#ALSO MY FRIEND FINALLY STARTED READING IT TOO | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rina-sakai · 1 day ago

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INCEPTIO ఌ︎. 𝗶 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

❪ 好想讀取你的心 ❫ inceptio. latin. meaning - beginning or start ✉︎ 박성훈 ⌯⌲ 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

⚬ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ⨾ for a better read, i recommend listening to the hidden love soundtrack

⚬ 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 ⨾ sorry for the long wait, but she's finally here 🫣 i hope you all like it!

⸝⸝ you hadn't meant to fall in love with park sunghoon, your older brother's best friend. but somewhere along the lines of his sweet personality and devastating smile, you did.. and you fell hard.

❝ fluff , angst , skinship ❞ ⨾ my catalogue

your heart felt as if it dropped to the floor. you wanted the ground to swallow you whole and let you drown in the guilt of your actions.

the phone clicked, signaling jaemin had hung up, the beep ringing through your ears. he hadn't even given you time to process what he told you.

then, a ping.

"it's your fault, go fix it yn." the text read from jaemin.

he's right, it is your fault.

but you were never good at apologies.

you didn't message sunghoon. not that night, not the day after, not even two days later.

he probably wants space right now.

but in all actuality, you were just too cowardly to admit you were wrong.

some selfish part of your mind hoped sunghoon would reach out first, just like he always did. it would be easier for you to apologize then, because it would mean he still wanted you in his life.

but a message from him never came, and the uncertainty clouding your mind was enough to scare you away from apologizing.

so you didn't.

you rummaged through your closet, trying to find a semi-decent outfit to put on.

the closet was a mess, clothes strewn around, dirty and clean. consequences of not putting them away properly.

boxes littered the closet, full of random things that you had yet to pick apart and organize.

the apartment was silent, save for your incessant shuffling around the small lighted space.

you had an interview at incheon university student cafe, and you wanted to look somewhat presentable, even if your mind was a mess.

seohyun and eunha would be arriving together tomorrow. you hoped their presence could take your mind off of what happened— or push you towards the one thing you knew you should do.

seohyun and eunha had always been grounding forces in your life. where seohyun was more blunt, eunha always stepped in, firm but soft.

your hand landed on something hard, eyebrows furrowing.

what is this?

your hands felt around for a bit, before landing on a silk opening. you pulled the object out.

a small blue box.

sunghoon's graduation gift. in the midst of moving and the commotion of your mind, you had completely forgotten about it.

you examined the box as if it was dropped off in the mail with no return address, and not given to you by someone who was like your closest family.

your eyes traveled to a small white box in the cramped corner of the closet. your mind replaying the moment sunghoon had peered into the box. the way his gaze broke, before hardening.

then they trailed to the penguin sat perched on a shelf. it was still in a box, perfect as the day you first brought it.

your eyes looked back at the small box in your hands. debating on whether to throw the gift into the box as the others, and leave them as memories of the past.

dramatic? yes. rational to your mind in this moment? also yes.

your thumb slid over the tiny slit opening, hesitating. sunghoon gave no indicator of what the gift could be, just handed it to you as if it was nothing, and slipped his hand back into harin's like it belonged there.

exhaling, you finally opened the small box. your breath caught in your throat.

the tiny pendant caught the light as if it was born from it, delicate and gleaming.

it was heart shaped, the middle was cursively engraved with your initials, etched perfectly, as if someone had did it by hand.

your shaky hand reached up, gently touching the necklace like it was porcelain, as if it would break if you did more.

regret clawed at you, filling up your lungs as a sob threatened to break through your lips.

jaemin had been forced by your mom to take you out with them. it was becoming like a ritual: jaemin would beg your mom to go out, she'd tell him that you had to come, and jaemin— who would argue at first— eventually stopped fighting it.

the three of you walked through the busy mall. jaemin—animated as always— was currently talking you and sunghoon's ears off about a new movie he wanted to see.

from the corner of your eye, something gleamed. you turned your head, curious eyes landing on a brightly-lit jewelry store.

you didn't wait for the older boys, breaking away from them and walking inside to look at the jewels.

sunghoon was the first to notice you gone, like sixth sense, he could feel when your presence was no longer around. he whipped his head around a few times, catching your pastel colored bag leaning over a case.

he alerted jaemin and the two boys followed suit behind you. jaemin's attention was instantly taken by a shiny watch he spotted to his left.

sunghoon rolled his eyes, jaemin had always been too easily distracted. so he approached you by himself, peering into the clear glass. "this one is so pretty!" you said, pointing to a heart shaped pendant in the display.

sunghoon looked at the pendant, his eyes landing on the four-hundred dollar price tag. "it's also expensive," he pointed out.

you stared at it for a moment, entranced. then you spoke, your voice lower but determined, "i'll save one hundred dollars a year! then, when i'm eighteen, i can afford it."

sunghoon smiled wistfully at your childish words, gently ruffling your hair. you were always such a bright child, maybe a bit naive, but at least you got to be a kid, and sunghoon was a bit envious of that.

jaemin, who had seemed to get his brain back, approached the two of you. he gave you a look, then flicked your forehead.

"what did i tell you about running off little demon?"

you stared at the pendant, taking in the gift with awe and concern. had he really spent four-hundred dollars on this gift?

you had been treating him like he was nothing more than a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe. yet, he still made an effort to be there, to know your interests, and support you. even from afar.

you're such an idiot.

you spotted a small folded piece of paper taped inside the box, you sat the box down gently and pulled it out.

congratulations yn. save your money and buy yourself something nice :).

your lips thinned into a line, tears clinging to your lashes, but you refused to let them fall.

you closed the necklace, a bit harsher than intended, tilting your head back to stop the tears.

now's not the time. you have an interview.

you stumbled out of your apartment, barely on time for your interview. you had finally managed to slip on a decent outfit, a skirt, and a simple white top.

your hair was pulled back into a bun, the pendant shining under the light of the sun.

at first, you debated putting on the necklace. but it seemed to stare at you from it's position in the closet. taunting you, daring you to put it on, to accept the gift even though you didn't accept any of the ones before.

you picked it up, ready to throw it in the bin with all the other forgotten gifts.

though you felt yourself hesitating. this gift held deeper meaning to you. it was the first—and biggest, promise you've ever made to yourself.

you've dreamt about the moment you would hold this necklace in your hand, the day it would be yours, like all your hard work through high school had finally paid off.

you didn't know why this tiny necklace held so much meaning to you, even after four years, but it was a promise to yourself that you intended on keeping.

so, with reluctance, you snapped the clasp around your neck.

you exited the apartment building, it was a nice sunny day. you decided to walk instead of taking your car, it finally gave you time to take in the city for the first time since moving.

you had been in incheon for a total of 4 days, and you had yet to see the light of day due to unpacking (and the immense turmoil you were going through).

seohyun had took it upon herself to amazon prime a bunch of random—and mostly unnecessary— household items.

you were pretty sure there were going to be boxes stacked outside the house by the time you got back.

you pushed the café doors open, the bell ringing gently. the smell of coffee and pastries permeated the air gently, comforting.

it was busy, which made sense since the start of the school year was nearing in just two weeks.

you approached the counter, standing awkwardly to the side. you had never been good at making friends. seohyun and eunha were purely by chance.

a boy approached you, he looked soft, sweet. his features boyish, maybe around your age. he smiled, a dimple on his left cheek appearing.

just like sunghoon. your brain sait it before you could stop it.

this isn't about sunghoon—now is not the time to have an inner crisis, you're literally at your interview.

"you must be lee yn, right?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. you nodded, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

"cool, i'm jungwon, follow me." he said, opening a door. you stepped through the door, to the back of the cafe.

he led you to a small room, "you can sit there," he pointed to a chair in the corner of the room.

your body slipped into the chair, silently praying to whatever god that you would get the job.

the choice to work was one you made on your own, your parents were willing to pay your entire way, they offered it to jaemin too, which he declined.

you were growing up, and you wanted to gain more independence.

you wanted to prove to them that you could stand on your own two legs, just like jaemin when he left home.

jungwon pulled up another chair, it was like he could sense the nerves going through your body. "no need to be nervous."

the interview went very well, jungwon was surprisingly easy going. by the end, you were given the job right away despite the lack of experience.

probably because they're understaffed and only two people applied.

jungwon handed you a paper as well as plastic bag, a uniform. "you'll work a shift with me, sunoo, and yoona." you nodded, taking the items.

he led the way back out front, "i'll text you your training schedule in the coming days."

you thanked him, pushing the items into your tote and leaving the café.

you stared at it from your spot on the floor.

you had come to open the box, but uncertainty crashes over you like a wave when you realized what opening the box would mean.

your fingers reached up, toying with the necklace.

it was like the box of gifts was silently mocking you, challenging you to open it. to face the emotions and memories you tried so hard to supress.

sunghoon flooded your mind.

the day he helped you move, the argument on at your graduation dinner, the memory that caused you to cut him out of your life for a year.

the door nearly slammed shut, harin's head whipped towards it, watching as sunghoon angrily entered the house.

his fingers ran through his hair, his chest rising and falling quickly. his shoulders were tense, as if one more word would cause him to snap— or break down.

harin quickly closed the book she was reading, sitting it down on the coffee table. it was a tense day for sunghoon, the seventh anniversary of his parents' death.

she tiptoed around him, wanting to make today the day he gets to relax, to mourn.

because in all seven years after his parents' death, he never gave himself a chance to dwell on it, and not be okay.

she knew, in true sunghoon fashion, that he would never rest. but what type of girlfriend would she be if she didn't try?

what harin wasn't prepared for was sunghoon to, not only disregard the meaning of today, but to tell her—last minute— that he was helping you move.

harin was upset, not for herself, but for sunghoon. he had always been selfless.

she understood that he saw you as someone to protect, like a connection to the childhood he didn't get to have.

but did it really have to be today?

harin knew best that there was no use in arguing with sunghoon. once he said he was going to do something, he was going to do it no matter what.

she stood up from the couch, watching as sunghoon paced around the kitchen. "are you okay?" she asked softly.

he turned his head towards her, something breaking in his eyes. "she didn't open them.. any of them."

harin didn't hesitate, reaching out for him and hugging him tightly.

she knew what he was talking about, he didn't have to state what it was. it had been the catalyst to one too many disagreements between them.

sunghoon clung onto her, his breathing heavy. "i just— did i do something wrong?" he questioned.

harin quickly shook her head, anger welling up inside of her, "no, you didn't do anything wrong." she assured him.

you were seriously the most ungrateful person she had ever come across.

yet, she knew that sunghoon still wouldn't give up on you. and if anything, that made her despise you more.

reaching out, your fingers brushed over the lid, then, you pulled the box towards you.

sliding the lid off, your eyes scanned the neatly packaged gifts.

they were untouched, pristine as the day they arrived to your porch.

your fingers grazed over the colored parchments, lifting the first one out.

you inhaled deeply, preparing yourself for the rush of emotions that were bound to come.

you opened the notecard.

i'm leaving soon, lets talk before i go.

your heart twisted remembering the messages he sent you, all the ones you left unread.

you dropped the note, and unraveled the paper. you picked up the small bunny plush.

it was the same plush you struggled to win a year ago at the claw machine. you spent ten dollars, but you never managed to nab it.

your eyes raked over the plush. when did he have time to get this?

you sat the plush down next to you, opening up another one, then another, and another.

jaemin told me you've been upset since you've lost the last one. a cinnamoroll keychain, identical to the one that fell of your backpack.

you missed her book signing right? a signed copy of your favorite limited-edition book.

you're not still scared of the dark, are you? a nightlight star projector.

your chest felt as if it was going to cave in on you. even after a year of silence he still thought about you.

tears pricking the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

your hands reached for the last gift.

happy birthday yn.

it was a scrapbook.

you opened the first page.

a photo of you and sunghoon from when you were younger was the first thing your eyes landed on.

it was like someone had opened flood gates, you choked out a sob, staring at the page.

it was like the picture had single-handedly pushed every memory of sunghoon that you tried to suppress, right to the forefront of your mind.

you trailed your fingertips over the plastic, your breathing shaky.

4 pictures, all arranged slightly messy but still perfect in your eyes.

you could see the effort he put into it, and that only made the dull aching worse.

you were disgusted with yourself.

the little doodles he left, the clumsy handwriting, one of the pictures being cut off too close to his head, a randomly placed turtle sticker that contrasted against all the other pink and white ones.

your eyes took in the details of the page. the rest were empty, for you.

so you could fill it up with memories and make it your own, like how sunghoon did with that page.

"ow!" sunghoon exclaimed, grabbing his hand as blood began flowing out of the wound.

the table was littered with craft supplies of all kinds. he had went to the store completely clueless, luckily an old lady was there to help him out.

he printed off 4 pictures, the pictures were the ones he liked the most of you two (and the only ones without jaemin in them).

sunghoon met your family when he was eight years old, a few months after his family relocated from incheon to seoul for a job opportunity.

sunghoon and jaemin met at a school fair. jaemin— the more extroverted of the two— was the one to approach sunghoon, coaxing him out of his reclusive shell.

and from there, a friendship blossomed.

the two boys were practically glued to the hip. hanging out constantly, and all their future plans included each other.

jaemin rarely spoke about you, but sunghoon knew of your existence. he learned about you the first time he asked jaemin to hang out at your house, when they were ten years old.

jaemin instantly declined, going on a rant about annoying younger sisters. but he always seemed okay with yoona being around, so sunghoon never pushed on the real reason.

sunghoon's parents worked tirelessly, leaving yoona in sunghoon's care for extended periods of time. he knew it wasn't their fault, raising two kids with no help was hard.

when he turned sixteen, his parents got into a fatal car accident. a drunk driver hit their car on the way home to their two children, completely totaling it and severely injuring his parents.

his father died on impact, but his mother lived for a few days in agonizing pain. her last words were a plead to sunghoon to always take care of yoona.

she died a day later.

sunghoon's parents left him and yoona with nothing. they struggled to make ends meet when they were living, and the burden they placed on sunghoon after death was too heavy to carry on his own.

your parents, who always helped out the park's, paid for the service in full. in their eyes, it was the least they could do for him and little yoona.

a week after the service, sunghoon and yoona moved back to incheon to live with their aunt and uncle.

sunghoon grew distant from jaemin.

jaemin didn't fault sunghoon. he'd just lost both of his parents and was now assuming the role of his sister's caretaker alongside his aunt and uncle.

your family didn't hear from sunghoon that much after.

they always made sure to send weekly messages to his aunt and uncle, helping them out immensely. always making sure to send yoona things too.

your parents never spoke to jaemin or sunghoon about helping sunghoon's family. they didn't want him to feel like he owed them anything.

sunghoon was observant though, so it didn't take long for him to catch on. three months after their move, a check came in the mail, the amounts they've given his aunt and uncle paid back in full.

they tried to send it back. when he declined taking it, they simply left it in a spare account for a rainy day.

as his graduation time approached, sunghoon nearly gave up on his and jaemin's longtime shared promise to attend seoul national university. his aunt and uncle practically forced him out of the house.

he argued with them, though their stance was firm. they knew his parents' death affected him deeply, but he was a bright kid with a good future ahead of him, he had every right to follow his dreams.

leaving yoona was the hardest thing he had to do.

sunghoon felt as if he was breaking the promise he made to his mom, to always take care of his younger sister no matter what.

the day he met you, for a split second, it felt like he was looking at his younger sister. the one—in his eyes— he felt like he abandoned.

so he did what he knew best, taking care of others.

sunghoon rinsed his finger under the water, trying to get rid of the bleeding from the scissors he accidentally nicked.

he already glued down two pictures, messily, but he never worked with crafting glue before.

harin entered the kitchen, her eyes landing on sunghoon, then on the table.

she wasn't stupid, she knew your birthday was coming up, but she didn't expect sunghoon to put so much effort.

"why are you putting so much effort into a gift you know she won't open?" harin asked, her voice sharp.

sunghoon exhaled, "you don't know her."

harin's eyes softened as she watched him continue to cut and paste the papers. "i'm just worried for you, you've done so much for her and she hasn't even bothered to send a thank you."

"drop it."

she didn't push after that, but her eyes held a knowing look when it had been two weeks since he sent the gift, and you gave no response.

eunha and seohyun arrived to the house a few hours ago, expecting to be greeted by your happy face.

not your sulking figure on the couch curled into a ball, eyes red from crying.

the two of them immediately surrounded you, comforting you.

you eventually opened up, telling them everything that happened.

they sat and listened to you talk, not interrupting.

"yn, you know i love you, so i say this with love," eunha started, gently raking her hands through your hair.

"you're in the wrong." she said bluntly.

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. "i know."

"are you going to apologize?" seohyun chimed in, looking at you with an eyebrow raised.

you hesitated, "i don't know."

your best friends knew you the best, and they knew just how hard it was for you to apologize.

seohyun and eunha had been on the receiving end of this before, but they knew you well enough to know you didn't mean it, you were just scared.

"well, i'm not going to judge you, but you really should apologize." eunha replied, she was always the more logical of you three.

"i know." you repeated, the thoughts swirling through your head. mainly thoughts of how to apologize, without actually apologizing—which definitely wasn't going to work.

you sat up, the blanket falling off. "i have to go to get ready for work now."

"yeah, i have to unpack." seohyun said, stretching off the couch. eunha agreed and lifted from her spot.

despite the three of you dropping it for now, you knew that the conversation was long from over.

you looked in the mirror, nose scrunching at the sight of your face. you looked like a mess. red puffy eyes, tear streaked cheeks, knotted hair.

you tried your best to make yourself as presentable as possible for the first day of training. applying some makeup, brushing your hair, and practicing to hopefully avoid another breakdown.

the bell of the cafe chimed, signaling your entrance, jungwon looked up at the door, smiling at you. "looks like you're on time."

you nodded, walking over to the counter and sitting your bag down.

"the other trainee should be arriving soon then we can start." he informed you. he walked to the back of the store, leaving you in the empty room.

sitting down in the chair, you pulled out your phone, mind wandering as you continued to dwell on the conversation you and your besties had.

just apologize yn, it's not that hard.

the bell chimed, signaling someone had entered the cafe. "am i late?"

your ears perked up, turning your head, your gaze unexpectedly landing on park yoona right as hers did yours.

"no way," she scoffed smiling.

your lips tilted up into a smile, you put your phone down, standing to hug the girl. "yoona. i knew that name sounded familiar. i just didn't think it would be you."

she pulled you into a hug, "it's so nice to see you again yn. how have you been."

i'm about three seconds from a break down because i was the most horrible person towards your brother for a year, for no reason, but everything's great.

"i'm great!" you said, pulling away. "how have you been?"

jungwon exited the back room before yoona could answer. "perfect, you're both here. let's start."

for the next 4 hours, you went over basic things: learning how to work the cash register, customer service, and cafe-specific procedures.

as you packed your bag, yoona's voice rang through your ears. "hey yn, we should catch up. i know a really nice lunch spot close by."

you agreed, closing your tote and pushing it over your shoulders.

the lunch place wasn't that far, you arrived within a few minutes, yoona guiding you to a seat near the back window.

you both sat for a few moments, the waiter took your order, then left, leaving you both in silence.

"how have you been these days? you never got to answer." you asked her.

she looked different, her deep brown hair was dyed a lighter brown color, a few freckles on her face that you hadn't noticed the first time you met. she had a nose piercing now too.

yet, she still looked as radiant and porcelain as ever.

"i'm great actually, mostly going through the motions of life."

you hummed in agreement. meeting yoona again like this was nostalgic in a way, reminding you of the first time you met a year ago.

"hows your crush going?" she asked.

you looked at her for a moment, then towards the window.

"it's.. a mess." you let out a small laugh. "a big, steaming mess."

she chuckled, "i hope it works out for you." she said sincerely.

you agreed. you wouldn't be saying that if you knew that the person i have a crush on is literally your brother.

the waiter came to your table, dropping off both your meals and then leaving.

you both ate quietly for a moment, then yoona spoke,

"did you know we were supposed to meet each other the day before sunghoon's graduation?" she asked, looking up from her plate.

your eyes widened, "no."

she hummed, "yep. i actually ruined his plan." she blushed a bit embarrassed.

"how so?" you tilted your head, intrigued.

"i told him i couldn't make it to his graduation, as a way to surprise him the day of. i didn't even know of his whole plan to introduce us until harin mentioned it in passing, weeks later."

you listened, feeling your heart race a bit.

see idiot? you ignored him for no reason.

you gripped your fork a bit tighter. guilt, confusion, and regret swirling through you like a storm.

in your silence, yoona decided to speak up again.

"i think... he sees you the way he sees me, honestly. like someone he has to protect, and look after. even when it's not his responsibility."

your confusion began to grow, despite knowing sunghoon for years, you didn't know much about him. "why?"

yoona shrugged, poking at her fries with the fork. "i don't know all the details. he doesn't talk about that incident a lot."

your eyebrows furrowed, but you didn't interrupt.

"i think.. after our parents died, he never got to process it.. like properly. he was only sixteen, and he had to give up the rest of his teen years, move back here to incheon, and take care of me alongside my aunt and uncle."

the words hit you, your brain reminding you of just how cruel you had been to sunghoon.

you wanted to cry.

yoona looked for your reaction, but she didn't stop. "he never had time to just be a teenager, or grieve the loss of his parents. i think he felt like if he didn't hold it together, we would fall apart."

she paused, letting out a shaky breath.

"he still does that. even now, with everyone in his life. like he's scared that if he doesn't constantly try to be there for people, he'll lose them."

she pursed her lips, your eyes softened. "you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. we can switch the topic."

she quickly shook her head, "no. i want to."

you nodded, allowing her to collect herself before speaking again.

"you're kind of like that to him, you know�� not in a bad way." she assured, not wanting to worry you.

"i think... you remind him of the little parts of life he never really got to have. you're the same age as me, but you were always allowed to just be you. and he liked that. he likes protecting you because no one protected him."

you took in her words, your voice coming out soft, "but i'm not his sister like you."

yoona blinked, a little caught off guard from your words, but she thought about it for a moment.

"no.. you're not." she replied.

"but that's the problem, isn't it?" she gave you a knowing look.

it was like she could see right through you.

"you're not me. but sometimes i think he treats you like you could be. like he's making sure he doesn't lose you the way he lost everything else."

her words settled over you, "like he projects?" you asked.

she hummed, nodding. "honestly? yeah. sometimes. i don't think he means to. but when our parents died, he was stuck in survival mode.. and part of him still is."

you picked at your food, absorbing her words.

yoona continued, "you're not me. but to him, you're a person he couldn't not love. and that terrifies him. because it's not the same love as with me, maybe at first, but these days? i don't think so." her words hinted at something.

"so he falls back into what he knows best. protect. deflect. avoid."

you processed her words silently.

"i think that's why he sends you all those gifts, he does the same to me. why he's so patient, why he doesn't give up."

her words resonated, reminding you of just how hard sunghoon tried to get you to speak to him.

"not just because he loves you like family. but because if you disappeared for good, it would feel like he failed again. like he didn't do good enough to make you want to stay." her tone was low.

despite being young, yoona was always very observant, especially when it came to sunghoon.

it's why she didn't cry when he left for seoul to attend university. she knew that if she let one tear slip, nobody could convince sunghoon to leave.

so she sucked it up, hugged him tightly, and cried on the way back home when he was already on the plane.

after a long silence, you finally found your voice. "i didn't know all of that, any of this."

yoona nodded in understanding, she wish she didn't know any of it, let alone live through it. but she could understand why your parents left you out of the loop.

you radiated innocence to yoona, so pure and beautiful. untainted and shielded from the harsh world, like she wishes she could've been.

sunghoon tried his best, but he's her brother, not her parent.

"please go easy on him, okay? i know it can be overbearing from experience. but he really does love you, like your his own sister."

right.. his sister.

"and if he did anything wrong.. it's probably because he cares, so much more than he ever lets on."

you allowed her words to marinate in the silence, picking at your food.

jaemin was right, it really is your fault.

you finished lunch switching the topic to something lighter.

you paid for the tab, not allowing yoona to argue.

"think of it as a thank you, for having this conversation." you told her as you exited.

both of you had separate ways to go, but yoona stopped you.

"and yn.."

you turned to look at her.

"if you did something, don't be so hard on yourself. sunghoon cares about you a lot, he'd forgive you." she told you gently, as if she could see something in your eyes.

"thank you, that means a lot." you gave her a small smile.

she pulled you into a hug, promising to message you later, then you both went separately.

you laid awake, staring at your dimly lit phone in the darkness. your fingers hesitated over the send button, rereading the message over and over.

you inhaled deeply, quickly pressing send and shutting off your phone. a few minutes passed, your teeth biting your bottom lip harshly.

a ping.

from: sunghoon

you're apologizing over text?

you looked at the message for a moment, then another one came through.

from: sunghoon

do you even know what you're apologizing for?

you stared at the message, trying to come up with something to say, but your finger stayed frozen.

if you were being completely honest, you didn't fully understand why you were apologizing.

for ghosting him? for not calling back? for letting your childish crush get in the way?

to: sunghoon

i'm sorry for treating you badly, and ignoring you when you tried reaching out.

a cop out. it was more than that, and you both knew it.

from: sunghoon

you think that makes it better?

a lump formed in your throat, he had every right to not forgive you, but it didn't make the fear go away.

from: sunghoon

i know you're not a kid anymore yn.

i tried, and you cut me off like i was nothing to you.

you sat up, it felt as if the sentence physically burned you. the words hitting you harshly.

the nagging voice in your brain overwhelmed, tormenting your thoughts and actions.

you wrote a message, the deleted it.

to: sunghoon

i didn't mean to make you feel that way. i didn't know how to handle such a big part of your life being thrown at me, which is my fault.

i'm sorry.

the text bubble appeared immediately.

then disappeared.

then appeared.

and finally.. no message came through.

you waited, breath held. minutes passed, and you realized he wasn't going to respond.

you exhaled. it was deserved.

"you apologized over text, yn?" seohyun looked at you as if you said you grew a sixth toe overnight.

"i didn't know what else to do!" you defended yourself, looking towards eunha for help.

you filled them in this morning on the conversation, hoping it would provide some clarity.

you should've known seohyun and eunha would never let your half-assed behaviors fly.

eunha instantly shook her head, "nope. not defending you on this one."

you dropped your head on the table with a groan, "what should i do then?"

eunha put a pancake on your plate, then patted your head softly. "apologize, in person. and take accountability yn."

eunha was right.

and that's how you found yourself standing outside of his work building a few days later. after practically begging jaemin to tell you where he worked and his work schedule.

he was reluctant to give up information, but he eventually caved— for sunghoon, not you.

because sunghoon deserved an explanation on your behaviors for the past year.

don't mess up yn. you have one chance.

you stood in front of a tall, sleek, black building. a picnic basket dangled off your arm, filled with a bunch of things due to your indecisive mind.

you sat down on a bench, smoothing out your dress. you took out your phone to write a message to sunghoon.

to: sunghoon

i know i don't deserve it, but i want to apologize properly, if you'll let me.

i'm outside your work, i'll leave in an hour.

you put your phone down, leaning back onto the bench.

after a few minutes, you checked your phone.

he hadn't viewed it. you sighed, putting the phone back down.

5:30

5:43

you checked your phone, he had read the message. you didn't know if it was a good or bad thing.

5:48

5:54

5:59

maybe yoona was wrong, maybe sunghoon really wasn't as forgiving as she made him out to be.

not that you deserved that forgiveness anyways.

then a few footsteps approached, and someone sat down on the bench next to you.

no words, you didn't have to look to see who it was.

because your heart always recognized him.

in all honesty, you didn't actually prepare for what happened if he showed up.

part of you hoped he didn't, so you could convince yourself that you tried but it just wasn't enough.

because it was hard for you to accept the fact that you've deeply hurt someone you care about.

but he was here, and you owed him an explanation.

"i didn't know what you liked.. so i just got everything i thought you would." you said, your voice was quiet. you handed him the basket.

you heard the basket shuffling around, but your mind didn't focus on that.

you tried calming yourself down, you got this yn. even if he doesn't forgive you.

even if he doesn't forgive you.

"i'm sorry for everything i did."

sunghoon turned to look at you but your gaze never met his.

"i—" you paused, your voice wavered.

being vulnerable was never easy for you. your parents, while they tried, their expectations weighed so heavily on you that being vulnerable never passed your mind.

and they never asked anyways.

you took a breath. "i'm really sorry for ignoring you, i'm not going to lie to you and say that it wasn't intentional.. or that i didn't have time. because i did."

sunghoon's jaw clenched. the confirmation wasn't surprising, but it still pierced.

"i should've let you explain," you continued. "but seeing yoona that day made me question myself. jaemin knew. even my parents knew about her."'

you pursed your lips, the uncomfortable feeling that accompanied your vulnerability, settling in.

"i wondered if you trusted me at all if you couldn't tell me such an important thing. and i came to the conclusion that i probably wasn't as important to you as i thought i was. so i shut you out."

yoona wasn't the only reason, but he didn't have to know that.

"i know it's not an excuse," you quickly said. "but i hope it can help you make sense of my actions because you deserve an explanation for my actions."

"i'm really sorry sunghoon, and i'd understand if you don't forgive me."

silence lingered for a few minutes.

"i forgive you, thank you for apologizing." it felt as if your heart dropped. you had already prepared yourself for the worst, so hearing him say that meant a lot.

any time you apologized to your parents, they brushed it off, as if it was never good enough. so you stopped trying.

not just for them. but friends too. maybe that's why it was so hard for you to make friends. you were lucky to have seohyun and eunha,

your gaze turned to him for the first time, eyes subtly assessing him.

did he really have to look so attractive while you were trying to apologize?

then, "are you ready to listen now?" he asked.

you nodded.

"you were supposed to meet yoona the day before my graduation," he said. his tone was softer, not like how it was the last time you spoke.

"i thought you both would get along well, you're similar. it was supposed to be a surprise for both of you. i planned it, set everything up. but she canceled, to come the day of."

you blinked. you had known this from yoona, but hearing it from sunghoon made your reasonings for ghosting him even more ridiculous.

your lips parted, but no words came. you felt like an idiot.

"as for harin—"

"i didn't ask about harin." you cut in, not wanting to hear about her. you leaned back, turning your head the other way.

the corner of his lip slightly twitched as if he was about to smile. your jealousy was so obvious.

"i know," sunghoon replied. "but i want to tell you anyways."

you looked at him from the corner of your eye, waiting for him to continue so the topic could switch from her as quick as possible.

"you're important to me, like a sister. i want your approval too."

right, sister. the word seemed to replay in your brain, laughing at you.

"you don't need my approval, you didn't need it back then either." you mumbled, playing with the hem of your dress.

"but i want it, because it matters to me." he said firmly.

his gaze fell in front of him. "me and harin met in high school, after i moved back to incheon. she helped me, a lot."

he didn't elaborate on that.

"we were friends until a few days before the day we watched that thriller movie. i didn't tell you because it was too soon." he stated, not wanting you to feel as if he was purposely keeping you out of it.

"the graduation is when we got together."

your body moved before your brain could catch up. you turned crashing right into a cleaning station. the cleaning supplies dropped from the cart, echoing through the empty hall.

they pulled apart instantly, heads turning.

sunghoon's eyes widened as they landed on you. "oh, shit— i'm.. fuck." your words sputtered.

sunghoon quickly approached you, concern in his eyes. "are you okay—" he reached for you, but you quickly stepped back.

"i'm fine," you said, too quickly. "i think i just walked in the wrong direction to the bathroom." your voice was slightly shaky.

"i'm going to go now."

and then you left before either of them could stop you.

sunghoon was prepared to go after you, but harin's hand quickly grabbed onto him. "let her go, she's probably just shocked but she'll come around."

sunghoon knew better. he texted you, once, twice, three times, day after day.

harin's attempts to comfort him proved futile, it hurt her to see him hurt. so she did what she was best at, fixing things.

the girl knew you weren't hurt— well, physically. your feelings were hurt for sure, but you'll get over it, or so she thought.

she severely underestimated how much it would affect your relationship between sunghoon— and consequently, sunghoon himself.

he was torn. and that's when harin's resentment for you began. it was petty for a 22-year-old woman to dislike a 17-year-old, but you were old enough to do better.

harin spent weeks being there for him, because she knew sunghoon. she knew he felt like a failure and she wanted him to know he wasn't anything of the sort.

sunghoon wasn't angry at you. he could never be angry at you.

he exhaled, a long tired breath. he didn't say anything, just observed his surroundings, as if he was having a mental conversation with himself.

another silence. heavy and uncertain, but not tense or angry— for the first time in months.

"are we good now?" you hated how small the question sounded, but it was honest. you were already prepared for the worst.

you were okay with whatever answer came, even if you didn't like it.

he turned to you. his eyes landed on the necklace resting on your collarbone, his gift. something unreadable passed through his eyes, then they softened.

"yeah," he murmured. "we're good."

and for the first time in a year, it actually felt like it.

END PART 3

taglist - @oashes @evxnsbae @andassortedkpop @evanleeisahoe @whateverhoon @soobskz @miauumin @la-choiblog @nmurark05 @t1iqaa @blckorchidd @rikifever

#enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #rinasakai #enha #enhypen writers

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ishestillapunk · 2 days ago

Text

Everybody Wants A Piece Of Pedro Pascal

tags: grief, death.

a/n: it was so hard to write all this and not kick my sheets because of the whole photoshoot. he's beautiful.

I don't usually do this, well, I never done this, but today and after waking up to such a brilliant, raw and profound interview I see myself in the need of disecting piece by piece of this interview and the parts that touched a deep fiber in me.

You, of course, don't have to read this. I mean, not if you don't want to. I would say this is more mine than other thing, like, a precious stone I want to keep memory of how I felt when this article came out.

Don't you ever get that feeling that something is yours? like, not in a delulu and possesive way, but in a sort of thank you-way.

This interview—article, post. Damn, I don't know how to call it, forgive my scarce vocabulary in English—appeared like water in the desert for me. I had a long night of insomnia, very long, used to deal with it, and also with it came the lovely question that every 20 yo makes themselves at one point.

What the fuck am I doing with my damn life.

My phone buzzes when I finally decide to let go of it so I grab it again, and there it is. Our beloved pascalispunk. Oh, he looks hella good. I say looking at the pictures. Oh, it's Vanity Fair. I say and then, I think: Of course there is an interview. So I look up for it.

I read and then the first thing that moves my chest is:

Over lunch in London, Pascal is a grand raconteur who tells stories with his hands and uses funny voices and loves to swear and drink cocktails and murder a cheese plate. He doesn’t take himself too seriously. At the same time, he’ll press right up against the sad and raw and confusing parts of being alive. His insides are on his outsides. He cries easily. He laughs loudly.

Maybe it's the writing, maybe it's me that lately I've been overly sensitive. It must've been the wind. I joke in my head when I feel like I want to cry. Something I love deeply about this man that is Pedro, is that he never stops being human. You get me, right? Like, with some celebrities I get the kinda... fake feeling. Don't wanna sound rude towards others at all, but, he just gives me that genuine and true feeling. That's what I mean by human.

Personally, I never been a fan of an actor before. A celebrity, in general. It just used to ick me, like, why would I do that? I had nothing against it, it just wasn't part of my persona. But then, I remember the first time coming across a video of him. I guess, yeah. Maybe we all want a piece of Pedro.

Pascal tells me about his “give up” years, when he was a struggling actor in New York decimated by the sudden death of his beloved mother, Verónica.

I felt connected truly with Pedro when I learnt about his life. The struggle and loss. That feeling that nothing is going anywhere, you know? Like. Damn, what is it all this for? I kinda feel like humans (or some of us, dk, mind you) have to search comparisions to other people to feel okay on where they are at the moment and its something that lately has been happening to me. My search is literally:

'Directors that got succesful at an old age'

'How to publish my first book while being fucking poor'

'How do I live'

Is this non-stopping loop where everything mixes with everything and I feel too exhausted to leave my bed. Ends won't meet. Food lacks in the fridge. Mama is sad. But he has been in the same spot, and he's here to tell it.

Life hurts a bit less.

“In my 30s I was supposed to have a career,” he says. “Past 29 without a career meant that it was over, definitely.” Feeling hopeless, Pascal started researching other professions. But whenever he came close to bailing on his dream, friends and family would step in. “When Pedro would say, ‘I’m going to nursing school’ or ‘I’m going to be a theater teacher,’ it was just like ‘No, no, no, no! You’re too good!’” says his older sister, Javiera Balmaceda, now a producer at Amazon Studios. “He’s wanted to be an actor since he was four years old. The one thing we’d never allow Pedro to do was give up.”

And here it is. The first tears I shed.

I dropped out of college after a month in a course of studies that I thought it was perfect for me. Turns out, I felt like I was dying because there was no art in it and I was fucking dying. It was driving me apart of my soul, I would cry on my way to class, I would have no very very happy thoughts about life. Then, a crisis. Me hugging my mom's knees and telling her "Mama, I need art" and she sees me, the girl who only went to arts school for her whole teen years and grew up attached to her desk computer, pirated movies in the night and writing down stories that keep her awake.

And she told me. "It's okay. We'll figure it out"

I was embarrased to tell my friends what I did after that crisis. God, you went through a freaking exam, burnt your lashes studying, passed it and now you're saying you want to do cinema?

Well. Nobody said that.

What I mostly received was.

"That's awesome. You were about to waste your potential"

And something that sticks with me that a friend said.

"The world deserves to see something created by you".

If you're reading this, I want you and oblige you to take it as a signal.

A New Yorker cartoon featured a therapist reassuring his client, “It’s not strange at all—lately, a lot of people are reporting that their faith in humanity is riding entirely on whether or not Pedro Pascal is as nice as he seems.” “Well, then,” Ramsey tells me, “I’m relieved for humanity.”

Bella. I love you, Bella.

On days when she (Veronica) didn’t have a babysitter, she’d drop him off at the movie theater. He remembers being seven and in heaven, able to squeeze in two and a half showings of Poltergeist before his mom returned for him. At home he’d reenact scenes of being sucked into the closet or slide across the kitchen floor. Balmaceda tells me, “When our parents got cable, the HBO song would come on and Pedro would run around the house yelling, ‘A movie is coming! A movie is coming!’” [...]He sat at a distance from his family as usual, preferring to be close to the screen. But then he started crying so loudly when Whoopi Goldberg’s Celie was being separated from her sister that his mother had to collect him and help him catch his breath outside.

When he talks about his childhood memories, I become honey. It gives me the assertive feeling that he is the kind of person that talks and talks and talks, and tells and tells stories and never run off them, and never gets boring, and they are always sweet (or bittersweet but sweet in the end)

He makes me think about my childhood with another lens to look through. Less remorse. More a kind of let-go-of-it.

Drugs were everywhere. Pascal remembers being 16 and taking acid and calling his mother to check in and let her know he was going to spend the night out. “And she sighs and goes, ‘Oh.’ And that was not normal. And I was like ‘Wh-why?’ and she said, ‘Oh, no, I was just hoping that we would all go to a movie.’ I was just so drawn to that kind of maternal attention, so I said, ‘I’m coming!’” He rushed home and sat mute and paralyzed, tripping in the back seat as they drove to see John Sayles’s City of Hope.

yes, more tears over here.

“I was having a really hard time when I was 18, 19, 20,” Pascal tells me. “I was struggling really badly with insomnia. I was reading James Baldwin and watching movies like Once Were Warriors and Muriel’s Wedding. I just was like an open wound to the reality of life.” He pauses to smack the table with his hand, groaning and laughing at himself. “It sounds so fucking pretentious, but I felt at this crossroads of coming into an understanding of what an unjust world we live in. This world, and its lack of equanimity, is just too painful to bear. How do you live in it?”

This is the moment where I had to stop reading. I was literally a cascade at this point. I felt like that song Killing me softly with his song by The Fugees and the part that goes:

I felt he found my letters

Then read each one out loud

I prayed that he would finish

But he just kept right on

I felt like he just grabbed all my diaries, my letters, my notes on my laptop. Everything. And just read them out loud.

And I felt less lonely for a moment, less detached from reality. More grounded to this moment that is, maybe, a wake up call.

That there is still time.

His grief had no place in Los Angeles, with its isolating highways and traffic and sprawl. So he went home to New York City, where he’d made some headway as an actor after college, only to find that his early luck had run out. He lived in a seventh-floor apartment of an East Village walk-up. Every night he’d have a cigarette on his fire escape and watch the moon rise between the Twin Towers.

Suicide grief is something I've never had the opportunity—well, more like favour of spilling my guts out for once—to talk with anyone. I went through it alone, mostly. I always think that there is no place as lonely as oneselves head (is oneselve's a word? am I dealing already with the precious side effects of twenty years of insomnia?). Reading Pedro talking about grief is ligthening.

I use to make myself a question, every now and then:

'When does it stop?'

Maybe never. And it's okay.

"Listen, I want to protect the people I love. But it goes beyond that. Bullies make me fucking sick.”

Just wanted to highlight this. Everyone should have this kind of values.

In the car, Pascal gasps and points out the window. “Look at that cemetery, isn’t it gorgeous?” he says. He doesn’t want to be buried—just throw him in the ocean. “Fish food, fish food, fish food,” he says. “And yet, I find sometimes cemeteries are so beautiful.” So, yes, now we’re back to talking about death.

In the car to Downey’s house, Pascal points at the word “FAITH,” which someone has spray-painted on a wall. He scrunches up his face in mock disgust. He’s agnostic, practically an atheist—and yet. “I still feel like I’m being mothered sometimes. I feel her witness all around me. I don’t feel like any of this right now would be happening if it weren’t for her.” There was something magical about María Verónica Pascal Ureta. Her firstborn son misses everything about her. Her beauty. Her smell. How funny she was, and how funny she found farts. “She couldn’t get past a fart of any kind without it absolutely destabilizing her into hysterics,” says Pascal. “She thought they were the most brilliant, hilarious, wonderful thing in the world.” She was also “very deep-feeling, very complex, very, very out of reach in a way,” he adds.

I tell you that I did nothing more than laugh and cry with all this part. Is that kind of make peace with death vibe that he sometimes gives me and I just take as a life advice.

I can't get mad at something that is long gone.

That I don't know the answers to.

That is as invisible as the air, and painful as a healed fracture.

And that I have to live, for those who aren't here anymore.

So... I will finish with this:

Of all the performances in Pascal’s now formidable career, Balmaceda singles out the monologue she saw him deliver as a sophomore in high school. It was a piece Pascal had written about a bike path near their house in Corona del Mar, a neighborhood he couldn’t wait to escape. Onstage, he described how, at first, he’d cross this narrow path that went over a bridge on foot, then progressed to riding over it gingerly on his bike, then with just one hand on his handlebars, and then, finally, being able to cross over with his hands in the air.

I can't wait to escape this place. A home that keeps me warm but silences me. Hugs that don't feel comfortable or familiar anymore. A room that is too little for the dreams that move this soul. A roof that isn't strong enough to hold me from touching what it's-maybe-waiting for me.

Somewhere.

Kudos to Karen Valby for such a great article.

if someone read this whole thing, uhm, thank you!

keep loving Peps. 💜

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babygirlbenji · 2 days ago

Text

Birds of a Feather - Ben Chilwell

A/N: So this might just be one of my favourite fics I have ever written... she's a big hefty girl at just over 3k words, but it's just super sweet fluff from start to finish.

Warnings: None, fluff, friends to lovers, big confession of love at the end so be sure to stick it through!! Let's get into it eeeek I'm so excited for you guys to read this

'God, you two are just two peas in a pod!'

'What do they say about birds of a feather?'

'Seems you two come as a package deal.'

These remarks, and general reiterations of them, were said regularly to you and Ben throughout your shared childhoods.

Having been born merely two weeks apart, having mums who were best friends, having grown up just a few doors down from each other, it was incredibly rare that you were ever apart. Your personalities were pretty much copy-pasted (though that may have also been a byproduct of spending so much time together), and your senses of humour were so similar that often, you'd end up finishing the joke or saying the punchline of the other person's joke.

Ben moving away to Leicester had no impact on your bond, and him ending up at Chelsea followed by Crystal Palace was even better, as you'd scored a job working in operations at a luxury health club in south west London. As his career progressed and you advanced at your job, one thing stayed constant: the two of you were never far away from each other.

You were there through it all - the Champions League victory, his ACL injury, his low patches, his upset with Chelsea. In turn, he'd supported you through all your trials and tribulations, from being at the end of the phone during your days of struggling through your university course, to helping you through the endless circle of job applications, rejections and interviews after you had graduated. He'd credit you with inspiring him to take the move to Palace, as your new role at work was at a club not 10 minutes from the training grounds, so it was easy for you both to see each other.

But of course, neither of you would risk your friendship to address the unspoken feelings between you. Ben would never want jeopardise nearly 27 years of friendship by admitting that he'd been in love with you since he was about 16, when he saw you at prom wearing a beautiful navy dress with a sparkly bodice (he'd never forget the sight of you, for as long as he lived). Nor would you ever breathe a word of why you could never hold a boyfriend for more than 6 months, because they could see that no matter how much you liked them, it would just never match up to the way you loved Ben. It was just a distraction and a means to an end.

As you settled into your new role and new club, and as he found his feet at Palace, you'd found a comfortable rhythm to life - as best friends. Nothing more.

'Alright Leo, I'm gonna pack up and head off home!' It was finally the end of your week, and you'd had such a hectic day that you could hardly wait to get home and put a film on. As you packed up your laptop and other work bits, your phone buzzed with a text. Fishing it out of your pocket, you saw that it was a text from Ben:

At home, Harv and Tom are coming over for dinner and want to see you, would love to see you too x

A smile graced your lips; you loved spending time with the boys, and this sounded just like what you needed after your day.

You quickly typed out a response:

Would love to!! Just finishing up at the club, will stop by Waitrose and pick up dessert then come to you x

'Who are you texting with that goofy grin?' Leo teased. Your boss was a flamboyant Venezuelan who you just adored. He was one of the few people at work who knew how close you were with Ben; as the place you worked for was in London and very close to both Chelsea and Crystal Palace, you both agreed that it was best that you keep your friendship with him low profile, and that he would probably get hounded if he came to see you at work.

'Oh, just Ben! He's invited me round for dinner and movie with his mates, ideal.' Leo waggled his eyebrows.

'He did? So when are you guys going to go on a date?' You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully.

'Come off it, Leo, we've been best friends basically since birth. He sees me as a sister, he'd never look at me in any other way. It would essentially be incest.' You couldn't help but giggle at your words, but they did have an achingly real truth in them; Ben would just never see you as anything other than a best friend, an unofficial sister.

'Whatever you say, babe,' Leo replied. 'Have a good weekend!' You hugged him goodbye, and made your way out of the club, bidding your colleagues goodbye as you left.

It was a short walk to the Waitrose up the road. You picked up a strawberry trifle and a cheesecake, just so everything had something they liked, before heading to your car and starting the 20 minute drive to Ben's house. Since transferring to Crystal Palace, he'd purchased a modest but beautiful home in Wimbledon. You'd helped him pick it out, and had advised him on things like decor and furniture (he was a typical bloke, and was useless about things like that).

You let yourself in using your key, and dumped your bags in the utility room by the front door.

'Hello, I'm here!' Walking through the large, airy hallway to the kitchen, you found Ben at the oven stirring something in a pot.

'Hey, you, how was your day?' He hurried over and caught you in a brief but tight hug, rubbing your back like he always did.

'It was okay, just glad the week's done now. Are the boys here yet?'

'Nope, they'll be here in about 10, which means you get first pick of the film.'

'Tangled!' Your suggestion made him laugh; Tangled was your favourite movie of all time, and he'd lost count of how many times the two of you had watched it together.

'I love that movie just as much as you do, love, but I'm not sure how keen Harv and Tom would be to watch it.' Ben's smile lit up his whole face, as it often did when you were together. You were one of the few people he could be totally honest and up front with, and it spoke to his comfort around you that he could be his authentic self with you, without fear of judgment.

'They wouldn't know a decent film if it slapped them round the face. Anyway, that's my pick, and we can take their picks once they get here and we can poll the options. Whichever film gets the most votes is the one we watch, and I can put money on it being Tangled!' You were so confident in this, that it made Ben laugh more.

'You're funny. Would you grab me a colander, please? Just need to drain the pasta.'

'Sure.' You got up from your seat at the island and went over to where the kitchen supplies were, grabbing the colander and giving it to him.

'Thank you, sous chef,' he chuckled.

'What else can I do to help, chef?'

'Just sit there and look pretty.' This easy banter, this semi-flirting, was commonplace in your interactions with Ben. You'd always hoped that it meant something, but you knew the potential consequences if you were off in your assumption that his feelings for you went further than friendship, so you never took it further than banter.

You retook your seat at the island, and caught Ben up with the gossip at work. He listened intently, offering exactly the right reaction to each part of the story. Hearing about the crazy instances that took place at your work was one of his favourite pastimes - being in a customer service role, based in Clapham, you had plenty of stories to keep him entertained. Everything from rude members to having to call the emergency services, he had heard it all, and he listened to each and every story with unmatched interest.

The doorbell rang a few moments later, and you went to answer it as Ben was still preparing the last of dinner.

'Y/N!' Tom cheered as he and Harv barrelled into the house. You were suddenly caught up in a three-person hug, not knowing whose arm was whose.

'Hey, guys, so good to see you!' You laughed. Being best friends with Ben as long as you had meant that Harv and Tom were also your best friends, and you couldn't wish for a better group of people to hang out with.

Tom and Harv followed you into the kitchen, and the four of you settled into easy conversation and banter. You felt a distinct sense of belonging, as you sipped your wine and enjoyed the company.

'Right!' Ben clapped his hands together. 'Dinner is served, we'll sit at the table, should all be set up.' Ben had made his signature chicken alfredo, complete with a leafy salad and garlic baguette. It made you think back to coming home from uni at weekends, and if he was home for an evening, he would make this same dish for you. It was probably your favourite that he made, but everything he made was delicious. He was definitely the cook out of the two of you.

'Looks amazing, Ben, thank you for cooking.' You sat down and helped yourself to some salad and a couple of pieces of garlic bread.

'So, Y/N, how's work? Had to call the police again recently?' Harv asked. His question made you laugh; the last time you had hung out, you had had to call the police to your place of work, and since then, it had become a running theme of conversations of which emergency service you'd had to call.

'Luckily, no, not since our last update! Although we did have to ring the non-emergency medical line for someone the other day.' And you launched into the story of how someone had rolled over on their ankle, and they weren't sure whether it was broken so you called the non-emergency line to get their opinion. They took themselves off to the nearest A&E, and were luckily okay.

'Your work sounds insane sometimes, I don't know how you deal with those uppity members. If I were a member there, I'd be the nicest person ever,' Tom said earnestly.

'Thank god, I get enough grief from you outside the workplace,' you clapped back, making Ben laugh. 'Nah it's okay, most of the members there are nice. It's the ones who are rude one day, and then turn up the next day and act all sweet and sugary. They're the ones you really need to watch out for. Harv, how's things with you?'

Harv shrugged.

'Not bad, just same old.' Harv's updates weren't major, still at his job and enjoying getting to know the girl he was speaking to. Tom's life was similarly uneventful - looking for a job in media, going steady with his girlfriend who was abroad on a hen do.

As dinner progressed and dessert was consumed, you felt yourself getting slightly more tired. You were excited to curl up on the sofa and watch a movie, and just switch off your brain for a few hours.

You got up and stretched. 'I'm going to pop to the bathroom before we start our movie, alright boys?' Ben looked up and smiled at you.

'No worries, love, we'll be in the snug.' Both of you missed the pointed look that Harv and Tom gave each other.

While you were in the bathroom, you quickly checked your phone to see if you had any messages from work before you switched off your emails for the weekend. There was one that needed your sign off for something, which you gave, and you then turned off your emails. Anything that came in now could wait until Monday; for now, you were in rest mode.

You finished your business, and on your way into the snug, you stopped off at the kitchen to refill your water bottle. As you did so, however, you heard hushed voices from the snug.

There was a slight air of trepidation as you padded silently over to the door to the snug, wanting to know what the boys were talking about.

'So when are you going to ask her out, bro?' That was Harv's voice. It had a sense of excitement about it, as if he couldn't wait to hear what Ben's answer was.

'I don't know, I kinda don't want to ruin what we have, you know? We've been best friends for, what, 27 years? I don't want to ruin that. She's clearly happy with where we are, I don't want to put her in an uncomfortable position if she doesn't feel the same way.' Ben's voice. Were they talking about... about you? There was no way. Ben felt the same way about you? After all these years of hoping and pining after him? Your heart was pounding so hard that you were worried that they could hear it. It felt like you'd just run a marathon.

'She clearly feels the same way. The way she looks at you, the way she laughs when you make a stupid joke... just do it, dude.' Tom was always the voice of reason in your friend group, and you wanted to shout, scream that he was right, you did feel the same way.

'You guys are seriously crazy, but if you say so. I really like her, I just don't want to ruin anything.'

There was a sound of rustling, as if someone had got up from the sofa. You careered away from the door, not wanting them to know that you had heard, and busied yourself with your water bottle.

'You ready, Y/N?' Ben appeared at the door, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Knowing what you knew, and the fact that he didn't know that you knew... It gave you an odd sense of excitement. It didn't help that he looked so devastatingly handsome, dressed in black joggers and a faded grey hoodie. So simple but he looked so cosy, it made you just want to bundle yourself up in his arms and never leave. His hair was fluffy and that little bit of stubble across his chin was just... perfect. He was perfect.

'Yeah, yeah I'm ready, just coming in now.' He stepped out and made his way over to you.

'You ok? You seem a bit distracted.' His words, and how genuinely concerned he seemed, made your heart swell. So, too, did the way he gently rubbed your arms and looked directly at you.

'I'm absolutely fine, Benji, don't you worry,' you whispered. He smiled gently, and brought you into his arms for a hug. Your head was against his chest, just under his chin. You sighed contentedly, but couldn't help but wish that this hug meant more than it did. 'Love you, Benj.' Your voice was slightly muffled against his hoodie. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

'Love you longtime.' The words you often signed off each call, each FaceTime, each hangout with. They had rung true since the moment you first spoke them to each other, just as friends, but now... dare he think that they meant more? With you curled up in his arms, feeling so like you were exactly where you belonged, Ben decided to take the biggest risk of his life. 'Y/N, I need you to look at me when I tell you this.' You broke apart from his embrace, confused. 'As in, like, I really love you. Like I've loved you since we were 16, when I saw you in that puffy gown at prom. I've loved you at every movie night, every win, every loss, every transfer, every laugh, every heartbreak since then. And I know it's a massive risk telling you this, as I could be jeopardising our entire two decade long friendship, but I couldn't spend another day not telling you how I feel. If you don't feel the same, it's okay, and if you never want to see me again, I understand, I just...'

And then you kissed him. It felt like the only reasonable thing to do. You kissed him as if your life depended on it. You kissed him in a way that made you feel like you were going to run out of air, but it was so addictive that you didn't care. Not one bit. And he kissed you back, a small smile on his lips as he did so. It was 27 years worth of kisses, packed into one. It was the best first kiss of your life.

'I love you too, Benjamin. I just hate that it took so long for us to say it like that.' He chuckled and used his thumb to gently wipe away a tear that you didn't even realise was falling down your cheek.

'We've got the rest of our lives to say it. Might as well start now.' You giggled through your tears. How lucky were you to call this gorgeous man yours?

A chorus of cheers coming from the snug room broke off your magical moment. You had completely forgotten that Harv and Tom were even in the building.

'Yes Chilly!'

'About time, Chill!' You started to giggle delightedly, Ben bundling you back into his arms.

'Does this mean I get to pick the movie?' You asked cheekily, although your giggles turned to squeals as Ben started to tickle you. 'Oi! If I've been upgraded to girlfriend after 27 years, I'd expect the girlfriend privileges to start right from the off!' You continued to giggle and squeal as Ben tickled you relentlessly. Your arms found their way around Ben's neck and he pulled you in again for a sweet kiss, both of you grinning at each other in between kisses. In that moment, you'd never felt so loved, so cherished in your life. You knew right then and there that this was the man you would meet at the end of the aisle, the man you would one day welcome kids into the world with, the man you would grow old with.

As you and the boys settled into the sofa, you and Ben snuggled up together like two birds of a feather, you whipped out your phone to check your messages one last time. As you did so, a notification popped up:

Harv's Phone would like to AirDrop you a photo. Accept?

You clicked accept, and your heart instantly melted when you saw that it was a photo of you and Ben in the kitchen, big grins on both of your faces as you held each other. It was the sweetest photo anyone had ever taken of you, and you instantly set it as your new wallpaper.

An idea popped into your mind, and you went to message Leo. Attaching the photo to a message, you simply texted him:

So when you asked about Ben asking me out on a date...

You sent it, and he immediately responded with:

OMG!!!! So happy for you babe, that man will love you for the rest of your life. Xx

And you had absolutely zero doubt in your head that no truer words had ever been spoken.

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