"Nope."

Sangyeon's eyes looked up and away in exasperation, before he shook his head and returned to doing whatever he was doing.

Changmin surveyed the crowded quad with disinterest. He scanned all of the faces present around him; too many to count that was for sure. Jacob and JC!Yn had separated from them almost immediately; Eric and his girlfriend were off being cute or something; Younghoon and his partner hadn't even traveled here with most of them; but at least Haknyeon and his significant other stayed with them for the first five minutes to make conversation about the dance showcase a few nights ago.

He sighed. That was how long ago it had been since he last saw you. (My god, he sounded like some kind of lovesick teenager, waiting by the landline for his lover to ring him up—)

On the other side of the quad, you and your friends had just arrived to do the same exact thing Changmin's friends were. But as soon as you saw the crowd, you were five seconds from simply giving up.

"We'd get like, one flower, and that's it," Seungkwan argued to Yeri who was trudging forward despite the load of people around.

Yeri huffed. "Not if you don't try, Boo Seungkwan."

He made a noise of disgruntlement, his head lifting up and nostrils flaring. "Oh my god—"

"Yn, my wife, defend my honor!"

You snapped up straight, tuning back into the conversation. Mark and Jungwoo trailed somewhere behind the three of you and if you weren't careful, you'd lose them, too. "Huh? Oh, well, Seungkwan…" Your voice trailed off, and your eyes wandered to a specific gathering of trees further down the lawn from where you currently were.

It was unfair how he was framed like a K-Drama shot: the slow motion pink petals drifting around him, his lithe body gracefully leaning against the dark bark of the cherry blossom tree, the green sweater vest layered over a white shirt and pants. You gulped—he looked way too pretty to just be standing there—

"—hello? Earth to Yn?" A hand was waving in front of your face and someone was poking your shoulder.

You shook away from them, eyes wide like a child with your hand caught in the cookie jar. "Huh?"

Seungkwan and Yeri sent you curious looks. "You were staring at Changmin," said Yeri, arms crossing over her chest.

Seungkwan let out a dramatically wistful, little sigh as he scratched the side of his head. "You're so lucky that Ten's not here; we are so very merciful compared to him."

You rolled your eyes, even though they were right. "I wasn't staring! I just—I couldn't tell if it was really him or not."

"Because I'm just so breathtakingly beautiful?"

"Definitely n—what the fuck," you yelped, nearly leaping out of your skin again at the right of Changmin's dimpled smile as he seemingly appeared out of thin air right next to you.

Changmin erupted into howling laughter, folding over onto his knees as he slapped his leg once, twice—

"You're not even that funny," you grumbled, side-eyeing both him and your friends. (Guess you really did lose Mark and Jungwoo…)

Seungkwan and Yeri did not hide their own laughs very well, but they definitely weren't knee-slapping themselves.

"How'd you even cover so much ground that fast?" You queried, whirling back on Changmin.

He lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, his hands resting in the pockets of pants as he stood in a relaxed posture. His skin was unfairly pretty in this lighting, like his smile. "I harnessed my inner squirrel."

"You mean your inner furry?"

Seungkwan and Yeri chose this moment to slip away, calling out something like "we're just gonna go walk a tree" before bowing out. Changmin feigned an expression of offense, pressing a hand to his chest. "Rude! It's called athleticism."

You wrinkled your nose. "Like you know what athleticism is."

"I'll race you to the stairs over there right now—HEY, CHEATER! I DIDN'T SAY GO—" Despite his indignant squawk, Changmin's cheeks hurt from how hard he grinned as he raced after you toward the stairs at the other end of the lawn.

— ✶

"So… no Ten today?"

After a daring race, you and Changmin settled on top of the stairs overlooking the entire lawn. The sun hung at golden hour position and painted the landscape and people below in beautiful, buttery gold wash. You even swore you saw Chanhee chasing after Sunwoo with a handful of loose cherry blossom petals, no doubt to dump into the latter's hair.

You looked over to where Changmin was leaning back onto his palms next to you. "This again?"

He pursed his lips. "Well, I mean," he drawled, "you guys are pretty close. I just figured you'd do this kind of thing together."

"That's fair," you conceded. "Uh, he's actually on a trip with a couple of his frat brothers this week. Something like backpacking in Switzerland."

Changmin gave an indulgent nod of his head. "Wow. Switzerland."

"I know, right?"

He peered out into the distance, eyes squinting against the strength of the sun, but he looked like an art piece nonetheless. “You and Ten aren’t, like, together? Are you?”

You tilted your head to the side. Interesting question. “No, we’re friends. I think in the beginning it might have felt like something on that level, but we’ve both—I think we’re both on the same page where we stand with each other.” You didn’t know why you were telling him so much; he’d only asked you a question. But speaking of being together with someone… You coughed, “Sumin told me what happened during the interview a couple weeks ago.”

Changmin smiled sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “Oh, ha, she did? I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

“You really didn’t know?”

“That she liked me? No,” he laughed with a shake of his head. He leaned forward onto his knees then, turning his head to the side to look at you with his fingers laced over his knees. “Who do you take me for, hm? I couldn’t just assume she had a crush on me.”

You feigned a look of disagreement, and he gasped, shoving your upper arm playfully. “I’m not that bad!” He exclaimed.

“You could be that bad,” you teased.

You watched as his expression cooled and the air around the two of you shifted. There was an earnestness in his eyes now, emphasized by the brilliance of the setting sun reflecting across his smooth lines of his face. “Have you ever thought about, you know, like trying to dance again?”

You weren’t sure what prompted this change in subject, but you gave it a thought. “I definitely have,” you said honestly, “I just can’t really step into a practice room without getting nervous.” You picked at a stray thread on your pants as you spoke and felt his gaze on you. “That night—the one when you saw me in front of the performing arts hall really late at night—I was trying to get myself to go in. To at least… try, y’know. Maybe prove to myself that I could work up the courage to go in, but I couldn’t.”

Changmin was quiet for a moment. His knees angled themselves toward you, and he leaned forward so his chest practically laid over his legs. “I said a lot of bad things to you in senior year,” he said lowly. “They were stupid—I was stupid. And—and if your anxiety with practice rooms comes from me, then—”

“Changmin,” you interrupted and captured his attention. You shifted to mimic his body positioning, so your eyes were level and you were both just as small as the other. “I said really shitty things to you, too.”

“I told you that you should quit,” he rasped. He had to turn his head so you wouldn’t see the silver pooling in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Yn; I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.”

You heard his sniffle over all of the chatter from the lawn below and you moved closer to him until your legs and arms were pressed together. You wrapped an arm around him, only for him to raise himself up and practically drape himself over you, his arms looped around your upper body and his face tucked into the side of your neck. Your heart tripped over itself in surprise, but you let yourself lean into his body heat.

“I’m sorry, too. I know you didn’t mean any of it. I didn’t mean any of what I said either.” You breathed for a moment and sighed, simply allowing him to stay in your arms for however long he needed. “I think,” you started, “even after three years, I still blame myself for letting all of that get to me. Sometimes, I want to go back in time and slap some sense into myself; maybe tell myself that I shouldn’t have let what my mom said bury itself so deep inside me. I mean… where would I be now had I not listened to her?”

Changmin pulled away then, resting his forearms on his legs again, but he didn’t back away from you. “You were just a kid, Yn. You can’t blame yourself.”

You rested your cheek against your fist. “I know. It’s hard not to, though.”

“I know.” He took another look at you, and you felt his eyes really take you in for a moment. The corner of his lips lifted. “Are you happy?”

“With?”

“With how you turned out? Where you ended up?”

You held your breath. It was a good question, and as you turned to search yourself inwardly, you came to a couple of conclusions. “In a way, I am. It’s probably just bitterness and regret I feel when I wonder what could have been, but maybe things happen for a reason.”

He nodded, his hand reaching up to pick out a stray leaf that had fallen into your hair. “We can always make up for lost time now,” he said. “We never did get to finish that duet.”

EPISODE FOURTEEN: [GET] OFF THE GROUND

THE next day, you found yourself standing outside the back door to the performing arts building. Because it was spring break, a large helping of the student population had abandoned campus as soon as their finals were over, leaving the place barren except for the area with the cherry blossoms. You stood next to Changmin, the latter holding his bag by the strap over his shoulder. You had been staring at the door for more than a minute now, trying to slow the palpitations of your heart.

“We can leave whenever you want to,” he murmured to you, the back of his hand nudging yours. “Let’s just try.”

You got yourself to nod.

The hallways were uncharacteristically quiet compared to the previous couple of times you had been back here. Since there was no one else here, you and Changmin got to pick whichever practice room you wanted. The largest one was the winner, and the lights flickered on to wash the shadows away. You immediately moved to one side of the room to set your things down, and Changmin went to his corner by the speaker. He was already hooking up his phone to the aux cord, but kept one eagle-eye on you as you inhaled the sight of the empty room around you.

As usual, your throat began closing in on itself, and you coaxed yourself into taking deep breaths.

You started out on the floor in front of the mirror, your legs crossed over each other and Changmin’s phone in your hands. Changmin had shouldered off his white athletic jacket, and began stretching as you swiped through the selection of music on his phone. The two of you collectively agreed for you to start off just watching. Once you were comfortable in the practice room environment, and if you wanted to dance, you would join him whenever you were ready. If you were never ready, then you could continue to just watch him and cheer him on during the practice.

You watched him card a hand through his hair as he peered at himself in the mirror behind you. “I always thought this mirror made you vain,” you chuckled, your hand having settled into your lap instead of at the base of your throat.

He furrowed his brows at you. His hands rested on his hips, the muscle in his forearms emboldening from the action. “Rude. I think you were the one who made me vain.”

“The fuck? How so?” You challenged.

“You always said you admired my facial expressions and my pretty smile,” he grinned at your reaction, snickering to himself. “Did you pick a song yet?”

You watched him dance. For the first few songs that played on shuffle, he was simply warming up his body and freestyling to whatever he heard. You knew Changmin was no stranger to people watching him dance, but there was something still so intimate about watching him in this space. You could watch him create things like magic, as well as watch him fumble and laugh at his own misgivings. Except, instead of doing it all by himself, his eyes would find yours and smile.

Next quarter, Changmin was supposedly signed on to be a TA for one of the dance courses, so he asked for your opinion on a few of his ideas for choreographies he could teach.

After showing you his second idea, he gestured to you then looked back at himself in the mirror. “What do you think? I’m not sure if writing something for each nuance in the beat would be a bit too much or if it’s something that should be used as a challenge routine.”

You hummed in understanding. “Well, if it’s an intermediate dance course, then I think it could be worked up to. Are these people dance majors or… maybe minoring in dance?”

He nodded when you said the latter. “Supposedly, they aren’t necessarily dance majors. But yeah, I agree—it could probably be brought out later in the quarter instead.” He made a motion with his hand as he backpedaled a couple steps to give himself more room between you and him. “Could you rewind to the first verse again? I wanna see something.”

You obliged him and rewinded the song to his desired timestamp. He tried out another possible set of choreo, but ended up stopping halfway through the chorus.

Again and again, you rewinded the song for him to try something new, but each time, he was met with his own dissatisfaction.

You suddenly stood, setting his phone on the ground with the song having been rewinded just slightly before the intended timestamp. Your hands were shaky and your heart was probably beating at an unhealthy speed, but you needed to try out something.

Changmin’s eyes opened wide as you came to stand next to him, but he said nothing. Instead, he let you loosely show him what you had concocted in your head while watching him go through trial after trial.

Before you knew what was happening, the two of you were weaving your ideas together, taking pieces of his original choreography and amending it with yours. You had watched him from the beginning so many times that you didn’t need long to pick up on the rest. By the end, the two of you had danced the entirety of the song together, your chest rising and falling fast with the speed of your breath.

Changmin released an exclamatory yell, thrusting his fist to the ceiling, then clasping your hand with his. “Let’s go! I really like that, Yn,” he said with his face split by a shit-eating grin.

Your heart was bursting again, not with nerves, but something you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. You brushed the hair from your eyes, a satisfied beam set on your face. “I like it, too.”

There was a sheen akin to pride in his eyes. “I wanna show you something,” he said, walking over to his phone with a skip in his step. “Stay there! I wanna teach you this bit of choreo that’s been living in my head for a while now.”

And so, you followed Changmin’s instructions as he put on a groovy-type beat. The routine was simple enough—looks-wise. But if you knew anything about the things Changmin choreographed, the difficulty was all in the subtlety and technique. When you were younger, the appeal between you and Changmin as partners were that you were practically foils for each other. While Changmin ruled the arena of sharp, focused isolations and movements, your area of expertise laid in bigger, fuller movements like that of a brushstroke. When you had watched Juyeon and Changmin’s performance during the winter showcase, you supposed that was why they were able to complement each other well. It was essentially what you and Changmin were, in combination.

The longer you and Changmin danced, the more your chest filled with air and warmth and love and happiness. The guilt and fear from before had melted away to reveal this suppressed portion of you that had been hidden for a long time.

At some point, the two of you were just messing around, and ended up sprawled on the polished wood floor of the practice room clutching your stomachs while choking on laughter.

Changmin rolled onto his side, eyes still squinted in delight as he tried to get a grip of his breathing. “Is your back okay?” He managed to wheeze between gasps and howls.

You wiped a tear that crept out from your eye. “No! I just tried carrying a fifty-something-kg man on my back. Do you think I’m okay?”

“In my defense,” he said, peering down at you as he rose into a sitting position and leaned back onto his palms, “you claimed you were stronger than me and could be the base.”

“A warning would have been nice!” You exclaimed. You rolled onto your stomach, laying your chin over your arms. “No one in their right mind just jumpscares people like that.”

“Have you met me?”

“Fair enough.”

A remnant of that merriment remained on his lips as he felt around the floor around him for where his phone had fallen out of his pants pocket. He caught a glimpse of the time, sighing, then raking a hand through his hair. “It’s already one o’clock. Are you hungry? Wanna get lunch or something?”

“Sure, what do you feel like?” You asked, eyes following his movements as he clambered up to his feet and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

He pressed his lips together in thought, humming, “Dunno. Fast food maybe?”

You rolled into a sitting position, similar to the one he had been in just moments before. “Okay.”

“Come on; let’s get up then.” He offered a hand out to you, and you clasped his forearm tightly.

In one fell motion, Changmin swept you upright and to your feet—but he used a little too much pulling force, and you were stumbling into him, palms pressed flat against his chest, and his arms coming around your waist. You held your breath as the two of you fought to stabilize the other.

“Shit, sorry about that,” he muttered from above you with a low chuckle.

You opened your mouth to reply, but as you raised your head to meet his eyes and not just his Adam’s apple, you lost all your breath. There was barely a hairsbreadth distance between your face and his. Changmin came to the same determination as you had and his eyes went wide.

A curious thing happened. His pupils dilated, and his eyes darted down to your mouth and his tongue swiped over his own to dampen them.

Your breath as you exhaled was as unsteady as your heart rate.

You felt his hold on your tighten slightly; his Adam’s apple bobbed. And then he was leaning forward, his eyes fluttering closed—

He kissed you then.

His lips were soft over your own with the slightest bit of pressure, nose nudging the side of your cheek.

Your hands moved up the plane of his chest to grasp his toned shoulders; he shifted his left hand to cradle the back of your head.

Wait, what is happening—

You both pulled away, as if the same thought had echoed through both of your heads at the same time.

Panic leapt into the two of you and you jolted away when the distinct sound of Boss by some group called Neo Culture Technology blasted throughout the quiet practice room.

"Fuck," you swore. You glanced back at Changmin and saw the question, the uncertainty, the—you couldn't even tell. Your mind was everywhere and nowhere at once. You could still feel his mouth on yours. "That—that's Doyoung's ringtone. I have to take this."

"Okay," he whispered inaudibly, and you slipped out from his hold.

With your back to him, he rubbed his hands down his face and an indescribable emotion seized his chest. He rubbed a thumb over his lips…

"Doyoung, you need to calm down," you said as Doyoung's voice quite literally rambled at lightspeed into your ear.

You heard your friend take one deep breath, then repeat, "I think one of these final draft files are corrupted. I'm freaking the fuck out right now, and I know you're not out of town, so if you could please—for the sake of my sanity—come to the office and help me!" He was pleading, begging, and Kim Doyoung did not beg. He sounded like one hair-pull from dropping down to his knees.

In any other context, you would have wanted to record this for the history books. Any other context.

Your eyes darted over to Changmin who was still standing in the middle of the room, hands tucked into his pockets, and gaze pinned to you.

You couldn't just—leave? Could you? Not after that—

Then you caught Changmin nodding his head in the direction of the door, his head cocking to the side in silent question. Do you need to go? He mouthed.

You pursed your lips with a reluctant nod. Something's wrong with the paper.

Then go. We'll talk after.

Talk. Yup. You started grabbing your things and you squeezed your phone between your ear and shoulder. "—okay okay, Doyoung. Can you stop wasting your energy for me, and tell me exactly what the screen is telling you?"

You began making your way to the door, but halted in the doorway. You hesitated, turning back to look at Changmin. You really shouldn't leave—but you had to.

"Yn."

You grabbed your phone and pressed the speaker into your shoulder. "Yes?" It sounded breathless.

Desperation gleamed like silver in his eyes. One did not often see that emotion from Ji Changmin. "Don't shut me out."

EPISODE FIFTEEN: OFF THE BOOKS

THE first person that came to mind was Choi Chanhee. "What—"

"I kissed her!" Changmin blurted, hand slapping over his mouth.

"You what?!"

— ✶

You were breathless, brain muddled, a hot mess of a shitshow, when you got to the Daily. The rest of the Board members were on break, including your resident tech expert, so you had assured Doyoung that you were free if he needed anything. (If you weren't deeply regretting that now though.)

You had fast walked all the way from the performing arts center to the Daily's newsroom, effectively cutting travel time down from ten minutes to seven, even with your bag of items. Though, it definitely didn't help your headspace. You could hardly think about Changmin, the kiss, and a corrupted file all at the same time. Not to mention, you finally managed to wrangle Doyoung off the phone with you so he could go splash water on his face to calm the fuck down.

The newsroom was dark when you got there, but you saw the light from Doyoung's office shining down the corridor. He was seated behind his desk, his expression a lot more calm than he sounded from the phone, but his face and bangs were a bit damp, meaning he had actually gone to wash his face. Good.

He saw you trudging down the hall, your baby hairs flying everywhere, and your breath coming out in pants. He noticed the bag slung over your shoulder and had the nerve to ask, "Oh, were you on the way somewhere?"

You sent him a pained stare and collapsed into the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

"You look stressed."

"Changmin and I kissed."

Doyoung's eyes nearly fell out of his head and his body was half an inch from falling out of his chair. "HUH?"

Your head craned back against the back of the chair. "I know."

"Girl, why are you here then?"

"You said it was an emergency!" You cried, straightening. You didn't even acknowledge the fact that Doyoung had just called you "girl". "Now, let's work this file situation out."

Doyoung moved his laptop further away from you. "Oh, nuh-uh, Missy. You're gonna just send me your copy, and then you're gonna go on your merry way back to Mr. Dancer Man and kiss him again."

Your face scrunched up. "Hello?" What was in the sink water in this building…

"Did you talk about it? Are you two dating now?"

"Doyoung," you whined, scrubbing a hand over your face, "you literally called right after we kissed."

Doyoung made a noise of disappointment. "Damn, I'm never gonna live this down."

"Seungkwan's gonna call you a cockblocker for the rest of your life," you muttered in agreement.

He snorted. "You said it, not me." He sobered then, closing the lid of his laptop so he could lace his fingers over it and fix you with a serious expression. "So how do you feel? Tell me what happened."

You twisted and dropped your bag to the ground by your feet, moving your chair closer to the desk so you could drape your upper half on top of the cool surface. "We were dancing—"

"Really?"

"Mhm," you hummed against the table. "It was… it was really nice, Doie. I actually had fun. And then we just—I don't even know—we played around a little and he was helping me up off the ground, and suddenly we were kissing."

Doyoung's brows furrowed together. "Ah, I see. Did he kiss you or did you kiss him?"

"He kissed me, but I didn't stop him." You could recall the look in his eyes with a striking amount of clarity. "I… I don't really know what it all means, or what it means to me. I'm a little confused, if I'm honest."

He sighed. "And that's okay. I think this is something you definitely need to go back and talk to him about though, hm?"

"Yeah."

"But Yn," he continued, reaching over to rub the top of your head and get you to look up, "did you ever have feelings for the guy?"

You slowly raised yourself up from the table with a frown on your face. "When I was a kid, I didn't really see anyone else but him," you confessed, almost unconsciously. You hadn't known what the feeling you harbored for him was back then, but maybe you could seek to understand it now.

Doyoung made a vague gesture with his hand as he sat back in his chair. "Well, that's a start for sure. But you and he have been on rocky terrain for years now. You're not kids anymore and a lot of things have changed." He was right, in some sense. You and Changmin had spent three years convincing yourselves you didn't need each other. Perhaps it had been the opposite the entire time, but what did it all mean?

"I'm glad to have him in my life again," you said quietly. "I think I've always felt… different about Changmin than any other friend I've had before, y'know? It was just unconscious in a way."

"Would you want to act on that then? See where it goes?"

You let his questions resonate around your head for a minute. But the more you thought about it, the more certain you became of your answer.

— ✶

The back corridors of the performing arts hall were just as dark as it was when you had left. For a moment, you were afraid that Changmin had left. But as you neared the practice room from earlier, you could make out the sounds of voices drifting from the cracked open door of the room.

You strained your ears—who was that with Changmin?

You reached the door, quietly pressing yourself against the wall to peer in through the cracked doorway. There, sitting opposite Changmin on the practice room floor, was Chanhee.

"—think about it, Changmin," said Chanhee as he dropped his friend by the shoulders to keep him from sulking. "She kissed you back. Don't you think that means something?"

"She could've just been caught up in the moment," Changmin countered. "She could've—" He made a frustrated noise and threw his hands out in front of him, "Maybe I just don't want to be disappointed."

Chanhee frowned. "Disappointed… that she doesn't return your feelings? Changmin, can you be honest with me for a second?"

He gave a solemn nod.

"Those feelings you had for her when you were a kid—have they ever gone away?"

You had to back away from the door and press your palm against your mouth. But because of that, you weren't able to catch Changmin's answer. Your heart slammed against your ribcage, your hands shaking as your thoughts raced in your head. You had to open the door now. You'd already intruded when you eavesdropped on their conversation.

Sucking in a breath, you pushed the door open wider. No going back now.

Changmin and Chanhee were both frozen in place when you poked your head into the room. The former paled in the warm-toned practice room lights, and you saw him gulp.

"Yn!" Chanhee laughed nervously as he and his friend both scrambled to their feet. His car keys jangled noisily from where they hung on a clip from his belt loop. "Uhm, I think I should leave," he said, clearing his throat and brushing past you.

You grabbed your arm as you shuffled into the room and gently kicked the door closed behind you.

Changmin cupped the back of his neck. "How much did you hear?" He asked, not even bothering to hide the open glisten in his eyes, the pure vulnerability lying stark on his face. It felt like you were seventeen again, standing alone together in the practice room, not really sure what the other person would say or do or feel.

"What did Chanhee mean by you having feelings for me when we were kids?" You asked.

The silence was palpable. "You really didn't know?"

No, you shook your head, definitely not. "I—I mean, no. Not really. I guess I always thought… I don't know what I thought."

He braced both hands behind his head now, his eyes tilted back toward the ceiling. "Yn," he said before looking you in the eyes again, "every time I saw you, I saw someone who put the fucking stars in the sky. If you watch any of our videos from back then—" He pushed out a haggard breath from his mouth. "I could never not care for you, could never stop caring for you. It hurt a lot when we stopped being us because I thought I…"

His hands fell to his sides, helpless. "I thought I lost you. And then it felt like you hated me, so I tried to hate you, too. And then we worked shit out. And then…" Changmin brushed his bangs back and was unable to look you in the eyes for longer than a second with each glance. "I'm sorry I kissed you. I don't want to lose you again, Yn."

Your heart thundered in your ears so loud that you almost thought he could hear it, even from so far away. You got yourself to take a step forward, and then another.

Changmin waited as you walked closer to him, his lips pressed together.

You inhaled. "Changmin, I can't say for sure what I felt for you back then, and I definitely can't articulate my feelings for you as well as you just did—" His eyes clashed with yours, that energy colliding, "—but I'm not sorry you kissed me, or that I kissed you."

You thought you heard his breath hitch for a moment.

"I don't want to lose you again, either," you said and tentatively reached for his hands. Never in your years of knowing him had you known a moment where his fingers trembled like they did now. "And I—I really want to see where this goes. Would you want to see where this goes with me?"

His fingers curled around yours as he nodded. "Yes."

EPISODE SIXTEEN: OFF [MY] FACE

"WHAT about that one?"

"Don't touch that one."

"Will it burn my skin off?" Changmin asked in a sleepy daze as one hand rubbed his eye and the other reached for the gallon of liquid that sat behind a locked cabinet with a clearly marked DO NOT TOUCH. DANGER. plastered on the side.

"Yes," you said without looking up from your organic chemistry textbook.

Changmin's hand dropped immediately and he turned to send a look your way. "Well, that's not very safe."

His hoodie-covered head began bumbling back over to you through the maze of workbenches. It was the first week back to school from spring break, thus, the very first week of the spring quarter. You and Changmin were currently in your regular lab space that you unofficially dubbed your study area. Kun was in the break room probably half asleep over a bag of shrimp chips, and Ten… Ten was somewhere around here. Maybe he got lost down the hallway looking for the bathroom or something.

Changmin had come to hang out with you though, even though he was practically a walking baby giraffe as drowsiness possessed his whole being. But he insisted on staying until you went home.

"It's actually just distilled water," you said with a chuckle. "The lab professors just don't want people using it because for some reason, the convenience stores around here are always out, and they don't want to go hunting for more."

You felt him drape over your back with a fwump. "I love when you talk dirty to me," he said through a rather large yawn.

You grinned to yourself, shaking your head. "Okay, I think we need to get you home."

"Not before you take me to dinner first."

"Are you sure you're not drunk?"

You packed your things up quickly, especially when you saw Changmin nodding off while standing upright. It was already around nine o'clock by the time you said good night to Kun and located Ten (yeah, he'd gone looking for the bathroom and almost gotten locked in a supply closet instead).

Changmin tried to convince you he was okay to drive, but by the way he couldn't even figure out that his keys were hanging on his belt loop, it was safe to say that you were driving tonight. The drive over to Changmin and Chanhee's apartment was an easy one since they lived in the university district and the streets were quite barren at this point. You helped him up to the apartment, greeting Chanhee who was in a fluffy pink robe and matching headband.

"Hi Chanhee," you sighed as you pushed Changmin into the bathroom to shower.

Chanhee looked on in ill-concealed amusement. "He'll be much better after he showers," he reassured you from his perch on the couch. You saw the page-long math problems spread out on the coffee table and held in a gag.

"Dear god, I hope so."

Chanhee directed you to where Changmin's room was and you dumped both yours and his backpacks on the floor by his desk. You actually had yet to step foot in here until now, so while Changmin was doing his thing in the bathroom, you let your eyes roam all around the room. It was relatively clean (emphasis on relatively) with walls that were minimally decorated. There was a whole separate rack of shirts and jackets left outside the small wardrobe, and you recognized a couple of them.

You leaned over his desk to see what he had posted on the wall above it. There were a couple dozen printed photographs of him and his friends, as well as an award or two that were big in name and no doubt special to him. You felt yourself smile; you didn't have to be up here, but you liked seeing his smile in all of these pictures.

And then you saw it.

There was a printed copy of a review pinned amongst the pandemonium of memorabilia. The layout of the page was incredibly familiar, and with widened eyes, you realized that it was a review from the Daily's Opera Glasses.

In fact, as you squinted and skimmed, it was your review from freshman year. It was your (anonymous) review about his debut winter showcase performance.

Wow.

You barely registered Changmin shuffling into the room in slippers and a bathrobe of his own, his dark hair still dripping with water.

He passed you a glance while heading for his wardrobe. "Hey, do you wanna stay over?"

You definitely weren't prepared for that question. "Stay over?" You parroted dumbly. "Also, you have an Opera Glasses review printed out?" Your hand gestured to the sheet of paper pinned to the wall.

Changmin's head turned and he abandoned the wardrobe to walk over to you and his desk. You pressed yourself against the wall to the side to give him space to look. "Ah," he said with a boyish grin, "that was yours, wasn't it?"

"How the hell could you tell?"

He leaned in close to you, bracing an arm above your head. The smell of his shampoo was strong and you came to the realization that he was still in a bathrobe. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. "You don't think I could tell what your writing voice sounded like?" He asked, his voice suddenly lowered.

You inched forward, a dare. "Are you gonna get dressed, Changmin?"

His smile widened. "I could," he teased.

"Hey! Can you guys close the door or keep it down? Some of us are single and have math homework!"

Both you and Changmin laughed at Chanhee's outburst even though your face was definitely heated up.

Changmin took advantage of your unassuming state and pressed his mouth to yours, tasting your laughter on his tongue until you could only taste his in return. It was a dizzying sort of kiss, his arm still above you and his other curled around your waist.

When he pulled away, he bit his lip around a smirk. "I'll get changed now."

Criminal. Absolutely criminal.

He indeed got changed. And so did you. Apparently, he was being serious about you staying the night, and soon enough, you found yourself buried beneath his covers and swept in his very clingy arms. Not that you were complaining; he smelled nice.

You and Changmin laid facing each other in the darkness of his room. Round spectacles sat awkwardly on his nose bridge since the side of his face was pressed against the pillow, but he said he wouldn't take them off until he was just about to drift off.

"Yn-ie."

"Hm?"

He giggled, turning over and reaching over the side of his bed for something. You were about to question what he was doing until he quite literally shoved his wretched Chucky doll into your face.

"What the flying fuck—" You glared at the toy and its creepy stitched face. You had been startled by it, but you had grown used to it after having to deal with his obsession with the damn thing in the last two years of high school.

Changmin hugged the abomination to his chest as he snickered loudly.

"I thought you got rid of that thing."

"You clearly don't know me well enough."

You began to sit up and make a show of throwing off the covers. "I'm leaving—"

"Wait, wait, wait!" He blubbered, grabbing your upper arm and yanking you back down onto the bed next to him.

He leaned over you, his Chucky doll still tucked in the crook of his arm, as Changmin pouted. The glasses were practically sliding off his nose and his hair was sticking up in the back. What a duality. "I don't want you to leave."

"I'm not cuddling with Chucky, Changmin."

"But—"

"I will go ask Chanhee for an extra blanket."

Changmin's pout contorted into a scowl. "I'll murder him."

You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of this conversation. "I think you need to go to sleep."

He flopped back onto the bed next to you, reluctantly setting Chucky back down on the floor next to the bed where the wretched thing had been hiding this whole time. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally able to breathe easy, you settled back into Changmin's arms. He tucked you against his chest, his chin settled on top of your head. You felt him shift as he took his glasses off and reached behind him to set them on the nightstand.

You were just drifting off to sleep to the melody of his heart beat when: "Yn?"

"Hm?"

His lips pressed to the crown of your head. "I missed you."

You knew what he meant. You pressed a kiss to his chest and heard the shuddering breath that fell from his lips. "I missed you, too."

EPISODE SEVENTEEN (EPILOGUE): [ON OUR TERMS]

THE problem with the restaurant was that it reminded you of something like the word "home". The sign above the door was made with some common font that one could find on Microsoft Word and you were pretty sure they only took cash, too. There was a reason you had chosen this restaurant in particular, and it was because you thought that eating at a place with your comfort foods would, well, comfort you. But you had been staring at the front for a minute or two now, and you weren't sure it was working.

From beside you, you felt someone take your hand in his. "We don't have to go in," said Changmin, his expression blank and reserved as he looked at the eatery, but softened a considerable amount when he looked over at you.

Your mother was waiting for you in there, somewhere. You wanted to finally talk to her—maybe make some peace with yourself. You'd told Changmin about it, and he insisted on coming as moral support.

You squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. "I can't just not go, Changmin."

His touch was gentle as his thumb grazed over the back of your knuckles, just as gentle as his voice was, "You don't owe her anything, Yn. You deserve an apology from her and you deserve closure, but you don't owe her anything. Not after what she put you through."

You were quiet for a moment and your free hand brushed over the hollow of your throat where the tightening sensation was.

Changmin added, "I'll support whatever decision you come to."

You considered the restaurant again. It had always held a great amount of significance and comfort for you. Did you want to ruin that with a potentially sour conversation? For all you knew, this could end incredibly poorly.

But… there were some things that needed to be done.

You steeled your resolve. "Ready?"

Changmin, all dapper in his dress shirt and pants and styled hair, flashed you a dimpled smile. "Whenever you are."

a/n: wow ... anyways lol thanks for getting through that madness, and hope u enjoyed!! pls do consider reblogging, commenting, or sending an ask to my inbox teehee i would really appreciate it ! now, onto hyunjae's ! >:)

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