j-e-beck - Tumblr blog

j-e-beck · 2 days ago

Text

‘after all the boys and girls that we’ve been through, could you give it all up if i promise to you, that i’ll never talk again, and i’ll never love again’

the finale : ̗̀➛ senior year at nasara university

<- enroll here .·:*¨༺ (1) ༻¨*:·. next page (2) ->

➳ college!teez x fem!reader (oc) - nice for what cast ➳ 9k (part one of ???) ➳ 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, angst, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

saturday ~ september 20th ~ 11:16 pm

Glass beneath your feet, a red cup in your hand, music pulsing in your ears, your friends shouting at you from the floor, not one of them could get a grip on you. Stumbling across the dining room table wearing nothing but your white lace sundress, matching with half of the girls in the house, your bare feet stepped on napkins and kicked plastic plates away as you twisted to the music, singing along to every y2k beat that poured from the speakers.

“Aurora, get down!” Yuna laughed, but her tone was stern and went unnoticed by you. You heard the laughter and it fueled the way your body moved. Ducking underneath the chandelier hanging over the table, you let out a shout and almost tumbled off the edge. “Stop!” Her hands flew up to grab onto your hips, pushing you back onto your feet.

Lifting your cup to your lips, downing the rest of its contents with a cringe- San filled it with straight vodka ten minutes ago- you tossed it aside and smiled down at her.

“Ror, this is not funny.” Tossing her chocolate waves over her shoulder she glanced around the room and sighed.

A body covered every square inch, boys from ATZ, girls from ITZ, all new recruits being welcomed tonight with veteran members scattered throughout the chaos somewhere. Hours ago the boys showed up on your doorstep and both parties went through with the tradition, the silly little ritual of inviting the sibling house into the other, maintaining the facade of polished politeness throughout dinner until the sun set and the lights went out.

ITZ held the dinner this year, it had been your responsibility to set it up. Well, most of it. Your team beneath you really put it together while you sat at that big, intimidating wooden desk that Yeji used to sit behind with your knees pulled into your chest and your arms wrapped around them. They discussed details and you disassociated, staring down at the to-do list that haunted your dreams and lived within every nightmare.

Tori, your knight in shining armor really, she handled what you couldn’t. With a wave of her hand she could send one of the girls on a mission, in her planner she kept track of every goal, each morning she shared a phone call with you, Seonghwa and Hongjoong, and hours later she’d be able to recite it back to you verbatim. Her details had details, and every time she hit it out of the park.

Working with Chaewon, a junior who had been appointed ITZ’s social chair last year at the time of the change, Tori perfected tonight's dinner. She hired cleaning services to come through this morning, and the moment they left, a swift, easy moving schedule, the caterers swooped in and tackled the kitchen, setting the house members up to be treated like royalty. Where the girls were meant to host the boys, Tori hired waiters to wander about, carrying silver trays of champagne, hors d’oeuvres, desserts, you name it, they were serving it to you.

Not one guest arrived unimpressed.

But you wouldn’t be able to recall, you’ve been sipping cocktails since the cleaners were scrubbing between the wooden boards of the floor.

Dressing yourself, or trying to, Tori had to tie you into your dress, the top half wrapped around you like a lace corset. You wanted to match with her, but she opted to wear her silky white Tom Ford cocktail dress she bought for her sister’s movie premiere she and Mingi attended at the end of last month. Loose curls hung over her exposed shoulders and draped down her back, the flippy layers having grown longer than you’ve ever seen them. Silver jewelry accentuated her old Hollywood look, diamond necklaces dangled into the v-cut of the dress, tear drops hung from her ears, and bracelets jingled on her wrists.

She topped it off with her Louboutins, a pair she’s had for years kept in pristine condition.

Tonight belonged to her, and everybody knew it. She owned this dinner.

Wandering beside her while the caterers set themselves up, you listened in to her and Ryujin’s conversation. She caught her right before she and Jeongyeon were headed out to Sicuro for the weekend to visit her parents. Tipsy already in that moment, Ryujin’s words didn’t affect you the way you thought they would.

“Damn, Tor, you really stepped up! This is insane, they’re gonna talk about you for years…”

You agreed with her, because she was right. No chapter has ever pulled something of such grandeur off before, Tori surely would go down in ITZ history for this, no matter how superficial that sounded. These girls cared about things like that, that’s what Tori came here to do.

Change.

Mold.

Shape.

Make a difference.

All you had to do was shake Seonghwa’s hand on the porch, and your job was done.

Whispers of a shared past flowed through both groups like a hushed breeze, one gentle enough to not be noticed, but that unmistakable chill that struck your spine told you enough. Change occurred between this year to last, but not enough. The echo of Yeji’s like minded girl's speech circled around you whenever you sat behind that desk. Looking each of them in the face, shaking their hands through recruitment, during rush, walking them through tours…

You searched. You studied. You analyzed. And you were thorough.

Flipping through profiles front and back, upside down and backwards, background checks, social media searches, you lost sleep trying to find anything incriminating about every girl you were about to have living in this house. You’d be damned if it happened again. You wouldn’t allow it to happen again, and Tori had your back. She didn’t spend the sleepless nights with you, but whenever you tossed her a project, needing her to keep up with the current board members so you could deep dive into lives in ways you really weren’t sure were legal- Tori did what Ryujin said, she stepped the fuck up.

While you, by yourself, drowned in recruit papers and schoolwork, she ran the sorority.

You weren’t helpless, Wooyoung offered to flip through profiles for you, and he did for a night. In his apartment scattered across the living room floor, the two of you tiered the girls in three categories. Most likely to Yeji, least likely to Yeji, and doesn’t have an ounce of Yeji in her blood. Throughout the night, over papers, containers of take out, and a few beers, he did his best to assure you that you had the upper hand now, that these girls answered to you. When in return you told him flat out that they answered to Tori.

You haven’t felt like the president since last semester.

All you had to do was shake Seonghwa’s hand, and you were off the hook.

You had gripped it tight, and he had laughed to himself. With a lean toward you, in your ear, he’d whispered, “Hammered already, President Aurora?” And you answered him with a smug smile.

Yunho stood behind him in a white button down and black slacks with a tie hung loosely around his neck, of course you were hammered.

You didn’t look at him.

He didn’t look at you.

That’s how it’s been since July.

On the floor, Yuna threw her hands to her side and groaned. “Ror, please,” she said, watching you teeter side to side, somewhat attempting to sway to the music all the other bodies rocked along to.

Raking your fingers through your hair, you finally spared her a glance, and after a few seconds, flashed her a smile.

You weren’t coming down.

He stood behind him in his half made up suit, every dusty brown piece of hair on his head perfectly in place. Taking in the sight of all of your girls stretched along the front of the porch of ITZ, he didn’t look at you once. Other than your friends no one knew your history, you and Yunho, why you were the way that you were, and frankly, you aren’t sure you quite know either.

When did it start, like, really start, and why did it go unspoken for so long? Why, after he’s played with your heart, broken it, and your trust, do you continue to yearn for him? You wouldn’t say you were yearning, but Tori’s called you out plenty. You’ve said too much this summer, drunken confessions, that you can’t talk your way out of anymore.

He stood right behind Seonghwa.

And he couldn’t care less that his president shook your hand.

So you drank, and you drank some more, and you sipped from a bottle offered to you by some ATZ freshman recruits, and you cracked open another can of bubbles, and you accepted a cup from San, and then a refill and a kiss from a very sloshed San…

“Ror, if you don’t…” Yuna pressed her fingers into her bare thighs. White bodycon dress clinging to her slender figure, she paired it with white wedge sandals and gold jewelry from Jongho, the senior a vision to behold- something the ATZ recruits took very seriously.

Glancing around herself in the dim, well, the dark, she released a heavy sigh, took one look up toward you, then vanished into the sea of beings.

He hadn’t said one word to you since July!

Even in joint meetings between the boards, something you and Seonghwa set up to be had monthly, he didn’t look at you, and he certainly didn’t speak. Keeping to himself aside from the occasional mumble to Mingi, and questions to Tori or Chaewon, he arrived at the meetings in his usual hoodie-sweats combo with a small hello to everyone other than you, and left just the same.

This wasn’t a Yunho you knew.

Your Yunho took up space, he asked silly questions, he over exaggerated his explanations, he’s outrageously fucking dramatic and he’d admit it too.

Now he sat in silence.

Each time he tolerated your presence he seemed to reach into your heart, your subconscious somehow, and erase himself little by little. Everything you thought you knew, everything he taught you about himself, every piece of him he gave you, he started to take it all back.

An undoing.

An erasure.

He didn’t love you.

And maybe he never really did.

Maybe the words he spoke held no value.

“…and she’s gonna get hurt, I can’t get her down, I wanna take her up to bed ‘cause I can’t keep track of her, she’s fast, I just-“

Yuna’s frantic speech didn’t catch your attention, the deep voice that cut her off did. Spinning on your toes, your ankles knitting together, you stumbled forward and they both jumped.

“Oh my god,” Yunho sneered, both of his hands extending in front of him, ready to catch you if you reared off the edge of the table. Flickering his hardened glare between you and Yuna, he spoke to Yuna. “Where’s her keeper?”

Yuna rolled her eyes. “Not here, and he’s not her keeper. They broke up in July.”

“Yeah, people keep saying that.”

Yuna thrusted a hand toward you. “So, help!”

Yunho glanced up at where you danced, watched how you laughed with some recruits watching you from the floor, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“And, why not?” Yuna crossed her arms over her chest.

Copying her, Yunho turned toward her. “I��m not falling for tricks like these anymore,” he said. “I’m done with this.”

Yuna took in a breath and stepped in a small circle around herself looking for a Plan B. Speedy eyes scanning the hoards of tipsy people, she found Intak and Jiung squeezing themselves through the dining room doorway. They clocked you already, their gazes were pointed and locked.

Grabbing onto Yunho’s arm, Yuna sighed. “If you don’t do something, they will.” Pointing at the boys, Yunho followed her finger.

His jaw tightened. “I can’t do anything,” he mumbled through clenched teeth, “She hasn’t said anything to me.”

“Good god,” Yuna groaned with another roll of her eyes, “You guys exhaust me, I can’t believe you’re still playing that game,” she waved towards the table the boys circled, “Just get her down.”

Intak stood four feet from him on the opposite side of the table, his face alight in the glow from phone screens and the moonlight leaking in through the windows, wearing a smirk. Jiung whispered to him, his eyes drawing up and down your form wobbling above him.

If Yunho didn’t do something, they would.

Stepping forward, placing both hands flat on the table, Yunho peered up at you with a hope that you’d possibly peer back.

You didn’t.

Intak caught your eye, and though he filled your gut with a nausea that once felt like curiosity, he was the only boy tonight to not look at you like he knew what you were. Even some of the girls looked at you that way, some sort of unease behind their poised complexions.

They knew.

They gossiped.

They judged.

Intak though, and Jiung for that matter, both of them, absolute arrogant assholes, the sparkle in their eyes drew you in. They enjoyed the show, they didn’t look down upon it. The pieces of you others judged, the pieces Intak and Jiung knew about, they didn’t talk it down, they wanted a taste.

You’d lay Intak down any day of the week. With that slick smile, his cropped hair, his button nose, you wouldn’t say no… If he hadn’t turned into an utter douchebag. It really was a shame you didn’t have the chance to get to know him when his possè wasn’t around, you blamed both Jiung, and Jongseob, for Intaks assholery.

And Soul’s.

Soul who lingered under Jongseob’s arm all night long. That’s why you took a drink from San, to get rid of that nagging care that hung within your chest.

He didn’t care, why should you.

Pausing on top of the table, drinking in darkened eyes and an unbuttoned shirt, you wobbled for a second, then lowered yourself down to your knees in front of Intak. Licking your lips, you took in his smile. It’d been a while since anyone had been on the receiving end of your alcohol fueled pettiness, so you sucked in a breath, leaned forward and crawled toward him…

“Nope.”

An arm hooked around your waist, one strong, strapping you to his front, securing you in place with the other. Feet kicking, you grasped his hands and thrashed, the room spinning more than it had been as Yunho turned from the table and started for the hallway. Recruits were kicked, bumped into by Yunho, and pushed aside by his large frame. Swallowing down the way your stomach rolled, you wriggled and writhed, an attempt to free yourself, but he was too strong.

Throwing your head backward against his chest, you fell limp. He walked through the double doors to the hall, turned to the left and dodged an endless amount of bodies toward the kitchen, rounding the wide set of stairs that lived in the center of the first floor. The pulsing of the music quieted some, the chatter of tipsy mouths growing in volume instead.

Grasping his arms, pushing at them, another attempt to escape, he dropped you on your feet the moment he crossed the threshold into the forest green kitchen. Wobbling, pushing your hair from your face, a tousled mess on top of your head, you scanned the dim lit kitchen and blinked.

Freshmen hung around a corner, peeking inside the door to the storage space beside the door that led to the porch outside. Yunjin, a junior and now ITZ’s appointed Secretary, strolled out with a fresh drink in her hand and the other latched to the shoulder of a sophomore recruit, the two whispering as they passed by you with light smiles. Others wandered in and out, some popped their heads inside in search of certain someone’s, and Yunho, he took to the fridge.

His shirt had been slightly disheveled. Where it was tucked in, tight to his body, it hung off of him now, still tucked within the leather of his belt though. Hair that had been parted neatly over his forehead, sprayed back so it wouldn’t move, it’d been moved.

He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and pushed the door shut with his elbow, not acknowledging the group of girls in the corner whispering while their eyes drew all over him. With a reluctant turn he faced you, jaw clenched, tipped up some. He cracked the bottle open, left the lid on, and let the bottom of his shoes scuff the floor as he took slow but sure steps back over to where he dropped you off.

July.

Not a word spoken.

That night on the beach, you ripped each other apart, drunken thoughts and blunders that should’ve never left either of your lips, but they did. Running after him through Tori’s beach house, down the stairs, through the crowded kitchen, onto the porch. Thundering down the stairs he effortlessly flew down, Wooyoung on your tail, you’d caught him on the sand, and he ripped you a new one.

And you laid right back into him.

The only time you’d really spoken since the end of the semester- screams drowned out by the waves, the neighbors nor your friends would have a clue.

Looking up at him now, your stomach roiled at the thought of his face that night, how he looked down at you. The way he ignored Wooyoung trying to keep him at the house, how he nearly spat at your feet, and should’ve, and stormed off the beach. You’d never seen him so angry.

And now, standing in front of you handing over a cold bottle of water he got for you from your fridge, he wore nothing on his face.

Which was usually hard for him to do.

The vodka made you smile. You couldn’t help it. Taking the bottle from him you tried to swallow it down, tried to hide it. You almost laughed.

He didn’t budge.

You had to hand it to him, he’s been an excellent rule follower.

He hasn’t spoken to you since the Haos vacation, because he’s listening to you. Almost a year ago you’d told him not to speak to you unless you spoke to him first.

He took that literally.

As did you.

So here you stood.

In the middle of ITZ’s kitchen with a foot of space and a water bottle between you, in silence.

The girls in the corner watched. All you did was stare at one another, you didn’t even take a sip of the water, you let it cool off your hands and your dancing sweat, and you stared at each other.

His top button, undone, called to you. Skin beneath it still golden from the summer in the sun, the white of his shirt making the melanin only that much deeper, you pressed your lips together to stop yourself from nibbling on them. Tousled hair, flushed skin letting you know he’s been drinking, wandering eyes that snapped back up to yours as you moved to take a sip of the bottle in your hand- he had something to say.

Lips wrapping around the spout you tipped your chin back and gulped, some water spilling from the corners of your lips and down your cheeks, onto your dress. He lurched forward, his eyebrows softening for half of a second, until he put himself back in place like some sort of soldier. Like grabbing you a napkin would put a bullet through his head.

So he didn’t.

Slapping a hand to either cheek, you flung the excess drops off, slamming the bottle onto the countertop. You met his eyes.

Sedentary.

Looking him up and down, his six foot two self towering above you, you curved your lips into a smile as if to thank him for nothing, and then spun on your toes to saunter out of the room.

He hadn’t spoken to you since July.

Maybe you’d keep it that way.

“Aurora.”

Damn.

What would he say to you? You had to admit you were curious, what he’s been keeping bottled up for months, what he’s forgotten to say on the porch of the house he and your friends were renting for a month this summer. Maybe he’d scream it at you like he’d done that night, maybe he’d spew your equally dirty laundry out here all over the kitchen for all of your sisters to hear, for all of his brothers to hear, for everyone to know, everyone to be included like they craved to be.

What once had been hidden from everyone was no longer yours to share. Everyone knew, and everyone wanted to know what happened next.

And, so did you.

You turned around, Yunho right behind you, his cologne intoxicating, almost enough to knock you to your knees, to beg him to say something, anything, hands clasped together, brows flipped over, tell me you love me because I know you do.

He spoke first. This was it.

Yunho didn’t move. He didn’t reach for you, he didn’t look anywhere but your eyes, hardened glare digging deep into yours. “Go to your room,” he said softly enough for only you to hear, his tone not matching the intensity in his caramel irises.

Amusement rose within you, it threatened to spill out your lips, something he noticed with how the corners of your lips tipped up. He didn’t move. Standing here in silence, knowing it killed him only furthered your protest. You suppose you wanted the fight, the fire for it still scorching you inside fueled by Mina seared gasoline.

He narrowed his eyes, flickering them to your lips for a second. A little glimmer. You’ve been shamelessly eating him alive since he set you down, but he’s done a very good job of playing his part of I don’t want you anymore. Until right now, that one second. A meaningless fracture of time, how he’d spend his hours in class beside you your freshman year, where he’d stare whenever you uttered a word, a whisper, anything.

Unable to hold back your smile, one that broke out into a toothy, smirky grin, you whispered, “Gonna follow me up there?”

Yunho blinked. “Yeah, I am.”

You scoffed. “Say less.”

One track minded, nobody mattered anymore. Not that you gave them a thought before, at least until after Seonghwa’s handshake. Weaving through bodies, your bare feet dragging through alcohol puddles on the floor, stepping over other feet, bumping into the backs of people paired off and darting through the halls, you made it to the stairs and gave a look over your shoulder. He followed you, stone faced and close behind. He followed you.

Either tonight’s the night, or tonight’s the night.

Heart thumping in your chest you darted up the stairs as quickly as you could without slipping and falling onto your face, though you’re certain Yunho would catch you, you reach the second floor and find it empty for the most part aside from the light peeking out under the bathroom door. A few bedroom doors were cracked open, but no other lights dared to be flickered on amidst the party.

Your hand slipped around the bannister, flinging your body around it, whipping yourself toward the bedroom you shared with Tori. Presidential status didn’t change a thing, the two of you were roommates for life. Coming back to Nasara, to your shared space, it aided in healing what happened that month in Haos, the two of you naturally falling back into the push and pull of messy and neat, of loud and sleepy, of locked door because Mingi was inside and fist banging on the door because it meant San was inside instead. The RorTor was back, and the boys knew it, they could feel it.

It made you wonder what the one behind you knew.

Voices of your sisters echoed up the stairs, the thumping of music growing faint as you pushed your door open and tumbled inside. Yunho caught it before it slammed into Tori’s vanity and rattled her hair and makeup products around like it may have already in the past. Taking it with two hands, he surveyed your bedroom, the clothes scattered across the floor, the books stacked beside dressers with papers shoved in them, how Tori’s side tended to be a bit more put together than yours, and he shut your door.

He didn’t lock it.

Spinning around, pressing your back to your bed, you crossed your arms over your chest and eyed him where he stood by the door. He reached for the lightswitch.

“Don’t,” you spat, and he shot you a look, lowering his hand with tenacity.

Grumbling something under his breath he came toward you a few steps and waved you toward him. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go?” Squishing your brows together you tipped your chin back and curled your top lip. “You’ve lost your game, Yo.”

He winced. It still got him. “Christ, Aurora, you can’t stand up straight, get dressed for bed.” He waved you toward him again. Embarrassment was lost on you at the moment, the implication he brought you up here to sleep with you not lost on him. You glanced at his outstretched hands and teetered toward him. “This is the worst you’ve ever been,” he muttered, taking your shoulders in his hands, his palms engulfing them, turning you around.

Letting him move you, not like you had much choice, you said, “No it’s not.”

“Yes, it is,” he said with more oomph, “You’ve been drinking all day, you’re done, and you need to calm the fuck down.”

“How do you know I’ve been drinking all day?” you questioned. His fingers pulled at the zipper of your dress. You could feel it, the way he tried to be oh so careful not to touch your bare skin.

Hooking his fingers beneath the straps, he lifted them a bit, then tugged them down your arms. Without touching you. “It’s not that hard to tell, but besides, Tori told me.”

Whirling around in your underwear, white fabric bunching up around your ankles, you barked, “Of course she did.”

Yunho did nothing but breathe. “We’re all cool, Rory, don’t pull shit like this again. Of course she told me.”

Your heart cried, some type of weight forming between your lungs.

Rory.

It came from his lips with ease. You aren’t even sure he realized he said it.

Gulping, you shook your head quickly. “If she told you that means that you still have a need to know.” Going dizzy, tipping sideways, Yunho grabbed your cheeks and steadied you.

Thinning his lips, he dipped his chin down and said, “She told all of us, Aurora.”

“Whatever,” you groaned, reaching up to shove his hands away, wanting his touch off of you. “Where’s my clothes?”

Yunho took a step away from you and watched you spin in a circle. Hands tangled in your hair, pushing it away from your face as you wobbled over the floor, picked up clothes that looked like yours, he wrapped his hand around the strands like a ponytail and gently lifted your head, halting your search. He held up a big shirt and ignored your wide eyes, your instant submission.

“Here,” he said under his breath, letting go of you.

Taking it from him, literally the shirt you went to sleep in last night, you took a step backward and slipped it over your head. “Thanks,” you whispered, looking up at him. He’d taken a few steps back as well. Sliding a hand up the back of the tee you unclasped your bra and reached into the sleeves to pull it off, slipping it out of one of them and tossing it to the floor.

Yunho sucked in a breath, pressed his hands to his thighs and glanced away, jaw clenched. “What’s the matter, Aurora?” he asked, giving you the smallest glance in case more clothes were coming off. You curled your fingers beneath the hem of the shirt and smushed it in your palms. Facing you completely, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks and tilted his head. “I know you’re not getting shitfaced ‘cause of me.” You looked up at him. “But if you are, I need you to tell me.”

“I don’t wanna…” you whispered, the start of a sentence you were somehow able to cut off. The words made you nauseous. The words, ones you never thought you’d say, they made you want to rip the t-shirt off, tear your sheets off your bed and Tori’s, kick and smash the mirror that stood between your beds, knock over your dressers and scream until you couldn’t.

“You don’t wanna?” he asked, repeating what you’d said. “I just wanna understand, you don’t-”

“I-don’t-wanna-be-president.” A heavy sigh followed, one that almost took you to your knees. Staring at the floor, not wanting to see his reaction, you pulled at the shirt hanging off of you and watched the wood under your feet spin. “My mom is calling me, everyday, I don’t know how, my dad had a heart attack, we’re living with my uncle, if he doesn’t call me, like, every hour, I think something bad happened, and I don’t wanna be president anymore.”

Yunho stood in silence.

Glancing up, meeting his eyes, you smiled. Then, you laughed, and he scoffed.

“This is how I know you’re still okay,” he shook his head, throwing a hand toward you bent over in a fit of giggles. “What the hell, Aurora?”

“I know,” you giggled, then gasped, standing up abruptly, taking many steps towards him. His shoulders tensed. “We don’t know how she got his number either, she hasn’t talked to my dad in years, like over twenty years, why the fuck is she trying to get to him? It’s been longer than I knew about too, he didn’t tell me for a while, I blamed his heart attack on her, you don’t get it, Yo, he loved her, and he left her, and she gave him me, and she ran the fuck away.”

Yunho took his hands back to your shoulders and pushed you away from him a bit, putting space between you. “I know,” he mumbled as you rambled, bobbing his head, “I know the story.”

“He loved her, real bad,” you said again, and he rolled his eyes. “And she broke his heart, isn’t that awful? And then she came back only to leave him with me. She handed me over and she left us.” Yunho gulped, and nodded. “That’s like, imagine if I really was pregnant, and I didn’t talk to you for so long, and then handed you our kid on vacation, like-”

“Oh my god, stop,” he groveld, face scrunching up, hands tightening on your shoulders.

“I’m serious!” you shouted, trying to step back toward him, but he wouldn’t let you.

He groaned, then grumbled, “The fact that you thought about the timeline makes it worse, Rory.”

You laughed, and he shot you a look. “I had to, Yo, what the fuck?”

“What the fuck?” he spat, furrowing his brows. “What the fuck is… No,” he took his hands off of you and stood up straight, “I’m not having this fight again.”

You grasped your arms over your chest, gazing down at his chest peeking out of his shirt. “You’ll lose it again anyway.”

If looks could kill his glare would have splayed you out on the floor in pieces. Holding up a hand, he clasped it into a fist and took a deep breath. “Whatever,” he said with a patience like he practiced it, “Whatever, whatever. I’m sorry about your dad, but he’s okay, he’s at your uncle’s like you said, if anything happens to him, they’re there with him.”

Tightening your grip on yourself, you shifted your jaw around and shrugged your shoulders, feeling your eyes growing heavier the longer you weren’t sipping a drink. “I should go home and be with him,” you said, and he shook his head.

“He wouldn’t want that,” Yunho said, and you glanced up at him.

“Wooyoung said the same thing,” you mumbled. With a grimace Yunho popped his brows. “You still don’t like him.” He didn’t answer you, not even with his eyes. “I told him this,” you breathed, “That I don’t wanna do this anymore, that I wanna stay home with him, that I don’t feel right here anymore, and he tried to help, he tried to fix it, tried to fix me.”

“You aren’t broken, Rory,” he crooned.

Pressing your nails into your skin, you smiled. “But, I feel it.”

Yunho puffed his chest and stepped toward you, his expression going mad. “Because he made you feel that way.”

Ah, the tale of Wooyoung’s Aurora’s Therapist. You knew that one.

“No, he didn’t,” you stepped closer to him, your chests nearly touching, “You’re not listening to me, did you hear what I said? No, you just hear his name and get all angry, and ignore whatever I said, god, this always happens, you don’t listen to me!”

He closed the space, bumping your arms with his chest. “I am listening,” he grit his teeth, “you said-” Something inside of him snapped, and he closed his eyes. Tipping his chin up, he took a breath. “No, I’m not doing this. I’m still mad, you’re still mad, we can’t do this, not right now.”

Pressing your hands to his chest you gave him a nudge. “Mad about what?! My late period?”

“Him,” he growled, looking down at you. “I’m mad about him.”

A laugh came out of you. You nudged him again. “You were fucking me and Mina, how can you be mad about him?!”

He went unmoved by your shoves, like he was on that beach all over again. With a shake of his head, he said, “See, we both have shit we’re not over.” He nodded to the left, glancing toward your bed. “You’re trashed, you need to get in bed, we’re done talking.”

“Yeah,” you sneered, walking backward, tripping over a stray shoe. He caught you and you shook him off. “We’re done talking. No more. Ever. Forever.”

Yunho laughed under his breath and guided you toward your bed. “You don’t mean that.”

You spun around and pressed yourself against him, eyes wild. “But, I do. You didn’t speak to me for months, you’ll be fine.”

Fire burned in his eyes. “Because I’m following your stupid fucking rule!”

Your hands swatted at his chest, at his arms, and he took it all. “Fuck the stupid fucking rule, Yo! We’re grown!”

“Fine,” he laughed even louder, grasping your wrists, holding them tight. “Fuck the stupid fucking rule,” he lowered his chin, his eyes lined with yours, “Don’t expect me to come save you next time. Good luck with your fucking presidency, Aurora.”

His nose brushed against yours. Your heated, angry breath graced each other's cheeks.

Moving at once, moving as one, your hands fumbled to grab onto one another, your lips couldn’t meet fast enough. Your fingers fisted into his hair, pulling him onto you, his were thrown around your shoulders, bending you backward. Nothing but a mess, a furious, frustrated, heated mess of parted lips and famished tongues.

The first kiss in months, in almost a year. You almost forgot how he tasted, but not enough time had passed, the familiarity sunk back in before your tongues tangled. How he moved, how you moved, how your bodies melded together, how they knew how to come together like they moved on their own, two beings who knew and craved each other, knew that whatever was to follow was something they liked, something they wanted.

Yunho almost wedged a knee between yours, but the bedroom door had been flung open. It bumped into Tori’s vanity and rattled her beauty products. Neither of you have moved faster in your lives, both of you ignoring how it felt like neither of you wanted to move.

Tori and San stood at the door, one shocked face and another smug as ever.

Without a second thought Yunho stormed out of your room, barging by them, bumping their shoulders. Smoothing out your shirt, nibbling at your bottom lip, you smiled at San, but cowered beneath Tori’s shock.

No words were spoken, none shared.

Hurrying up to San, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, Tori pulled the bedroom door shut and followed Yunho down the stairs.

sunday ~ september 21st ~ 9:45 am

Her fist pounded on the door three times.

Groaning beneath the sheets, you stirred, opening your eyes to the morning light, pulling the blanket from your face. You aren’t met with the sun. With his arm under his head, his eyes fluttered shut, and his lips parted slightly, San slept soundly, unaffected by the shaking door.

Throwing the blankets off of the two of you, grabbing his arm to shake him awake, you sigh at your naked selves and roll off of the mattress. Snatching the shirt you put on last night, the one San took off of you, you yanked it over your head and trudged toward the door.

“Can she shut up,” San grumbled from the pillows, stretching his arms over his head, his muscled middle winking at you before he flipped over and buried his face in the mattress. The blankets apparently didn’t mean shit to him.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open a crack and gave Tori a smile. Wearing a frown, she didn’t quite match your morning energy. She pushed open the door and gave you a once over, she herself wearing some of her boyfriends clothes. She kicked the door shut and started for the dresser next to her bed, pulling hair pins from her head.

“You’ve got balls being here, Choi,” she said to San’s bare ass. He rolled over and flashed her a grin. She turned to you, three more pins falling into her hand, ones she tossed on the dresser. “You’re lucky I didn’t break in the door, and that it’s just me.”

Folding your arms over your chest, you puffed out your cheeks and smiled again. “I’m the president.”

Tori whirled around, pulling nice clothes from drawers to change into. She messed with her eyebrow piercing and shot San a glare. “That’s not funny,” she said, “That’s not what a good president would do.” Waving a hand at the boy watching the two of you, she motioned at his clothes. “Out!” San looked at you.

Sighing, you took to his side and whispered, “Go. Out the window. The girls can’t see you.”

His charisma oozed from his smirk. “I don’t make you sneak out my window, Ror.”

“If you didn’t fall asleep here, you could’ve walked out the front door last night.”

He glanced down at himself, gorgeous physique on display for you and your best friend, and he smiled. “I’ll see you tonight?” he asked you, and you smiled, but you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t count on it,” you muttered.

It was enough for him. He leapt from your bed, slipped into his pants, swiped his shirt from the floor and disappeared off of your roof. By the time he was gone Tori had already changed, beige flared dress pants and a white fitted tank with Versace on the tag.

“Where’d you sleep?” you asked her, turning to sit down on the edge of your bed.

Putting in her gold hoops she turned and said, “Mingi’s. You better start getting ready, we have to be downstairs in fifteen, the boys’ll be here in ten.”

The meeting, right.

The meeting.

Anxiety flooded your veins. You’d call it nerves, but it’s persisted long enough. It made you nauseous, it made you not sleep if you were sober, it made you jumpy. Wooyoung called it anxiety, so it was anxiety.

“Shit, I don’t even think I have…” Sliding off your bed you started for your dresser and sifted through notebooks, then moved under your bed and sifted through your things. “I don’t have all my-”

Tori placed a hand on your shoulder. Looking up at her from the floor, you stood up slowly and faced her. “They’re on the desk,” she said softly. With a steady face, a steady tone, she said, “I organized them all with Yunjin. You just have to make the decisions and sign on the line.”

You swallowed away the lump in your throat, the electricity in your veins lessening. Since school’s been back she’s been on top of your shit. And her own shit. And the house's shit.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Pressing her now glossy lips together, she patted your shoulder, averted her eyes, and nodded. “Course.” Flickering her eyes back to yours, she gave you half a smile. “Get dressed and come downstairs. Please.”

“I will,” you whispered.

She left in a cloud of Calvin Klein perfume, leaving you to dress yourself. Your white dress still lived in a heap on the floor where Yunho took it off of you. Searching your brain, walking over it, you cannot remember half of the things you said to him last night, half of what he said to you. You kissed him, that much you remembered. He kissed you.

And if San and Tori didn't walk in on you, you would’ve woken up beside Yunho instead.

More nausea.

Changing into clothes appropriate for a meeting, something clean and not from the floor, a pair of jeans and a Nasara crew neck, just as you slipped it over your bed head, your phone rang from beneath a sweater on the rug. Sifting through the fabric, smoothing your hair in the process, one glance at the screen made you groan. You clicked the red button and opened your fathers text thread instead. At least the unknown number no longer filled you with dread.

Tapping the button to call him, you settled back on your bed, nestling yourself in the pillows.

He picked up just after the first ring.

“This is early for you on a Sunday,” he said, a tv echoing somewhere in the background behind his voice, “Everything okay?” A deep voice mumbled over the noise of the show. Yeonjun pulled the phone away, his voice going quiet. “Aurora… Yeah,” he said, then spoke into the phone, “Yoongi says hi.”

“Hi Yoongi,” you said within a breath, then sighed, “Dad, she called me again.”

“Motherfucker,” he muttered.

“That’s you, Junie,” you said, and he scoffed.

“Shut it.”

Sharing the smallest of laughs, you listened as he shared the intel with your uncle, his older brother.

“Don’t answer any,” he said to you, and you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t plan on it, it’s creepy she got my number.”

Yeonjun took a breath, you could hear it. “Yeah, I don’t like how that happened.”

Gulping, grabbing onto the pillow San slept on, pulling it into your lap, you squeezed it, bracing yourself for his answer to your question. “Have you talked to her? At all?”

“Hell no,” he said without missing a beat, “I have nothing to say to her.”

You fisted the silk in your lap. “You keep getting calls too, right?”

He shifted around where he sat, you could hear it. After a heavy breath, he muttered, “Yes.”

“Maybe she knows what happened,” you said quietly, body going very still. He was a man not keen on discussing his own health problems, whether it almost took him out or not. Even if you gave it the slightest of mentions he’d grumble like a child, though he didn’t give you as hard of a time as his brother, those two would get into it.

“How the fuck would she know all that?”

“I don’t know,” you scoffed, “You used to frequent ‘Mano, maybe one of your girlfriends told her.” He laughed, you could hear how his head tipped backward. “When’s the last time you saw Seulgi?”

His off and on not girlfriend. Hard to believe you were his child, right?

“Uh… August.”

“Exactly,” you said, “She’s spreading your shit.”

“I’m done with her,” he breathed, and even Yoongi laughed aloud in the background.

A smile spread onto your cheeks. “Thirty six…” you mumbled in thought, “Thirty seven?”

Yeonjun spoke to you and his brother, “Shut uuup,” he drug out.

“Think that’s the thirty seventh time you’ve said that,” you teased him.

Yoongi said something in the background you couldn’t make out, but you knew he’d be agreeing with you if he could hear you. Yeonjun typically kept these conversations to himself when others were around in Yoongi’s house, whether it be his brother, his sister in law, or any of their kids.

“I mean it this time,” he said, “I haven’t seen her since August, you know that. She can’t handle the sober shit, so I’m done.”

His words made your blood run cold, but somehow it comforted you. Life since he’s come home from the hospital hasn’t been easy on him, or Yoongi, or you. Everything had been flipped upside down. Yeonjun didn’t lose any aspect of not being able to live his life, he could function just like everyone else, but the degree to which everything happened scared the shit out of every single one of you. The physical therapy he went through to get some of his mobility back, the strict change in diet and habits, none of it went over easy with him. A man stuck in his ways since adolescence…

Yoongi had been helping him sell the house, they packed up your childhood, your entire life into boxes, and shoved it into his basement. That little, beautiful, one story home on a street now desolate, but to you still so incredible, it stood with a sign pushed into the front lawn, one that read For Sale. Your uncle jokes that he foresaw this happening at some point, it just took twenty years longer than he thought- jokes centered around Yeonjun actually being a good dad and handling his shit when only Yoongi thought he could. It only took him dropping to the floor in his garage for this move to happen.

“You’re doing a good job, Dad,” you said quietly.

He hesitated, then asked, “How was the dinner, Aura?” Never acknowledging himself, his accomplishments, how far he’s come, and how great he really has been doing. With a switch change of the subject he knew you were complimenting him but he simultaneously shoved a knife into your stomach.

“It was good,” you lied through your teeth. “Everything went exactly as planned, Tori did a really great job. They’re already making her a plaque for the hall of fame.” A joke, one you knew would be true, and she deserved it.

“Give her my love.”

You could hear his smile. “You’ll kill her if I do.”

He laughed. “How’s, uh… That boy.” You sucked in a breath, your stomach going sour. “Yunho. Right?”

“Yeah, him.”

“Did he talk to you at the dinner like you hoped?” The way his tone changed made a lump grow in your throat. His I’m trying tone.

Thinking of what to tell him, what to say to him, nothing of last night seemed appealing. Not that you could remember what you or Yunho said. You could only place the kiss. His lips and the way he pushed you backward, like he yearned for more, like he wanted more.

“Yeah, he, uh, he did,” you said. “But, it-”

“Aurora!” Tori yelled from the stairs. “We’re about to start!”

“It what? What’d he do?” Yeonjun asked.

“Dad, I gotta go,” you sighed, “We have a meeting.”

Yeonjun took a breath himself. “I don’t… Okay, yeah, call me later.”

“You don’t what?” you asked, sliding off of your bed, searching for shoes to slip into.

Yeonjun hummed, then said, “It’s nothing. Go, President, have a good meeting.”

Your throat tightened. With sneakers on your feet you reached for the door handle and pulled it open, faced with a hallway of girls bustling about, greeting you with smiles. “Thanks,” you said to him, “Take your meds, please.”

“Already done,” he said, Yoongi’s voice sounding from the background.

Locking your phone, hanging up, ignoring the voicemail notification left behind from the unknown caller, you slipped it into your back pocket and yanked your door shut, smiling back at the girls who took their time to say hello to you. Returning their morning niceness, something you weren’t accustomed to, you spread your hello’s across the floor and tossed a few compliments toward a couple who were dressed and ready for the day.

Spinning around to eye a freshmen’s sandals, giving her your A+, five star rating, as you turned back to head down the stairs you fumbled right into the arms of a freshman, Kazuha, or Kaz as she mentioned she liked to be called. Her eyes widened, irises so dark they were almost black. She was a tiny thing just around your height, if not an inch or so taller, and she seemed to dress similarly to you in a sense, keeping things low maintenance, something she didn’t seem to care about in the couple of weeks you’ve known her.

She joined the sorority with similar intentions to most, she wanted a sisterhood, a place to call her own, find where she belonged. But, there was something different about her. Quiet, yes, she kept to herself, but she didn’t force herself into belonging. While some of the girls took on the styles of other sisters, attempted to impress upperclassmen and members of the board, Kaz held onto herself. Her style, her sense of personality- authentic.

Listening to her shower you with apologies now, her unmanicured hands grabbing onto your shoulders, her head shaking back and forth, long, thin, colored black hair swishing over her back, you couldn’t help but smile.

Sifting through your brain for that night in Wooyoung’s apartment, you searched for her profile, her resume. Wooyoung had been the one to look it over, and she’d been placed in the doesn’t have an ounce of Yeji in her blood category.

You were safe. Kazuha was safe.

“Aurora, I’m so sorry,” she gasped.

“You’re fine, it’s my fault,” you smiled, “I was not paying attention, I’m sorry.”

Kaz shook her head. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she smiled with you. “This is perfect actually, I was waiting until later today, but, if I can, I have something to ask you, if we’re having a parents weekend, or family weekend this year?”

Nodding, you put your hands on her shoulders. “Of course we are, I know Tori has plans for it.”

Kaz sighed, relief flooding onto her face. “Thank you, my mom and sister have been dying for a reason to come bother me.”

“No problem,” you said, giving her a gentle shake. Her eyes swept over your face before her smile deepend. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you soon.”

Letting go of her, giving her a wave after she bid you goodbye, you hurried down the stairs, around the corner, and rushed into the room in the back of the house. A big wooden desk greeted you, as did a few smiling faces all facing Tori where she stood beside your chair. They were in light discussion of the night before, your cheeks threatened to turn pink. Laughs, inside jokes, comments of what went on, you weren’t aware of any of it.

They all said hello to you, except Yunho.

He sat next to Mingi who sat directly in front of where Tori stood. In black sweatpants, a navy blue hoodie, his glasses perched on his nose just beneath his freshly washed hair, he didn’t even spare you a glance. Feeling your phone vibrate in your back pocket, you let them continue their last night jokes and pulled it out, expecting to see another voicemail waiting for you.

To your surprise, your dad had left you a text.

[choi asshole #1]: I don’t know how I feel about this one aura that’s all. I don’t want to sway your decision because I know how you feel but I don’t know. What you had with wooyoung was so good how can you go from one to the other??? I trust that you will make the right decision. You usually do. Take your time. I love you.

Tears brimmed your eyes. Sitting down in the leather chair, the mass of the desk nearly swallowing you, you gave the message a heart and set your phone down. Looking out into the room, all of the couches and chairs facing you, the new board members' eyes flickering around with excitement, you sucked down a deep breath and sat forward, your elbows laying across the wood.

“Okay, okay,” Tori spoke up, quieting the room. Holding her hand out to Seonghwa, she grinned. “Hi guys.”

The boys returned her hello, but Mingi’s was the loudest, his smitten little smile gazing up at her behind his large frames on his nose.

Tori took a deep breath, scanned the room, smiled at you, then announced, “The Sweethearts Formal is happening this year.”

The girls erupted with cheers, Mingi and Seonghwa shouting with them as the other boys smiled and slapped their hands together. Everyone filled with instant excitement, a happiness that couldn’t reach you, or the boy sitting beside Mingi.

Tori clasped her hands together and took a breath. “And we will be opening it to students outside of our organizations.” More cheers. Yunho shifted in his seat, his eyes pointed to his lap. “Chaewon and I will start looking for spaces to hold it as soon as possible,” she turned to you, “As soon as we have eligible places, we’ll hand them over to you two,” she glanced at Seonghwa who spent a few seconds with his eyes on you, “And we’ll await approval.”

The Sweethearts Formal. An event you knew would come with some sort of twist, because they always did. An event for Tori to plan, for her to handle. Something you knew she adored.

All you had to do was sign the papers.

NU home ✧ speechless masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

139 notes · View notes