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astraystayyh · 8 months

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Invisible Thread- two.

This is the second and final part of Invisible Thread. Here is the link to part one.

pairing: minho x reader. pre-established relationship. reader has she/her pronouns.

genre: fluff and domesticity. angst. healing. characters trying to become better. humans being humans.

cw: parent death. grief. talk about death. allusion to sex but no smut. suggestive at one tiny part but it's for the plot.

summary: In which Minho rewrites your entire relationship with love.

word count: 17k

a.n: this is, i hope, a gentle reminder to always be kind to yourself, and to the people surrounding you. this one is pretty personal because i see myself a lot in yn, but it was also challenging since i wrote about things i have never experienced either. so i hope you'll enjoy reading, and that the second part will live up to your expectations. it took me a long time to write this but it's okay!! English isn't my first language and this was also a reminder to be patient with myself. thank you. i love you all. truly. feedback is highly appreciated, as always <3

(here is a Spotify playlist i made for this second part, you can listen to it while reading if you'd like :))

Love. How lucky yet cursed we are to ever experience it.

The fear attached to this singular emotion seems ridiculous. Because we aren't afraid of experiencing anger, sadness, or nervousness. They might overwhelm us, but we accept them, we recognize them as they are and then we cope with them. Whichever way we know best.

But when love comes knocking on our door, we stray away from it, we try to shape it into something else- much gentler on the soul, less devastating if it were ever not reciprocated.

So, we name it a crush, attachment, infatuation; anything but the cursed four-lettered word- anything but love. As though merely acknowledging it would morph it into a sharp-edged sword, eternally wedged within us, making our blood dribble away slowly and with it, our souls awash.

You are no exception. Love has terrified you for the better part of your life. There was a time when the word did slip easily from your mouth, back when you were a child and your view of the world was still naive, undisturbed by what you now know. You loved ice cream, you loved candy, you loved your teacher who braided your hair.

But then the once light word grew heavy on your tongue. Because love is what made you crave your mother's warmth, only to find coldness awaiting you. It is love that made you seek shelter elsewhere, in the fleeting opinions of the people surrounding you, hanging your entire worth on the words they uttered about you- ones they forgot within hours but you carried for years.

But this view of yours got dismantled, slowly, day by day. You’ve come to learn that it isn't love that had hurt you, it was rather the lack of it.

It cannot be love that wound when it is the emotion swimming in your eyes, whenever they rest on Minho. You didn't dare say it to him, to name the feeling out loud. You were petrified that if it was ever out in the open, then the love would materialize into something tangible, and the universe would snatch it away, as it has done before with everything you've ever wanted.

But although you didn't say it, you felt it, deep within each one of your atoms. It spilled from you like infinite ink, rewriting your entire relationship with love, dismissing every wrong notion you've once established about it.

Love cannot hurt because you love Minho, and you'd hurt yourself before ever hurting him.

But maybe none of you would have to hurt. Maybe for once, you'd both be okay. That's what you'd like to believe as Minho's shoulders brush against yours. You are sitting at your usual table at Limbo, a gray cat sprawled on top of your laps. Finals ended three weeks ago. Summer break is here, the one time you've been dreading since you came to college. Because everyone is going back to their homes, but you don't have one to head back to.

"What will you do this summer?" Minho suddenly asks, putting down his iced americano. You scratch the cat's ears beside you gently- Lilia you've decided to name her. "I don't really have plans."

"Would you like to go camping?"

"With you?"

"I mean, unless you have another secret boyfriend, then yes, with me."

"Shut up," you giggle, swatting his arm playfully. "I'd really like that," you smile softly at him, to which he nods. "Oh, and we still need to celebrate your win this term."

"Mm. Let's just call it a date this time," he grins, taking a spoonful of the salted caramel cheesecake and bringing it to your mouth. "I need to go visit my family for a few days, and then we can go," he adds.

Sudden guilt floods your being. He had a family he could go to. It was selfish for you to want him to stay, to strip him from this privilege you weren't granted with.

"I don't want you to cut your time short with them for me," you mumble, eyes fixated on Lilia soundly dozing off on his lap. It still astonished you how all animals seemed at ease in Minho's presence. As if they could sense his gentle soul, carefully hidden behind his sarcastic retorts, and cheeky smiles- one you were lucky enough to have been touched with.

"I'm not. I just really wanna go camping," he says nonchalantly, but his hand raises to squeeze your shoulder lightly.

"You should go with them."

"I have a two-person tent in mind, it won't fit the three of us. And I want to come back to you."

His words painted a sweet picture- of him returning home after a long journey, and you were that haven he sought to rest. The idea that he'd discover such solace in you when you struggled to find it within yourself, seemed unfathomable to you.

So, you bite your lower lip slightly, before squeezing his knee in gratitude. "Okay. I'll be waiting."

✹✹✹

Blue and orange flames surge higher under the wind. You watch, mesmerized as their light dances upon Minho's skin, painting him with glistening, golden hues. Every feature of his face is chiseled to perfection, as if a sculptor spent hours perfecting his face, down to the tiniest detail. He looked in his element here, setting up your tent and grilling the meat and now looking up at the sky, a chilled lemonade in his hand. You should go camping more often.

Minho places his empty can of cola on the ground, before tapping his lap. "Come here," he smiles and you oblige, rising from your chair and settling on his thighs. You tuck your knees to your chest, curling yourself entirely in his hold. His arms encircle your body, making sure you don't slip down. You close your eyes, as Minho gazes up at the night sky before you. You are comfortable and safe. It is that safety that you've craved for so long. To be held and not fear the threat of a knife behind your back.

It still surprised you, how you came to crave Minho's presence. But it went beyond just being near him; you felt as if you needed to touch him, as if verifying his existence, ensuring he wasn't an ephemeral specter slipping through your fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. Yet, even more surprising was Minho's own yearning for you. His hands were always drawn to you, subtly grazing your face, resting on your palm, skimming your shoulders. Each tentative touch filled an echoing void within you, slowly diminishing it until all that remained were faint whispers of it.

Minho has cared for you, long before he understood you. He saw snippets and fragments of you, and he cared for the patched-up version he made up in his mind. And when you unlocked your heart for him, he only cherished it even more, silently molding his behavior so he wouldn't cross any of your boundaries.

He was hesitant at first, in holding your hands and kissing your lips. He still asks for permission, in that gentle voice of his, to touch you, in case you’re uncomfortable. Which you aren’t, because his hands on you are infused with care, fingertips dripping with unguarded attention and softness, for you.

You sigh contently, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck as his arms tighten around you. Comfortable and safe.

"What's your favorite word?" he suddenly inquires and you giggle slightly. He often asks you these random questions, as though he wished to understand you in the most ordinary of ways and to care for you in each.

"I think it's the word soft. Whoever thought of the word really nailed it. Nothing else could have depicted softness like this one."

"The word does sound really pillowy, and gentle."

"See, I really love gentle too! Why is the word gentle so gentle? Does that make sense?" Laughter tings your question as he grins, his nose brushing lightly against yours.

"It does. They both remind me of you, actually."

"Really?"

"Mm. You're still so soft and gentle, despite it all... If they ever tell me there is one kind person left on this earth, I'd come looking for you."

Sudden tears flood your eyes as a shaky exhale leaves your lips. It felt rewarding, in a sense, to have someone acknowledge the strength it takes to be kind, in a world that had dealt you nothing but harshness.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"Sometimes..." you pause, racking your brain for the best way to word this. "Sometimes it scares me how much I've come to care for you. How you make opening up not sound as daunting as before."

You grab his hand into yours, fidgeting with his fingers. The familiarity of their touch helps you calm down. "I'm not saying you'll hurt me. I just... I can't help this tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me to be cautious. It's gotten quieter, but it's still there."

"That's just your past selves trying to protect you," he smiles softly at you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "When I told you I'll be here, for as long as you'll have me, I meant it. Doubts and all."

"But I don't want to be closed off anymore," you admit. "It's very lonely that way."

"I know it is, love. But it's what you knew best back then, hm? You shouldn't feel bad about it, you did what you had to do to protect yourself. I'm just here to protect you too now."

"You think I can no longer do it myself?" you tease, your hand threading through his silky hair.

"Of course, you still can. But two shields are better than one. Also, this is exactly why I work out."

"Will your muscles protect me from my mind?" you giggle and he nods proudly. "Have you seen these?" he flexes his arms, before snorting, a bit shyly, eyes squinting closed. He's saying nonsense to make you laugh, and it's warming your heart beyond belief.

"I think these should just stay wrapped around me," you grin, guiding his arms around your back once again.

"No complaints," he smiles, as you settle against his chest. He places a soft kiss on the top of your head and you close your eyes. Safe and comfortable- Minho.

✹✹✹

Summer has been kind to you. Or maybe it was you who has been kind to summer, your laughter filling its air until it could do nothing but mirror your happiness.

Summer tasted like love with Minho by your side. In clementines he peeled for you, feeding you each slice with a soft smile on his face. In spontaneous bike rides at six am, to chase sunrises you've never witnessed before him. In numerous books he bought so you’d read them to him, his head on your lap, a tranquil expression coloring his face. And although the months have all been sweet, there are two days that you remember particularly.

You don't mark up the time with dates, but rather with the new feelings Minho bestowed upon you- the first time you wanted someone to stay, and they did.

"Baby?" Minho’s hand brushes against your shoulder and you startle, turning around to look at him. "Are you okay? You zoned out."

"I’m fine," the rehearsed lie slips from your mouth, long before you could think about it. A ping of guilt swarms your heart, you’ve promised yourself that you’d tell Minho about your true feelings, even if he couldn’t help you with them.

"Are you sure? You haven’t said a word since I came over..." He quickly glances at his watch, "Three hours ago."

"I’m sorry," you mumble, your thoughts swarming your head once again. You felt horrible for wasting his time. He had better things to do than sit with you in silence.

"I’m not asking you to apologize," he says cautiously as if he’s aware he’s threading along a dangerous line. You stay silent and he shuts his eyes closed, hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I just want you to be honest."

"I am."

"Are you, really?"

"What do you want from me?" you ask a bit breathlessly. You don’t know what you are saying, but you can sense your walls building up, higher than you could ever reach them.

"You’re clearly not fine and I-"

"I am trying, okay? I’m trying, please." You plead; you’re unsure for what exactly. For him to stop prodding, because you don’t have answers for him, not yet. Not when you haven’t understood it yourself.

"I'm going for a walk," he says, abruptly standing. You stay frozen in your place, as he quickly slips his shoes on, before leaving your apartment. You’re trying and it isn’t enough for him.

You don’t move from your place as time slowly trickles by. The seconds morph into minutes and suddenly it’s been an hour and a half since Minho left. There is a tantalizing fear making you stay put as if you ever dare to move a limb, then the stillness would be shattered and Minho wouldn’t come back.

It’s hard to reroute your brain entirely- old habits creep up on you swiftly, and suddenly you’re pulled back into the old you, woven into the web of horrible thoughts stitching all around you. Change feels sweet, with Minho, it feels like hope and the taste of a new beginning, but it is scary and different. And the familiarity of what you were before him calls your name from time to time. It was horrible and lonely, but there were no surprises in it. You knew what to expect at all times.

You could’ve told him that you weren’t feeling good, that you didn’t feel like talking and Minho would’ve understood. Because this isn’t the first time this happened, and it happens to him too sometimes. So, he understands, more than anyone you know. But instead, you lied and denied and Minho left. And you can’t blame it on anyone but yourself.

You grab your phone, its sudden light burning your eyes. You blink repeatedly, as you dial Minho’s number. It rings and it rings, then it goes to voicemail. You try again, through blurry vision. It doesn’t even ring this time- straight to voicemail.

Minho’s left. He’s had enough. You can’t blame him.

Three swift knocks resound loudly on your door. You don’t remember reaching the doorknob, your body’s moving on autopilot, but you pull it open. Minho. Your hold on the handle tightens until your knuckles turn white. You can’t look at him, you don’t want to see his face as he leaves you.

"Why are you crying?" he whispers, dainty fingers gently wiping away your tears.

"Don’t go. Not you too," you manage to utter, and you hear Minho suck in a deep breath, before pulling you tightly to his chest.

"What are you talking about?" he says, as he buries your head in the crook of his neck. The familiar scent of his cologne washes over you- you’ve memorized its earthy notes by heart now, easily recognizable between a thousand smells.

"You've been away for two hours and I called and you- you didn’t pick up. I thought you wouldn’t come back."

"My phone died while I was outside and I lost track of time, and- please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry." He leans away, cupping your cheek delicately. "Im here, you see? Let’s go on a walk, hm?"

"You were just out," you mumble and he smiles at you. "I wanna go with you."

Minho takes off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. He leads you outside, still clad in the bunny slippers he randomly bought you a week ago. His hand is warm in yours. His hand wouldn’t be warm if he was leaving you.

You walk in silence to the park near your home, and Minho sits you down on an empty bench. Your tears are dried up by now, cheeks cold from the night breeze; and his hand is still in yours.

"Chan didn’t leave our dorm for three days." He starts, clearing his throat. "He’s overworking himself, doesn’t even eat the food I make him. And I tried to tell him to take a break today. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t convince him. He’s probably still working on his music right now," he chuckles, but there is no trace of humor in the sound. "And then I come to you and you’re not okay. And I want to help but suddenly I’m pressuring you. And you’re trying, so hard and you’re doing so well and I’m pressuring you instead of helping. And I failed at being there for you both. What good I am if I’m not there for the people I lo- care about?"

"Don’t say that, please. You are good enough. More than enough," you cup his cheek, pressing his forehead on yours. "You’re always here. Don’t ever doubt that. I’m sure Chan appreciates everything you do for him."

"And you?" he asks, tone coated in such raw vulnerability that it knocks the breath out of you. At that moment, Minho was a plain hill, devoid of hidden nooks and crannies- nowhere for him to guard his emotions from you.

"Do you remember that night, when I asked you how I can help you feel yellow?" you ask after a while, and he nods, repetitive blinks rythming his silence. "I used to think that happiness was yellow, that sudden joy that drowns out the world around you. And I wanted to always feel yellow, the highest of highs. But that could only lead to another low, another extreme. I’ve since learned that true happiness is feeling peace when you lay in bed at night… And for your heart to beat soundly from contentment."

"I remember feeling this way only once, a long time ago. I woke up to see the sunrise, but I was a bit late to it, so I missed the orange and the pink," you chuckle slightly, as the distant memory floods you. "But I saw the blue, this really soft blue, and as I looked at it a strange sense of serenity washed over me. As if, as long as I looked at that pastel blue, I’d be alright. And now…" You smile softly, your thumb delicately grazing his cheek, Now, I can just look at you. You are my blue."

Minho’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as he looks at you, mouth slightly hung agape. You giggle quietly, before patting his head gently. "Thank you for staying," you whisper, and a sudden smile breaks out on Minho’s face. It’s so radiant- as if every star in this galaxy was ground to fine dust and then sprinkled into it. You can’t admire it for long since Minho crashes his mouth on top of yours, drawing you in for a kiss that leaves you breathless afterward.

"You know I had a really nice dream yesterday," he finally whispers against your lips, a newfound lightness in his voice. "I think this is the first time where my reality is much sweeter."

✹✹✹

The first time you felt loved, truly.

It’s a couple of days into August when Chan tells you that he has signed up with a producing agency- it’s a huge step for him, one he’s been rambling about each time you met him for the past few months. So now you’re over at his and Minho’s dorm, attempting to bake a congratulatory cake for Chan. It was Minho’s idea, one he mumbled into your ear nonchalantly, as if he didn’t wake up really early to scout all the ingredients you might need.

"Why is baking so much harder than cooking?" Minho whines, burying his head dramatically in the crook of your neck. You giggle, patting his back in faux sympathy.

"So, you're admitting you're not good at everything?" you tease and he straightens up instantly, brows furrowed as he looks at you.

"I didn't say I'm not good at it. I said it's harder than cooking," he drawls out and you hum in reply, a teasing "sure, sure" escaping your mouth.

"Do you know how to crack an egg with one hand? That's the cue that you're a great baker."

"Why would I when I have two hands?" you chuckle and he smiles cheekily, raising his eyebrows at you. "Well, I can do it."

"Fine," you huff, grabbing an egg onto your hand. "Teach me?" you smile sweetly and he grins satisfied, "Of course."

"Here, you just need to crack the egg gently into the side of the bowl. And then lodge your finger inside, slowly pulling the shell apart. Like this," he demonstrates and you nod in understanding.

"Your turn," he smiles and you follow his instructions, tongue poking against your cheek in utmost concentration.

"Min look! I did it" You grin widely, turning around to show him the egg now dropped into the bowl.

"You did! I’m proud of you," he smiles, placing a tender kiss on your temple. You pause, the egg’s shell still tightly clutched in your hand. You didn’t drop it into the bowl, and someone’s proud of you for it.

It’s late into the night, and your stomach is aching from laughing for hours on end. Your plates of cake are on the ground, with only crumbs left on top of it. Minho invited two of Chan’s closest friends over- Felix and Han, so now you’re all playing rounds of Uno, and the poor freckled boy is losing each time.

"This isn’t fair," Felix whines, before stealing a bite of the leftover cake on the table. "This is really good by the way," he compliments and you giggle, turning around to point at Minho, only to find him already looking at you, a soft smile on his face.

"It’s all him," you say, and Chan gets his face impossibly close to your boyfriend’s, a teasing smile on his face. "You love me so much."

"I don’t. Get back," Minho pushes his face away, but you can tell he’s lying, from the fond smile threatening to spill over his mouth.

"Sure," Chan sing-songs, before turning to look at you. You wink at him and he ruffles your hair affectionately, as he always does when he wants to tease you. "Thank you for the cake, yn."

"You’re welcome," you grin as an unfamiliar warmth spread through your chest. Is this how it feels to have a family? People you care for and who care about you in return?

Minho notices the sudden bittersweet expression etched on your face, so he grabs your pinky in his hand, squeezing it slightly. You turn your palm around, before blindly intertwining your fingers with his- something you’ve gotten much better at lately.

"We’ll get going," Han announces when it’s nearly midnight, as he and Felix both get up from the floor. "Sure you don’t want to come to the party?" Chan asks, eyes trained on you and Minho.

"Yeah, we’ll stay the night."

You stand up as well, following Chan to the door and stopping him before he leaves. "You don’t mind me staying the night, right? It’s your dorm too, so I should ask."

"Of course not. You can come over whenever, even if Minho isn’t here. You don’t ever have to ask me, okay?"

"Okay, thank you, Chan," you beam at him, relief coursing through you at his words.

Soon enough, the dorm is silent, and it’s only you and Minho once again. You go to clean up but Minho pulls you by your hand, ushering you toward his bedroom. "Let's leave it to tomorrow," he says, and his voice sounds like warm candle wax dripping down on you. You can’t say no.

You find that he’s already prepared a pair of pajamas for you, spread out nicely on the bed- his grey shirt and a pair of shorts he has apparently overgrown.

"You'll find a box there, under the sink, it’s for you," he announces, as you walk into the bathroom to change. It’s filled with anything you might ever need, tissues and makeup removal and pads and medicine, and your cherry shampoo.

"When did you prepare this?" you ask as you open the door wide for him. He peeks his head inside, eyes softening when they take a glimpse at your figure - wearing his shirt, in his bathroom.

"A month ago, or so. Just in case you ever needed to stay the night." He's so thoughtful, you're starting to believe that the word was molded after him. "Is it enough? do you need something else?" he asks tentatively and you shake your head, squeezing his hand lightly. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"Of course. let's brush our teeth?" he smiles and you nod, grabbing the blue toothbrush he bought for you. He squeezes some toothpaste into it, and your eyes meet in the mirror. You can feel a blush creep up your face, to match the tip of his ears turning pink. It felt innocent to blush at the mere act of brushing your teeth together- at the domesticity of it, and the future hopes that lay within it.

Minho washes his face with his cleanser and you do the same. He suddenly hoists you up the bathroom counter, before standing between your legs. his arms cage your body, as his doe brown eyes look up at you. "Do my skincare for me," he pouts and you giggle, diligently taking the moisturizer and applying it to his face.

You take your time, massaging it into his skin, rubbing soothing circles on his cheeks and the tender skin under his eye. His eyes close at your touch, body leaning forward and pressing onto your legs. You grab his lip balm, applying it evenly to his puckered lips, and then you kiss him. Softly, tenderly, hands going up and down his arms. His own find your waist, encircling it, thumbs skimming your sides.

You lean away, a giddy smile on your face. "Thank you for the lip balm," you say, before kissing the tip of his nose.

Minho's room smells like clean laundry and vanilla, courtesy of the candle he lit up. You've been here before, but this is your first time sleeping on his bed. He goes in first, before beckoning you in. You lay down on his silky pillow, your hair fanning all around you. Some strands of it go into your mouth, and you giggle faintly as you pull them away.

"Here," he says, leaning over your body and opening the drawer next to you. He takes out a hair tie, and a faint memory dances around in your mind- you tying up his hair at the convenience store near Limbo.

"You kept it?" you question incredulously, voice coming out in a faint whisper.

"I did," he says simply as if it's ridiculous for you to expect otherwise. "Can I tie it up for you?" he asks and you nod.

His fingers gather your hair, making sure no strands of it are escaping. They're magical, relieving every tension you have in your body. You feel him twisting the tie around, securing your hair in a low ponytail.

"All done." his voice is quiet, and so is the kiss he presses onto your shoulder.

You both lay down, facing each other. It's silent but it no longer scares you. Not when your fingers are grazing Minho's palm, tentatively, the way one dips their toes into the water to test its temperature. Your hands are dancing around one another, not yet holding each other, as if engaged in a dance only your body understands. His eyes are locked on yours- a brown shade so mesmerizing you wish you could paint the entire universe with it.

His gaze is always soft when it comes to you, pupils slightly dilated, eyelashes fluttering with each blink. They're so quick you almost can't catch them, as if he unconsciously wants the time in which he looks at you to last longer.

Minho's hand reaches behind you, before pulling the slipping comforter over your body. He tucks it in your sides, and warmth surrounds you everywhere; from him mainly. He's been so attentive to you tonight- a silent care you only truly appreciate when you've experienced a lack of it. It's as if he's pouring years' worth of missed love back into your life, and in return all the love you've held within, never bestowed upon anyone else, has found its sole destination in the man by your side.

Your hand circles his once again, and you watch intently the way your fingers graze one another, delicately, as if skimming on the edge of holding one another. You give in first, intertwining your fingers with Minho’s and squeezing them gently. They fit his perfectly, this is where they're supposed to be.

"I don't know what you’re doing to me," he whispers, his eyes locking onto yours once more. There is a newfound emotion gleaming in his gaze- incredulity, at the depth of his feelings.

"What do you mean?" you question, nuzzling closer to him. Your head finds its rest on his arm and he responds instantly by patting your hair.

"I want to keep buying toothbrushes for you." His voice is hushed and yet it resounds loudly within your being, as if shouted from a sky-high rooftop.

You exhale softly, curling your hand around the back of his neck, and pulling him down gently to your face. You press your lips on top of his, and they move slowly, deliberately, like a painter's careful strokes. Each touch of his lips against yours is there to make you feel something- things that he can't bring himself to say, so he shows.

You finally break apart, dazed from the raw emotions barging into your heart. You then lift your head slightly, planting a tender kiss on his forehead. Minho closes his eyes, as your lips linger in there far longer than necessary. They remain closed even after you pull away, and it is the look on his face that pushes you over the edge. The serenity painted across his features, but particularly, the trust. As if you could mold him however you want and he'd be grateful you ever touched him to begin with.

"I love you," you confess so suddenly, and the words feel foreign yet familiar as they stumble out of your lips. You expect a shift in the universe, a disastrous change as you verbalize this sentiment that's long haunted you. And yet, all that happens is Minho's eyes shimmering as they look at you. And you realize that you aren’t scared he'd twist the words and stab you with them. You know he'd cherish them, even if he didn't feel the same.

"I love you," he says back, a radiant smile lighting up his face, coloring each of his features in unadulterated happiness. Hearing those three words from him made your heart leap in your chest. There is so much more of what you feel that you wish to express. You’ve told him, but you want to show, to press your body to his so the feeling would emit from your heart to his own.

Your hand trails across his chest, and you feel his muscles constrict under your touch. "Can I?" you ask, gazes flickering between his eyes and the hem of his shirt. It's always about permission to you both- permission to touch, to feel, to kiss and the answer is always yes. Yes, yes, yes.

"Please," he whispers, and you tug his shirt quickly over his head. You are a goner after that when his hands caress your skin like you're delicate porcelain. He’s hovering over you, the candle's shadow dancing across his body. Your fingers are tracing every inch of his skin graced by the flickering light, which meant your hands were everywhere, and every touch of yours was mirrored by him. Every kiss he returned ten times fold, every gasp he drank in hungrily, only eliciting a louder one in return.

"Tell me if you’d like to stop," he smiled tenderly down at you, his nose nuzzling against yours. You never felt the need to. And as the night marched forward, you gradually grasped what the poets meant by ‘making love’. You felt as if you were truly making love, as if your every move conjured love in its purest essence between the two of you. The ebb and flow of your bodies served as a spell, heightening your emotions into a raw fervor. It was love that orchestrated your moves, binding you both in a cacophony of sweet sounds, meant for you only to hear.

Minho's gaze remained fixed on yours, as he uncovered parts of you you've never dared to show anyone. It only cemented every feeling you harbored towards him. And the safety. The safety of being in his arms. To be as bare as one could possibly be, and yet to still feel blanketed by his soft eyes on you.

✹✹✹

Dainty snowflakes coat the outside world in a pristine white blanket. It’s a mesmerizing view, one you’ve grown to be grateful for these past few weeks since it signaled the return of winter, and with it, Minho’s birthday.

It's hard to resent snow when it welcomes the existence of the person you’ve fallen in love with.

The outside might be cold but you wouldn't know, not when you are nestled close to Minho, his legs thrown over your lap. You stare fondly at his figure, too engrossed in eating the birthday cake you’ve prepared for him- a vibrant green frosting and a picture of his three cats printed on top, just like he requested some time ago. You lean in a bit, wiping away a trace of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth. He smiles at you tenderly, angling his head to press a soft kiss on your thumb pad.

There is a growing lump in Minho's throat, but it doesn't suffocate him, since it's formed by your love for him- you remembered what he said about the birthday cake. He was joking, obviously. But the fact that you brought his ridiculous wish to reality warmed him beyond belief.

You rummage a bit in your place, hands tucked under the pillows, and then you take out a purple envelope. "Open it," you say as you place it on top of his lap. Minho puts his plate down, straightening out in his place before looking at you, a curious smile on his face.

"More surprises?" he asks, referring to the gift you’ve already given him- a pair of t-shirts, all with cats and silly scriptures imprinted on them.

"Mm," you hum, as Minho finally opens the envelope. He pauses, as his eyes rack furiously over the content of the letter. "What's this?" he asks dumbfounded, trying to fully grasp the meaning of what he's reading.

"Because of constellations, people often think that stars always live together in a cluster. But oftentimes, they are alone. Or... if they're lucky enough, they get to roam the universe with a partner. They call them a binary star. Like you and me." Emotion simmers beneath your words, and you continue, your voice a gentle undercurrent.

"It's comforting to know that other versions of us are going through this world side by side too. To know that long after we're gone, there would still be two stars discovering the universe together, orbiting around one another. A token of the love we lived." You lift your gaze to meet his, to find him staring in awe at you. You take a mental picture of this moment, adding it to the collection of the ones you already captured of him.

"Our love may not be revolutionary, we're only two humans out of billions that have adored before us. But our love is grand to me. I try..." you bite your lip, reaching out for his hand- it will guide you as you try to speak. "I always try to find the words to describe how much you mean to me, to tell you how much you do to me. I used to always hold my hand out, in the hopes that someone would grab it. But no one did, so I curled it into a tight fist. And I thought it'd stay this way, for the rest of my life. Until you came, and you unclenched my fingers gently, one at a time, and then you grabbed it into yours." Tears are trailing out of your eyes now, but you show no effort to wipe them. Happy tears shouldn't be swept away.

"Thank you for existing, my Minho," you smile softly at him, and he nods, tears brimming in his waterline, cheeks flushed pink at your words. "Thank you for kissing my finger pads and reminding me that there is still softness in this world, all embodied in you." You cradle his cheeks tenderly in your hands, trying your best to let your love seep through your fingertips into his soul.

"I think you've carved yourself into me, carved your name into my heart. Your roots intertwined with mine, and thanks to you, I managed to crack through the hard earth and bloom again. Thank you for making me feel the warm sun again. I was so so cold before you." You whisper the last part, like a sinner's confession, eager for it to be carried away, forgotten.

Minho brings your body to his, as he buries his face in your chest. You can feel slight tremors shaking his body, and you place soft kisses on his shoulder blade- soothing, calming. You are safe in my love for you, they spell out.

"I can't believe you’ve named stars after us," he mumbles against you, and your fingers thread through his hair gently, flattening out stubborn strands of it. "It's nothing," you smile and he shakes his head vehemently. "It's not- it's not nothing to be loved by you. It's everything to me."

He leans away, bringing your head down to press his lips into yours. It tastes sweet from the cake and salty from his tears. It tastes like healing. You both kiss for mere seconds and yet it feels like an eternity to you. As if your mind stretches out time with Minho, knowing how valuable it becomes with him. He presses his lips onto yours one last time, before exhaling softly, melting completely in your hold.

"As long as you're with me, I don't ever need to look at the sky," he whispers. "There are enough stars in your eyes for me."

✹✹✹

It’s late December and the fragrant aroma of hot chocolate fills your apartment. You’re preparing two cups of the cozy drink in your kitchen, while Minho watches you fondly, leaning casually on the doorway.

"Are you just gonna stare at me?" you giggle, turning around to toss him a sly smile.

"Do you need my help making hot chocolate?" he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes, I wouldn't say no to a bit of emotional support."

"Ah, my bad," he playfully bows, walking over to you. Minho gently wraps his arms around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder. His bangs tickle the side of your face, akin to the brush of a butterfly’s wing, and a soothing sense of contentment washes over you as he holds you close.

Minho places a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, and the touch sends shivers along your spine. "This is for warming up the milk," he mumbles, adding another kiss to your neck, "and this for mixing in the hot chocolate powder," and a final one to your temple, "and this is for pouring it in cups."

"Why thank you," you giggle, turning around to hand him his cup. "Do you remember what episode we stopped at?"

"37," he replies instantly.

"I think you love this anime more than me," you pout jokingly. "I plead the fifth," he answers solemnly and you chuckle as you both make your way to the couch.

Merely one episode in and you can already tell that Minho is no longer focusing on the show. He’s absently swirling the drink in his hand, his gaze lost within his cup.

"What did the poor hot chocolate do to you?" you smile, a beacon of curiosity piercing through his daze. His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, turning around to look at you sheepishly. "Just zoned out."

"I noticed. What's on your mind?" you ask, lowering the volume of the TV to fully focus on him.

"There is an upcoming dance competition. It's at a regional scale and I'm just... wondering if I should participate."

"You should!" you fervently reply, "You're such a talented dancer. You deserve recognition for your hard work."

"I'll become very busy, though. It's already hard enough to manage this degree," he speaks softly as if he's not fully convinced of this excuse himself.

"I've never seen you as happy as you are when you're dancing. You'll handle it, and I'll be there for you too."

"I should do it, right?" he asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You really should," you echo, your hand rubbing reassuringly across his arm.

"Okay. I will," he nods, and you beam at him, before pulling him in for a comforting hug.

"On second thought... Everyone will now see how talented my boyfriend is and they will fall in love with you," you playfully muse as you hold him close.

"But everyone's already in love with me," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Mm, the heartthrob of campus."

"People throw themselves right and left at me, it's exhausting," he sighs, the giddy smile easily heard in his voice.

"Okay, now you're overdoing it," you giggle and he further buries his head in your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume. "Don't worry," he mumbles quietly, "I'm only ever yours."

As weeks meld into months, your days become a whirlwind of preparation for the dance competition; where each participant is required to create a choreography from scratch, for a song of their choosing. You witness firsthand the immense effort Minho pours into this, just as he does with everything he undertakes. He spent hours upon hours in the university's dance studio, and you were often there with him. While he practiced, you sat in a corner, working on your laptop. He only paused to kiss the top of your head before diving back into his practice.

He chose a song you've never heard before, called Taste. It was mesmerizing to witness him become a vessel for the melody, like an instrument attuned perfectly to the emotions the song tried to convey. His body moved sensually, flowing like fluid water, perfectly controlled by him. Every beat in Taste was matched with a move of his, powerful enough to capture you, gentle enough not to overwhelm you, like the ebb and flow of the waves brushing against the shore.

The first two months slipped through the hourglass of time in a breeze. And although Minho grew busier, you still both managed to carve out time for quick dates. Strolls by the ocean and spontaneous trips to the cinema- outings that helped you recharge fully once again. But the third month coincided with your midterm exams, casting a heavier cloud over both of your lives.

Minho became overwhelmed, quickly, bearing the weight of his two worlds. He was smart, immensely so, he could handle his classes with ease, retaining knowledge faster than anyone you knew. But the day only had twenty-four hours in it, and he couldn't possibly do it all- finding time to practice, study and take care of himself. So, you tried to handle the last part, as best as you could anyways. Exam seasons always took a heavy toll on you- both physically and emotionally. It also didn't help that you went down with a strong flu for two weeks, making your energy levels plummet to zero.

It was only three days before the start of your exams when a soft knock resounded on your door. You opened it to find an exhausted Minho. He’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, beads of sweat glistening on his upper brow.

"I'm tired," he whispers, eyes looking absolutely devoid of emotion as they align with yours. You smile softly, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside, "I know."

You lead him to the bathroom and he follows silently. He's so compliant in your hands as if all the energy in his body was sucked out of him. "Bad day?" you ask, as you peel away his blue hoodie.

"Very." He says, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay. You're here now," you try to keep your voice just as quiet as you take off the rest of his clothes. You undress quickly as well, before pulling you both to the shower.

Minho rests his forehead on your back, as you check the water temperature. When it's warm enough to feel soothing on his skin, you pull him underneath the jet, and you both stand in there for a while. His head hung low, now buried in the crook of your neck; his breaths growing slower, more even.

"You did well, my Minho," you say, voice threatening to get lost in the sound of the water hitting the tiles, but Minho catches it. He tightens his hold on you in response.

Minho can feel you reaching over and grabbing something from the rack behind him. He recognizes the smell of your shampoo as you pour it in your hands, before lathering it gently on his hair. He almost starts crying right there and then, as your fingers skillfully massage his scalp. You are everywhere, pressed to his body and your hands in his hair, and your cherry scent that’s washing all over him. And the outside world suddenly seems so far away.

You rinse off the shampoo, before grabbing your conditioner and threading it through his hair, making sure that every strand is evenly covered. He shuts his eyes closed, as your hands move to his neck and start massaging it. He's so sore from all the dancing, tired from the studying he has to catch up on. But you’re making him feel okay now, as you unravel his nerves without uttering a word. How do you do it? He wants to ask; how do you always paint his world blue?

Your hands are trailing over his body now, not sensually, just easing the knots in his muscles. You're spreading body wash all over him, and his eyes are still closed, as he feels you place tender kisses on his soapy skin. ‘I love you', your voice reaches him like a faraway lullaby, 'you've been working so hard', 'I'm proud of you'; and your comforting words morph into hot tears lodged into his waterline, begging for an escape.

You finally turn the water off, before pulling him outside and wrapping a towel around his waist. He sits idly on the edge of the bed, as you quickly put on your clothes, before walking over to him. You help him wear his pajamas, the ones he's left in your apartment since he often stays the night. He can't move a limb, but you're doing it in his place- as if the life in you was blown into him, and he's only breathing thanks to you.

Once you’re both fully clothed, you sit behind Minho on the bed, legs on either side of his body. You grab a towel you warmed in advance and begin to gently dry his hair with it, patting each strand with care. As soon as you're done, Minho turns around, nestling his head against your stomach. You let him, hands rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"I already told you, but I'm very proud of you," you say, head lowered so he'd be able to hear you. "I'm so amazed by your strength and hard work. You inspire me a lot, Min. Just keep on going, and if you need a break, you can rest by my side, okay?" You place a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

"I love you," you add softly, and Minho tightens his hold on you. And then he crumbles. Completely.

He falls apart in your arms, painful sobs racking through his body. You panic, as the unfamiliar sounds knock your breath away. You've seen Minho cry before, single tears that managed to escape from his eyes, trailing on his cheeks. But you've never seen him so shattered, so consumed by his pain that he could no longer contain it. You’re caught in his storm, as uncharted waves of his hurt crash against your shores. Has he been hurting all along? Were you this oblivious to the pain brewing inside him?

Your body’s shaking as you press your chest to his back, your arms cocooning his curled-up figure. You try your best to shield him; you don't know from what exactly, but you know it has to go through you first to get to him again.

"I'm so- sorry you have to see me this way," he hiccups, his words digging their claws deeper into your chest.

"Don't say that, baby, please. It's okay, you can cry as much as you want. I'm here."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, voice quivering, and you can feel your heart slowly cracking, hurting in depths you haven't thought existed before.

"Minho, I don't- I don't only love you when you're happy. I love you when you're angry and frustrated and when you're sad. You deserve kindness and you deserve to be kind to yourself because you are still Minho. My Minho. No matter what emotion you're feeling."

"Please stay with me," he pleads softly, and you bite your lower lip, as traitorous tears escape your eyes and land on his shirt. "Where would I go, love? You're my home. I'm here."

✹✹✹

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

The thought that's been reverberating within your mind, echoing since the moment Minho crumbled in your embrace.

Selfish.

Of course you are, since you remained oblivious to his own struggles as he slowly chipped away, until he shattered unexpectedly. Akin to a seemingly sturdy building, struck by a minor vibration and suddenly reduced to ruins.

Selfish.

Each time you sought solace in him, you failed to realize that he was stripping away his layers to shelter you. You took and took from him, each time you called, each time he came over to brush away your tears. Your endless bad days didn't leave room for his struggles, unperceived amidst your turmoil.

Selfish and horrible. You weren't made to be loved.

Minho is sleeping right next to you. He looks peaceful, endearing bunny-like teeth peeking through slightly parted lips. He's undisturbed, like a placid river, until someone selfishly decides to skip some stones in it- you.

His chest rises and falls, erasing all remnants of his previous breakdown, like a scripture on sand washed away by the waves. You could almost forget it ever happened if it wasn't for the persistent echoes of his sobs. Raw pain had seeped through him, yet it could have been different. If you had asked more, he might have unraveled slowly. He would have talked and he would've never had to explode.

Selfish and guilty. There's a bitter taste in your mouth. It doesn't go away when you hastily gulp down water.

You'll keep your problems to yourself. There is enough for him to bear already. By sharing your load, you aren't diminishing it, only adding more to his.

You can't let your mother be right. Not about this. Not when it comes to Minho. You can't ruin his life too.

✹✹✹

You are being distant.

Minho notices it straight away when you stop coming over to his dorm. When you find excuses to not come to Limbo anymore, accounting it for the exams you're both taking. But he knows it's just excuses. You are straying away from him. Your light that shone on him every day suddenly turned into a distant lighthouse beam.

And it's his fault.

He's embarrassed by his outburst. How he broke down right in front of you. How he clung to your arms, counting on your words and touch to stitch him back together. How he wasn't enough for himself, but you were.

Guilt floods his being, making you sadder when you're already dealing with so much. He recounts your tears dripping into his hair, as you hugged him tightly to your body. He made you cry; he shouldn't have broken down. That's why you're staying away. He can't blame you.

He misses you. He saw you this morning and yet he misses you. Because you weren't there with him, you were somewhere else, in a faraway place in your mind. What if he can't reach you anymore? He wasn't sure what to do with himself without you.

It's 11 pm, and he's knocking softly on your door. You open it and he smiles tightly. You smile back.

He hovers around the entrance of your apartment, hands tightly clasped behind his back. You unclasp them, interlocking your fingers with his and leading him to your couch. You are warm, he missed you. You are here and he misses you.

You both sit down, and you're looking at him curiously. His eyes fall to your lips, pillowy and rosy and he can't help pressing his mouth onto yours. It'll give him the courage to speak.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your lips and you lean away, confusion clearly written across your features.

"For crying the other day," he clarifies. "I've made you uncomfortable and you feel like you have to be cautious around me, and I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

"What are you saying? You didn't- you never..." you suck in a deep breath, inching closer to him. "Minho, don't ever apologize for that. please. You should never apologize for being human."

"But you are being distant," he says in a small voice, avoiding your eyes.

"Minho, I..." you bring your hand to his cheek, locking your gaze with his. "It's not what you think. I promise."

"Then what is it?"

You bite your lip, sighing loudly before speaking again. "You sobbed. And I had no idea you were hurting that much inside. I am so reclined on myself that I didn't notice. And I tried to distance myself so I'd sort my thoughts out. So, I could be there for you, fully. You're always here for me, and I feel... As if I failed you."

It's now his turn to cup your cheek, his thumbs gently brushing against your skin.

"I felt so loved by you that day. That's why I cried. because I've never felt that way before," he's quick to explain. "Yes, I was stressed and overwhelmed but it's not your fault. You were there for me when I needed you most. You didn't fail me; how could you think that?"

"Because it should've never gotten that bad. If I had noticed before, then I would've helped you and it wouldn't have gotten that bad for you. You don't deserve to feel sad, not when you’re... You. Someone like you shouldn't feel sad."

"Didn't you say we're humans? Isn't that what humans do? They fall down and they get up, I can't always be fine. It's not your fault."

"Minho you don't understand... How much more of yourself can you give to me, without hurting yourself in return?" You're so sure of these words you're uttering, as if you've drilled them into your mind by now. You couldn't be more wrong.

Minho blinks repeatedly, trying to gather the words in his mind properly. You weren't distancing yourself from him, because he had hurt you. But rather, so you wouldn't hurt him anymore. So, you'd be there for him more. A sudden relief floods his being. He isn't losing you.

Minho can't help the chuckle that escapes his mouth. He shakes his head slightly as he brings you to his chest. You're so warm as you wrap your arms around his waist. He still misses you but you're here, you aren't going anywhere.

"You memorized my coffee order. And my favorite pudding. You always bring me one when you come over. When you find a new flavor, I haven't tried, you always buy it for me. You look at me so excitedly when I try it. As if me finding a new favorite pudding brings your personal joy," he's talking softly, slowly, in the hopes that you'd understand what he means.

"You love spicy food, but you always cook without it when I'm with you. Because I can't handle it as well as you. You put snacks and water in my bag when I have dance practice, and then you come to check on me, even when you're busy too. You bought me an umbrella, and you placed it near the entrance of my dorm, so I wouldn't forget it. You give me the opened chopsticks package first, and you blow on my food so it wouldn't burn my tongue. And you let me pick the movie, every time. You let me pick it," he places a soft kiss on your shoulder, tightening his hold on you.

"You brush my hair away from my eyes when you think I'm asleep. And you make sure the blanket covers my body entirely, even if it means it doesn't cover you. I've never had that. Never had someone care for me this gently. Even when I'm not awake and I can't give them anything in return."

He leans back, smiling softly at you. There is a new palpable emotion in the air- love, in its most unconditional form. It smells fragrant and sweet- like you and him.

"I notice everything you do for me, every way in which you love me. You're here for me in more ways than you can ever imagine. And I love you. Please don't stray away from me. Promise me," he pouts slightly, nudging his pinky toward your face. You giggle in defeat, before wrapping your pinky with his.

"Didn't you think pinky promises were silly?"

"Nothing you like is silly."

"Not even that cheesy drama I watch?"

"Okay. Maybe that one is. But it makes you laugh," he trails off. "If it makes you laugh then I like it too."

"You'll talk to me more, right? About whatever's bothering you? When you're not feeling black yet?"

"I will, I promise. You too, right?"

"Mm. I will too."

"Good," he smiles, pecking your cheek softly. "I've missed you. And I don't mind feeling all the colors of the rainbow, as long as you're near me."

✹✹✹

The voices of your friends singing you happy birthday reaches you like the distant chirping of birds, fading away in the back of your mind with each passing second. You know that Mina is smiling at you, her head resting on Jeongin’s shoulders. And that Chan, Han and Felix are all clapping excitedly, their voices blending together in a somewhat harmonious melody. But you can’t seem to focus on any of it. Your eyes are set on Minho, who’s walking over to you, a vibrant pink cake in his hand. The surface of it is covered in candy- marshmallows and macaroons, and a dozen of lit candles. Their light flickers on Minho’s face, casting an ethereal glow on him.

And as your widened eyes meet his, he knows that it all just clicked in place for you.

Four months ago.

"What did you like to do, when you were younger?"

You stay quiet for a few moments, mulling over Minho’s question. The waves crash softly at your feet, the sound of them and Minho’s arms around you serving as a perfect cover to thread through your childhood once again.

"I had a bunny plushie. My aunt gave it to me one day when her daughter didn't want it anymore. She was going to throw it out, but I took care of it. We took care of each other, in a way. I used to stay alone at home a lot, and Caramelo would keep me company."

"Caramelo?" he giggles and you pinch his arm playfully. "I was six when I named it, sue me."

"Mm, and where is Caramelo now?"

"I left it in the house. I packed in such a hurry and it didn't fit in my suitcase. But I really wanted to bring it," you smile sadly and Minho can sense a shift in your tone, so he trails his hands across your arms gently, pulling you even closer to his chest.

"What else did you like?" he asks, placing a kiss under the shell of your ear.

"Playing in the playground, there was one really near home. I'd sneak out and go play in the swing, but there was no one to push me higher there," you chuckle slightly, burying yourself further in Minho's embrace.

"Oh, but I met a girl there when I was eleven, Lydia, I think. She was our neighbor, and she invited me to my first ever birthday party. Her parents prepared this huge cake for her, it was all pink with so much candy on top. I kept dreaming about having a similar one for my birthday. We also painted each other's nails and put on facemasks, and then we watched a movie. It was really fun," you recall, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. You were really shy and didn't talk to the other girls present, staying away in a corner. But Lydia grabbed your hand and pulled you next to her. She didn't let go during the entire movie.

You hoped she was okay, wherever she might be now.

"And... my mom took me one day to a hill near our home. We sat on a bench there, overlooking the city's lights. We didn't talk but she braided my hair since it kept getting in my mouth. That's my favorite memory with her."

Your voice is carried away with the wind, drowned in the waves. You hoped that one day your childhood memories will come back to you, like the sea foam dissolving at your feet. Gentle, incapable of hurting you anymore.

"You know what I really want now? A big cake for my birthday too," Minho suddenly whines and you giggle, turning around to look at him.

"Want me to bake it for you?" you tease and he nods, cradling your face between his cold hands. They warm up once they rest on your cheeks.

"Yes. I want the cats’ pictures printed on it, and..." he trails off, looking up at the sky. "I want it to be green.”

"Green?" you chuckle. "Isn't that a bit weird for a cake?"

"Are you questioning my vision?" he wiggles his brows at you, his hands coming to your sides.

"I am," you laugh, as he starts to tickle you, unwaveringly. You fall to the sand, and he's on top of you, hands roaming your body as loud laughter erupts from you.

Minho’s eyes soften as he gazes at your laughing figure, but he doesn't stop, not until you tap his arm multiple times, happy tears trailing from your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Green is perfect, you are a genius!"

"Why thank you," he smiles, before leaning down and kissing your tears away. You shiver slightly, from the cold and the feel of his soft lips on your skin. He notices.

"Come on," he outstretches his hand and you grab it, standing up and dusting your pants. Minho squats slightly in front of you, and you giggle before climbing on top of his back.

"Don't you ever wonder who was the person who invented tickling? They were just sitting down and then they touched someone and they started laughing,” he suddenly muses.

"Right! And then they decided this was something they should keep on doing, and it stuck around for centuries."

"I think it's really cute. It says I love the sound of your laugh so much that I will sit there and tickle you just to hear it."

"And you just tickled me," you trail out. "I know," he mumbles, the tips of his ears suddenly turning pink.

"I like your laugh too, Minho."

"Just like?" He teases, in a futile attempt to diffuse his shyness.

"I love it. I love it so much I could pay my entire life savings just to keep on hearing it again."

"Stop," he whines and you giggle, swinging your dangling feet in the air.

"Have you ever heard your laugh? No other melody can compare. At this point, musicians should just retire."

"You're insufferable," he finally laughs and you sigh, melting into his back.

"And you like me."

"And I love you."

Present time

The realization dawns on you like a floodgate- Minho is recreating your happiest childhood memories.

From the pink cake of your dreams. To the obnoxiously glittery nail polish he brought home three days ago, spontaneously, you foolishly assumed. He insisted on having a pampering night, where you both applied face masks to one another, bunny headbands tucking your hair out of your face. You giggled as he painted your nails with the utmost concentration, and then begged you to paint his in return. He didn't explain why he wanted pink nails suddenly, you should've known.

You should've known when he suddenly knocked on your door at midnight, taking your sleepy figure to the playground near your apartment. "Why are you here so late?" you questioned, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

"We are sneaking out," he whispered in your ear, and you didn't question his flawed logic- who were you sneaking out from exactly? But all was forgotten as he pushed you in the swing, fueled by your growing high-pitched giggles. "Higher?" he shouted and you laughed loudly, the sound of it echoing around the park. "Yes, higher!" Until you felt as if you were close enough to touching the stars.

You should've known.

Minho places the cake on the table, his warm hand finding your lower back. He rubs it soothingly, as you mouth a heartfelt "thank you" to him, hot tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. You couldn't speak, afraid of bursting into sobs in front of all your friends. He understands what you're referring to.

It's far later into the night when your friends finally leave Minho's dorm. You've all cleaned up the place, soft music emitting from the speakers. You didn't need songs to fill the silence, the conversations flowing easily between you all.

You gather all the gifts you've received and take them to Minho's room- a pair of shoes you've been raving about from Mina and Jeongin, and new headphones from Chan, Han, and Felix, since your old ones stopped working not too long ago.

"You're okay?" Minho asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

"Better than ever," you beam at him, cupping Minho's neck and meeting his lips in a tender kiss.

"I'm still not done," he smiles secretly, brushing his lips against yours once more, before pulling away. You watch, curious as he heads towards his closet and takes something out of it. Your eyes grow wide as they settle on the gift in his hands. You can feel your lip quivering as you walk hastily over to him.

"Is this...?" you ask incredulously and he nods, a happy smile on his face. "Your Caramelo."

"How... When?" you stammer, as happy tears blur your vision, "How did you do it?"

"I have my ways," he smiles assuredly at you. "Do you like it? I'm sorry if I overstepped by bringing it to you," he adds softly, a hint of vulnerability in his words.

"No, Minho, this is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I can't believe it- I... I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he smiles, his hand rubbing your arm affectionately. "I figured this plushie should be in a loving home, with you. It helped you back then and now you're strong enough to help it in return."

There are overwhelming emotions that we can't quite express with words- like sorrow, sadness, or in your case, happiness. That's why touch was invented, you believe. As you pull Minho for a bone-crushing hug, Caramelo snug between your chests, you hope that he can feel everything you failed to express through words. That your soul will speak to him in a way your mouth couldn’t.

"When you told me there is a friend of yours, who lived in my town. There was no friend, right?" you mumble into his neck.

"No, I just wanted to know your address," he whispers, arms tightening around your waist.

"Did you meet my mom?"

"Yes. She's the one who gave it to me."

"Did she tell you anything... about me?" you ask cautiously.

Minho remembers snippets of his conversation with your mother- the indifference she showed towards you, as if it wasn't her daughter, her flesh and blood that she discarded away so easily.

"Nothing of importance. I promise you."

"Thank you," you whisper, voice caught up in your throat, bound by the ropes of your overflowing emotions. "Thank you for healing me."

Sleep didn’t come easily to you that night, and as Minho snored quietly next to you, you untangled your limbs from his, before heading to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water.

You find that the lights are already on and that Chan is working on his laptop, eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at his screen.

"Hey," you greet softly, careful not to startle him.

"Our birthday girl," Chan grins and you chuckle quietly, before settling next to him on the couch.

"What are you working on?" you question, taking in the different settings displayed on his screen.

"Just a new song," he shrugs sheepishly, "I'm almost done with it."

"That's nice," you mumble, tucking your knees into your chest.

"I suppose Minho already gave you your gift," Chan speaks softly and you startle, turning around to look at him.

"He didn't tell me what it is, don't worry. But I assume he pretended as if it was no big deal, that he got it."

You nod silently, fearing that speaking would stop Chan from talking.

"I told him that he should just walk up to your house, present himself, and then ask your mom if he can take some of your stuff for you. But he said it’s too risky, and there is a chance she might say no. So, you know what he did?" Chan chuckles softly, and you feel the breath slowly escape your chest. "He spent weeks researching all the moving companies that work in your town. And then he bought us uniforms that looked like one of theirs. With the name tags and all. We rented a truck and we drove there, so we’d pretend as if we were moving the rest of your belongings. Your mom didn't question it thankfully, and I've never seen Minho as relieved as when he climbed back into the truck."

An overwhelming need to cry threatens to consume you, and you bite your lip harshly to stop it from taking over. Not in front of Chan.

"For him to go these lengths for you, means that he loves you a lot. But also, that he feels really loved by you. So, thank you, for loving Minho. I'm very happy you guys are together now." Chan smiles softly at you, before getting up and ruffling your hair slightly.

You quickly go back to Minho's room, before bringing his body tightly to yours. And as soon as you touch him, he mumbles your name in his sleep before throwing an arm over your waist.

"Thank you for loving me. I love you so much too," you whisper into his back, as your tears dampen his shirt. You wished that the words would reach him in his dreams, making them sweeter for him.

You didn't make a wish that day, as you blew the candles, foolishly believing that everything you've ever wanted was already around you. But you should've.

Maybe that would've stopped the anguish to come.

✹✹✹

There is a bad feeling nudged into the space between your ribs. You rub a soothing palm across your chest, in the hopes that it will calm your spiking anxiety. But you only feel your heart growing more erratic in your chest, and the sound of it only makes you panic ten times fold.

You’ve just woken up. You can hear the water running in the shower. Minho has stayed over since you both studied late into the night. You listen intently, a small breath of relief escaping your mouth when the water turns off. He’s okay.

You drag a hand tiredly across your face, before shaking your head left and right. You’ll have a good day, you’ll open the blinds and the golden sun will stream through your windows, and you’ll feel okay.

You don’t.

The dread lingers in your being throughout the day, making the simple act of walking weigh heavily on your bones. You try to distract yourself, by focusing on your classes and listening to Mina’s rants about her latest date with Jeongin. But to no prevail. So, you surrender to that feeling, today’s a bad day, but tomorrow doesn’t have to be. You’ll make sure of it.

It’s five pm when you finally walk up the stairs of your apartment. Minho went to grab you both something to eat since you’ll be studying again tonight. You wish he’d come home quickly, so you wouldn’t attach your anxiety to him. As long as you see him, then he’s okay.

You open the door, pausing by the front entrance. Something in you tells you to flee, to turn back, and never set foot inside. You don’t listen to it. If you paid attention to everything your mind tells you then you’d never truly live.

You quickly change out of your clothes, before turning on the TV. You mindlessly scroll through the show suggestions, and settle on one you haven’t seen before. You turn up the volume, making sure that the voices of the characters would drown the ones in your mind.

But then, your phone rings. It vibrates from the coffee table, the name of your aunt illuminating your screen. She calls you from time to time, but why is she doing it today? You don’t want to answer, not when there is a bulge in your throat suffocating you.

You watch numbly as the phone call seizes. You breathe out a shaky exhale. You’ll call her tomorrow.

The phone rings again.

You bite your lip harshly, hands shaking as you bring the device to your ear. You’re overreacting, you tell yourself. Nothing’s wrong. Minho will be home soon.

"What’s going on?" you ask immediately, the question slipping out of your mouth before you even thought about it.

Your aunt sighs softly, and then her voice floods your being. It sounds hoarse like she’s been crying. "Look, I…" another sigh, and you imagine her fidgeting with the hem of her dress. She always wore dresses. All seasons mingled. With pretty flowers sewed into them and sometimes even-

"Your mother died in a car accident."

Silence. You can't hear anything after those words are uttered. You know that your TV is still playing in the background and that your aunt is still talking on the phone. But it's completely silent. For five seconds. Where the world stills, as if to allow you a brief moment to process what you just heard.

Your mom. Gone.

But then, sounds crash upon you like a relentless wave. The shatter of the characters in the background, the ticking of your clock, the dull buzz of the refrigerator. And your aunt, she's still talking, telling you about the funeral and when it will be held and you can't believe what you are hearing.

It's all too overwhelming, everything surrounding you is too much to bear so you simply hang up.

You put your phone down on the table. And then you turn it off. That's one sound dealt with.

You turn the TV off and dismantle the clock from your wall so it wouldn't tick anymore. You then unplug your refrigerator. Has its buzzing always been this loud? You wonder. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Now it’s silent. It's what you crave.

Minho will come home soon. You should make him something to eat. You think to yourself. A fruit salad. It's warm outside and the fruits are refreshing.

So, you grab a knife from your drawer, and then you start peeling an orange. Then an apple. It's rugged, and half the fruit is wasted with the peel. You've never really known how to peel the skin properly. So, you put the knife down. The blade is slightly red, you notice. There is blood oozing from your finger. You cut yourself. But it doesn't hurt, so you leave it be.

Light floods your apartment, a stark contrast to the shadows within you. But you want it to be dark, and silent. You already took care of that last part. So, you pull down all the blinds and turn off the lights one by one. Now it's pitch black. Now it's quiet.

You sit on the floor, running your hand across the tiles. You count them, one, two, three. When is Minho coming home?

The floor is cold underneath you, the sensation heightened since your every other sense is muffled. You can't see, you can't hear, but you can still touch. You wished you couldn't anymore. The smallest sensation overstimulates you.

The front door unlocks, but you don't hear someone coming in. You imagine Minho standing by the door, looking around in the dark. It's okay, he'll find you. He always does.

"Honey?" he calls out and you reply from the living room, "I’m here."

You don't have to yell, it's quiet enough for your voice to be carried around your home with ease.

Minho has his flashlight on, you notice. He's looking for you and he finally spots you on the ground. You move a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you feel something warm smear across your cheek. You forgot about your cut- a reminder of the pain lurking beneath the surface, waiting patiently to consume you.

"Baby?" His tone is soft and careful, and you can see the worry brewing in his brown eyes. Why was he worried? You're okay. Nothing happened.

"I made you a fruit salad. It's in the kitchen. Can you please turn off the light?"

"Okay." His voice is calm, and you don't mind him talking. You could bear it. He was different after all, to you.

He’s pulled into the abyss with you, as he sits down next to your rigid figure. His hand rests on top of your pinkie, but you recoil from it. Not because you hate it, but his hand is warm and the floor beneath you is cold. That's a contrasting sensation. You don't want that. You just want a stillness, to feel like a straight line. Straight lines are always sure of themselves, of where they're going. You were tired of feeling like a bent one at the hands of the universe.

"What happened, baby?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. What did you do when I left, hm?"

"Nothing much. I was watching this new show, I think you’ll like it. And then my aunt called. She told me my mom died in a car accident. And then I went to the kitchen and I cut up some fruits. But I didn't know how to peel them. Can you believe it?" you giggle, your voice suddenly high-pitched. "I mean who- who doesn’t know how to peel the skin of an apple? Isn't that such a basic skill?" You're laughing now, you don't know what's funny, but you're laughing.

"And I cut my finger, but I didn't feel anything, Minho. I don't- I don't feel anything," you're still giggling, hot tears trailing down your cheeks rapidly. "My mother died and I don't feel anything. Why- why can't I feel anything? Minho, I can't- I can't-" You're hyperventilating, words straining to come out of your mouth. The breath is knocked out of you and white spots cloud your vision, like the stars that dance around Minho’s eyes. They seem kind enough so you don't fight them. You want to welcome them in the hopes that they'd take this unbearable weight off of you.

"Yn, yn, breathe for me, baby. Listen to my voice," Minho calls out and it's as if you're pulled in two opposing directions. He sounds scared, so you try to do as he says. You don’t want him to worry about you.

"You're doing so well, breathe with me, okay? Breathe in... Breathe out... Perfect, let's do it again," he instructs and you try your best to follow suit. You can feel yourself shaking, your hands moving as if they have a mind of their own. You are cold, too cold, and you can't help but wonder if it's how your mother is feeling right now too.

The thought seems to drive you over the edge and you let out a guttural sob. It racks from within you, reverberating from the depths of your splitting soul. It's a pain unlike any you've ever felt. You try to find something to compare it to, a sensation you imagine must hurt the same. But you can't find any. You can't find a metaphor to make the pain more bearable.

So instead, you let out a heart-wrenching scream, slicing through the silence you tried desperately to maintain. Your throat aches from the strain on your vocal cords but you pay it no mind, not when there is a pain bursting open every seam of yours, undoing every thread you so carefully stitched back into your soul.

Amidst your pitch-black apartment, you see yourself quivering in the corner, head buried in your hands. And then it’s thirteen years old you sitting there, the one who wished for something so horrible to happen on the birthday she spent alone, yet again. Your wish came true, you want to tell her. You tried to take it back, but it came true.

Minho gathers you in his arms, and you clung to him. You know he's trying to wrap you up the best he can, his arms around your back and his legs pressed on you. He's trying his best to stop you from falling apart. From breaking beyond the point of no return. And you think to yourself that you've passed it. You've passed it and he's clinging helplessly into your remains now.

✹✹✹

The funeral went by in a blur, its details elusive in your memory. At times it felt like a fever dream, a mirage conjured by your mind. And sometimes you tried to believe it, to lull yourself into a comfortable thought. Where you don't talk with your mom and she doesn't know how you are doing, but she's still alive. On the other side of the country. She's still breathing.

But this fleeting comfort is quickly shattered. The thought barely lingers, like a whisper in the wind, never staying long enough for you to finally draw in a full breath. Because the grief clings onto your skin, and you carry it with you everywhere, like a stench that won’t quite leave you. You wonder if other people can smell it on you too.

Minho hasn't left your side, once. He's always next to you. His hands are resting on your back or brushing your cheek tenderly. They are always near. And you hold them tightly. You practically memorized the lines etched on his palm. It's all you stared at during the funeral.

It felt wrong and unjust to be somewhere where everybody knew your mother, except for you. You felt as if you were left out, robbed of happy memories to mourn as well. So, you remained silent, gaze fixed intently on Minho's palm. And he didn't mind; he never does when it comes to you.

He's gentle with you, he's always been, but he's particularly gentle with you these weeks. The countless times he's cared for you blur together- his soapy hands skimming your body, massaging the shampoo into your hair when your limbs felt too heavy to move; the meals he cooked for you, making sure that each bite was cool enough before feeding it to you. How he always told you he was proud of you, at random times throughout your days. ‘What for?’ you wanted to scream, ‘I'm barely alive as it is’. "For breathing," he'd add as if he heard the thoughts swirling in your mind. "For being here. For waking up today."

He did your laundry and he folded your clothes. Sometimes he even picked your outfits and dressed you in the morning. Leaving pecks all over your face after each worn clothing. You wanted to smile, to tell him how much you loved him. How his love felt like a sun ray peeking through the cell hole of a prisoner. But you couldn't speak. So, you hoped he knew.

He unburdened you of all these mundane tasks, so you'd focus on other ones. Like attending classes and taking notes and writing essays. Because as much as you wished for it, the world did not pause for your sorrow. In the grand tapestry of existence, where did you stand exactly? You were nothing but a mere speck of light. Your emotions, as profound as they were to you, did not hold the power to halt the world's march, to compel universal mourning.

But Minho made your world stop, just like he promised, almost a year and a half ago. When you finally found your voice, he'd listen to you talk, your head on his lap, his fingers weaving through your hair gently.

"I feel like I’m mourning two people. The person I knew and the person she could have been," you told him one night and he hummed, listening intently to you.

"The what-ifs are killing me Minho. It feels like I’m suffocating each time I think of what could have been. She left so suddenly. But she should've stayed. Maybe our relationship would've gotten better."

"Maybe… or maybe not, you can never truly know. And it’s not your job to find the answers to the questions she left behind. Maybe she didn’t even have them herself."

You appreciated how his hand never left yours, as you journeyed through seas of uncharted emotions. The anger- that came with her leaving so abruptly, leaving you behind with a heavy baggage to dissect. The sadness- from losing the woman who will always be part of you. Because we don't kill our hopeful past selves, we simply bury them and they remain just under the surface of our souls, a testament to everything we've been through.

The nostalgia- that creeps in from time to time, conjuring rose-tinted memories in your head. Maybe her voice was softer here. She did ask about your day one time. Wasn't that her sitting on the benches in your musical play? But it wasn't, it was just your brain trying to soften the harshness of losing her.

It is how our minds cope with grief, your therapist says. Minho convinced you to go see one. Because love doesn't mend everything. And he needed you to be okay again, for yourself.

He's always waiting for you after your sessions end. With coffee and a fresh pastry. You didn't eat them at first, because they tasted bland and you'd rather not waste them. But one time you bit into the strawberry muffin and it tasted sweet and citrusy. And you smiled at Minho.

He stared at you in awe that day, and then he kissed you softly, pressing his pillowy lips against yours. His eyes mirrored galaxies, tears tracing constellations down his cheeks. "You look so pretty when you smile," he whispered tenderly and you felt emotion bubbling within you, stuck in your throat. But you didn’t want to cry. So, you only smiled more brightly at his words, and you kept his compliment stored safely within you, right beside every sweet gesture of his since that day.

Minho didn’t have the answers to all your questions. He didn’t always know what to say to make it feel right. But he stayed there, he tried his best, to heal parts of you that you never knew could be bruised.

You tried one day, to go through the day normally. You woke up, opened the blinds, and then you made Minho breakfast. You ate lunch with Mina, making some jokes here and there. And when you saw Chan in the line of the coffee shop, you went up to him to talk.

And then you got home and showered, put on makeup, and waited for Minho to come to you. As soon as he opened the door, you were on him, hands busy unbuttoning his shirt, your lips pressed wildly on top of his. You missed him, missed the way he made you forget as he touched you, everywhere. As he showed you how much he loved you.

"I want you, please," you whispered, your lips grazing the shell of his ear, your hands roaming across his chest. Your tone was begging and Minho could feel the urgency in it, so he nodded, he could never say no to you. He watched as you guided him to the couch, as you straddled his lap. You kissed his neck and he tilted it back to give you more of an opening. His hands were on your thighs, cautious. Your lips on him felt heavenly but he couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the pleasure, he had to keep an eye on you.

You were urgent, with the way you sucked the tender skin above his collarbones, how you grinded your hips into his. As if you were on borrowed time and you had to make him reach his high as fast as possible.

"Tell me you’re mine," you muttered, between the kisses you imprinted onto his chest. He could see the lipstick stains you left behind as if you needed to mark him up for everyone to see.

"I'm yours," he says, his hand smoothing the top of your hair. He could sense that something was wrong now, because your eyes were glazed over, and your kisses were getting sloppy, as if your mind was somewhere else. So, he grabs your hips to pause you. "I'm yours, angel. You hear me?"

"Tell me you won’t leave, tell me you’re staying," you take his hands away from your sides, clasping them in a tight hold. You capture his lips in a desperate kiss, and Minho can feel the tears streaming down your face. "Tell me you’ll stay, please, I can’t- can’t lose you too."

"Hey, hey, love. It’s okay, calm down," Minho easily frees his hand from your grasp, bringing you closer to his chest. It’s all it takes for you to start sobbing. "Who said anything about losing me? I’m still here, I won’t ever leave you," he shushes, his voice sounding like honey to your ears. It manages to muffle the sound of your erratic heartbeat.

"I'm so so tired Minho, so tired," you sob, burying your head in his chest. You felt as if there was pain igniting the end of each of your nerves. You couldn't run away from it because the pain became you. "I try to be strong, but I can't. It hurts to wake up and- and to try to go on as if nothing happened. The thoughts in my head don't ever stop and I can't- I can't do this anymore. Please make it stop. Make it stop hurting," you press your palm onto your chest, a useless attempt to soothe the burn within.

Why did it feel as if in your attempts to put out the fire raging within you, you only ended up fueling it even more?

"I would- I would if I could but I can't do that, I wish I could-" his tone is desperate, raw pain dripping from it.

"What if I'm not strong enough to do it myself?" you cut him off, finally asking the question that's been haunting you. "What if I can't fill this hole within me and it keeps on growing until it swallows me whole?"

Minho tightens his hold on you, rocking you gently in place, trying to lull your heart to sleep, so it'd stop hurting, even for a moment, even for a second. You know it's selfish to expect him to have all the answers, but he's all you have. He's the only voice you can bear listening to.

"I can't promise you that you'll ever fill the void left by her absence. It will keep on bleeding and throbbing, begging for a temporary patch-up. But one day it'll stop, it can't bleed forever. And around that hole flowers will bloom, like a sanctuary, watered by your overflowing love. Because it is your love that's hurting you, not your anger. Do not kill your heart to stop feeling, please. It will do that on its own, it won't hurt more than it can bear."

"It will take time. And if you run out of your time, I'll give you mine too. You aren't alone in this, we are a binary star, right?" he smiles softly and you nod slightly against his chest. "I read that to the invisible eye, they look like a singular star. I hope that to the universe we'd look like one person too, so they'd pass some of your pain to me."

✹✹✹

It’s been a few months since your mother died. You didn’t like the term passing away, because it entails that it was gentle, in passing, as if you were expecting it. But her death was sudden and it made your entire world flip upside down.

"Would you like to talk to her?" Minho suggested one night, his knuckles brushing against your cheek softly.

"Will you come with me?" you ask quietly.

"Of course. If you want me to, that is."

"I can try."

Minho drove you to the graveyard the following weekend. It felt weird to see her name etched on the grave, a reminder that this was all real and not a figment of your imagination.

"I'm not a daughter anymore." You speak after a while, tone coated in sadness, and acceptance. "But I think I’ve never truly been one, since you were never a mother to me."

"Is it weird, that I miss you? I don't even know what I miss exactly since you were never there. But I miss you. I miss having a mother. And I'm sorry, that you were so angry at the world you couldn't find it in you to love me." You pause, blindly reaching out to hold Minho's hand. He grabs it instantly. "But I won't carry your anger anymore. I don't want to be mad at you, for leaving so suddenly. I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy. And I hope that you are too, wherever you are now."

You turn around, a small smile gracing your lips, and Minho wastes no time in wrapping you in his arms, your cheek resting against his shoulder. He's proud of you, the emotion shines clear as day in his eyes.

"I wanna take you somewhere," he tells you and you nod, wrapping your arm securely around his waist.

The drive is short and you recognize the place fairly easily. It's the hill you told him about a long time ago, the one that held your happiest memory with your mother.

You both sit on the bench, your head finding solace on his shoulder. The view unfolding in front of you is still as breathtaking, and with each passing moment, the tightness in your chest seems to ease. Memories of your mother and this serene spot intertwine like delicate vines, bringing you a bittersweet sense of comfort. Because mourning someone isn't straightforward, not when humans are this complex, never strictly good or bad.

"Cold?" Minho asks and you shake your head no. "You're a human heater."

"Only near you," he smirks and you giggle slightly.

"I remember your hands used to be so cold."

"So, I could find an excuse to hold yours."

"Are you flirting with me?" you chuckle and he nods, a proud smile on his face. "Is it working?"

"I haven't run away yet, so I suppose it is." There is a newfound lightness in your voice, one you’ve been achingly missing for the past months.

"Come here," he taps his lap with his hands and you promptly lay your head on it.

"Look at the sky," he instructs and you do as he says, squinting your eyes. "What am I supposed to see?" you giggle, but then you feel it, the faintest snowflake falling on your nose tip.

"Go away, I don't want to watch the first snow with you," you tilt your head towards Minho, who's watching you, a soft smile on his face.

You giggle at the distant memory, when you both left Limbo, two years ago. The first time Minho rewrote your memories.

"As if I could ever love you, that'd just be signing a death warrant," you repeat your words from that night, a knowing smile on your face.

"How's that death warrant going?"

"Horrible, so so horrible," you say as you intertwine his hand with yours, squeezing it lightly.

"Mm. I suppose we can't be the exception to the superstition."

"How unfortunate," you smile as he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead, before looking back at the sky again.

He looks perfect from your view. You can clearly see the mole on his nose, the pucker of his rosy lips, and his long eyelashes framing his eyes. You are overcome by a feeling of love for the man beside you, and you stand up from your place to pull him in for a deep kiss.

"What was that for?" he smiles once you lean away, his fingers gently grazing your lips.

"Thank you, for today and for every day since I've met you."

"Of course, my love. You took a big step today, what color are you feeling right now?"

"Whatever color loving you is."

✹✹✹

Hills covered in verdant hues, rows of flowers bursting with vibrant colors, stretching before your eyes. The birds are chirping somewhere near, intermingling with the faint melody of the wind brushing against your skin.

"Here," Minho comes from behind, placing his knit jacket on top of your shoulders. Its warmth seeps through you, and you lean your back against his chest, melting into his embrace. His arms encircle your chest, resting comfortably on top of your heart as if guarding it from harm.

You feel your breathing slow down as you both look out the window. You are somewhere far from the city and its buzzing lights, a small white cottage surrounded by nature, where only you and Minho exist.

Minho nuzzles his chin on your shoulder, placing a chaste kiss under your ear. A light giggle escapes your mouth, as goosebumps rise upon your skin. Your body still reacts as sweetly to Minho, proofs of his love imprinted all over you. His touch is familiar to you but still as soothing, never losing its effect on you. You believe it never will, even when you're both withering down; his touch will still be the only thing making you bloom.

"This is nice," he whispers, sighing softly and you nod against him, raising your hand to settle on top of his. His fingers instinctively find your wedding ring, playing with it as they've done for the past two years.

"It's always nice with you," you say and he smiles softly, squeezing your hand lightly. You remember how it felt when he held it for the first time. How he hasn't let go since. It was only ever his to hold.

"We did well, don't you think? For our first time being alive."

His words make a gentle warmth stir within you. It is your first life, and you're lucky enough to spend it with him.

"We did," you turn around, to find him already looking down at your figure, a fond smile on his face. "To think we probably wouldn't be together if it wasn't for our law classes."

"No," he shakes his head, hands gently cupping your cheeks. "I would've found you. On a random evening when you'd stumble onto Limbo. In the supermarket where you'd buy your cherry shampoo. In the park you used to play in as a kid. I would've found you."

You've once read that when humans are about to pass away, a film of their happiest memories plays in front of their eyes. You know that many years down the road when you're on the brink of going away, you'll remember this moment clearly in your head. You'll remember the cicadas chirping far away, and the zesty smell of the lemon muffins you made earlier today. You'll remember the cold breeze ruffling your hair, and Minho’s warm hands on you. And you'll sigh contently, from having lived a life filled with love.

"My soul is dipped in yours. It will always find you too."

1K notes · View notes

arminsumi · 9 months

Text

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ i still like you

Gojo x gn!reader

Overview; rejecting Gojo in high school, but figuring out your feelings much later when he's become a teacher at Jujutsu High

Content; headcanons, angst with fluff/happy ending

Warnings; rejection talk, heartbroken Gojo 😭angsty romance

Note; call him SADTORU cuz he cryin' over u

REJECTING Gojo Satoru is difficult. The man refuses to believe that you're rejecting him.

"Huh?" is his initial response. Then he laughs. "You're a good joker. Really got me there."

He is convinced for the first few months that it's an ongoing joke. He still brings you flowers as usual. He still flirts with you in the locker rooms. He still kisses your cheek as he giggles and runs off back home, like how he's done since you two were kids.

But he slowly, very slowly, realizes that you don't reciprocate his feelings. That his passion doesn't pierce the veil you have draped over your heart.

For years he still acts as usual, but more toned down. There was a time he would smile at you, then tear up when you left. He made a playlist that ended up being the heartbreak playlist. He rejected anyone who asked him out, except for an odd few who he tried with. But that was just to try and forget you, and the impression you made on him.

Now he's become a teacher, watching over Yuji and the others. A lot of time has passed. His students were told many times about the one who rejected Gojo-sensei and when you were introduced to them, Yuji even said "Oh, the one who rejected Gojo-sensei in high school lol?" ("Yuji!!" 💢Nobara smacked him)

You sat with Gojo in his office that afternoon, drinking tea. He hadn't lifted his cup, clearly something was on his mind (er, and he also didn't like tea. But he knew that you did, so he made it for you.)

"Hey, remember when you rejected me? Well, I know this is gonna sound childish, but I held onto my feelings all these years. I still like you."

You can't believe your ears for a second. He's pushing into his thirties soon, and yet he still possesses the pure and boyish feelings from his high school years.

"It feels like as I got older with you, my crush matured. Kinda like it graduated from being a crush and became..."

He trailed off, the final word on the tip of his tongue. Those bright blue eyes teared up under his silken blindfold.

"Love." he chuckled.

"Satoru..."

"Sorry, I've just been in a reminiscing mood lately. Ignore me."

"Satoru, is it too late to tell you how much I regret rejecting you?"

He stutters. The high and mighty Gojo Satoru, who always had a cocky and self-absorbed edge, stutters.

Jokingly, he lifts his blindfold and looks at you with one eye. "You jokin' with me?" he laughs nervously.

"No, I'm serious." you tell him honestly. "I was on a different plane of existence back then. As the years went by I started wishing that I said I like you back."

His heart races. It races like it used to back in his high school days. When his crush on you first developed.

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megumishotgf · 2 months

Text

pov: megumi has a crush on you

summary: more megumi headcanons i fear… ya’ll like my texts way more so this is definitely written for me.

warnings: reference to catcalling? other than that sfw + gender non-specified!!

masterlist

reserved! megumi who takes his time getting to know you. he studies all your qualities and aspects personality as if one day he’ll be quizzed on your features. megumi admires your ambition and drive but most of all your tenderness and selflessness. he’s drawn to people with good and expressive hearts. people who like to help others and perform nice gestures just because they can.

attentive! megumi who focuses diligently when you’re speaking, concentrating on every single trivial detail, even those that slip absent-mindedly past your lips without much thought. he listens to you ramble on and on about your interests yet it never bores him (and he gets bored of people alright). speaks so softly with you in a tone that surprises everyone around you (mainly nobara and yuji who have never seen him so interested in another human before… he’s always this soft to animals, though).

nerdy! megumi who prefers reading non-fiction but will pick up your favourite fantasy novels just because he wants to feel close to you. seeing your eyes light up when he mentions the titles to you makes his heart swell. highlights his favourite quotes and annotates in between pages. he’ll share them with you, gaze fixated on you as your eyes scan over all of this thoughtful comments. you feel such genuine happiness knowing he has gone so far to do this for you.

sappy! megumi who picks up one of your romance suggestions next, finding himself relating to the hopelessly enamoured protagonist. again, he annotates his copies and scribbles exclamation marks when he comes across passages that resonate with his growing feelings for you. doesn’t show you these ones, of course. at least not yet.

shy! gumi who admires your kindness from afar. all the little things you go out of your way to do just to help someone else. when you assist yuuji in the kitchen with his high-protein meals or paint nobara’s nails with great precision. when you’re the first to offer your seat up for an elderly woman on the metro or when you bounce out of your seat to help your teachers carrying piles of school documents.

observant! megumi who notices all of your little habits. the kind of things that make you feel so loved and cared for when he mentions them back to you. those things that no one else really noticed even if you badly wanted it to be seen.

love-sick! megumi would configures multiple playlists about you. one playlist containing all your favourite tracks and another with all those that you recommended to him directly. the type to listen to ‘i wanna be yours’ and fall asleep to thoughts of being with you. so many random romantic playlists often come up on his spotify profile. one time he made you a physical mixtape. yes, it was mostly just love songs… you swore it was just a coincidence. mostly.

insecure! megumi who constantly thinks he could never be good enough for you. dismisses your concern when you notice him distancing himself (because somehow you can distinguish between this and his usual quietness) but can never fully push you away. feels his heartbeat accelerate when you offer him physical comfort (with less reluctance than with anyone else). hugs from you are so comforting.

touch-starved! megumi who craves your physical affection all the time and it gets very noticeable. his arms instinctively circle around your waist whenever you greet him, rushing over for a hug. at first it was always you initiating the affection, but it’s starting to feel so natural reciprocating it. your hand will subtly slip into his when you are walking around central tokyo together or you’ll cling onto his side for comfort and warmth. he worries that you’ll be able to hear his obnoxiously loud heartbeat when you do so, but nothing could make him pull away.

annoyed! megumi who glares at his friends when they tease him about your physical affection (or when they hear your nicknames for him). but at least they have the decency to wait until you’ve left, he thinks. i give them one more week, yuuji says to nobara as megumi walks away in the same direction you just went.

if looks could kill… nobody would want to experience angry! megumi. even yuuji and nobara started to feel unsettled seeing him like that after some old loser started to catcall you. you had barely registered what was called out to you before he fearfully disappeared around the corner.

kind! megumi who opens his arms for you when he sees you’re upset. sometimes struggles with verbal comfort, but he remembers how nice it is to be hugged by you, so surely this should help. it does help - and he feels his heart swell when you thank him for being there for you.

even more nervous! megumi who finally musters the courage to confess his feelings for you. rehearses the speech in his head (and surprisingly to yuuji) tens of times only to be left astounded after you make the confession first. finally kissing you felt like the sun rising after months of darkness.

megumi who has infinite amounts of layers!! getting to know him is truly a magical experience. ultimate green flag he is perfect end of discussion!!

haven’t published anything in so long… hey ya’ll. how is everyone doing. pls send requests i am out of ideas!!

#jjk x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi comfort #megumi headcanons #megumi my beloved #jjk drabbles

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giamee · 11 months

Text

𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝟐 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄!

୨♡୧ pairings :: blade x reader ; sampo x reader ; gepard x reader ; dan heng x reader ; jing yuan x reader ; luocha x reader

୨♡୧ gia's notes :: writing this as a quick lil thing because i just finished school and i want to like,,, pay homage to the crushes ive had on my classmates LMAO this is so self indulgent i'm delulu... gonna miss seeing them in the hallways ,,, this one kinda mid i wrote it on my phone while half asleep AND ITS EXAM SEASON RAHHHHHH

୨♡୧ contains: modern!school!au, fem!reader sorry, most definitely ooc because these are based off of real people oops, just cute lil crushes man feel free to judge my taste in men !

𓆩♡𓆪 BLADE

-he's in your biology class, but not close enough to really get to talk to him

-you're not sure what to make of him, but you see him in the gym a few times when you're there as well

-his stony exterior, however, is shattered in your eyes when you enter the gym one day to find it empty other than just him in there, blasting his playlist out loud

-out of all of the possible genres he could he listening to, you weren't expecting a drill remix of anime osts

-you can't help the giggle that escapes your lips from what you're witnessing, and blade freezes upon hearing it before whipping his head round to face you like a deer in headlights

-he scrambles to turn it off as you set up at a squat rack, and it's almost endearing to see such a stoic classmate look so flustered

-you almost felt bad for the guy, and you hesitated before asking blade if he could spot for you

-and just like that, the ice was officially broken

-the two of you talked more frequently now, even becoming sort of friends through your shared class and the gym

-more frequent talks gave way to the more intimate aspects of blade's personality- as it turned out, he was quite touchy

-lingering touches when spotting you in the gym turned to his leg pressed against yours when you sit next to each other- leaning into your personal space a little too close to call it casual, and the bastard enjoyed the way you got flustered when his face got near to yours and the way that people looked at the pair of you and whispers, rumours, started to fly

-"if you keep sitting that close to me, people are going to think that we're dating," you huffed at him

-blade didn't even glance up from his phone that he was scrolling through with one hand, the other resting against the back of your chair

-"good." you were glad that he didn't look up to see the way that your eyes widened and you turned your head to the side to hide the giddy smile that was creeping onto your face

-and despite you enabling this, all the harmless flirting, there was some unquellable part of you that screamed to be set free and hoped for something more. that when he made you look him in the eyes with a finger under your chin, he wasn't just doing it to tease you

-there was undeniably something going on between the two of you, but there was also the unspoken mutual decision to not mention it

-and so you resigned your self to the realm of just friends. it would be easier this way, to move on without any ties before uni

-yet on the last day, you found him scrawling his phone number in your yearbook with a demand to stay in touch, and it left you looking down at the inked digits with the thing in your chest set free, telling you that your feelings might just be reciprocated

𓆩♡𓆪 SAMPO

-your deskmate in chemistry because of a stupid seating plan that didn't change the entire year

-you've never really spoken before, but he's well-known for being rowdy

-his friends sit nearby, and most of his conversations consisted of talking to them loudly while leaning across your desk, while you try to balance your chemical equations

-other than that, you keep to yourselves mostly

-it isn't until your chemistry teacher is going on a tiresome rant about the bohr effect that you shift your attention away from the board, your eyes instead focusing on sampo and the pen in his hands as he twirled it through his fingers effortlessly

-you nudged him slightly, pointing to his hand and mouthing at him "how do you do that?"

-sampo smirks, leaning in closer to you and keeping his voice at a low whisper to avoid alerting your chemistry teacher

-"so you hold the end like this..." sampo whispers to you, demonstrating with the end of his pen. you nod and try not to think about how small the pen looks compared to his fingers, fixing your grip

-"and then you hold it loose, and flick it around your thumb" sampo demonstrates it effortlessly, catching the pen in his hand and smiling at you

-you concentrate on your own, feeling his gaze against the side of your face instilling slight tremors in your hand

-you attempt the spin, watching as the pen teeters before falling and landing on your desk with a clatter

-you hear sampo snort beside you, and your teacher whips his head around and fixes the pair of you with a glare

-"am i interrupting something?" you and sampo both snapped your attention back towards your teacher as he looked at you both pointedly before continuing with his lecture

-you braved a peek at your deskmate, seeing the way his eyes were stubbornly facing forwards while a slight smirk adorned his face

-it became almost a ritual for you to attempt sampo's stupid pen trick each lesson

-it looked so simple, you didn't get how you were still struggling to do it, and your focus was pretty much anywhere except on the lesson

-sampo watched on in idle amusement at your frustration, sometimes demonstrating it to you again just to rub it in before getting elbowed by you

-besides him poking fun at you, there was also a sweeter side to sampo

-there was a day where you had forgotten to wear your contacts, and were effectively blind the entire day

-despite being nearer to the front, you couldn't even read the board when you squinted

-you ended up asking sampo to read what was on the board to you, and with an exaggerated sigh he did so, whispering the words to you in the same low voice that had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up

-"you owe me, you know," he told you jokingly, pointing at your homework

-you rolled your eyes, sliding it over to him

-"i don't know why you think that the answers will be right, but sure"

-"hey, at least you did the homework"

-uhhhh idrk how to end this SORRY

-you guys got along well and then the year finished and you weren't in the same class any more

-whenever you see him in the corridors you smile at each other though

𓆩♡𓆪 GEPARD

-he sits in the seat opposite from you in your english class

-you can't help zoning out when the lesson gets boring, and more often than not that results in you inadvertedly staring at gepard until you snap back to reality and realise that you've locked eyes with him, resulting in both of you hastily looking away with pink dusting both of your cheeks

-it's hard not to look at his handsome face, and your wandering eyes often get drawn to him against your will

-the sun hits his hair just right from the window behind him, and he looks like an angel with a halo when he's concentrating with a furrowed brow and taking notes about chaucer

-he's not too bad of a person to be sat across, in short

-you see gepard from time to time in the library, and by luck's draw, one of the only free seats in a particularly busy hour ends up being next to him

-he glances up when you place your books down, shooting you a quick smile before turning back to his own work

-you're about to put on your headphones and start revising, but you catch the faint melody of an ice spice song blasting from gepard, oblivious to the world

-it takes a lot of self control to not burst out laughing in the middle of the library, but you text this information to your friend instead while biting back a smile

-she responds after a few seconds with a link to gepard's spotify account, telling you to take a look through his playlists

-risking a glance at gepard, still heavily focusing on his work, you click on the link and begin to scroll through his account

-you find yourself growing more and more blown away by his music choice

-someone who was so serious and stoic didn't seem like the type to have one of the most insane tastes in music you've ever seen, but you liked it

-it offered you a more human side to his aloof self

-when you saw him start to subconsciously mouth the words in time with ice spice, though, that's when you snorted a little

-and when gepard looked up at you in confusion, you waved him off

-maybe you would try talk to him after class more

𓆩♡𓆪 DAN HENG

-although he doesn't share a lesson with you, dan heng actually takes the same bus to get home from school

-you have a tendency to oversleep in the mornings, so you've never had the opportunity to realise this as the buses you take arrive at school minutes before the bell

-and after school, you can leave as soon as lessons finish, and your differing timetables kept you apart as well

-but after a day at the library in school, you ended up getting a bus nearer to the end of the day rather than your usual time

-because of this, you found that most of the other students at your school were getting this first bus back, and a lot less of the seats were available

-you scanned the seats, searching for an empty spot when you got on, and you saw dan heng sat on his own, looking out the window with his earphones in

-you recognised him as a guy in your year and headed to where he sat, gripping your bag tighter for emotional support

-"could i sit here?" you spoke before realising that he probably couldn't hear you over the sound of his music, and you hesitated before tapping him on the shoulder

-his attention snapped to you before he shuffled slightly, leaving you with ample space to take a seat

-you didn't talk much, feeling self conscious of your feed as you scrolled through your phone next to dan heng, waiting for the stop where you would get your second bus

-you were lucky that you were sat closer to the aisle, and didn't have to make things more awkward by asking him to get up too

-you pressed the button to stop the bus, picking up your bag and getting off

-but to your surprise, as you looked behind you to check if it was clear to cross the road, you saw that dan heng had gotten off of the bus as well

-which wasn't too weird, really. there were plenty of other buses to take from here

-yet your suspicions were confirmed as you realised that you and dan heng were headed for the same bus, stopping in the same queue with him just behind you

-normally you would keep to yourself, but you must have been feeling extra talkative that day because you decide to strike up a conversation with him

-"so you take this bus as well?"

-dan heng nodded, taking out an earphone to better hear you as you both waited for the bus

-"yeah, in the morning too"

-"i'm guessing the early one? i always miss it because i sleep in"

-dan heng smiles and shrugs

-"maybe you should go to sleep earlier, then"

-"yeah, maybe"

-the pair of you talk a bit, and despite his appearance dan heng is actually quite fun to talk to, though he moreso tends to listen to you rant and occasionally provides some input, which seems to suit you both just fine

-come next morning, you found yourself waking up a little easier than usual, getting ready and leaving your house earlier than usual

-and as a result, you managed to catch the early bus

-you spotted his cropped dark hair almost as soon as you got on, and decided to sidle up to him again

-dan heng spotted you this time, though, and even offered you a smile as he pulled put his earphones as youvsat down next to him

-"so i'm guessing that you slept earlier, huh?"

-if it meant getting to talk to him more, you'd be in bed before it even got dark

-but he didn't have to know that

𓆩♡𓆪 JING YUAN

-he's that one guy in the year who's just universally loved, by teachers and students alike

-he's warm, he's studious, he's head boy, and he's practically everyone's friend

-it's not uncommon to see plenty of the girls in your year go up to him to try and flirt, and for others to look on in jealousy at their attempts

-and despite everyone's best efforts, jing yuan remained single

-as much as you didn't want to, you couldn't help but get a crush on him, just like every other girl in the year

-your heart beats out of your chest when you walk past him in the corridor and he gives you a smile and nod

-your knees feel weak when you see him in the library studying, his handsome face scrunched in concentration

-and though you may only be observing from afar, you're completely content with that

𓆩♡𓆪 LUOCHA

-luocha is a friend of yours that you made pretty recently

-there's a quiet charm to him that leaves you feeling at ease, and you've found it incredibly comforting to be in his presence when revising for exams

-even though he's a man of few words, he's managed to keep you as grounded as you can be during the stress of your last days of school before it's over

-it all came to an emotional headway at prom night

-you had been drinking a little, and with the night coming to an end the realisation that you wouldn't be seeing most of the people here again had you feeling teary eyed

-luocha found you on the dancefloor, pulling you towards him without a word and letting you just cling onto his suit as you both swayed in time to the slower song

-you let the soothing scent of him wash over you as you started to wind down at the end of the night, and you felt one of his gentle hands resting on your back as you began to wind your arms around his neck too

-"it was nice to know you," you mumbled to him, voice muffled by the material of his suit

-you felt luocha's grip on you tighten almost imperceptibly, a sign that he had heard you regardless

-"you can still know me" he murmured, and in your hazy state of mind you relaxed into him even further

-"that would be nice"

-as prom came to an end and after you had gotten over the air of finality, the pain from wearing your heels all night was beginning to kick in

-your car was parked a while away and while you did want to just go home, the prospect of taking another step was making you wince

-luocha was quick to notice your hesitance, and before you even said anything he was crouching down in front of you, telling you to "get on" which you gratefully did

-his warm hands wrapped securely around your thighs, supporting your weight as you told luocha where to go

-he made it to your car effortlessly, letting you down carefully and even opening your own car door for you

-you giggled at him being a gentleman as you got behind the wheel, smiling up at him with a bittersweet pang in your heart

-"thanks for everything, luocha"

-the man hesitated for a second, before returning your smile

-"any time"

-he ducked down, leaning in closer to you, and you felt yourself inhale sharply as he wrapped his arms around you, encasing you in a last embrace before you would part ways for the last time

-"keep in touch, okay?"

-"okay"

୨♡୧ honkai star rail masterlist

3K notes · View notes

papiliotao · 11 months

Text

・❥・AND MAYBE SOMEDAY, YOU'LL BE MINE

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ gn!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ characters: kazuha, scaramouche, xiao

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content: friends to (almost) lovers, crushes, school AU, fluff, pining, childhood friends in scara's, lowercase is intentional, repetition is also intentional

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: in which innocent feelings of platonic love slowly begin to blossom into a romance.

best friend!kazuha whose friendship with you manifests in a purely serendipitous manner. everything is completely coincidental. your teacher makes you sit next to him on the first day of high school, and you end up hitting it off immediately.

best friend!kazuha who tells you wondrous stories embellished with the most flowery of words. his voice is captivating, and his tales are absolutely enticing, but oddly enough, the narratives he recounts always end up being romantic fantasies.

best friend!kazuha who holds your hand as he walks you home from school. although the two of you are nothing more than a pair of awkward teenagers, he understands what he is feeling. the elation that runs through every inch of his body paired with the subtle dusting of coral pink that tints his warm cheeks is enough to tell him that he is experiencing love.

best friend!kazuha who sends you playlists he makes for you. his infatuation often causes his thoughts to drift to you, especially when he is listening to music. whether it’s a song that reminds him of your personality, a song that makes him think of his love for you, or a song that describes the dilemma his feelings have put him in, he adds it to the playlist of songs that he has made for you as a strange sort of coping mechanism.

best friend!kazuha who also deals with his emotions by writing his own songs about you too. he’s rather poetic, effortlessly adorning his everyday speech with the most flowery of phrases, so it doesn’t really shock you when he sings a few self-composed tunes for you in his honeyed voice while playing a mellow accompaniment on his acoustic guitar. however, you are rather oblivious to the fact that you are kazuha's muse.

best friend!kazuha who often takes you out on late night walks. along the way, he mindlessly picks a few wildflowers of various shades, their vibrant colours tinted a light orange under the dim, artificial glow of street lamps. nonetheless, he gifts the delicate bouquet to you, relishing in the way you thank him as you bring the flowers to your nose to take in the extravagant fragrance.

best friend!kazuha who takes you to places where the scenery is beyond captivating when illuminated by the stars above. his crimson eyes seem to reflect the constellations overhead when he looks at you, and there is something intimate about the way he holds you to warm you up as you sit down together on the grass in order to stargaze.

best friend!kazuha who cooks for you whenever you visit his house. he puts the utmost effort into making tasty and aesthetically-appealing food for you, and he always makes your favourites.

best friend!kazuha has memorized every little thing about you. your favourite songs, your dreams, your hopes for the future, and so much more. he knows you like the back of his hand, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

best friend!kazuha who is so close to you that your classmates often mistake him for your boyfriend. whenever someone refers to the two of you as a couple, kazuha blushes and glances at you wistfully, trying his best to search for a certain spark of emotion within your eyes. it’s clear to him that some of your peers have already noticed his crush on you. he just hopes that they won’t beat him to divulging his feelings for you.

best friend!scaramouche who begins hanging out with you because your families know each other. at first, he despises your presence. however, after a few meetups and persistent attempts to strike up a conversation on your end, scaramouche learns to tolerate you. he finds that you’re not so bad, and besides, you’re the only person willing to put up with his personality — a front harsher than the whispers of winter snowstorms.

best friend!scaramouche who takes some time opening up to you. he’s honestly quite a lonely child, lacking companionship in his everyday life. as a result, he’s rather lacking in the social skills department. but after you begin to tell him a bit about yourself, he finds his fascination piqued, and he starts to respond to any questions you have about him a little more enthusiastically too. your interest in him makes him feel cared for in a way he has never been before.

best friend!scaramouche who feels slightly jealous when other kids try to befriend you on the first day of school. he knows it is only natural that other people want to get to know you. after all, you’re kind and virtuous, and your demeanour is as warm as the sun. but he can't stop envious venom from spreading throughout the depths of his heart whenever he sees you laughing with your classmates. without him.

best friend!scaramouche who genuinely feels afraid you’ll leave him for your other friends. he’s rather cold and sarcastic at times, and he won’t hesitate to poke fun at you, but deep down, he still cares and enjoys having you around. when he finally acknowledges the pain that being without you evokes, he realizes something crucial: he’s in love with you.

best friend!scaramouche who only feels reassured that you still enjoy being around him when you tell him that he’s your favourite person in the world. it’s an innocent declaration and most likely spur of the moment as well. nonetheless, the words cause a blush to adorn his porcelain cheeks and the lights of a million galaxies to shimmer within his irises.

best friend!scaramouche who, unbeknownst to you, gets into fights on your behalf. if he ever hears any of your peers badmouthing you behind your back, he won’t hesitate to throw hands. to be fair, most of them only think of you as an unpleasant person because you’re friends with scaramouche, and although the boy couldn’t care less what others think of him, he would rather not hear other people speaking lowly of you because of him.

best friend!scaramouche who gifts you two dolls on your birthday. one of them resembles him — strands of hair spun of midnight hues along with eyes tinted the same colour to match. the other one is made in your image. along with the dolls, he makes you a promise. a promise to stay with you until the end of time.

best friend!scaramouche who suddenly becomes extremely popular when high school starts. despite his abrasive personality, your classmates find him attractive due to his looks and ‘bad boy’ persona. however, he rejects everyone who asks him out in hopes that you’ll take a hint and realize that his heart is already yours. after all, you are the only one who appreciates him for who he truly is.

best friend!scaramouche who texts you late into the night. you talk about the most random things, but no matter what the topic is, he finds himself blushing and smiling slightly under the covers of his bed. and perhaps the cloak of darkness enveloping him gives him courage, because when you finally tell him that you’re off to bed, he sends a shy “ily” text after his usual good night message. maybe one day, you’ll realize that he doesn’t mean it in a platonic manner, but for now, he is content with simply staying by your side as your best friend.

best friend!xiao who you only manage to befriend by persevering. he’s definitely not the most open person, but you keep trying to talk to him, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell you to go away. in an odd way, he finds it sweet that you find spending time with him worthwhile — even if it is only comprised of moments spent within the comfort of silence at first.

best friend!xiao who doesn’t know how to act around you when your friendship begins to form. he’s not quite as energetic as your other friends (or even acquaintances), and sometimes, he is only able to give you one word responses. however, over time, he realizes that you don’t seem to mind. in fact, you appear comfortable with the idea of doing most of the talking while xiao simply listens to you. (it’s a win-win. you get to tell someone about what’s on your mind without fear of judgment, and xiao doesn’t have to worry about coming up with adequate responses. as an added bonus, he gets to listen to alluring fantasia that is your voice all the time.)

best friend!xiao who eventually becomes one of your closest companions. although an enigmatic veil shrouds his inner feelings, it’s clear that he’s willing to sacrifice anything for his friends, including you. especially you.

best friend!xiao who has an unexpected affinity for arcade games. he’s surprisingly good at them, and as a result, he manages to amass a ridiculous amount of tickets whenever you go to the arcade together. he ends up spending all his winnings on a cute plushie for you each time, and although you’re always puzzled by his decision to spend his hard-earned tickets on you, he assures you that he didn’t want anything anyway. (but in reality, he believes that your smile is the best prize of all.)

best friend!xiao who’s surprisingly athletic. although he’s barely over five feet tall, he’s on almost every sports team your school has to offer. (yes, even basketball.) he feels elated whenever you watch his practices. the sound of your cheers erupting from the sidelines, although rambunctious, fuel him on, spurring him to work extra hard in order to impress you.

best friend!xiao who possesses a harsh tone, yet underneath his unfriendly guise, he’s softer than fluffy white clouds painted upon azure skies. it’s not often that he praises you, but on the occasion that he commends you, his words are sure to be genuine — rare gems amongst false crystals of flattery.

best friend!xiao who never carries around an umbrella, so whenever it rains, you have to take him by the hand and pull him outside, urging him to move faster so that you can get back to the safety of the indoors sooner. however, each time you intertwine your fingers with xiao’s, his breath hitches, and the childlike wonder present within your sparkling hues as you run through the rain, hand-in-hand, makes xiao feel more content than ever. after all, xiao’s greatest wishes in life are simply to protect you, see you happy, and love you. so far, reality has fabricated two out of three of his desires, willing fantastical dreams to become truth. however, he considers himself greedy because one day, he hopes that his third wish will come true. he hopes that he will be able to love you without holding back.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging/commenting. it helps writers (and other content creators) a lot. either way, have an incredible day (or night).

#r.archives *ೃ༄#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #kazuha fluff #scaramouche fluff #xiao fluff

2K notes · View notes

https-yeonjun · 2 months

Text

the seven stages of you and i (c.sb)

summary. when you first met soobin, you knew he was going to play a lead role in your life. you were going to make sure of it. you just didn't know what to expect.

or: the story of a boy, a girl, and the turbulence that fills the space between them.

wc. 14,444 words

genre. angst

tags. soobin x fem!reader, childhood friends to lovers to ???, best friends to lovers, minors DNI, negligible amount of smut (implied virgin!soobin x virgin!reader, first time, protected sex) featuring beomgyu, taehyun, and kai from txt, yuna from itzy, and arin from oh my girl

a/n. repost; this was also finally edited!!! classic quintessential fay angst!! we're so back!!! i’ve been writing this story for two months. it’s the longest thing i’ve written and i’m super proud of it. please let me know if i missed any warnings or made any typos. i really hope you all enjoy it.

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you can vividly remember the first time you ever saw soobin.

it was the summer before third grade started.

it had been an unbearably hot summer and with the school year looming just a month away, you were dreading going back to school and trying so hard to not think about having to meet your new teacher and make new friends.

so to take you mind off the soul crushing pressures of elementary school, you begged your mom to let you go to the park. she refused, claiming she had to work, but the two of you made a compromise and you settled for riding your bike around the cul-de-sac where she could still see you from the dining room table.

you had been riding for thirty minutes, quickly growing tired of the rays of the sun beating down on your skin. you were about to call it a day, but that’s when you saw it.

the gray honda civic driving past you, the sun reflecting on the hood of the car. the woman in the front seat, slowly waking up from her slumber. her husband tapping her shoulder excitedly, looking at his new home in awe.

and him.

the young boy staring out the window with wide eyes as the car pulled into the driveway of the house beside yours.

you darted inside to tell your mom you had new neighbors.

at dinner time, she took you over with some food. “hello, we live right next door.” she introduced herself to the woman that opened the door. “i just thought you guys could use a warm meal with moving and everything.” behind her legs, you could see the little boy peeking at you.

she invited you in and you remember the way their house looked so devoid of life. what was supposed to be the living room was a sea of boxes. your mother sat beside his mother on the old brown leather couch that sat in the back of the room.

you caught soobin’s gaze, watching you taking in the sight of his new home. he looked away when he noticed you looking at him. you moved to sit beside him on the floor.

“i saw you,” he said when he registered your presence beside him.

“what?” you were slightly taken aback.

“outside.” he clarified. “you were on your bike.”

“oh,” you muttered. “my name is y/n.” you reached out to shake his hand. he looked at you, a bit puzzled, yet mirrored the gesture, his grip gentle and feeble.

“i’m soobin.”

“how old are you?”

“i’m almost 10.” he answered, glancing down at his hands.

“why did you move here?”

“my dad got a job.”

“do you want to ride bikes tomorrow?”

“i don’t know how.” soobin looked at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, his shy demeanor even more pronounced.

“i can teach you.” you offered.

and the next morning, at 11 sharp, soobin showed up in front of your house ready to learn. after that afternoon, you decided that you liked him and he was going to be your best friend. he didn’t talk much but he always listened to you, with a goofy smile plastered on his face. when he did talk, he answered all your questions thoughtfully. and most importantly, even after he fell down multiple times, he still showed up at your house the next day, waiting to learn.

by the time you got to middle school, everyone knew that you were two peas in a pod. from the day you met, everywhere you went, soobin wasn’t far behind, following you like a lost puppy. you always carpooled together; you always ate lunch together; you were even in all the same clubs.

and so when eighth grade began, you two were separated for the first time in five years and it was so hard for you to adjust to not seeing him every second of every day.

the first morning of the school year, you stopped yourself from asking your mom where soobin was when he wasn’t at your car waiting for you. you wandered through the halls to your regular lunch table a little surprised and mostly disappointed when you didn’t see him sitting with an extra cookie he always got from the lunch lady. after school, you sat awkwardly, alone, on the bench outside of the school building waiting for your mom to pick you up.

when you got home, you didn’t even bother going up to your room. you threw your backpack on the couch and made a beeline for his house. you flopped onto his bed with a sigh as soon as you got to his room, the softness of the mattress cradling you. he didn’t look up from where he sat at his desk doing his homework, but he acknowledged your arrival with a quiet hello.

“how was your first day of high school?” you asked, emphasizing the last part of your question.

“it was okay.” he scribbled something in his book.

“just okay?” you pressed.

“it was kind of weird.” he turned his chair around and finally looked up at you.

“did you miss me?”

“yeah, a little,” he confessed. a soft warmth bloomed in your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

“i think i might try out for the football team,” he blurted out of nowhere. “or maybe basketball? i don’t know yet.” you bursted out in laughter.

“did i say something funny?”

“you have no athletic bone in your body.” you countered, still chuckling.

“we don’t know that.”

“oh, we do,”

he moved to join you on the bed, books in hand, and you watched him with a fondness that didn’t need words as he made himself comfortable.

“i always tell you not to wear your outside clothes on my bed.” he jokingly admonished.

“do you like your school?”

“i mean, it’s only my first day. but it was okay.”

you paused, both to process what he just said and to figure out how to word what you really wanted to say. “i don’t want you to forget about me or stop hanging out with me or whatever.”

“you’re literally going to the same school next year.” he teased you.

“i know, but still.”

“you’re a hard person to forget about, y/n.”

“you’re just saying that,” you felt the blood rush up to your cheeks, and subsequently rushed to hide your face in his sheets.

“no, i mean, you literally wouldn’t let me forget about you.” he laughed and in response, you threw a pillow at him.

but in the back of your mind, you knew he was right – you couldn’t let him forget about you. and as the days rolled on, you made it a point to go over to his house for hours after school. at least for the first month and a half of the smeester. that was until the demands of school grew and he started having to stay after school for clubs and going over to people’s houses for projects. by the time the holidays rolled around, your moments together were reduced to the seconds you saw him in the mornings when you were both leaving for school. and for the most part, it stayed like that going into the summer.

the summer after eighth grade, you saw soobin a total of three times.

the first time you saw him was on memorial day. your dad, not exactly the biggest fan of your plan to stay home the entire summer, pushed you out of the house to go to his family’s barbecue. you went to soobin’s house with a tray of cookies (because you never go to someone’s house empty handed, your mom told you beforehand). he greeted you with a casual wave before disappearing upstairs to play video games with his friends. you lingered around his house for ten minutes, until you felt completely uncomfortable by yourself, when you slipped away back to your room, cocooning yourself in your bed, tears tracing paths down your cheeks, soaking into your sheets beneath you.

the second time was sometime right after the fourth of july. his dad was taking him on a fishing trip and you just so happened to be getting the mail as they were leaving. you tried to pretend not to see him, eyes fixed on the ground, your heart pounding. and you thought it worked. but later that day, a message lit up your phone screen – soobin confessing that he missed you. you deliberated for two hours before typing out a guarded response: “me too.” two weeks stretched out like an eternity before his next message came.

the third time was actually the day before your first day of high school when he came over to your house under orders from his mother. he stood at your bedroom door, a mixture of apprehension and determination etched across his face.

when you opened the door, all the feelings of abandonment came flooding through your mind – every time you cried thinking about how he was ignoring you, every time your parents had to force you to get out of the house and breathe in fresh air, everything came at once.

“what are you doing here?” you spat at him. your words were a shield, sharp and defensive.

“my mom said i should come check on you.” he responded, his hand absently massaging the back of his neck. you yielded, allowing him to enter the room, but he hesitated, lingering by the door, too afraid to sit down.

“are you nervous about high school?” he ventured.

you met his gaze, scanning his eyes for sincerity. “not really.”

“i’m sorry,” he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. “i’ve been pretty shitty to you this year.”

“yeah, you have been pretty shitty.”

“i meant it when i said i missed you.”

“i know.”

“are we good?”

he didn’t really apologize, you understood that. but sometimes, especially in that moment, it seems easier to forgive him than confront him about how horrible he made you feel. and so you concede, not realizing that you’re setting the precedent for you guys to saunter in and out of each other's lives as you please. “yeah, we are.”

you invite him to sit on the bed with you and he joins you.

“so, what is high school really like?” you ask, trying to clear the air of tension that lingered.

“well, it’s nothing like high school musical,” he began.

and although you were apprehensive about forgiving him so quickly, you couldn’t deny how good this felt. sitting here with him, not thinking about the future or the past. just being here talking about nothing and everything at the same time. if you could, you would have captured this moment and put it in a snow globe to look at everyday.

the next morning, you stood at the threshold of the school building, soobin towering beside you. as you walked into the school together, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in the atmosphere. soobin seemed to be a lot more popular than he led on and he navigated the halls with a confidence that belied his usually reserved nature. students and teachers alike greeted him as you walked through the halls.

“okay, mr. superstar,” you teased.

“well, i am class president.” he tells you shyly.

“why didn’t i know this?” you wondered aloud. he offered you a nonchalant shrug but continued guiding you through the labyrinth of corridors that made up the school.

as you approached your classroom, the reality of where you were dawned on you. you turned to soobin, seeking reassurance from him. “i’ll see you at lunch?”

“yeah,” he affirmed.

with a final smile, you slipped into the classroom, taking a seat beside a girl who was looking at you with wide eyes.

“you know soobin?” she blurted out when you sat down.

your brows furrowed in confusion. “yeah?” you answered, taken aback.

“how?”

“uh, he’s my friend.” you explained, scanning the room for an empty seat.

a spark of hope lit up her eyes. “can you introduce me to him?”

you hesitated, your discomfort growing with each passing second. “i don’t even know you.”

a wave of awkwardness washed over the both of you. without waiting for a response, you quickly gathered your things, seeking refuge in a different seat on the other side of the classroom. what the hell was that? you thought to yourself as the other students filed into the class.

save for that strange moment in the first period, the rest of your classes went by completely unremarkable until lunch time rolled around. you arrived at the cafeteria fifteen minutes after lunch started. you were trying to navigate the way between hundreds of bodies in the hallway and found yourself in a completely different wing of the school. why does a high school have to be this big? you asked yourself when you collided with a girl.

“are you okay?” you asked her.

“yeah, i’m just trying to find the cafeteria.” her response came with a note of relief.

“me too. i’m y/n.”

“i’m yuna and this school is way too big.” she remarked, a trace of exasperation lacing her words.

“yeah, i got a tour this morning and i’m still confused.”

should we ask someone for help?” yuna suggested.

“yeah,” together you venture into a nearby classroom to ask a teacher for help.

meanwhile, in the cafeteria, soobin took advantage of your little detour to offer a preemptive warning to his friends about how to act around the freshman girl that was going to be eating lunch with them.

“i’m serious, you guys, don’t be weird.”

“when have we ever been weird?” beomgyu asked, but his playful tone is punctuated by a stray fry launched by kai, which found its target on taehyun’s head.

soobin gave beomgyu a knowing look.

“we won’t be weird, okay?” his friend reassured him. “what’s with the girl anyways?”

“she’s my best friend and i don’t want you guys to scare her.”

you finally make it to the cafeteria with yuna by your side. soobin introduced you to his friends, and you briefly remember them from memorial day. as the lunch period dragged on, you sat quietly, observing soobin in his element. you never felt this way before, but watching the way he interacted with his friends made him a little more attractive in your eyes. there was a magnetism in his confidence and you couldn’t help but entertain thoughts that had never crossed your mind before.

and from them, you found yourself yearning for those stolen glances, fingers brushing in passing and shared laughter that lingered just a little longer than usual.

being best friends with someone older than you had its perks, especially when that person was as smart as soobin. you were pretty good at biology freshman year, and chemistry was okay too. but no one warned you that knowing the powerhouse of the cell or all the symbols of the periodic table was enough to equip you for an honors physics class.

even though you stayed up for three nights in a row, you didn’t expect to do so bad on the unit test. it was embarrassingly bad. like bringing the class average down bad. like being handed back a folded test bad. you opened your test packet hesitantly, only to quickly close it again upon seeing the harsh, red “36/100” glaring back at you. the room seemed to close in around you, the disappointment heavy in the air.

after class, you went to meet your teacher. “are you sure there’s no way i could get some extra credit or something?” you asked, your voice carrying a mix of desperation and determination.

“y/n,” he said, his tone firm. “if i give you extra credit, i have to give everyone extra credit,” he advised. “if you want a better grade, i suggest you study harder.”

“fucking asshole,” you mutter under your breath as you left the classroom. the slam of the door echoed down the empty hallway.

yuna, who was waiting for you outside your class, scowled when she saw your demeanor. “what’s wrong?”

“he’s such an asshole.”

“what did he do this time?”

you handed her your test and slung your backpack onto your shoulder in frustration. her face scrunched up when she saw the red ink that scattered the page. she reached out to gently caress your hair in a soothing gesture. “oh, honey…”

“and he wouldn’t let me do extra credit.”

“didn’t your boyfriend take this class last year?” yuna asked, trying to find a solution.

“boyfriend?” you replied. you knew where she was going with this, but you wanted to see if she would actually say it. but you knew she was never one to back down. “soobin?” she asks.

“not my boyfriend.” you remind her in a singsong voice, causing her to roll her eyes.

“well, i’m pretty sure he took this class last year. just ask him to tutor you.”

you hum, pulling out your phone to text him.

to soob: i hate to ask you this but i really need your help

from soob: you know i’m always gonna help you what do you need

to soob: one quiz away from failing physics can my bestest friend in the whole entire world help me

from soob: you know you don’t need to butter me up but i’ll take it

to soob: you know i love you so much right? can you come over tonight?

that evening, you meticulously laid out your physics notes and textbook on the kitchen island. you were stressing a lot, and in an attempt to calm your racing thoughts, you decided to bake. the sounds of the mixer and the clinking of the measuring cups was always something that soothed your anxious thoughts.

as the timer chimed, you pulled the tray of cookies out from the oven. just as you set them on the cooling rack, the doorbell rang, sending a jolt of nervous anticipation back through you.

you open the door to soobin.

“thank you again for doing this,” you said as you welcomed him inside. you guided him to the island. “i made cookies, so please feel free to take some.”

his eyes brightened with surprise. “you made cookies? i didn’t know you could bake.”

“i started in middle school,” you confessed, a hint of vulnerability crept into your voice. “my therapist said it was a good way to process my emotions. i don’t know.”

“you’re in therapy?”

“yeah, since middle school.”

“oh.”

the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted. you both settle into your seats. the tutoring session began, but despite your best efforts, you found it hard to focus. the equations and diagrams that soobin so easily drew out seemed to blur together and your mind drifted elsewhere. the only thing you could concentrate on was soobin’s long, veiny hands as they gracefully navigated the pages of the physics textbook in front of you.

“should we take a break?” his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

you blinked, realizing that you had been staring at the same problem for a little too long. “i’m sorry. long day.”

“no, don’t apologize,” soobin reassured you. “it’s getting late anyways. we can always try again tomorrow.”

the next few tutoring sessions followed a similar pattern, but today you managed to gather yourself and focus, determined not to get lost in the small smile that graced soobin’s face whenever you correctly answered a question.

“you know what you’re doing?”

“what?”

“you know what you’re doing. just don’t overthink it.” he was referring to the problem set in front of you.

“oh, yeah,” you replied, your hand moving swiftly across the paper. in your mind, even if you got the question wrong, he would patiently explain it to you. this way, you wouldn’t be trapped in your head, thinking about how close he was to you, close enough to pick up hints of his shampoo, or how pretty his eyes looked with the kitchen lights dancing in them, or how soft his hands felt as they brushed against yours when he took the paper from you.

to your surprise, you managed to avoid any embarrassment for the rest of the session.

“when’s your next test?”

“in two weeks, i think,”

“we can meet a couple of nights a week until then,” he suggested.

as time passed, you found it easier to concentrate, the initial nervousness giving away to a growing confidence. you had to admit. soobin was a good tutor and with each passing day, you felt the weight of the test lessen, until the day of the test.

from soob: test day! how are you feeling?

to soob: i think i’m going to throw up

from soob: please don’t you’re going to do great you know i’m always rooting for you!!

you walked into the classroom with your chin held high, determined to “fake it till you make it” your way into a passing grade, but you spent the rest of the week after that a bundle of restlessness and anticipation.

finally, the day you dreaded the most arrived. the door swung open, and your teacher strode in, a stack of papers clutched in his hand. you held your breath, fingers crossed under the desk as he made his way down the rows, inching closer and closer.

“good job,” he smiled at you when he handed you your test.

after class, you practically sprinted to soobin’s locker, eager to share the news.

“check me out! i’m a nerd like you,” you exclaimed, thrusting the test paper towards him.

“har har,” he let out an amused snort, rolling his eyes. “i knew you could do it. maybe next time we can shoot for a 100?”

“i think we should focus on maintaining this 80%,” you chuckled. “i think this calls for a celebration. can you come over tonight?”

that evening, you and soobin set out to tackle the challenge of baking brownies. he was good at a lot of things but admittedly was very useless in the kitchen.

“it’s fine.” you reassured him, “i can teach you.”

“you’re always teaching me things,” he noted, his ears burning as he looked down at the mixing bowl.

“what are you talking about? i’m literally now passing physics because of you.

“not school things,” he explains. “i mean like practical life things. you taught me how to ride a bike; you taught me how to make friends––”

“i taught you how to make friends?”

“yes, you did. being friends with you just made me outgoing, i guess.”

“hmm.”

“anyways, you’re teaching me how to bake, although i think this might be a lost cause,” he quipped, eyeing the ingredients skeptically.

“just crack those eggs,” you instructed.

while you dealt with other things, soobin stood expertly mixing the batter. “can i taste it?” you asked, holding up a spoon.

“wait, this is so good,” you marveled at your own recipe.

soobin’s gaze met yours, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. he edged closer to you. “you have something…” he said softly, swiping your chin with his thumb, then tasting the chocolate batter from his finger.

“oh, uh, th-thanks,” you stammered, turning toward the sink to hide the elated grin that threatened to give you away. inside, you were almost bursting at the seams.

“so, cookies are for nerves, brownies are for celebration?” soobin asked, as you two settled onto the plush couch.

“and cakes are for when i’m sad,” you quipped, fingers deftly flicking the remote to life. “what do you want to watch?”

“i don’t care. whatever you want.”

wrapped in the cocoon of the soft blanket, you both sank into the cushions, the movie’s glow flickering across your faces.

as the credits rolled on the screen, you and soobin sat up, still close, but the proximity was charged with an unspoken confession.

“did you like the movie?” you asked, attempting to dispel the atmosphere.

“we’ve seen it like a million times,”

“yeah, but still.” you press and he just shrugs.

after a pregnant pause, he finally broke the stillness. “i feel like i need to tell you something.”

your heart quickened, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within. “yeah?”

“i, uh,” his voice wavered for a moment. “i like you,” he admitted, his words stumbling out in a rush, eyes fixed on a point somewhere in the middle distance.

“what?”

“i like you,” he repeated, softer and steadier this time. soobin’s heart raced, his pulse thrumming in his ears as he awaited your response. you, on the other hand, were filled with surprise and something else, you couldn’t even decipher. your breath caught. it was like the air had grown heavier, charged with unspoken desires and uncharted territory.

“oh.” you managed to let out. “that’s… oh.”

his gaze flickered back to his hands, usually so steady, that laid, slightly trembling in his lap. “it’s fine if you don’t feel the same. i’ve just been dealing with these feelings for a while and i just needed to tell you.”

“soobin, it’s—”

“you don’t have to say anything; i get it.” he interjected, “just forget about this. i value our friendship a lot more, so i don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“soobin!” you exclaimed your voice firm and determined. “i like you too, but we… we can’t do this.”

“why not?”

“well, for starters, you’re graduating in the spring.”

“and i’m probably going to school, like what? two hours away?”

“i don’t want you to feel like you’re missing out on your college experience by being with me or whatever.”

“y/n, you’re literally my best friend.”

“precisely why we shouldn’t risk it,” you insisted. “i cherish our friendship, and i don't want to jeopardize it.”

“i promise you there’s absolutely nothing that could ever make us not be friends.”

“i don’t… i don’t know.”

“sleep on it, okay?” he conceded, rising from the couch. “i should probably go home.”

you escorted him to the door, the gravity of the moment still lingering. “see you tomorrow?” he asked, framed in the doorway. the threshold seemed both a physical and emotional boundary, like a bridge between the familiar present and the uncertain future of your relationship.

“yeah.”

he leaned forward, a gentle breath of warmth preceding the tender press of his lips against your cheek. “goodnight, y/n,” he murmured before fading into the night.

your fingers lightly brushed your cheek, still tingling from where his lips had been. the sensation was still tingling, like a spark of electricity had been left behind. climbing the stairs you couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. you felt like you were floating as you made your way to your room, crashing on your bed, kicking your feet thinking about the fact that he likes you.

the next day, you decided to skip lunch in the cafeteria. “please can you tell me why we’re eating lunch in the library today?” yuna asks, tossing her backpack onto a beanbag in the corner of the library where you settled.

“something happened last night.”

“did you and soobin finally kiss?” she asked, a sly grin creeping onto her face. you look up at her, trying to suppress your smile.

“well, not really.”

“not really? what happened?”

“he told me he liked me.”

yuna let out an excited squeal, earning disapproving glances from the other students.

“and he kissed my cheek.”

“shut up!” she was practically bouncing in her seat, unable to maintain her excitement.

“yeah, you should shut up.” some guy at a nearby table griped, annoyed by the disruption.

she rolled her eyes, returning her attention to you. “anyways, i’m so happy for you.”

“don’t get your hopes up.”

“oh, no.”

“yuna, he’s graduating soon.”

“okay? i don’t see what the problem is. you’ve had a crush on him forever and he was the one who said it first.”

“i just don’t want to do a long distance thing.”

“he lives right beside you.”

“and he’s moving away in seven months.”

“he’s moving to a different town, not a different country.”

“hey, you guys are making a lot of noise,” the library assistant reprimanded, approaching your table. “and you know you’re not allowed to eat in here.” she referred to yuna’s food.

“sorry,” you apologized, your voice meek.

she walked away, leaving you both to your conversation.

“yeah, ‘cause my carrots are going to crumb all over the books,” yuna quipped, but she complied, tucking away her lunch.

“i just don’t want to lose my best friend.”

with a multitude of thoughts swirling around your head, you knew you needed to talk to soobin. after school, you made your way to his house. as you walked to his bedroom, each step was weighed down by the uncertainty and anticipation that filled your heart.

the soft knock on soobin’s door pulled him from his thoughts. he swung the door open to find you standing there.

“hey,” you greeted, your voice above a whisper.

“hey,” he stepped back, allowing you in. his heart raced, a mix of hope and fear coursing through him.

you walked into his room taking in the decor. it hadn’t changed much from middle school. his walls were adorned with a mix of posters. a bookshelf stood against one of the walls, filled with a well-organized collection of novels, textbooks, and mementos. his desk, which sat by the window, was decorated with photos of the two of you from elementary school that you surprisingly hadn’t seen before. looking at them gave you the motivation to have the say everything that you wanted to say.

he gestured to his bed. you settled into your usual spots, the silence stretching, punctuated only by the soft sounds of the clock. soobin couldn’t help but steal glances at you, the room charged with tension.

“so, we should talk about last night.” you took a deep breath. he turned to face you, his gaze steady, waiting for your words. “i’ve been thinking a lot,” you continued. “and i do want to give this, us, a try.”

a smile broke across his face and you couldn’t help but melt. “you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

you mirrored his smile, a sense of contentment settling in your chest. “but,” you added, your expression turning more serious, “you are graduating soon, so we need to be realistic.”

he nodded. “we can face it together, one step at a time.”

you reach out, your fingers finding his. “okay,”

“can i kiss you now?”

“yes,” you giggled.

he cupped your face, slowly closing the space between you. meanwhile, your hands snaked their way to the back of his neck, pulling him down so his soft lips met yours. the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours.

the first touch was as light as a feather, but as a surge of emotion overcame the initial hesitation, the kiss deepened. time seemed to stand still and the moment stretched into infinity until you heard a cough coming from the door.

you quickly pull away from the kiss, your heart racing. soobin’s eyes held affection, his fingers still lightly grazing your cheek. you looked to the door to see his mom with her hands on her hips, a playful smirk on her face. “i was just checking to see if you were going to stay for dinner, y/n.” she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

looking down at your hands, that sat in soobin’s hands, you responded quietly. “yeah, i’ll just text my parents.”

“okay,” she left the room with a knowing smile

“that was so,” you squealed in embarrassment, burying your face in soobin’s shoulder. his warmth enveloped you like a comforting embrace as his fingers gently traced patterns on your back.

“at least she likes you,” he joked, making you groan. “we should go downstairs,” he suggests, pulling away reluctantly.

as you proceed to stand up, he playfully tugged you back down, his eyes never leaving yours. “wait.” his voice held a soft urgency, his gaze locked onto your lips. “just one more.” he leaned in, the touch of his lips against yours sending a surge of warmth through your veins. his smile melted into the kiss.

“okay, we can go now.”

you followed him downstairs and avoided his mom’s knowing glances throughout dinner.

for the next few months, you spent almost every day with soobin. the two of you were once again attached at the hip, savoring every moment leading up to his impending graduation.

and the dreaded day of the ceremony arrived. soobin, loose tie in hand, entered his parents’ room with a furrowed brow. “mom, where’s dad?”

“he had to stop by the office, but he’ll meet us there,” she responded, finishing up her makeup. as she finished she turned to her son, her eyes sparkling. “oh my god,” she cooed. “you look so handsome.” she pulled him into a hug.

“god, mom, relax.” soobin chuckled, gently extricating himself from her affectionate grip. he smoothed out the wrinkles on his shirt.

“is it a crime for a mother to be proud of her son for graduating?”

“no, but i need help with the tie.” he gave it to her.

she took the tie, fingers deftly weaving it into place around her neck. “is y/n coming with us?”

“no, she’s going with her parents.”

“you know, i’m really glad you have her in your life.” there was a tenderness in her voice, her eyes fixed on her son as she put the tie around his neck, adjusting his collar.

“that’s random.”

“it’s not random. i’m just saying you’re graduating and going to college soon, and i just don’t want you to take her for granted.”

“i won’t. i promise.”

“ok,” she declared, a smile gracing her lips, indicating that she had finished. “good to go, we’re leaving in ten minutes so go finish getting ready.”

you arrive at your school’s auditorium thirty minutes before the ceremony began. you quickly settle beside soobin’s mother.

“i’m so glad you guys could make it,” she greeted warmly.

you scanned the hall, searching for your boyfriend in the sea of cap and gowns. the familiar hum of your phone in your lap brought your attention back to the present. it was a text from soobin, asking you to meet him outside the auditorium.

“is my dad there?” soobin’s voice held a note of urgency when he saw you.

“not yet, but your mom said he’s on his way. are you okay?” your hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder, trying to steady his nerves.

“i’m just nervous about the speech and the fact that he isn’t here yet.”

“well, he’s going to be here. who would miss their only child’s graduation?” you offered a reassuring smile, attempting to lighten the mood. “and the speech is going to go perfectly, okay?”

“you don’t know that.”

“yes, i do! you’ve been practicing all week. you’re going to do great.”

“what if i mess up?”

“if you mess up, just find me in the crowd, okay? i’ll be with both your parents and my parents, and we’ll all be cheering on you.”

“alright, thank you.” he took a deep, steadying breath.

you reached up, planting a tender kiss on his lips. “you’re going to do great,” you affirmed, and with that, he headed through the student entrance into the auditorium.

the ceremony flowed seamlessly. pride swelled in you as you watched soobin take the stage. his dad slid into your row just as he went on stage, and you offered him a thumbs-up, met in kind.

you returned to soobin’s house with your parents for the celebration. the living room was adorned with congratulatory banners and balloons, the most bright and colorful you’d ever seen his house.

for most of the party, you didn’t see much of him as he was passed around by friends and relatives that wanted to congratulate him. but eventually, at some point in the night he finds you and the two of you escape from the party to embrace the quiet of his room. the room was dimly lit, and mostly quiet, save for the chatter and the music softly playing from outside the door.

“god, i really needed this,” he confessed, stretching out on his bed. you nestled beside him, resting your head on his chest. he enveloped you in arms, fingers entwined with yours. “talking to people is exhausting,” he sighed.

“you were amazing today,” you reassured him.

“because i had you there with me.”

“and your dad came.”

“yeah, half an hour late. i can’t believe he went to work today.”

“at least he was there.”

“i don’t even care anymore. i’m just happy you were there and that we’re here together right now. i can’t wait for this summer.”

“i need to tell you something.”

“yeah,” he turned to you, fingers gently playing with yours.

“you know how i’m vice president of culinary club?” he hummed in acknowledgement.

“well, our faculty advisor told me about this culinary school that she thinks i should apply to for college.” you explained. “anyways she thinks i need to get a job or internship or something this summer to make my application stronger.”

“yeah,” his voice took on a more tentative tone.

“well, she connected me with one of her friends who owns a restaurant downtown and he said that i could, like, shadow him for the summer.”

“that’s great but–”

“i know. i don’t think it’s going to stop us from spending time together. we’ll still be able to do everything that we planned on doing. it’s just not going to be everyday.”

“baby, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“i just feel bad.” your voice softened.

“why?”

“we had so many plans.” you pouted

“and we’ll still be able to do them,” he assured you. “i think it might be good practice for us when i go to school in the fall.”

“yeah, you’re right.”

you leaned up to kiss him, and he kissed you back.

the two of you lingered on his bed, the world beyond the room fading into insignificance. then, a gentle rap on the door pulled you out of your trivial conversations.

“soobin,” his dad entered the room, voice cutting through the hush. “some of your guests are leaving. go downstairs to say goodbye.”

soobin shot up from the bed. “yeah, i’ll head down now.”

“y/n can i talk to you?” his dad asked. soobin looked back at you before leaving the room.

“yeah, what’s wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong. i just wanted to talk to you about soobin.”

“what about soobin?”

“why don’t you sit down,” he suggested. you complied, perching on your boyfriend's bed. “i wanted to talk about soobin because well he’s going to college in the fall and i just want to make sure that he’s not wasting his experience or losing his focus.”

you weren’t sure how to respond. “i’m don’t know–”

“see y/n, you’re a great girl and you’ve been there for soobin for a long time, but you also distract him.”

“what?”

“i work really hard to make sure that my family can live in this neighborhood and so that my only son can go to a good school. i don’t want to see him waste his life over his high school girlfriend.”

your chest tightened, emotions surging. you wanted to speak up, to yell at him and tell him off for inserting himself into your relationship. you wanted to yell at him for even saying this to you when he couldn’t be bothered to show up for his only son’s high school graduation. you wanted to defend your love and your commitment to soobin. but as the tears welled up in your eyes, the words caught in your throat. all you could manage was a quiet, “okay.”

“i’m glad you understand. i know we both care about him and we both want the best for him.”

he exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your tears. the last words he spoke echoed in your mind. we both want what’s best for him.

you gathered enough composure and strength, wiping away your tears, and made your way downstairs. you attempted to slip away quietly, but soobin caught you at the door.

“you’re leaving?” the dim light from the porch illuminated his face, casting soft shadows across his features.

“yeah, it’s getting late.”

“are you okay?” he noticed the tremor in your voice.

“yeah, i’m just super tired.”

“oh, okay? what did my dad want to talk to you about?”

“oh, he just asked me to send him the videos and photos i took of you earlier.” the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but you pushed it out regardless, hoping to shield soobin from the weight of his father’s words.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, taking hold of your hands. “do you want me to walk you home?”

“no, yeah, i’m fine.” you pull him into a hug for what felt like an eternity. if he noticed anything wrong with you after that, he didn’t bring it up. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

that night, you couldn’t fall asleep. the room seemed to close in around you suffocating in its emptiness. the echoes of the conversation with soobin’s father reverberated in your mind, haunting you.

you grappled with the weight of your fears and insecurities. what if he was right? what if you were holding soobin back? distracting him? the thought had always lingered at the back of your mind since you began dating. and now that he was actually starting at college, that unspoken fear threatened to consume you.

maybe his dad was right. you needed to give him the space that he needed to grow. and it’s not like you had to break up with him. you just needed to keep him at an arm’s length and this summer was a chance for you to learn how to do that with you working. so in the weeks that followed, you found yourself pulling away and creating that distance. the space between you stretched as you took more shifts at work and spent less time with your boyfriend.

“i might move into school a week early,” soobin told you one day when you were hanging out in your room.

you felt your heart sink.

you hadn’t spent that much time together and now you had even less time together. it felt like a cruel twist of fate. still, you masked your disappointment with forced encouragement. “that’s good.” you muttered. “get to know the area better.”

“you think i should go?”

“i mean, if you want to. it seems like a good idea.”

“okay,”

as the day arrived for soobin to leave for school, you felt a void open up within you. the weight of missed moments and unspoken words crushed your soul, suffocating in their intensity. you called out of work but stayed in bed all day, cocooned in the covers, crying about the fact that you couldn’t allow yourself to savor the little time you had with soobin.

when soobin facetimed you later that evening, your heart both leapt and sank at the sight of his face. “hey, let me see your face.”

“i look horrible,” you groaned, but still revealed your face that was covered by your blankets and pillows.

soobin’s brows furrowed when he saw your face with your eyes red and your nose puffy. “have you been crying?”

“no, i’m just sick.” you tried to hide it, to mask the pain, but the cracks in your facade were all too evident.

“please, y/n, don’t lie to me.”

the raw vulnerability in his voice cracked something open within you. “i just miss you and i wish I could have helped you move in.”

“maybe i can come home on the weekend after classes start?” you wanted to revel in the possibility of seeing him again so soon, however the question lingered heavy in the air.

“do you think i’m holding you back from getting the full college experience?”

“where did that come from?”

“what if there’s like… i don’t know, a really cool frat party that weekend? would you miss out on that for me?”

“i think i’d rather see my girlfriend than go to some hypothetical frat party.”

“i’m being serious.”

“do you not want me to come home?” his question hung in the air, like a delicate thread of vulnerability. the room seemed to pulse with unspoken tension. your fingers tightened around the edges of your blanket, grasping for comfort and grounding, as you thought over your answer. every second of the silence felt like a weight on your shoulders.

you sighed. “i do, but–”

“then what’s the problem, y/n?” soobin’s voice, slightly raised, tinged with frustration, cut through the hush. “it seems like ever since the summer started you’ve been pushing me away, and i don’t know if i did something wrong.”

“you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“so what’s up?”

“i just don’t want you to feel like you’re wasting your time focusing on your high school girlfriend when you have so much life ahead of you.”

“you’re not just my high school girlfriend.” his voice softened.

“that’s not what i meant.”

“you’re also my best friend. and i don’t ever feel like i’m wasting my time by being with you.”

you contemplate telling him what his dad said, but you ultimately decide against it.

“what are you thinking?” he asked after you didn't respond for a while.

“i don’t know.” you confessed, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“i need you to be honest with me because i don’t know what you need or how much more i can reassure you that you’re it for me.”

“maybe we should take a break?” the words slipped out before you could stop them.

“what?” soobin’s eyes widened, disbelief and hurt dancing in their depths.

“just maybe for the semester.” you rushed to explain, “so you can get your footing in school and i can focus on college apps.”

“so, you want to break up?”

“not like a real breakup. we’ll still talk and everything, just with some space.” he looked away, his jaw clenched, like he was processing the idea.

“i can’t believe you’re suggesting this.” his voice cracks as he blinks back the tears welling up in his eyes.

“maybe it’s what we need right now. we’ll still talk.” you promised, mostly trying to convince yourself.

the call ended and the weight of your decision settled on your chest, like a heavy ache that echoed the emptiness you felt inside. in your head, you were making the right choice for both of you, but that didn’t make it any easier. and as hard as you tried to maintain your relationship with soobin, over the next few months, the calls and messages became less frequent. the space between you was growing wider and each interaction held a bittersweet tinge, a mix of familiarity and the painful reminder of what once was.

the next break from school came quicker than you had expected. you sat at your desk, catching up on homework as the late morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. the creak of your bedroom door announced your dad’s presence.

“how are you doing?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

a faint smile danced on your lips as you turned to face him. “i’m not going to kill myself dad,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. “i’m just doing homework.”

“you’ve been in your room all break. i think i’m allowed to be worried.”

you bristled, the walls rising around you like a fortress. “well you shouldn’t be, okay? i’m fine.”

“okay so you don’t care to know that i saw soobin’s car pull up into the driveway?” he asked. you let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, your gaze shifted to the patch of sunlight dancing on the floor.

“are you going to see him?” he gently suggested.

“i don’t know if he wants to see me,” you admitted, your voice a hesitant whisper. the weight of uncertainty settled around you, and your dad’s brow furrowed in empathy. he approached you to comfort you. “i think i messed up,” you confessed, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

he paused to study your face, and then he spoke, his tone filled with reassurance. “i’m sure whatever you did isn’t that bad. who could ever not want to see you?”

a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, grateful for his attempt to ease your worries. “you’re just saying that because you’re my dad.”

he reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “you know that’s not true. and you know he wants to see you because he cares for you, and he knows you care for him too.”

“and what if that’s not enough?”

his gaze softened, “then you shouldn’t base your worth on what some guys thinks of you.”

“some guy? i thought you liked soobin.”

“yeah, but i like you more.” he pulled you into a warm embrace, the strength of his love wrapping around you like a shield. as he left the room, a sense of comfort lingered in the air. you sat there, the moment stretching, the decision before you felt like a bridge to cross, but you chose to not let fear dictate your actions.

with a determined exhale, you reached for your phone.

to soob: hey, i saw you just got home. whenever you get a chance, can you come over? i think we need to talk.

later that night, in the quiet stillness of your room, you receive a knock on your door. your heart quickened. you leaped out of bed, ready to face whatever awaited for you on the other side of the door.

“hey,” you breathed, the door swinging open to reveal soobin.

“hi,”

“please come in,” you invited him in. you held the door open, allowing him to step into your sanctuary. “how have you been?”

“good,” he replied, though there was a subtle hesitance in his tone.

“really?”

he left out a soft chuckle, a nervous habit that betrayed the calm facade he tried to maintain. “well, no, but i thought it was the appropriate thing to say.” his hand moved to rub the back of his neck. “how are you?”

“been better,” you confessed.

he settled onto the edge of your bed, and you joined him.

“so you wanted to talk?”

“i’m sorry,” the words tumbled from your lips.

“for?”

“everything?” the raw honesty of the moment threatened to engulf you. “asking for a break, not talking to you. i messed everything up.”

“you didn’t mess anything up,” he countered.

“but look at where we are,” you murmured, your gaze falling to the floor, unable to bear the weight of the truth in his eyes.

“and where is that?”

“here.” you took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. “i just want us to be good like before,” you said after a long pause.

soobin’s expression softened, “me too. i’ve missed you.”

“like crying and throwing up every night?” you teased.

“eh, something like that,” a hint of a smile played on his lips, the lamplight catching the warmth in his eyes.

“good to know,” you replied, a smile tugging at your own lips.

“i’ve said this before, but you’re really it for me.”

“is that so?”

“yeah, even though your dad was giving me a stank as i was coming upstairs.”

“he was?”

“yeah, and i thought your parents loved me.”

“they do!”

“that doesn’t sound convincing,” he joked, a genuine laugh filling the room, echoing off the walls.

“they do, they do.” you try to convince him. “they’re just really protective.”

“well, how can i get in their good graces again?”

“maybe by kissing me.” you suggest, teasingly.

“you think kissing their daughter is going to make them not hate me?”

“yeah, i think it might be a start.” you replied, your voice soft, but sure.

“okay.”

he cups your face, pulling you into a tender kiss. as your lips met his, a surge of warmth spread through you, grounding you in the present moment. your hands found their rightful place on the back of his neck, fingers intertwining with the soft strands of his hair. in that fleeting, stolen breath of moment, the world outside seemed to dissolve, leaving just the two of you suspended in this fragile, but powerful connection.

when you finally pulled away, the room took a breath with you. in that moment, everything felt right again. you were back to your version of normal, and it was perfect.

soobin sat cross legend on your bed waiting for you to bring up some snacks. it was the first weekend of your spring break and he decided to come down to surprise you. while waiting for you, his gaze fell upon a large envelope on your bedside table, its seal embossed with the emblem of the culinary school that you had told him about.

“okay, this is a new recipe that i’ve been working on.” you announce, walking into the room with a plate of cookies in your hand. “i want you to be honest with me. that being said, if you hate it, i’m going to cry.”

“why didn’t you tell me that you got in?” he asked as he inspected the envelope.

“because i’m not going.” you set the plate on your bed.

“why not?” concern was etched into the lines of his face.

“for starters,” your gaze drifted to the windows. “i got more money from other schools. besides, it’s on the other side of the country.”

“so?”

“so, that’s too far.”

“but you knew where it was when you applied,” he pressed. “and it’s your dream school.”

“that doesn’t matter, soobin.”

“well, why not?”

“because, you’re here.” you admitted.

“so, you’re staying for me?”

“you don’t want me to?”

“no,”

“oh,”

“y/n,” he leaned forward, reaching out to touch your hand. “i don’t want you to give up on your dreams because of me.” his thumb was tracing patterns on your hand. “why is it so easy for you to understand when it comes to me but not when it comes to you?”

“i’m not giving up on my dreams,” you argued, your eyes meeting the boy on your bed with determination. “i just want to be with you right now.”

his fingers tightened around yours, trying to grasp the gravity of your decision. “we can still be together.”

“with 2000 miles between us?” you questioned. “we could barely handle a hundred. we’re finally good again. i don’t want to go to school across the country and have that change.”

“nothing’s going to change.”

“you don’t know that.”

“you’re right, i don’t know that.” he began, “but i do know that we literally broke up six months ago, and now i’m sitting on your bed again.”

“it wasn’t a break up; it was a break,” you interjected, a small smile playing on your lips.

“okay,” he dragged out the last syllable. “but my point still stands. we’ve been through a lot and we always end up right beside each other.”

you get your laptop from your desk and log into the admissions portal. “are you going to accept it now?”

“no time like the present.”

five months later, you found yourself getting in a taxi to your dorm with your parents by your side. they insisted on driving you there, but you managed to convince them that a cross country road trip would cause more harm than good to your familial relationship.

as you settled into the backseat of the cab, the familiar scent of your mother’s perfume enveloped you. the engine hummed softly beneath you, and the rhythmic sound of tires on pavement created a comforting backdrop.

your mother’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and a touch of sadness. she reached over and gently squeezed your hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “are you excited, honey?” she asked.

your father, who sat in the front seat, spent the entire ride bombarding you with questions about pepper spray.

you managed to drown out your parents, looking out the window, watching the cityscape evolve as you approached your dorm. the towering skyscrapers seemed to reach for the sky, casting long shadows over the bustling streets. you felt a knot of nervous energy settle in your stomach.

at your dorm, your parents helped you carry your bags up to your room. the air tingled with the scent of freshly painted walls and the promise of new beginnings. your room was a blank canvas, waiting for you to imprint it with your personality.

as you unpacked, your mother offered suggestions for organizing your belongings, and your father, more practically, made a list of all the necessities you needed to get like extra blankets and a first aid kit.

yuna, whose school went back in session a few days earlier, texted you inviting you to hang out with her and her roommate. you walked your parents back to their hotel, eating takeout from a nearby chinese restaurant in their room.

as the meal came to an end, there was a bittersweet air, as you gathered your things and left their room. you met yuna in a park downtown, sitting with her roommate. you ran towards her, the anticipation and joy bubbling over. she enveloped you in a tight hug. “i’m so glad you’re finally here.”

as you walked through the park, the conversation flowed effortlessly. you felt a sense of peace settle over you. it was like the first taste of the home you were building for yourself in this new, unfamiliar place.

you arrived back at your dorm alone. your room greeted you with a sense of familiarity. your side was a collage of memories and personal touches – framed photos, trinkets from home, and the soft glow of fairy lights casting a warm, golden hue.

you sat on your bed, looking out the window, the skyscrapers now standing in line with you. the city’s pulsed thrummed faintly in the distance. gone were the nerves that accompanied you earlier. in their place, a newfound sense of determination settled within you. you knew you had to do what you needed to make this place your own. it was the beginning of a new chapter, and you were ready to embrace it with open arms.

and luckily for you, this new chapter did not come at the detriment of your relationship at first. for the first two months of the semester, you and soobin were still talking everyday and about everything – your classes, the new recipes you were working on, how one of your professors worked at one of the most famous restaurants in the world, and about your friends, how much yuna’s presence helped you settle in, how your roommate neither leaves the room nor says a word to you.

for the first time in this relationship, you could almost say that everything was fine.

but as time went on, you felt yourselves shifting into your old patterns of not talking to each other. in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that soobin had lied. it seemed like everything was changing. or maybe he was right. maybe this was how it always was. there were never enough hours in the day for you guys to be together and you were coming to find that had always been a pattern throughout your relationship. it was just like eighth grade, or the summer before he left for college, or his first semester of college. the story was almost exactly the same – first it was missing texts because of conflicting class times and time zones. but then hours became days which became weeks and before you knew it, winter break was knocking on your door.

this was the first time you would see soobin in four months and the only thing that you wanted to do was melt into his arms. the familiar sights of your childhood neighborhood rushed past as your dad drove you home from the airport. every turn brought you closer to that one house on the street, the house that held so many memories, and now, the promise of reconnection.

as the car pulled into your driveway, you couldn’t contain your excitement. leaping out, you dashed inside your house, tossing your bags onto your bedroom floor with reckless abandon.

his mother greeted you at the door. “y/n, honey, you’re back!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace.

growing up, you never spent much time outside of soobin’s bedroom in his home. his father’s relentless work schedule and his mother’s hesitancy to host guests left the rest of the house shrouded in a quiet unfamiliarity. as you walked through the hallways, you thought about how cold and gray the house looked the summer they moved in. it wasn’t much different now.

a deep breath steadied you as you approached soobin’s closed door.

some things didn’t change. the butterflies that swarmed around in your stomach were a constant companion that signaled you were exactly where you needed to be. but then you thought about how lonely you were without him this semester and you decided that maybe everything changing was for the best.

“y/n, you’re home?” his face betrayed him showing confusion. he never had the best poker face.

“yeah,” you affirmed softly, pushing open the door. there, before you, sat a girl at his desk.

or not.

“uh, this is my friend from school, arin. she couldn’t get a flight home for winter break, so she’s staying here.” soobin explained.

“oh,” you responded with a mix of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

arin extended her hand to you. “hi, it’s so nice to meet you. you must be soobin’s neighbor.”

“and his girlfriend,” you added, declaring your place in the room.

awkward tension hung in the air, a palpable shift in dynamics. as the evening unfolded, you settled into a corner of the room, watching the two converse. your gaze shifted between them, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. you marveled at the ease with which they fell into conversation, recounting stories, laughing. a truly unsettling sight. a pang of envy tugged at your heart.

as the night wore on, their voices became a distant hum to you. you felt like a silent observer, a piece of scenery, fading into the background. you did not plan on watching your boyfriend giggle at someone else’s stories for three hours. you longed for his attention, but that seemed like an impossible request.

soobin, engrossed in his conversation, was too oblivious to your discomfort. it wasn’t that he didn’t care, but rather he was just caught up.

you watched them with a mixture of longing and resignation, trying to convince yourself that this was just a temporary moment of disconnect and that soobin would turn his attention back to you soon. but with each passing minute, that hope waned.

gathering resolve, you got up. “i think i’m going to head home.” you announced.

soobin and arin turned their attention to you, momentarily pulling away from their conversation.

“are you sure?” soobin asked you.

you nodded. “yeah, it’s been a long day. i’ll see you later, soobin. it was nice to meet you, arin.” you turned back to your boyfriend, waiting for his response.

“i’ll walk you home,” he offered.

leaving the room, you couldn’t help but steal a glance back at arin, who was now engrossed in something on her phone. the ache in your chest grew.

the two of you stood in front of your house, the chill of the evening air settling around you. the soft glow from the porch light illuminated the path that led to your front door.

“so, she’s staying the entirety of winter break?” you asked.

“yup,” soobin replied, his words punctuated by a casual pop of the ‘p’. “is there something wrong?”

you hesitated for a moment. “no,” you finally shook your head, a small, rueful smile gracing your lips. “i just wanted to spend time with you alone.”

“we can still spend time together,” he assured. “i feel like you two would get along. she’s a lot like you.”

the reassurance didn’t offer the comfort you sought. instead, it settled uneasily in your stomach. you offered a distracted response, your gaze drifting from the quiet street to your front door.

“yeah, maybe.”

“are you okay?” soobin asked, pulling you back to the present moment.

you forced a smile, masking the swirl of conflicting emotions beneath the surface. “yeah, just tired.”

“okay, goodnight, i’ll see you tomorrow.” he said, leaning down to kiss you. the touch of his lips felt foreign, like a puzzle piece that no longer fit quite right. it was an odd sensation, leaving you with a lingering sense of disconnection. like you were slipping away from each other. you didn’t want to think too much about it, but deep down you knew that no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, it would be no use.

“goodnight,” you whispered, stepping back and slipping into the warmth of your house.

the days that followed were a dance of awkwardness and unspoken tension. you yearned for soobin’s attention, for the familiar touch of his hand, but it just seemed so out of reach.

one chilly afternoon, you all gathered at a small diner on the corner of town. the warm scent of comfort food wrapped around you as you settled into the vinyl booth opposite arin. your boyfriend trailed behind you, hesitating for a moment before sliding into the booth beside you, a subtle shift that did not go unnoticed. it was a tiny pang, but it was there.

you smiled and tried to shake off the unease, focusing on the menu in front of you. as you chatted about school and plans for the break, you couldn’t help but notice soobin’s gaze flickering between the two of you. it was as if he was trying to find balance in a delicate equation.

another time, the three of you planned to visit the ice skating rink. when you arrived at soobin’s house, you were met with the unfamiliar sight of arin in the front seat of the car. you hesitated for a moment, unsure of where to sit. the glance you exchanged with arin held a silent question, but before you could say anything, soobin assured you it wasn’t a big deal.

as the car pulled away, the hum of their conversation and the pulse of the music filled the space, leaving you feeling like a distant observer.

you invited soobin over for a movie night, so imagine your surprise when you opened your front door to see both of them. you smiled dropped as you welcomed them into your house. this was supposed to bring back a flicker of normalcy. you were supposed to nestle into your boyfriend’s side. but even as the movie played, there was a subtle shift in the air. every moment spent with arin was a reminder of the growing distance, like a river slowly widening between you and the person you held closest.

then came that one precious weekend, a rare convergence of circumstances. both of you found your parents out of town at the same time. you invited soobin over and unfortunately, arin was working on a project for school so she couldn’t join. you had to stifle a surge of joy that threatened to bubble over.

“i’m so happy that we’re finally spending time together,” you exclaimed, gently closing your bedroom door behind you. soobin sat on your bed, with your computer resting on his lap. “alone.” you emphasized, a smile playing on your lips.

with purposeful steps, you crossed the room. you carefully lifted the laptop from his lap, placing it on your bedside table. then, with a graceful movement, you straddled his lap, feeling the warmth and familiarity of his presence beneath you.

“i really missed you,” you murmured, your breath mingling with his. leaning in, you captured his lips in a tender kiss.

the room pulsed with newfound energy as the kiss deepened. soobin’s touch was gentle as his hands found their place on the small of your back, holding you close, grounding you in the moment.

as passion ignited between you, a fire that had been smoldering for far too long, you hands moved with purpose, fingers deftly working to remove the barrier that separated you from him.

but then, he pulled away, his breaths coming in measured, uneven intervals. “w-what are you doing?”

“i’m ready,” you replied, your own voice barely above a whisper. the air crackled with tension, every beat of your heart echoing in the silence that followed.

he sat up straighter, his gaze locked with yours. “are you sure?”

“yes, soobin, i’m sure,” you asserted, mustering more confidence. “i want this.”

he took a moment, his breath steadying, before he spoke. “alright,” he said softly.

he gently guided you back onto the bed. “it might be more comfortable if i’m on top,” he suggested. he removed his shirt, casually tossing it to a corner of your room. “please tell me if you want me to stop.”

you nodded in understanding.

“i’m serious, y/n. i need you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

“okay, i will.”

your heart raced as you laid there, your senses heightened. nervous energy tingled through your veins as his hands caressed your sides. his fingers traced the curves of your hips and thighs slowly. every inch of your body lit with flames as he touched you ever so lightly.

slowly, you mirrored his movements, your hands reached for the hem of your t-shirt. with a deep breath, you took off the old t-shirt to match him, laying eagerly in your pretty pink bra.

he stopped to look at you. “wow.” he breathed out. a rush of warmth flooded your cheeks, and you instinctively buried your face in your hands. he pulled your hands down. “don’t hide your face from me, baby.” he murmured with tender eyes. “you’re just so pretty.”

you pulled him down to kiss him. “i need you,” you moaned into the kiss.

soobin’s mouth never left your body as he fumbled with his pants. he licked and sucked on your neck, taking his time with his gray sweatpants. soft moans and sighs kept slipping from your lips as he marked your skin.

“wait,” he stopped. “do you have a condom?”

“top drawer,” you breathed out.

soobin reached into the drawer by the bed, his fingers deftly finding the box nestled amidst an array of trinkets.

“open up for me.” you did as he said, and spread your legs a little wider. he could tell you were nervous as he pulled down your shorts. “do you trust me?” he asked, to which you nodded. “it might hurt for a second, but i promise you, it will only be a tiny amount of pain.” you wrapped your legs around his waist and he slowly rocked his hips against you.

you felt him position his hips so that they were perfectly in line with yours, his tip edging your entrance. he began to work his way into you inch by inch, before steadily pushing in until you were filled with his entire length. he threw his head back in pleasure as he bottomed out in you. your hands still on the back of his neck, you nudged him closer to you. “i know it hurts, baby. i’m sorry. just tell me what you need.”

the pain and discomfort was quickly replaced with pleasure. you gasped quietly, and soobin took it as a sign to finally begin moving. he fell into a rhythm of deep slow thrusts just sent you spiraling. he leaned his face down to your neck for a moment, pressing kisses along your flesh and nipping at your shoulder.

“f-fuck, you feel so good.”

he raised his face again, your noses inches apart. your face was contorted in pleasure and he couldn’t help but groan, thrusting into your harder.

“soobin?” you moaned out.

“yeah, baby? i’m right here.”

“i love you.”

he leaned back down to kiss you, his lips trailing down your jawline to your neck.

every kiss, every thrust progressively getting faster was sending you over the edge, making you pant and moan underneath him. the sounds coming from you were making his head spin and he could feel himself getting closer to his orgasm.

he was hitting you in the right spot, causing a knot to form in your lower stomach as you approached your breaking point. the knot in your stomach tightened and snapped. your walls spasmed and clenched around him as you released all over his cock. your body was shaking from the intensity, as you cried his name out. fueling his organs. his hips stuttered and he joined you in climax.

his movements ceased to slow rolls of his hips before eventually stopping.

soft pants and deep breaths invaded the space and filled the room around you. you stayed like that for a moment, catching your breath. he then carefully pulled out. he held your body close to his chest, his eyes softening as he looked down at your exhausted face.

you nuzzled your head into soobin’s neck, kissing along his jawline. “that was so good.” you said between kisses. soobin responded with a contented hum, his fingers gently rubbing against your arm. the soft rustle of the sheets provided a soothing backdrop to the intimacy you had just shared, cocooning you in a bubble of fleeting bliss

but as the minutes passed, a subtle shift began to settle between you, like a distant tremor foreshadowing an impending quake. soobin’s touch, once tender and reassuring, began to falter. his breath, once steady and calming, now held an undertone of uncertainty.

“i should probably go back home,” soobin said, his arm slowly retreating from around your shoulder. “arin is alone.”

“seriously?” you turned to face him, a mixture of confusion and anger plastered on your face.

“what? she’s a guest.”

“you’re leaving?” you hold onto his arm, desperate to keep him close. “i thought you were going to spend the night.”

“i can’t leave her alone.”

“soobin, i just lost my virginity to you…” your voice trailed off, tears forming in your eyes. your hands dropped to your lap. the room seemed to close in around you, suffocating in its silence.

“y/n–” you could feel your blood boiling.

“don’t.” you shifted away from him on the bed. “i just lost my virginity to you and you want to spend the night with some other girl.”

“i’m not spending the night with her.”

“what’s so special about her?”

“what?”

“why have you chosen to spend every moment of this break with her instead of me?”

“we spend time together.”

“yeah, with her always there.”

the room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of your words settling into the air.

“she’s my friend and i care about her.”

“you care about her?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, every word laced with a pain that cut through the silence.

“yes i do. she couldn’t go home for winter break. I just want to make sure she doesn’t feel alone.”

“well what about me?”

“y/n, come on.”

“i told you i loved you.”

“y/n, i–” you could almost hear your heart break. he couldn’t even say it back to you.

you quickly sobered up, your walls rising like a fortress around you. “i think you should leave.”

“hey,” he reached out to hold you, but you swatted his hand away, the touch too little, too late. his fingers hung in the air for a moment before dropping, defeated.

“no. i don’t want you here anymore. you should go home.”

soobin stood up and got dressed. his movements were deliberate and slow as he gathered his scattered clothes. he dressed in silence, every gesture laden with a sense of finality. as he stood by the door, fully dressed, soobin turned to look at you. his eyes held a mixture of regret and longing, a silent plea for understanding that hung in the space between you. you met his gaze, your heart aching with a complex blend of emotions – love, betrayal, and a yearning for something that now felt impossibly distant.

the door creaked open and closed softly, the sound echoing in the hollow space left behind.

putting on a robe, you sat by your window, watching him go into his house, praying, hoping that he would turn around, see you sitting by your window, come back to you. but he just walked into his house, the door closing with a finality that sent a shiver down your spine. your room felt emptier than ever before.

you laid in your bed and let the tears fall freely, each drop a painful release. the weight of reality settled on your chest. a heavy ache seeped into your bones.

the days that followed felt like a slow-motion train wreck. it was as if the color had drained from the world, leaving only shades of gray. every passing moment that you didn’t hear from soobin was a jagged piece of glass, cutting into your soul. each night seemed longer than the last, filled with the silent echo of his absence.

you didn’t even know what hurt more — the raw vulnerability of giving him everything, only to have him leave, or the deafening silence that followed. the unanswered questions swirled like a storm in your mind. why hadn’t he reached out? was he feeling the same heartache that clung to your every breath?

his parents even visited for dinner and you had to paint a smile on your face throughout to hide the storm that raged within. when his mom inquired about your absence, you concocted a tale, your voice steady even though your heart felt like it might shatter.

other than your parents, the only person you spoke to was yuna, who became your lifeline even though she was on vacation with her parents. she was a voice of reason and a source of much-needed laughter. “honestly, fuck him. and fuck her too,” she declared.

“she didn’t even do anything,” you murmured in arin’s defense.

“who the fuck sits in the front seat of someone else’s boyfriend’s car?” yuna fired back, making you chuckle.

"i wish you were here. it's so miserable. i can't even leave my house because i'm scared i'm going to see him," you confessed, your voice a whisper edged with pain.

"if i was there, he'd probably have to file a restraining order against me."

returning to campus was like stepping onto a battlefield, but yuna was determined to wage war against the memories that threatened to engulf you and make you forget about a certain dark haired boy whose name you were no longer allowed to say. “you know what they say: in order to get over someone, you need to get under someone else.” she proclaimed from your closet, picking out something for you to wear tonight.

“i don’t know if i’m ready to get under someone else,” you admitted, fixing your mascara in your bathroom mirror, dressed in your robe.

“doesn’t matter if you actually do. you just need to get your mind off of him.” she hands you a black dress. “wear this. it always looks good on you.”

and so, you allowed yourself to be swept up in a night of bar hopping. the pulsing music and laughter washed over you like a healing balm. for a few precious hours, you were just another college student, drowning your sorrows in neon lights and thumping bass.

between the nights out, you threw yourself completely into your studies, the pursuit of a summer internship becoming your north star. you came to school to do something, and you weren’t going to let your heartache consume you.

spring was always a happy time for you. the air was warm, carrying with it the promise of renewal. it had been months since you had thought about soobin, and even longer since you had seen him. for the first time since that unfortunate night, you felt like you were completely over him. or at least getting there.

as you strolled back to your dorm from class, the world hummed with a quiet energy. the sun hung low in the sky and the air was soft and warm against your skin. but then you saw a familiar silhouette leaning against your dorm building. time seemed to stretch in that moment, the world around you fading into a blur. your heart quickened its pace, a staccato beat echoing in your chest.

"y/n," he breathed, his voice a soft plea that hung in the air. his presence was a sudden gust of wind, stirring the carefully constructed walls around your heart.

your guard was up, a fortress of steel around your heart. you wouldn't let him waltz back into your life just to tear you apart again. "what are you doing here?" you demanded, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

"i wanted to talk to you."

"how did you find my address?"

"your mom gave it to my mom, who gave it to me."

you let him into your building, signing him in with the security guards in the front. the familiar surroundings now felt foreign with him there. in the confines of your dorm room, he looked around, his gaze grazing over the familiar details that now seemed foreign.

“you said you wanted to talk. so talk.” you said to him sitting down. you were so grateful that your roommate had gone to class. you really didn’t need her to be in the room with you now.

he glanced around, his face marked with uncertainty. “i don’t know where to start.”

you met his gaze without a word.

“i guess… i could start with sorry.” he offered with a nervous chuckle.

“i think that’s too little, too late, soobin.” you asserted, matter of factly.

“i miss you.”

“you can’t keep saying that.” your shoulders sunk. looking at him now, you could feel all the emotions bubbling back up — the anger, the hurt, the tears, they were all coming back to you.

“i know, but it’s true.” he rushed to add. “that’s why i came here. i wanted to see you. i know we didn’t leave things the right way.”

“soobin, you were the first person i ever had sex with and you left me right after.” you tried to keep your cool and maintain your composure, but it was getting increasingly harder.

“i-i know. i’m sorry,” he stammered, remorse filling his eyes.

“is that all you came here to say? sorry?” he looked at you apologetically, offering no further words. “you hurt me so much and you couldn’t even say anything to me afterwards. i waited every day for months to see if you would ever call me and you didn’t. it was like i meant nothing to you. it was just so easy for you to forget that i existed.” as the words flowed, you felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness wash over you. the wounds were still fresh, but there was a catharsis in finally addressing the unspoken.

“i’m s—” he stopped himself. “i know i hurt you. i don’t know what i can do to make it right.”

“i don’t think there’s anything you can do to make it right.” you said, wiping the slow tears from your face. you sat up, meeting his gaze squarely. “i spent our entire relationship fighting for you to pay attention to me. i can’t do that anymore. i don’t want to beg someone to care about me.”

“i care about you. you know that.”

“do i?”

“i didn’t think this conversation would go like this if i’m being completely honest.”

“i’m not angry at you anymore. at least i’m trying not to be.” you tell him. “and i don’t hate you, if you thought i did. i don’t think i could ever hate you.”

“i don’t think i can’t not have you in my life.”

“i’m still your neighbor.” you joked.

“it’s not the same.” he admitted quietly, sitting beside you. “y/n, i love you.”

“soobin–” you turned to face him, searching his eyes for any sign that he understood the depth of your pain.

“i know, it’s too late. i just wanted you to know.” his gaze fixed on his hands, fingers tracing invisible patterns on his jeans. “i can’t erase the past. but i want to try to make amends, to find a way back to some semblance of… of friendship, maybe.”

friendship. the word hung in the air, a fragile bridge between your shared history and the uncertain future.

“i don’t know if we can be friends. not right now, at least. maybe not ever.”

he looked up, pain etched in the frown lines across his face. “i understand,” he murmured, voice heavy with regret.

silence enveloped, broken only by the distant sounds of life outside. after what felt like an eternity, you finally spoke, your voice softer now. “i think i need time. to you know, figure out my shit.”

he nodded. “i want you to know that i’m sorry. truly.”

“i know.”

with a heavy heart, you walked him to the door. as he left, you closed the door behind him, leaning against it for support. alone in the quiet of your dorm, you let the tears come. finally you had a release of all the emotions long held in check. you had tried your hardest to bury them, but now it was time for them to finally come out. the pain was still there, but with each tear that fell, you felt a small measure of healing begin.

in the days that followed, you took each moment as it came, allowing yourself to grieve for what was lost and to slowly rediscover the strength within you. spring continued to dance outside, and you vowed to find your own renewal.

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autumnshighlady · 3 months

Text

Yes, sir

Eris x female!reader

part of The Professor Series

summary: you've been trying to impress Dr. Vanserra for weeks, and an opportunity presents itself when he offers you private study sessions ;)

warnings: smut, power dynamic, name calling, oral sex (f receiving), thigh riding, face sitting, fingering, inappropriate use of mirror, tw: Ianthe

word count: 6.7k

request/prompt: Eris would undoubtedly be a history teacher, sarcastic at times and rigid

a/n: i got my degree in medieval history so there's a bit of rambling in this fic about my area of study since Eris is a history professor, figured i spent 4 years researching it so may as well incorporate it into this fic lmao feel free to breeze past the reader's monologue about the study material (or read it if you're interested hehe)

series playlist on Spotify here

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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“Does anyone know why this manuscript was significant to political theory at the time of its creation?”

A few hands raised around you in the lecture hall, yours included. Political history professor Dr. Eris Vanserra paced slowly across the floor, his amber eyes scanning the rows of students for someone to pick on. His red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, a look that had more than a few of you swooning. His red button up shirt complimented the brown tweed jacket on his shoulders, an outfit that no doubt cost you more than you made in a month. Dr. Vanserra always had the nicest outfits out of all your professors, never coming to class with a thread out of place.

Over the last few weeks, you had come to terms with the fact that you were harbouring an intense crush on him. You couldn’t help it – he spoke with such elegance, explaining the most boring concepts in a way that had you utterly entranced. Frequently, you found yourself staring at his slender hands, which he often gestured with as he spoke. He was a strict professor, who had no patience for any fooling around during class. But his dry jokes were laced with sarcasm, adding to his charming wit. Everyone tried to impress him – Dr. Vanserra was a distant male, often brushing off students in his office hours as if he wanted as little interaction as possible. He never complimented their work either, a simple head nod being the closest anyone has gotten to positive feedback. He was quick to point out what you did wrong, never beating around the bush.

And so you moved your seat from the back of the class to the front, always making sure to be the first student in the door and the last one to leave. It was tough, with other students just as eager to gain a minute of his attention. But you welcomed the challenge, craving to be the one who broke his rigid exterior and get him to show that he at least had a heart. That included always being ready to answer any questions.

Eris’s glowing gaze landed on you, and your heart fluttered. For a moment, you were sure he would call on you to answer the question. But his gaze came as quickly as it left, landing on the blonde female two seats down from you, Ianthe.

“They’re important because they were written by a woman,” Ianthe said proudly, her annoying voice raising three pitches higher than what you knew was her normal voice. “The only one of its time, too. Proof that women in the elite class were learning to read and write just like the men.”

Ianthe proudly lifted her chin up, satisfied with her answer. Dr. Vanserra took a single step towards her, and she crossed her arms together and leaned her elbows on the table, her big eyes wide as she batted her lashes at the professor. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her lack of subtly, noting how ridiculous she looked trying to push her breasts together to show off her cleavage.

“A weak and shallow take, Ianthe, as per usual.” Eris said, sarcastic disappointment lacing his voice.

You had to cough to conceal your laugh. Ianthe was always trying to suck up to Dr. Vanserra, always humiliating herself along the way yet failing to recognize how foolish she looked.

“Is there anyone who can answer my question with a point that’s actually worth my precious time to listen to?” He continued, surveying the hesitant class.

Your hand shot up once again, and this time the professor’s gaze landed on you. He nodded, his stoic face revealing nothing as he waited for you to make your point.

“It’s the only manuscript we currently possess that’s written by a woman in its time,” You began. “That doesn’t mean it’s the only one to have existed. And the author being our only example of a body of literature written by a woman in its era doesn’t mean all elite women were doing the same. Her husband was a close friend of the emperor’s, acting as one of his closest counsellors. It’s highly likely that her husband’s unusually high status is the reason she was able to read and write.”

Dr. Vanserra nodded. “Carry on.”

You tried to ignore the intensity of his gaze as you scrambled to remember your information. “Well, the manuscript itself gives us insight into the political strife of the realm. Many of our other sources from that era never address the problem because they don’t want the history books to remember the bad times. Not only does she directly address the political issues at hand, but she also inserts herself into the narrative, something no other source from its time does. So while it’s written as a book of advice to her son who’s a political prisoner in an enemy court, it gives us insight into 3 aspects of family in that era: feelings, authority, and consciousness. Which also links back to what we talked about last week regarding the connection between the theme of consciousness within this era’s literature.”

You let out a breath, trying not to shake. The professor continued to stare at you, expressionless, leaving you unsure if your points were completely bogus or not. Finally, Dr. Vanserra dipped his head. “Good.” He said plainly, and Ianthe audibly huffed. “Now speaking of last week’s material…”

Dr. Vanserra continued his lecture, and you felt Ianthe shooting daggers at you with her eyes. But you didn’t care, you were too busy riding the high of your first ever praise from the instructor – anyone’s first ever praise from him, now that you thought of it. You happily scrawled down your notes for the remainder of the period, until the clock struck 9am, indicating class was over.

“I will expect the first draft of your midterm essays in three weeks, do not forget.” Dr. Vanserra said as students began packing up. “It’s going to take me a hundred hours to go through them all, so make them worth the headache it will cause me.”

Students began scurrying out the door, and you were grateful that you had no classes for the rest of the day. You packed up your things more slowly, your books and notepads stacked in an organised pile, just how you liked it. You stepped around the front of your desk and scooped them up in your arms, but quickly collided with a blonde female carrying a very full mug of coffee.

“Oh my goodness!” Ianthe squealed, her voice sweet as honey. “Your notes! I am so sorry hun, let me help you clean that up.”

Anger boiled in your blood, and it took everything in you not to yank her by her blonde hair and drag her face through the spilled mess. “It’s ok,” You forced yourself to say through gritted teeth. “It was an accident.”

“Oopsies!” She chuckled, her blue eyes glittering. “See ya!” She skipped away, miniskirt bouncing with every step. Gods, you hated her.

You looked down at your fallen pile of notes, now drenched in caffeine and completely illegible. Kneeling down, you tried to see if anything was salvageable, but nothing remained. Tears welled in your eyes – weeks of hard work, just gone. You felt your white t-shirt sticking to your chest, now strained with brown.

You hadn’t even noticed Dr. Vanserra approach. His pale, slender hand appeared next to yours, picking up a drenched piece of paper. You looked up, seeing him crouched down in front of you.

“Can any of it be saved?” He asked, her voice still stoic but slightly softer.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak without crying yet.

Dr. Vanserra clucked his tongue. “Unfortunate. You’ve worked very hard on those.”

“Those are all my notes from the last few weeks,” You said quietly, lip wobbling. “Sir… I have nothing to work with for my essay draft now.”

He merely hummed as if deep in thought before grabbing the soaked papers from your hands and standing up. You heard him stride over to the trash bin and lift the lid, tossing the remains of the material inside. His expensive shoes clicked on the floor as he walked back over to you. His hand reached out, coming into your lowered field of view.

You looked up at him through teary eyes, confused.

“Come on, get up.” Dr. Vanserra said, sighing. “She wins if you sit like that, just sulking. So get up and come with me.”

Trying not to tremble, you grabbed his hand. He pulled you up with surprising strength, his hand warm despite the freezing temperature of the room. Wordlessly, he grabbed your bags along with his own, walking out of the lecture hall with long strides. Puzzled, you scrambled to follow, too nervous to say a word. This was the most Dr. Vanserra had ever spoken to you, you didn’t want to risk screwing it up by saying something stupid.

You followed him all the way to his office, shutting the door behind you as you entered the space. Rich tones of red, amber, and green adorned the room, expensive looking furniture and decor scattered everywhere in an organised manner. The office was filled with more candles than you could count, their orange flames flickering gently. Dr. Vanserra set your bags down on one of the chairs before finally speaking.

“Twelve lectures worth of your notes are gone, and you cannot do anything about that.” He said sternly. “So do not cry over it. However, I do not want to see you fall behind and try to redo the notes off of memory alone. You will fail the course if you do so. Therefore, for the next two weeks, we will meet in my office every day at 5pm. Each session we will go over one lecture, and you will redo your notes. We can go slow to ensure you do not miss anything, and you may ask me any questions you need. That will give you only a week to complete your draft, but at least you will not be lacking half the material needed for it. Does this work for you?”

Your jaw went slack. One on one review with the professor? It was the golden ticket you needed to succeed in this course, and you were going to make it count. “Yes, sir, absolutely.” You replied quickly, letting out a breath. “Thank you, Dr. Vanserra, thank you.”

“We are going to be spending a lot of time together over the next two weeks, my dear. You can call me Eris.”

Your heart flipped. “Eris.” You corrected yourself, testing his name on your tongue.

He smirked. “Excellent. Now that we are on a first name basis, I can comfortably tell you that the coffee has rendered your shirt see through.”

The blood drained from your face, and your arms shot from your sides to cover your chest. As luck would have it, you weren’t wearing a bra that day, meaning your nipples were likely visible through the wet white shirt. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.” You stammered, cheeks flushing red.

“It’s quite alright.” Eris strolled towards a small dresser in the corner of the room, opening up the middle drawer and pulling out a cream coloured polo sweater with a v-neck. “Put this on, I won’t have my student walking around campus with her tits in plain sight.”

You blushed deeply, taking the fabric from him. It was the softest thing you’d felt, and smelled strongly of the cologne you frequently caught a whiff of whenever the professor walked by you. The plainness of his words made your brain go haywire, and you stood there dumbly.

“Unless you want to give me a show, I suggest you turn around and change so I can put your shirt in a bag for you to take home.” Eris said, a hint of mischief behind his amber gaze.

You turned around, reaching down and pulling the ruined t-shirt over your head. You shivered, feeling those eyes burning into your bare back as you carefully held your arm out behind you with the shirt balled inside your fist.

Eris took it, and you heard him turn around and walk away, presumably to grab a bag. You quickly pulled the sweater over your head, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach that danced happily at the thought of wearing your professor’s sweater.

“All done.” You said, turning around. “I’ll get this dry cleaned before I give it back.”

The male only shrugged as he tossed your shirt into a spare grocery bag. “Clean it, keep it, shred it, it matters not to me. I have three more identical to that one.”

“Uh, ok.” You muttered. The idea of keeping his sweater felt wrong, but you were secretly thrilled that he suggested it.

Eris took a seat behind his desk, pulling out books from his briefcase. “Now be gone with you, I have research to do. And remember, 5pm tomorrow. Do not be late.”

“I won’t.” You promised, grabbing your bags and making your exit.

Maybe it was a good thing Ianthe spilled her coffee on you.

************************

ONE WEEK LATER

You tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep hours after your study session with Eris. At first, they had been gruelling. Eris would grill you for every answer you gave him, making sure you could confidently back up your claims. Your brain was exhausted by the end of it, but you were happy. Eris had also given you helpful anecdotes that he hadn’t mentioned to the class. You had twice as many notes as before, and they were twice as helpful.

He was different than when he taught in class. More patient, less demanding. He spoke slower, allowing you to catch up if you fell behind. His strict persona was as rigid as ever in class, but you found he was calling on you more and more to answer questions. It delighted you.

At first, you had sat in the chair in front of his desk. But today, the chair was moved beside his. More than once, your leg knocked against his muscular thigh, and you’d murmur an embarrassed apology. Eris never acknowledged it, only smirked before returning to the material at hand. You still felt the tingling sensation on your own thigh from earlier when he gently squeezed it. You had gotten a tough question right, and Eris had reached down and put his hand on your thigh, quickly squeezing it before retreating.

Your face had gone bright red, and there was no way he hadn’t noticed. Just that one simple action had made your core throb with need. It didn’t help that he had begun calling you pet names, such as ‘my dear’ and ‘love’. You drank them up, his silver tongue making the nicknames sound just right. Every time he said them, it went straight to your core.

Studying with your professor had suddenly become incredibly hard.

You rolled over in your bed once more, hoping that perhaps this side of the sheets would finally bring you sleep. But every time you closed your eyes, all you could think about was Eris’s touch on your thigh, and how it would feel if his hand was higher up, right where you had dreamed about it being. You imagined his slender fingers pumping inside you, filthy words falling from his lips like the first snow of winter, red hair falling in your face was his body moulded over top of yours–

“Get it together.” You scolded yourself. “He’s your fucking professor. It was nothing. Stop overthinking.”

But that didn’t stop you from sneaking your hand between your legs in a last ditch effort to ease yourself into sleep.

************************

A few days later, you checked your outfit in the bathroom mirror at 4:55pm before heading to Eris’s office. You hadn’t slept well last night, so you opted for a casual pair of soft, flowing green pants paired with a simple cream coloured button up. You’d be lying to yourself if you claimed you hadn’t deliberately chosen the pants that seemed to be Eris’s favourite shade of green. It was hard to sleep when all you could think about was how close you were going to be sitting to him the next day.

At 5pm on the dot, you opened the door to his office. “Good evening, sir.” You greeted him, locking the door behind you. It was something he insisted on, claiming he didn’t want his other students barging in thinking you were getting special treatment.

“Hello, my dear.” Eris said. “We’re covering lecture 10 today, I assume you brought the material.”

You nodded, setting your bag next to the desk before making your way around to Eris’s side. You paused, noticing something was missing. “Where’s my chair?” You asked.

“Oh, that thing,” Eris tutted, lips drawn into a faint smirk. “I gave it to my brother for the week. His office chair broke, and he has fifty students lined up outside his office every day who need it more than I do.”

Your mouth was dry, unsure of what game he was playing. “Where am I supposed to sit?”

“I think there’s enough room over here for you.” Eris’s voice was velvety and laced with smugness. His brown eyes glowed, like a viper approaching a small creature to make its first strike.

“Oh, do you want me to stand?” You tried hesitantly. No way this was going where you think it was going, right?

“For two hours? I wouldn’t do that to you. Come here.” He beckoned you forward with a come here motion and spread his legs ever so slightly, making your stomach do a somersault. Your body obeyed him without question, stepping forward until Eris grabbed your hand and pulled you down, causing you to fall onto his lap with a yelp. Strong hands gripped your hips, adjusting you so you were perched on his right thing, one leg on each side.

You bit your lip so the whimper that had built in your throat didn’t slip through. Your throbbing core was pressed right into the hard muscle of Eris’s thigh, emitting a heat you were sure he would feel.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” He purred, his lips dangerously close to your ear. His breath was warm, sending shivers down your spine.

You stuttered something incoherent in response, but Eris cut you off casually, reaching forward and opening your book. His knee hiked up a bit, pushing his thigh further into your core. This time, you couldn’t stop the noise you let out.

“Are you alright, love?” Eris asked innocently. You gritted your teeth – he knew what he was doing, and was trying to get a reaction from you. As much as you wanted him, you were stubborn.

Two could play this game.

“Just fine.” You quipped, attempting to keep your composure.

“Wonderful. Let us begin.”

************************

An hour later, your lip had indents on it from your teeth. It was the most torturous study session you’d ever had in your life. It was less than 10 minutes in before Eris took it up a notch. He had rested one hand on your hip, a simple gesture as if to steady you. But his thumb found its way underneath the fabric of your shirt and began to rub small circles above the bone.

The more questions Eris asked you, the closer he leaned into you. His lips began grazing your ear as he spoke, driving you wild. He didn’t sit still either, casually moving his leg from time to time, causing you to slide forward, clit grazing the sinewy muscle.

It was a slow torture.

“You seem distracted.” Eris murmured in your ear, readjusting himself again and sending another wave of pleasure through your core. You couldn’t help it, a quiet moan leaving your mouth as you felt yourself giving up.

He chuckled darkly, sliding the rest of the hand under your shirt fabric and resting it on the skin above your hip bone. “You’ve been working so hard my dear, I can’t have you unfocused.”

The rest of his fingers began tracing lazy, teasing circles against your flesh. You arched into his touch, tears from the lack of stimulation to your cunt threatening to form in your eyes if he didn’t touch you soon.

“Please.” You murmured quietly.

“Please what?” Eris asked, feigning cluelessness but letting his teeth scrape the shell of your ear. “If you need something from me, you need only ask. And I will be happy to oblige.”

The bastard was really going to make you admit it. He knew what he had been doing for the past hour, teasing you subtly to the point where you’d beg for more. Your earlier determination was gone, replaced by a pathetic neediness for his touch.

“Touch me, please.” You whined, not caring how weak you sounded.

Eris paused for a second. “No.”

Your eyes shot open in surprise. If this was some sick game to humiliate you, you were going to kill him. “What do you mean–”

“You know what you want to do right now,” He cut you off, his voice low. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at my thighs for the past few days. This is your chance to take what you want, sweetheart. Only once you grind yourself into my thigh to show me how desperate you are for me, will I finally touch you.”

Humiliation burned through you. No matter how stubborn you were, it was no match for Eris’s. There was no way you’d be able to convince him to put his hands on you without first doing what he asked.

You leaned forward, placing your hands on his knee for support as your clit finally made contact with his thigh. You began rocking your hips, moaning at the relief it brought you.

“Come on, I know you can give me more than that.” Eris remarked from behind you.

You groaned and ground your hips harder into his thigh, pleasure intensifying. You swivelled your hips back and forth and in circular motions, trying to find a path to the release you had been craving.

“Fuck.” You moaned, glancing sideways at the mirror that was propped against the wall adjacent to his desk. The sight nearly made you gasp. Your face was flushed, blissed out as you grinded into Eris’s thigh, a small wet patch having formed on his light brown trousers. Eris was leaning back in his chair, his eyes hungrily drinking in the view from behind of you riding his thigh. His face was dark with want, and his knuckles were white as they gripped the side of the chair.

You continued your motions, grinding into your professor’s thigh in his locked office, coming so close to building that familiar coil in your stomach but never quite getting there.

“Eris…” You moaned.

“Yes, my dear?” Came his reply.

“I need you. Please, sir, I need you to touch me.”

One glance in the mirror and you knew you were victorious. Calling him ‘sir’ seemed to have softened his determination to make you grind into him until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Aw, can you not get yourself off on my thigh without help?” He mocked, stroking your hip again. “You need me that badly, don’t you? You know how unsatisfying it would be to cum without my touch.”

He spun the chair around, lifting your hips with one hand and peeling your pants and underwear off at the same time. The two of you were now facing the mirror, able to take in the sinfulness of the situation in full view. Eris adjusted you on his lap so that you were sitting atop his bulge, legs spread over each of his legs. Your needy cunt was on display, and you leaned back into his solid chest.

“Such a greedy little thing.” Eris said. One of his hands reached down and stroked your clit, while the other wrapped around your other hip and began to tease your entrance. For a second, you thought he was going to cruelly pull away, leaving you high and dry. But moments later he plunged a finger inside you, increasing the speed and pressure on your clit as well.

Your entire body twitched with the sudden wave of pleasure, ten times more intense than anything you had given yourself. Your moan this time was loud, echoing throughout the vast space of the office. His hands worked you in all the right places, confidently finding the perfect pleasure spots as if he had been given a map to your body and spent years studying it.

“Is that better?” Eris cooed, running his lips up and down your neck. “Is this what you’ve been fantasising about, being completely at my mercy as I make you feel good?”

“Gods, yes.” You cried out, arching into him.

“There are no gods here to help you, my dear,” He chuckled darkly. “Only me.”

Eris bit down on the juncture between your shoulder and neck, causing you to gasp. But you welcomed the sting of it, sighing as his silver tongue caressed the indents in your skin. Your legs began to tense up, feeling the orgasm you had been so desperately craving building up. The wet squelching sounds of Eris’s fingers on your cunt sang in harmony with your moans, as you watched the scene in the mirror through half-closed eyes.

“That’s it, love.” Eris murmured, sucking your neck just below the curve of your jaw. “Cum all over my hands.”

Your body obeyed, erupting into a burst of flaming pleasure as your orgasm hit you hard. Eris’s fingers continued to work you through your high, intensifying it tenfold. You were a whimpering, twitching mess in your professor’s lap. Finally, he removed his hands from between your legs, giving you a merciful break. You slouched into him, panting.

Your professor had just given you the most intense orgasm of your life.

After a few minutes letting your body recover, Eris picked you up with ease, bridal style in his arms. He settled you both down on the couch, placing his hand on your inner thigh and slowly sliding it back towards your core. You whimpered as his fingers grazed your sensitive slit, causing him to chuckle.

“Oh you poor, sweet thing,” Eris mocked. “You didn’t think that would be it, did you? I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

Your mind reeled as he adjusted himself, laying back flat on the couch and pulling you on top of him. Luckily, you caught yourself with one arm on his chest so you didn’t land flat on his body. Eris’s hand reached behind your neck, grabbing you firmly and pulling your lips into his. You groaned, shifting on top of him so you were straddling his waist to get more comfortable. Eris’s grip was tight, putting you at the mercy of his kiss as his lips consumed your own. You melted into his mouth like butter, sighing as his tongue danced with your own.

His other hand reached down and squeezed your backside, pushing your hips into his crotch and causing you both to moan into each other’s mouths. The noise that emitted from Eris’s lips was the most delightful thing you had ever heard, you decided. It filled you with determination to see what other sounds your professor could make. So you ground your hips into his bulge again, causing him to groan.

“Careful,” He growled, nipping at your lip in warning. “You’re playing with fire here, my dear. Did I say you could grind on my cock like a desperate whore?”

You paused, heat rushing to your core at his filthy words. You’d always loved the sound of Eris’s voice, and hearing him say such sinful things to you brought a fresh wave of arousal.

A hard smack landed on your ass, making you yelp in surprise.

“I asked you a question.” Eris said sternly. “Did I give you permission to grind on my cock, yes or no?”

“No.” You answered sheepishly.

“No is right. Sit up. You’re going to make it up to me.”

You frowned in confusion, but did as you were told, propping yourself up and sitting back down on Eris’s hips, trying to ignore the way his cock dug into your backside. You took a second to admire Eris’s form laying on the luxurious couch beneath you. His red hair was fanned around his face like the morning rays of sunshine, a beautiful contrast with the dark green of the sofa. His expression was relaxed, but calculating as always – angular cheekbones made more prominent in the light of the candles, his amber eyes glowing with desire. It was a sight you wanted to commit to memory forever.

“Remove your shirt, and come ride my face.” Eris said plainly. You baulked, having expected him to tell you to get on your knees and take his cock down your throat. You were supposed to make up for disobeying him by… letting him eat you out? Most males you had been with had been selfish, only going down on you if you sucked them off first. But Eris was different.

“I would suggest you listen and do as I say, unless you want to be bent over my knee and spanked until you cannot walk, and are ordered not to cum for a week.” Eris’s voice was less patient this time, noting your hesitation.

Something dark in his eyes told you he meant it, so you obeyed, unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it off your shoulders, followed by your bra. You were now completely naked on top of Eris, who remained fully clothed. Under any other circumstances, you’d have insisted he at least partially undress first. But you knew his patience was wearing thin, and as much as you secretly wouldn’t mind being spanked, the thought of not coming for a week was something you couldn’t do.

You crawled your way up his body, seating a knee on either side of his head. You lifted your hips, core inches from his face. The male was practically salivating beneath you as you gingerly lowered your cunt to skim his lips.

“I thought I told you to sit.” Eris said.

You gawked. “But I don’t want to suffocate–”

Your sentence was interrupted by a frustrated growl from your professor. He gripped your hips firmly and pulled you down hard, seating you fully on his mouth. You cried out as his tongue expertly stroked your folds, flicking your clit as he ate you out with precision that made you weak. Instinctively, one hand came down to grip Eris’s red locks, causing him to moan into your cunt. His hair was soft in your fingers, and you relished in the feeling of it.

You felt Eris’s hands guide your hips back and forth, encouraging you to rock them against his face. Moans left your lips as you obliged, grinding into his face like you had on his thigh. Evidently, this pleased Eris and he groaned, which sent delicious vibrations through your core.

You let your head fall back, shamelessly riding Eris’s mouth as you pulled on his hair. If your grip caused him any pain, he gave no indication of it. Whenever you tried to lift your hips to let him breathe, his grip only tightened and firmly held you in place. It wasn’t long before you climaxed again, letting out a choked cry as your juices covered his face. After catching your breath, letting Eris wipe his face with his fingers before sicking the digits clean, you climbed off of him, collapsing into a sitting position on the couch as Eris sat up next to you. His skilled fingers began undoing the buttons on his shirt, and you hungrily drank in the sight of his bare chest as he pulled the expensive material off.

“You did so well, my dear.” Eris purred. “I think you can cum one more time for me. Ride my cock this time, love, make a pretty mess all over it just like you did with my face. And my fingers… and thigh.”

Your mouth went slack. After two orgasms, you weren’t sure if you could handle a third. But the desire to please him outweighed any reservations you had about your sensitive body, so you reached down and unlaced his breeches, making eye contact as you did so. Eris smirked, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion as you pulled out his long cock and stroked it once. The tip was red and needy, leaking with precum and making your mouth water. You swung your leg over his hips, straddling them. One of your hands reached towards Eris’s cock, grabbing it and lining it up with your entrance. You took a breath, and began to sink down.

You stopped after getting just the tip in, trying to catch your breath. The stretch stung, and you weren’t sure how you were going to fit the rest of it in, especially being so oversensitive still. Eris simply watched with his hands behind his head casually, a smug look on his face. He did not help you, seemingly content to watch you struggle to take his length.

You forced your body to relax, sliding to about halfway down before stopping, moaning dizzily. All of your senses were completely overwhelmed, and you felt so full with only half his cock inside you.

“Aw, are you finding it difficult to take me, love?” Eris mocked. “Maybe you can’t handle it–”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence, for his teasing tone filled you with sheer determination and you slammed yourself down onto him. Eris was cut off in a strangled moan, eyes widening as you impaled your cunt on his cock. The force of it knocked the wind out of you, but you didn’t let it stop you. You swirled your hips, pulling yourself up his length before falling down on him again, bracing your hands on his shoulders for support. Gods, he was so deep inside of you, touching places that made your head spin.

“Fucking hell.” Eris groaned, his voice rough as you slid up and down on his cock at a relentless pace. You twisted and swivelled your hips as you did so, your cunt squeezing his cock at new angles that made your professor gasp. You threw your head back, and Eris took the opportunity to lean forward and wrap his arms around your back, pulling your chest closer to him and taking your breast in his mouth.

The new sensation made you cry out, but you refused to let your pace falter. Eris’s teeth scraped your nipple, sucking harshly before moving to your other breast. His hips began slamming up into you to meet your own, making the coil in your belly tighten.

“Eris…” You whined, tangling your hands in his hair again.

“That’s it, love, say my name,” Eris reached one hand down to roll your clit with his thumb, while the other gripped your throat and squeezed. “Let everyone know who’s fucking you dumb right now. Let them hear you scream for me as your tight little cunt takes my cock.”

You rode him with a vigour you didn’t know you possessed, shamelessly moaning his name over and over again. “Eris… Eris…. Eris!” It was overwhelming, your professor’s cock slamming in and out of you, his hand rolling your clit while the other held you by the throat. You kept your grip on his hair, yanking as you climaxed one last time, the action of your fingers pulling his red locks making Eris cry out too. His hips stuttered as his cum shot through you, your cunt clenching around him as you rode out your own orgasm. It was the most intense out of all the ones you had so far, the warmth of Eris spilling inside you making you dizzy with pleasure.

You leaned forward, dragging your lips up Eris’s throat as he moaned with you clenching around him. He cursed, the slip in his control filling you with pride. His skin tasted like rich autumn spices. You pulled his cock out from inside you and collapsed into his chest, panting. You didn’t realise how exhausted your body was until now. Every cell in you was completely spent, leaving you unable to move. You fought the sleepiness, but the warmth from Eris’s chest was too comforting and darkness overcame you.

************************

A few hours later, you opened your eyes. For a moment, you expected to be in your own bed, the whole thing having been a dream. But you took in your surroundings, realising you were still in Eris’s office. The professor was sitting at his desk, quietly grading. You scrambled upright, the blanket that had been draped across you falling onto your lap.

“I’m so sorry.” You stammered. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Eris looked up at you, smirking. “You have nothing to apologise for. I take pride in your passing out, actually. Means I did my job well, not that there was any doubt based on the noises you made.”

You blushed furiously, but then looked down at your body. You expected to be sweaty and gross from the sex, utterly naked and exposed. But you felt clean, as if you had been wiped down with a wet cloth and then dried. Your old clothes were neatly folded on the ground next to you, and you were dressed in a pair of soft, forest green sweatpants and a white crew neck sweater. They definitely were not Eris’s size. “You keep women’s clothes in your office?” You asked, confused.

“I keep a spare set of attire for all the female students I fuck in here.” Eris’s voice was dry, and you whipped around to stare at him with wide eyes. “That was a joke, my dear. I had them picked out last week. You know, in case Ianthe decided she wanted to spill more coffee on you in the future.”

You snorted, heart fluttering at the surprising thoughtfulness of his actions. While you had hoped he wouldn’t just toss your clothes at you and send you on your way without a word, given the professor’s rigidness it hadn’t been entirely out of the question. “You’re not funny.”

“On the contrary, I am terribly funny.”

“You got these clothes last week, was it really because of Ianthe or was your plan to fuck me all along? Is that why you offered to help me in the first place?”

Eris rolled his amber eyes, giving you a stern look. “No. My offer to help you was, and is, genuine, and with your best academic interests in mind. I may be a prick, but I am not cruel. Fucking you was a delightful bonus, not an expectation.”

His words reassured you. Despite his strict reputation, it seemed Dr. Vanserra had a heart after all. You checked the clock, realising it was almost 9:30pm. “Shit, I have to get home now. My roommate is going to think I fell off the face of the earth.”

You hastily grabbed your things, giving Eris a quick kiss on the mouth before hurrying to the doorway. You had no idea what this meant for the two of you, if it was a one time thing to satisfy both your needs, or something more. Regardless, you didn’t want to think too much about it, content to bask in the aftermath of the best sex you’ve ever had.

“Same time tomorrow.” Eris piped up right before you opened your door. “Don’t be late.”

“Yes sir.” You smirked at the twitch of his face at your words.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

A sadistic grin crossed Eris’s face. “When you get home, I’m positive you will be reminiscing about the mind blowing orgasms you just had. But you are not to touch yourself until I see you tomorrow night, am I clear? There will be… repercussions, if you disobey me.”

You baulked, embarrassed that he had seen right through you, but nodded anyway. As the door closed behind you, you wondered if you were going to last the next 20 hours without breaking his rule.

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