#NCT-WRITERS

[yojeongin]

it’s too bad you’re married to me | m.l

→husband!mark lee x f!reader | ft. jaehyun + jungwoo

genre: smut, angst, tragic romance, miscommunication, marriage au, 2000s au

synopsis: all mark ever does is use weaponized incompetence to get out of small tasks you ask of him. when he finally realizes you resort to his close friends to do what he can’t— nothing can prepare him for what’s in your pandora box; now karma is set in motion.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm denial, cum swallowing, jealousy, toxic relationship/love, insecurity, vomiting, work field harassment, mental health deteriorating, self sabotage, smoking, mentions of poor eating habits/self care, pregnancy, mark is a horrible husband. this is for the people who only know toxic and bad relationships, woohoo (...)

wc: 19.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

part 1 | part 2

© 2024 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: it's been a year since I last updated the happy together series, I guess I lied when I said the stupid girl incident wouldn't happen with this one but hey it's finally over! this is an epilogue for happy together but can be read as it’s own part. yn’s character here isn’t the same as happy together, this is a completely different yn!! fun fact I came up with this before happy together lol

‘No one wants to think about it. About how your love may run out or hang by a thread because it’s that big, not able to be supported by one person alone. To even have the fleeting negative thought race in your mind. No one wants that.’ — April 25, 2004.

Life was sweet, it was a new romance never felt before (at least in your case). The type to make your heart swell at any sweet action. He was tender, sweet, and attentive. Whatever you asked of him, he’d have for you, ready and in your hands. Mark used to go out of his way for you but slowly the small things became a burden and any little task, he never wanted to do anymore.

Even so, now as you sit on your knees in between his legs, hearing his grunts from the pleasure he is enduring, you put off your own pleasure for his as long as the satisfaction of him feeling loved continues.

With his cock stuffed deep in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. Mark held onto the messy comforter while you kept going. Your nose hitting his pubic bone, staying still for seconds just so he could feel the warmth of your throat around him.

At that feeling Mark allowed a disgruntled moan, loud and perfect. His hips buckle forward, causing you to gag. Tearing up and finger nails softly claw his thighs. That’s the most damage you allowed yourself to cause him. His hand wraps around your hair, the sting of his pulling mirroring the one of your clawing, he was relentless unlike you.

“You’re so good to me. You feel so good, fuck!” He groans, eyes tightly shut. “I love when you gag around me, it feels so good. As if your throat still hasn’t gotten used to me after all these years, pretty girl.”

Raking your nails on the lower back of his thighs, he hisses. With his hands holding onto your head, his thrusts get harder— almost as a counter attack.

The hand you had on his thigh comes in contact with his balls, pinching them where he likes. Playing with and twirling them. Mark’s thrusts become slow but harder, hitting the back of your throat more painful, nothing you wouldn’t take unwillingly, though. He knows you can and will take anything he gives you.

That’s how you knew he was extremely close. When his thrusts were rough and slow, the grip on your hair became tighter when he pushed you further down, becoming extra sensitive to the way you handle his testicles. 

“Ah~ y/n… Please, just a bit more. Ahh…” He pants, stopping his thrusting momentarily until you pinch his scrotum, to which he whimpers loudly. Some sweat had accumulated on his neck and forehead. Glistening, he looked so beautiful, much more than he already is. Mark’s eyes were closed but he could feel your lingering gaze on him. He could feel the penetrating stare that looked at him with adoration.

When he couldn’t handle it furthermore and his thrusts against your throat were becoming sloppy, Mark’s eyes fluttered open, looking down at you, giving you one of his most tender smiles. You never got used to the way he looked at you. Even when he gave you his coldest glares, there was always a sense of adoration to them. 

So one can only imagine the warmth and giddiness you felt when he looked at you this lovingly. Lovingly enough that he removed one hand from your head and placed it on your cheek. Thumb caressing your flesh, soft strokes contradicting the ones abusing your throat.

“What I wouldn’t do to be like this with you forever.” The words contradictory and cheeky to his caring caress, almost conniving. 

Mark’s hips jolted forward, disgruntled moans left his lips but his eyes never left yours. Even after he screwed them shut momentarily from pleasure, he’d always open them to let you know how good he felt. Head thrown back, trying to regain his breath and calmness after the orgasm you had just given him. His hand strokes your head softly whilst you gaze up at him lovingly, your head resting on his thigh. 

“Morning,” your voice snaps him out of it, looking down at you with a smile. “Really good morning.” He chuckles in a breath, leaning down as much to give you a soft and tender kiss, tasting himself on you. Pulling apart, Mark stands up, helping you up from the aching position you were in. Rubbing your knees momentarily to soothe the pang. 

It didn’t take long enough to forget his care and make his path to the kitchen, you trailing behind like a lost puppy, ignoring your ache just to start the day for both of you. “Hey, can you do me a favor?” Your soft voice squeaked against his ear, making him turn to you slowly. A gleam of hope on your part as always.

“What is it?” You could see his emotions coursing through, already looking for excuses as always. “Just— can you pick up an order at Cafe 7 Dream? It’s for Venetia’s pregnancy leave party but I don’t have time to pick it up. Please? During your lunch break?”

Your eyes still glimmer with hope knowing well what his answer already is. “Oh… baby, you already know I can’t. I don’t even know where it is.” He ran a hand through his hair, walking past you after giving his famous apologetic pout. 

Back to him, hopeful smile faltering, slowly closing your eyes disappointed but not surprised knowing the predicted outcome. You sigh quietly, basking in the background noise he made. Opening and closing the fridge door and pans moving around the stove top as if he truly had intentions to do something.

“I guess, yeah… it’s fine I’ll figure it out then.” Defeatedly, you make your way to him, watching him play with the knobs as if he didn’t know how a damn stove works, you only interfered when he opened the egg crate. Rushing to him you took it all off his hands, his faux complaining making you roll your eyes, him oblivious to how it wasn’t playful anymore. “Go shower, you’ll be late.” Still, your voice held no annoyance. 

He chuckles, completely oblivious to your feelings as always. “Or we could shower together…” he suggests, not over the morning rendezvous. Wanting more and more, never satiated.  

You didn’t have it in you to smile at him, shaking your head and dismissing him as you crack the eggs over the pan. He giggles, towards the bathroom, placing a playful slap to your ass on his way.

The walls were thin. You could hear the sound of the toilet flushing, the water running, and your thoughts bouncing off of them. Torturing you with the words and feelings you try to repress all the time in order to live in peace and in love with him.

You loved him. More than anything, to the point it was extremely painful despite him being yours. You’ve fought hard trying to make your love for him unconditional, there was no backing out anytime.

Moments like these in which he shut down your pleas, all you could do was restrain yourself from the ill thoughts your tired brain tried to throw at him. You couldn’t let anything get in between the both of you, not even yourself. 

So instead you rather stand in front of the stove, moving the spatula around to make him his beloved sunny side up eggs. Funny enough, you hated them but if he wanted you to love them, you would.

Coming out of the bathroom, steam painting the mirrors and windows. Mark dries his hair with the towel sitting atop his shoulders, a sniffle leaves him, pulling the chair from the dining table, smiling at you with a ‘thank you’ rolling off his tongue while you set down his dishes and drink right in front of him. 

“You’re not eating?” He questions the moment you sat beside him with just a pouch of Konjac Jelly. You could only smile and shake your head, suckling on the nozzle to get out the contents. You weren’t eating then and there, you just didn’t want to tell him you were getting breakfast with your colleague on your way to work. 

Mark nodded before digging in on the yolk with his spoon, that expected smile on his face.

He talked and talked after every bite and chew. Mark was well aware of how much you liked to hear his voice, especially in the morning before he left you for work. Head resting on your palm as you watched him stack his plates, a smile plastered on your lips from his presence alone. 

“Want me to drop you off? You’re gonna have to hurry though.” The clanking of the bowls on the sink as he passed water over them knowing you’d wash them eventually; making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and finish getting dressed. 

Shaking your head as a response, he waits for your explanation. “I’m walking the entire week, don’t worry about me. Maybe I'll take the bus.”

How couldn’t he when both of your jobs were a tad bit far from home. It didn’t help that most of the time you got out late. At least he was thankful Jungwoo could drop you off whenever he wasn’t able to pick you up or simply didn’t feel like it.

“You know I don’t like it when you ride the bus, it’s always filled with… men at these hours. Take care, okay? Call me once you arrive or if something happens.”

Despite your smile of approval, what was he going to do when he can barely take care of himself?

Mark’s lips fell against yours the moment he opened the door to the apartment, towering over you for a few kisses before pulling away. “By the way, can you pick up my suit from the cleaners either later or tomorrow? I have a meeting at the end of the week.”

He was giddy asking you for a favor, clutching his backpack, ignoring the way you tried to not let your emotions show through your face. “Yeah… I’ll do it after work.” Your soft voice, trying its best to hide that tinge of bubbling vexation.

Mark smiled, a giggle leaving his throat whilst his hand caresses your cheek. “I’ll see you at night, baby.” You couldn’t answer, he had bolted towards the elevator. Only the daily bittersweet taste lingers once again.

Shutting the door behind you, your eyes immediately travel to the pile of dishes he left for you on the sink, not even allowing your sighs to escape by how familiar this scene has become. It was rather frustrating for Mark to not notice your obvious signs of unhappiness with him. He knew you loved him, perhaps more than he loved you, which he tends to ignore to not throw himself off.

But that love he thinks you have was blinding him from all the realities of how dysfunctional the relationship was. It was pitiful that his friends were the only ones to actually notice them.

“Markie, morning!” Johnny’s cheerful voice booms against his ear, hand softly patting the younger man’s shoulder as he signals to follow him and Jaehyun to the break room while handing him a cup of coffee. 

Mark returned the greeting to both of the men standing in front of him, conversing as if he didn’t see them almost daily. From joke after joke, Jaehyun’s phone beeped constantly, the other two ignoring it as he checked it with a giddy smile plastered on his face; Johnny asks if they’d like to get lunch during their break.

Mark immediately agreed to the offer, taking some of the last sips from his coffee. They spoke about restaurant options but upon Jaehyun not answering, rather typing, the blackberry keys louder than his coworkers, the two turned to ask again.

“Jaehyun, you’re down for lunch?” Johnny questions, making his way towards the trash can, depositing away his cup, the eyes on the ‘7’ icon turning to Mark. Jaehyun hums in response, putting his phone away before actually speaking. “Uh, maybe next time. I have something to do.” An apologetic smile, Johnny understanding but Mark lets out a teasing chuckle. 

“Lunch with a special friend?” 

“Actually, I’m helping your wife.”

He didn’t want to make it obvious but Jaehyun put enough emphasis on ‘your’. “She asked for a favor and I always say yes, so...” Jaehyun shrugs, sipping the last of his own coffee.

The air was shifting to hostility the more Mark’s expression began to change, slowly but surely. His eyes followed every move Jaehyun made, ignoring how all the 7’s glared at him, even his own. Johnny was no fool, if Jaehyun couldn’t feel the building hostility, Johnny was clearly feeling and seeing it. His eyes advert from both men as he watched how quickly a mood can be annihilated.

“Always? What do you mean, always?” Mark turns his back to the other two —almost to shield himself from the accusatory numbers—, throwing away his not empty cup and going to the sink to wash off the stickiness from the coffee that spilled on the sides.

The second oldest man mustered a shrug, taking a cup from the water cooler and pouring some in to get rid of that coffee taste on his tongue. Bitter coffee taste, the one lacing Mark. “I mean, I can’t say no to her… if she’s busy and can’t run an errand she asks me to run it for her and in return she bakes me a cheesecake. We all win!” Johnny smiles at Jaehyun at the mention of the desert and his unconvincing naivety.

Mark didn’t speak, his mouth forming an ‘O’ at the realization that the reason you always baked was not for you or your coworkers but for his friend. For doing something you had originally asked of him. Just in the past month you had baked six cheesecakes and all of them after you asked him for a favor that he turned down. All this time he thought you were just baking for pleasure but now he knows Jaehyun helps ease your stress. Jaehyun, not Mark.

“I’m gonna head back…” Johnny’s voice broke him out of his train of thought, the elder’s eyes adverting from his two younger friends before opening the door. Jaehyun announces that he’ll follow behind, leaving Mark to his own thoughts for just a second.

One could call that the start of his demise. If anything Mark would’ve been better off knowing you did everything on your own but now he felt an unjust slight resentment that you ran to one of his friends. Guilt, if you will, for his own faults.

He didn’t let the thought go the entire day and it didn’t become better once you had arrived back home with groceries and his suit in hand. Worse off, he saw you struggle with the heavy items but he made no effort to help, rather analyzed the components in your hands. Contrary to you, upon seeing him, a warm smile spreads on your face. Putting everything down and going up to him to envelope him in an embrace and a tender kiss.

“Hi…” your breathy voice showing obvious signs of agitation. 

“Hey… why are you so late?” He questions, accusatory for something he’s not sure what he’s looking for yet; a minute frown as he looks through the contents of your grocery totes. Cream cheese, graham cracker, sweet condensed milk… a pit in his stomach formed, a growing feeling of confusion followed.

“Another cheesecake?” He questions, taking out the items and starting to put them away. To say you were taken aback was an understatement, your chest swole and you felt some relief seeing he was actually helping. You nod, holding onto the back of a chair to catch yourself. Mark hums, turning to look at you. Upon seeing how sunken and dull you were looking, his expression turned to one of concern.

“Have you eaten?” Mark asks, his hand reaching to caress your cheek. “Yeah! We had a dinner party for Venetia’s leave.” ‘I told you about it..’ you want to add. No matter, you knew it was futile with how he hums in response. It was true about the dinner part but you hadn’t eaten there, Jungwoo and you had decided to blow it off and go to a soup bowl restaurant instead.

He hums again, putting away all the other groceries and leaving just the cheesecake items. “Seventh cheesecake this month isn’t it?” 

His piqued interest sounded hostile and cold, eradicating any sense of relief that he cared. “Yeah, why not?” Responding with a smile and knitted eyebrows, Mark didn’t add more. In turn, he took his items from the living room to the bedroom, opting to continue working there. 

Looking at the empty spot he left, a sigh left your lips before continuing to fulfill your part of the deal with Jaehyun. You didn’t know if the sigh was from relief or grief. Regardless, his care was too good to be true. 

The next morning he had woken to your spot on the bed empty and cold, a building resentment and loneliness starts to grow when times before he didn’t feel them. Odd. 

Giving himself a few minutes of rest time until he decided to get up and do his daily routine. By the time he had reached the table, his breakfast was covered to keep the warmth in, glowering when he noticed it was slightly warm but getting cold. A note on the side of his dishes. 

‘Decided to head early. Sorry in advance if the food gets cold. Love, y/n’

A small heart next to your name, Mark smiles to himself. As he ate his breakfast, his concerns and the slight jealousy he had gained overnight dissipated. He felt foolish for questioning your relationship with Jaehyun. What was there for him to be jealous of? Hell, Jaehyun was taking care of the burdens he didn’t want to, that’s a win-win situation, no? Jaehyun gets his treat, you remain content, and he isn’t bothered. Yeah, he can now think clearly and see that’s fair. Nothing ever comes out of your close friend being nice and considerate of your wife, right? 

Hmm…

Nevertheless, Mark shakes his head with a goofy content smile whilst he drops his dishes in the sink, passing cold water over them. You picked up his suit yesterday and today it was hanging, freshly steamed furthermore. His shoes clean and shiny by the door, food you cooked for him in his system, and overall a lovely note you wrote him. Mark knows you love him and only him, what a stupid little preoccupation yesterday was.

“Dumbass.” He chuckles to himself, squeezing a plushie he had gotten you that ever since, you left on the bed, your smell on it; you’d always be near him and oh how he loved that security. Surely he has to let you know how he adores your love.

Walking towards your desk to look for whatever piece of paper, he sat on your chair, opening the drawers and searching for at least a sticky note.

Upon finding the nearest notebook, Mark pulled it out along a pen. Opening it to where he could find a clean page; he stumbled on multiple pages of frantic writing and numbers written all over. Sometimes they went down and sometimes they went up, if the number was higher than last, a large ‘x’ crossed it in red. He didn’t think much of it, maybe something to do with work statistics?

Curiosity still got the best of him, he’s never seen you write messily. Everything you’ve written has been tidy and neat, so this was interesting. Flipping through the pages, he found two lists. They read the same thing but the one on the left had more x’s whilst the one on the right had check marks, sometimes nothing.

Pick up cleaners,

fix the leak in the kitchen

pick up order from cafe 7 dream

find a new car inspection place

pick up Venetia’s leave cake

Those were all things you had asked him to do and things he had told you he couldn’t do on account of all the excuses he made. All striked through, ink bolder and fresher the more recent the task was. All those crosses were for him and he figured all the check marks were for Jaehyun.

Some of the stuff seemed too intimate for Jaehyun to do for you. Picking up the cleaners? Fix the leak? Find a car inspector?

Jaehyun had no responsibility to find any of this stuff for you but there he was doing what Mark couldn’t and that jealousy he felt yesterday was back again. That meant you hadn’t picked up his suit yesterday, right? It was Jaehyun who had done so and his grubby hands must’ve left oils for you to steam it again?

God, no… he was being irrational again!

The more he flipped through the pages, Mark read the small and longer paragraphs. Most of them written frantically and showed obvious frustration. It seemed to be completely full of vent paragraphs. You wrote down your desperations and thoughts, often seeming angry and saddened. He cared for all that but they became unreadable the more upset you became as you went on. 

Few things that made his head pound and chest start to rip apart were how many times he read two names over and over: ‘Jungwoo’ and ‘Jaehyun’. You met them through him, he had brought them into your life but now he was finding that to be a mistake. 

Ironic, isn’t it? You spoke so well of them. Every paragraph regarding them was neatly written and cohesive. For the most part you were just thanking them for making your life easier.

‘Keep forgetting to look for new posts, Jungwoo has been helping but he seems kinda down when he does.’

‘Dinner coordinator keeps bringing the same catering and it’s growing tiring, seaweed treats are hell. Thank god Jungwoo took me out instead. — 03.29.08, 22:37.’

Last night’s date. You had told him you ate at the company dinner but instead went out with his friend and didn’t think to tell him, opting to lie about it. He knew you loved him but now he was questioning if the amount was just as big as he thought.

‘Wonder if Jaehyun is getting tired of these favors and cheesecakes. I don’t think he even finishes an entire one in a month and I’ve baked seven for him, I fear for his fridge. It’s not as big as I thought now that he moved. Nevertheless, thank god I can count on him to actually do these favors for me.’ 

The last part stung horribly. It didn’t seem to be a jab on him from how you wrote it but he took it as such given he always did something wrong when you asked him to just so you would stop or he’d make excuses for the same reason. He now took issue with you preferring Jaehyun’s and Jungwoo’s help over his. 

He also hadn’t told you Jaehyun moved apartments so there was no reason for you to know how big his fridge was. It stung more that neither of his friends told him about the close friendship they held with you, his wife. 

The last note on the paper is what caught his attention; ‘Lunch with Jungwoo at Cafe 7 Dream, 12:30 today.’

It’s only 08:35 in the morning as of right now; he got dressed and put away all your stuff trying his best to make it seem like he didn’t rummage through. As he buttoned up his shirt all he could think about was going to said cafe and seeing what it was all about. A part of him told him to stop being stupid, you and Jungwoo were friends too given the company you two work in, so a lunch shouldn’t be bad. But he couldn’t shake off this uncertainty.

His day went monotonously. From the moment he made his way out of the apartment, to his daily drive through the freeway with a clear view of a big ‘7,' not drinking his daily coffee with his colleagues, to now being back in the car, looking at that same ‘7’ he sees daily while he roams for a parking spot.

Whatever was playing on the radio was static and the air around him stuffy, not even the rolled down windows being able to aid him. It was around 12:53 in the afternoon when he had arrived and parked a few spots away from the vast window of the cafe. Bringing down the sun visor, fingers strumming on the steering wheel, and his lips pursed, eyes roaming the area— Mark had spotted you and his friend in the outdoor section. 

His initial jealousy wasn’t present right now, he was mostly focused on the image that had never been presented to him: you were visibly upset. Throughout your six years of being together, you always remained calm and even when he spewed vile things towards you during one-sided arguments you never cracked.

Maybe that’s why you’ve lasted this long. He could say whatever he pleased and kept off his chest while you never gave him a negative reaction. For the most part whenever you didn’t respond in the arguments he’d angrily walk out of the situation to go meet with his friends while he left you to scribble your feelings onto the journal he stumbled upon just today.

Your arms flailed, hands forming into claws that whenever you were spewing something that angered you, clung to your flesh, leaving dents on it— must have been that intense if he could see those forming. Your hair was disheveled but your clothes intact besides the pantyhose you were clawing at earlier. You didn’t look dull anymore but you did look on the brink of angry tears.

In contrast to you, Jungwoo leaned back on his metal chair, hair kept well combed, suit intact and ironed, with a shit eating grin on his face as he nodded with everything you said. His words were slow, helping Mark in reading his lips and only being able to read just that sentence: “Let it all out, you don’t deserve this.” Every time he said those words, you’d slump over the table, head resting on your hands and nodding to yourself.

The perplexed expression on Mark’s face never left. His eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, leaning in against his wheel as if any of that would help him listen to the conversation. It worsened when Jungwoo took a small box from his pocket, handing it to you in which you’d give him an apologetic smile for ranting to him while also being thankful.

He didn't understand where all this came from. You have always been so calm, never letting things affect you let alone smoke. Hell, you're the reason he stopped smoking but here you were doing what he used to do with his friend.

At this moment he didn’t understand why he had rushedly gotten out of his car and inside the building. All the courage he mustered to go inside dying whenever he saw the both of you stand up from the table after paying.

His heart was palpitating in horror. He couldn’t excuse why he was there this time, he told you he didn’t know where this place was so it would only worsen your already horrible mood. Not to mention, he had nothing to say. How would he start the conversation? “I know I’ve lied to you about this place but what the fuck is your deal with Jungwoo and Jaehyun? What’s your journal all about?” No, he can’t let you know he’s been snooping, let alone have you think he’s jealous.

Mark could only follow behind a group of people walking to the counter, hiding amongst them and hoping you stayed enthralled in your conversation to not notice him. At least he was thankful he could finally hear the conversation but that dissipated the moment he heard Jungwoo’s voice.

“If you keep pushing away and shutting off your frustrations with him this won’t end well. You can’t just conform to keep him with you and let him do all he’s doing. You can’t let him act the way he does and hope he changes without asking. You know what my grandma would say? If you don’t speak, God won’t hear you. And he’s not hearing you. Are you not miserable in the relationship?”

It stung. It painfully stung deeply in his heart that he truly felt he was having a heart attack right now, cardiac arrest— whichever. It sounded oddly familiar.

“Mark says, 'If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.’ So which is it?” Jungwoo laughs, shrugging. “Seems God can’t make up his mind or he's fucking with us just because he can.”

Sadly for the both of you this was only the start of your demise. As for the following weeks, Mark had begun to dig deeper into this madness he was slowly learning he had created. Every time he was home alone, Mark began to read the notebook he had found. Your writing didn’t become any less incomprehensible but he was starting to learn what certain loops meant.

He wouldn’t say your writings were enjoyable, rather more concerning than anything but this is the closest he’ll get to truly knowing you. It still baffles him that after six years of being together, you were capable of hiding this much from him. The only time he could recall you actually being mad was the time both of you crossed paths with one of his childhood friends.

The atmosphere turned hostile and tense as the older male reprimanded him for not inviting them to his wedding to which Mark said he did, he even gave his mother the invitation directly to give to them. The look the two shared had made your insides churn, in that instance you wanted to cut your own chest to relieve that sting within.

You could handle a lingering look and his friends' questioning remarks whenever speaking to you, but what killed you was that it took him a week to regain his dignity after he bid him goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The words: “They long to see you.” Cascading from his lips, but Mark smiles tenderly and awkwardly.

Mark only recalls you giving him blank stares and taking a while to answer him, conversations non-existent unless he started them. But Jungwoo got to see you tear your desk down, shred paper after paper, and cry in agony at the same time that entire week, knowing well what the older man had meant, you weren’t stupid after all, he’s not the only one who’s read someone’s secret stash of letters. 

That’s the only time he thinks you’ve been mad at him or resentful enough. If only he knew how many fits Jungwoo has experienced and cleaned. But while you might not be foreign to an empty bed, Mark was. When he felt your side of the bed still neatly made and the duvet cold, a sense of fear made him shoot up. 

He had gotten home before you that day once again, trusting that Jungwoo was giving you a ride not long after he arrived like always. After a few hours of working on some data and analysis to the point of not being able to eat the dinner you had woken up early to cook for him. Mark had decided to rest for a while not thinking of taking a nap until his eyelids feel heavy and his slumber commenced.

That was around 6:43pm, now it’s midnight with no signs of you in the bedroom and if he knew anything from those six months of living with a married couple— one of the spouses was up to something.

That’s where his fear rose and his chest started to constrain his breathing. You would never do anything to hurt him, right? Mark knew you loved him. Yes, you love him, you’d never do anything of the style. You're not her.

You're not her...

Opening the bedroom door with such force; he startled you, jumping once the doorknob slammed against the wall. His fears dissipated the instance his eyes laid on your sitting figure. Crouched over your desk with a pen on hand and arm covering the pages of that same notebook. While he was relieved to see you, now he was worried of what else you could add to wreck his nerves.

“When did you get home?” His raspy voice questions. You shrug, taking his presence, closing the notebook and shoving it into one of your desk drawers. 

“Maybe an hour ago? Jungwoo got quite drunk so Jaehyun took a while to pick us up.” 

Mark knew what jealousy felt like, he’s experienced it in the most hateful way and over all these years he trusted you enough to never feel this strongly ever again but his friends were starting to test his patience. It may be subconscious and a self inflicted fear but Mark knows what friends can do. 

“You didn’t say you were going out with Jungwoo.” That pitch of irritation laced his tongue, every word getting louder the more he shook his slumber away. His eyebrows furrowed unconsciously. He really didn’t want to have any reaction but he can’t reap what he sows.

Mark always started like this when an argument would ensue. You could handle his vile words and reproaches but you had a presentation tomorrow and the last thing you needed was for him to treat you like shit at midnight. You’ve had enough of your supervisor for that. 

“Company dinner meeting, Mark… I told you about the presentations.” Your voice was betraying you with how whiny it came out. But could anyone blame you? You had been ecstatically talking about this for almost a month, even Johnny knew about it. It just seems the man you married couldn’t be bothered enough to remember. 

Mark tried his hardest to pick at his brain and recollect the memories of you telling him. It was of no help that you hadn’t written about it in your journal either. All he had left was to deflect. 

“You could’ve called me to pick you up, though? Why did you have to call Jaehyun?” 

“Would you have gone? You've been sound asleep the while I've been here.”

Your tone took him aback, this was the first time he could hear some attitude and mocking in your voice. He didn’t know whether to be happy that for once you spoke to him like this or angry that the mention of Jaehyun was eliciting this response, almost as if you’re defending him.

Noticing the look of confusion on his face, you retracted any possibility of continuing this ensuing argument. Just like him, you’ll avoid any further action.

“Go back to bed, love. I’ll be there in a bit.”

He didn’t listen, just sunk his feet deeper into the tile, processing the whiplash of your actions. On the contrary, you walked past him to the bathroom, forgetting to turn off the stereo system, hoping your nightly ritual would help you not think about these happenings. Him? He’ll sulk like he is not at fault.

‘Oh, I think you’re holding the heart of mine. Squeeze it apart, that's fine…’ The melody mocks and lulls him goodnight. 

A similar situation happened days later. The days building up to that night, you hadn’t asked him for any favors. Times before he’d be glad but now he grew weary. The only outlier was that you weren’t baking, so had the rewards gone further than sweet treats? How far could you go?

No! Stop! Mark knows you’d never do anything like that, you’re not her, that’s a huge reason he fell for and married you. You ar– were perfect.

But then, why haven’t you asked anything of him yet? Was it truly futile now?

Deja vu hit, the bed was cold beside his own spot, your plushie thrown to the floor (the only difference), no sign of you, but the second he swung the door open, there you were. Sitting mindlessly on your desk, scribbling things he couldn’t see but knew he would struggle to understand later. He approached slowly, the only light source the lamp before you.

“What are you doing?” His voice is curious and soft in comparison to last time. You shrug like before, scribbling. “Nothing.” Precise yet somehow cold. No matter how much closer he got, by only a step, you shut the journal, throwing it in your drawer and turning the lamp off. He didn’t know how to take it, your actions swift and nonchalant but regardless you still made the effort to kiss him goodnight on the way to complete your night routine. 

01:48 read the stereo system. Mark hums, this night’s song mocking him again while his eyes look into the darkness and curves of your desk, directly at the drawer that held all your grievances. He contemplates it but it’s no use tonight.

‘I love him so much, it just turns to hate. I fake it so real, I am beyond fake. And someday you will ache like I ache.’ He chuckles, turning it off.

The next day was enough. You had left before him again, no reason as to why either but later he had learnt that Jaehyun had gotten into the office late with a Cafe 7 Dream drink in hand and not bought by Johnny.

He had taken your absence as an opportunity, looking at the positioning of things in your desk carefully to remember how he’d put everything back. Slowly but surely, he took the journal out, opening it to the new pages.

With the journal in hand, he steps into the kitchen, sitting on the dining table where his warm food rested. Warm enough to let him know you left not long ago. Effortlessly, he uncovers it, sliding the plates towards him and standing up to get a drink. The ice-cold water pitcher sat in front of him and he began his tasks.

‘Guilt floods me every time I ask Jaehyun and Jungwoo for favors. Is this excessive? Poor Jaehyun looks so tired, I think I have to ease it. He may claim it’s fine but how much cheesecake or danishes can someone eat without feeling the weight of burden grow as fat around his muscles?’ “What a way with words,” Mark scoffs to himself, accidentally biting the inside of his cheek, his teeth scolding him.

‘Jungwoo on the other hand is probably exhausted from my complaining. I see this as my karma for all the times I told friends to leave their bummy boyfriends. I get it now. This feeling is too strong. I can't just end it, I think… Regardless, I do need to stop with the favors, hell they’re easy so I can do them but it’s nice to not hear them complain or make excuses instantly. That’s selfish of me but I deserve some self indulgence from time to time. No… not at their expense at least...‘

00:59 at the time you began writing that.

He didn’t like that. He’s read enough for the past few weeks but nothing like this. The bummy part even less.

He won’t deny that he wished your food got stuck in his throat and suffocated him so he can drop dead with your journal in hand and true guilt arises in you when you find his body but that’s not him, that’s his jealousy and anger speaking. Maybe he was getting influenced by your entries, this is something you would say just not to him.

Mark scoffs again, sighing heavily, and pushing his chair to get out. He leaves the food uncovered and dishes dirty to complete his morning routine. Despite his anger he puts back your journal not counting on the wet back from the water pitcher but flaws are meant to happen when you’re letting frustration blind you. 

The day went in a blur from then until lunch. Snapped out of his trance by Johnny shaking his shoulder and their manager next to the taller man, Mark gave the two a fish out of the water look. One that made his manager pinch the bridge of his nose but shook it off while Johnny on the other hand gave him a questioning look. The man wasn’t stupid, he could see how distant Mark had been and at most kept to himself despite trying to act like everything is fine and bond with him and Jaehyun, but he’s not that great at covering the heart on his sleeve.

“Here, take the intern with you and ask for the lunch platter at Cafe 7 Dream, the meeting is in less than an hour and we still aren’t prepared.” The manager rushedly spoke, handing him his credit card, the gray hairs on his side seemingly growing with every word he spoke. It was a large investment meeting and he needed to secure this but he had been so careless that their hospitality was a wreck. 

Nevertheless, Mark agreed, the new intern standing behind the other two men that he hadn’t noticed her until she popped out, startling him a bit. She was young and timid, he hadn’t heard her speak but that little jump she caused him made her laugh apologetically. 

That’s the most verbal communication they had through the ride to the cafe. The radio was adamant on playing TVXQ and she enjoyed it while he focused more on the sounds the tires made and the honking from outside. Even when they arrived at the cafe they didn’t speak, if anything their expression said it all. He seemed tired and uninterested while she was indifferent with only polite smiles to her senior.

Crossing the threshold of the first doors, a familiar figure stops in front of him much to the other’s confusion when his indifference turns into a content smile. No matter how frustrated he was with what he had read, an inkling in him will always remind him of the affection he has for you. “Y/n, hi!” He exclaims, turning to you a hand reaching for your shoulder. You’re not too sure how genuine his giddiness is but in the moment for Mark, it’s the most sincere thing ever, more than you have ever been.

It’s not enough to convince you though, with your eyes flitting between him and the intern as he kisses your cheek and the other stands awkwardly behind only flashing you a quick greeting smile before looking around.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice broke the interactions, a hint of annoyance and to an extent accusatory over something that you haven’t voiced, turning to her again before looking back at him. The young girl wasn’t quite sure of how you felt but knew it was a safer bet to go order before their boss called, clenching his ass from how fast time went and he didn’t have things ready.

Clearing her throat, “I’m going to go order… The card?” She extends both hands, Mark takes out their manager’s card and hands it to her who bolts to the register. It doesn’t take Mark long to turn to you, smile slowly faltering, seeing your stare. Unsure if it’s a glare or if that’s how you look at someone when no longer adoring.

“Manager sent us to get something for a meeting.” He brings his smile back, hoping that would help. Yet, you hum and that’s all he gets. It takes a few seconds until your mouth, like a fountain, unexpectedly spouts something. “I’ve asked you to get things for me from here but you always say you don’t know where this place is.” A soft huff leaves you while forcing a smile. You can feel warmth rush from your skull down to your feet. It’s not pleasant, at all, but you can’t lose your cool right now. Not in front of him.

Perhaps if this had happened before reading your entries, Mark would have dismissed it but now he was growing knowledge of your behavioral cues and he can see your hands go behind your back, allowing your nails to cling onto your bare skin.

He musters a sigh and looks at his watch, the meeting was near. “We can talk about this later, pretty girl.” His hand reaches your arm to stop you although he makes sure to not let you know he knows about your little habit.

You shake your head, smiling up at him and going in for a kiss. “No, it’s cool, it’s fine. I just– don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later at home, okay? Okay.” You didn’t wait for a response and habits don’t die so he found it preferable to drop it. At least he’ll probably read about it in your journal soon and not have you complain in his ear.

Of course you’re not going to be in his ear when you’re on your phone frantically typing something and soon putting it to your own. Seems you’ll be blowing someone else’s ear off and it’s likely the poor loser will be Jungwoo. With every motion, flailing arm, and facial contortion– Mark knew enough of how this little thing made you feel and all he could react with was a grunt.

On weekends, by the time he began to rustle in bed and stretch, he’d be greeted with kisses and tight embraces. They often made him giggle but this weekend was much different. Once again, he woke up with the plush on the floor, a cold bed, and the window closed with only the racket outside the bedroom door. Everything was muffled but if there’s something he identified was the smell of food being made and those two laughs he’s known very well for quite a while now.

With some surprise, he jolts up. His body aches from the lack of stretching but his feet don’t care and drag him out of bed. Opening the door he’s met with Jungwoo and Jaehyun bickering about how heavy the couch was, soon to shift their attention to the movie that had been playing through broadcast TV. On the other hand he turned to look at you taking out things from a cabinet, Jungwoo rushing to help, a screwdriver in hand as he inspected the door– it creaked.

“Morning…” He greets, stretching a bit and hiding his yawn behind his arm. You make way towards him but the other two were quicker, taking his hand and continuing their greeting-shake. By the time you reach him, he kisses the top of your head, your arms around his torso in a hug like they should’ve been when he woke up. Jaehyun and Jungwoo throw each other a glance, one you both miss but that they mask with their teasing towards Mark.

“Morning? It’s nearly two.” Jaehyun begins, “Can you blame him? What does he have to do on a lovely Saturday?” Jungwoo continued but it came out rather bitter despite trying to be playful. Mark manages to laugh just like the rest of you, it doesn’t change the warning look you throw at Jungwoo who ignores it while removing the cabinet door, showing more chipped parts to it.

“Can you help me find something, then?” Mark dismisses the other two, looking directly down at you. Without hesitating you nod, walking to the room with him, your grasp on his torso not falling, rewarded with a tender smile of his. Unbeknownst to you two, the other pair give each other a glance again, although this time it lingers on each other. Disappointment and exhaustion painting itself on their features before going back to the favors.

The wooden door shut behind you two, Mark makes way to the restroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, leaving you situated on the bed and confused. “What are we looking for?” You question with some excitement as if this was a task you truly wanted when making him happy was enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?” He finally speaks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hair strands damp. “They’re just fixing some stuff.” You ease softly, smiling up at him as he stares at you. 

His hand perched on your shoulders, pushing you down on the mattress and met with a surprised squeaking giggle that he shut immediately with a kiss. Those same hands wrapped around your body pulling you flush against him as his tongue works against your own.

Lips became slick by the moment but he felt so much pour into that kiss. So much longing and desire. A mixture of lust and guilt and that balance may be why he felt the need to keep you here in this room with him and not out there with those vultures.

Possession is the word he’s looking for.

His hands began a journey down your body, feeling every curve until they rested on your hips. Inching closer to the hem of your shorts, teasing their entrance under. It was enough for you to gasp quietly, feeling his cold damp fingers while he kissed you, smiling into it. He swallowed every word and protest before you could even spew them. 

Your own hands on his hair, lips submissive to his. A moan when you feel his digits fully in between your legs. You shake your head but not in protest but rather of how much you needed his touch. “Say something…” He whispers against your lips, no smile on his face. “Please…” You beg, his fingers making slow circles to not hurt you but enough to get you to lubricate and use that instead.

The scene was greedy and lustful but ultimately, he was reminded of those two out there and the reason as to why they were present lingered. Was the couch and cabinet door that important that you had to call the little crew? No matter how displayed you are for him, with your hands holding onto him, lips kissing his own, and legs open for his own disposition– Mark was still aggravated.

Softly he pulled away from you, caressing your face with his free hand while his fingers went to work. “Why didn’t you ask me to help instead of them?” He tries to seem soft spoken like his caresses but those become rougher the more he speaks. “Would you have done it?” There he knew how much little faith you had on him and the scene from a while back repeats.

“I’d go to the end of the world for you, Y/n.” Mark confesses into the kiss, neither of you too sure how truthful that was. His fingers make their entrance into you, slowly moving to elicit a response. Your body ran hot, his clothed figure above you, silently begging for you to at least believe a fraction of what he said. Those pleading and mopping eyes as he pumped his ring and middle finger, increasing the pace.

You believe me like a God,

‘You’re being so cruel.’ You want to tell him, to engrave it in his brain but it instead came out as a pleased disgruntled moan, one he took as accepting his lies. Mark smiles, head tilting to the side before lowering it to begin kissing your chest. Tongue lapping on the dents your collarbones create, whispering his ailments in them to the point of flooding and creating lakes that flowed down to your perked nipples after unbuttoning your blouse. His tongue, scorching and velvet against them. Granted was a jolt and a gasp when you felt his mouth wrap around one, biting softly to soon suction on the tit.

I’ll destroy you like I am.

Teeth grace your goosebump filled skin, kissing where his teeth left razor marks. Threatening crimson to spill only to be a false alarm, lingering pain and pleasure was all that was intended to reside. His fingers slowed the pace, blunt thrusts per second that left an ache between your legs when his palm came in contact with your outer skin, but oh how good it felt when his fingers hit your sweet spot. It doesn’t help that by this point he had inserted a third finger, the stretch causing so much more need within you.

His mouth travels up the path he created after years of savoring your body. Tongue feeding the dried stream, cool when its source disappeared to carve marks on your neck. It was so juvenile but he wanted you to go out of that room with some swelling for those two to see. Eliciting another moan from you, Mark’s free hand softly comes up to your mouth, covering and sealing it with shushes against your ear.

“Do you want them to know what we’re doing?” He whispers in the same location, you shake your head fervently, feeling hazy and growing even more needy. “Good girl.” He grins, removing his hand to hold your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. His teeth gracing your lower lip, softly nipping it to soon ease the pain he’s caused with his tongue– as he always does.

His fingers kept working their magic between your legs despite the constriction of your shorts, his wedding band no longer feeling cold inside of you but the fact that he didn’t think about removing it made you feel more aroused. To feel that metal piece unite you besides legality but through flesh and body.

Mark must have felt your growing arousal, especially with how much easier it was to ease his fingers within you. The clamping of your walls, more of a clue. In this instance he wanted to be cruel, and he attempted so. His hand stopped moving, rapidly getting out of your shorts and causing a desperate groan to leave your lips, legs quivering from the abrupt halt.

Just as he was going to cause a drought to the land of your skin and mouth, your hands took a hold of his body. Wrapping around his shoulders to hold him near, causing him to stumble slightly but not to topple over you; able to hold himself up. He won’t deny that knocked the wind out of him to a degree, feeling like in any instant he could have crushed you but pride and satisfaction soon filled him.

“Please, Mark… let’s finish at least.” You beg, your voice drunk off of his touch and whiny from how long it had been since you received anything from him. “Yeah? You want that?” He questions, making fun of you with that smug grin on his face, remaining features feigning compassion. He smiles at your desperate nod, mimicking the motion when he laughs quietly, kissing you again. 

Swallowing every single one of your silent moans that he told you to keep quiet to not let those two outside know what he was doing to you. Thing is, he did want them to know, he wanted them to see how fucked you will look once he is done with you. He wants them to see how your legs spasm when trying to walk and see how marked and irritated your neck is. He’s simply making fun of you right now and you’re falling for it because you will be anything he wants. Even a fool.

His hand slowly slides off your shorts and panties, caressing your warm legs in the process. His once calloused fingers from his creative days that he left behind now soft and tender. You held his face in between your own hands, making sure he never kept too much distance between your lips, that fresh taste of mint still lingers on his tongue.

“But do you deserve it?” Mark immediately stops his caressing and kissing, the words echoing in the cavern of your mouth, you swallow them. His gaze is cold but curious, scanning your own for a response, a witty one.

In this instance he tries to remove his touch from you, your grip on him despite how his knee teases its clothed friction against your exposed and destitute clit. He had been denying you an orgasm for the past fifteen minutes, depriving the other two from knowing what was going on but Mark didn’t care, he was luxuriating in this.

“You’re being so cruel.” You finally say the words that had been covering the walls of your brain and heart. Needy yet angry tears prickling the corner of your closed eyes. It wasn’t just lust but the fact that he was playing dirty when you’re so vulnerable and in dire need of getting something from him. For once.

“You think so?” His knee stops, eyebrow quirking, shit-eating grin falling. You nod, a pout forming, making things worse. ‘Did you really have to cry now?’ He asks himself, huffing as he shakes his head, pulling down his sleeping shorts.

“You jump to conclusions so quickly, it's always such a shame.” He doesn’t dare look directly at your face as he speaks this, knowing that the constraint and squeeze of your heart was showing. No, instead you’re met with the warm feeling of his spit falling off his tongue onto your cunt, some on the tip of his cock.

To be given something forced you to shut your eyes, a moan of relief enclosed within the four walls of the bedroom you shared with him. It became louder when you felt the intrusion of his dick within your walls, his mouth covering yours to drown those sounds. He likes to cherish these sounds for his own entertainment.

He gives you a few seconds to adjust to him, the girth feeling foreign despite how familiar you are with every inch and crevice of his body. Slowly, he picks up the pace, raising your leg to prop it beside him. “See how things turn out when you’re patient?” He asks, searching for your eyes but they’re shut.

The most he gains are pleasured moans in the crook of his neck. Mark can’t figure out how satisfied he is with that answer, so his hand opts to slap the inside of thigh, causing you to whine but reward it with kisses to his neck.

To be fair you didn’t think this could last long. Not when you abstain from self gratification, knowing that only he can bring you to an orgasm and given it’s been a while since you two slept together, an orgasm was long overdue. The friction of his pelvis on your clit while he thrusted was not helping. Just feeling that extra sense of overstimulation while his shaft filled every nook and cranny of your cunt, feeling his length bulge in your stomach.

Holding your body to his, your face buried in his neck begging him to please let you come. The hand beneath you pushing you flush against his own body. If it wasn’t for his shirt as of now, he’d be more vocal with how well you’re both feeling his cock go in and out of you. For now he’s relying on his sweet words, worshiping how well you’re taking him.

Specifically: “Feel how perfectly you were meant for me, pretty girl?” He grabs your hand holding his shoulder, pressing it against your stomach and for some reason that makes you feel like you could come any second now, begging him silently to let you. To please grant you this one thing.

“Fuck, Mark… just give me this, please…” You cry out, eyes screwed shut, lashes wet from pained and pleasured tears. You felt it in your core, you felt how bad your body clamored for some release.

“How bad do you want it?” He asks, his own words struggling to come out unlike the pre-come lining your walls. “As much as you.” You claim, fingernails clinging to his skin, a shallow groan leaving him. He likes to know how much you need him and if you were going to the lengths of hurting him to leave your message, so be it.

With every thrust, your nails dig deeper into his shoulder blades, sliding down his back. Whether he was picking up masochism or basked in the pleasure of the sadism he inflicted, Mark felt it. He felt how he gave out before you. Spurts of come followed with desperate deep moans that you swallowed in dire need of your own release.

But he was cruel. Very fucking cruel that the second that he stopped spasming and decorating your walls, his actions halt. For a few seconds he holds his position, head on your chest trying to relax his body full of adrenaline. If he was to look at you, he knew your face would beg him for your own release.

After a minute or two he pulls away slowly, taking his shirt off and reaching for the wipes inside his night stand. He warms them with his breath, moving them around to disperse the heat, only to lay them flat between your legs to clean off anything that fell out (although not much), propping your legs up and laying some pillows behind your back so you could rest for now.

Tongue poking his cheek before sighing and turning his back to you. “That’s cruel.” He didn’t say anything furthermore, his voice harsh and cold. Locking the bathroom door behind him and leaving you sprawled on the bed, arousal immediately terminated and the only feeling was of regret for saying what you did and letting things go this far. You couldn’t cry either, the other two would probably cut you off this time for good. So you’ll deny your body from letting out its emotions again. Afterall, Mark has made you be so resilient in that aspect.

Jungwoo’s and Jaehyun’s tasks were complete by the time Mark had gotten out of the shower, lunch too. The entire time underwater he spent it beating himself for the decisions he’s made to let things go this way. A month ago he was content thinking his wife loved him despite his flaws but Jaehyun’s big mouth made him unravel slowly that he was doing more harm than building an eternal home. Mark was resentful, he’s not going to deny that. He hated how quickly theatrics and how easy things he saw as fine can fall.

It stung more that you were laughing uncontrollably with the other two, seemingly neither had anything to mention of the marks on your neck or the completely different outfit you have in comparison to the shorts and blouse from earlier. Hell, Jaehyun is sitting in his chair rubbing salt on the wound and you are not saying anything upon noticing Mark; it sucked the life out of him. A slug in a bath of salt.

“Sit, I’ll fix your plate.” You smile at him as if nothing had happened in the four walls of the bedroom, your conformity noticeable. By this point he had taken the cold seat he was unfamiliar with. Sitting across from you was not something he was accustomed to, not in his own home at least, but here he was, watching two men who actually do drop everything for you. Two men that were his friends first, cracking jokes just to make you smile and laugh at which you did, enough to hunch over, something you haven't done with him in a while. 

Mark had blocked out the conversation completely, watching your moves and theirs. Your facial expressions and where your hands landed from time to time. That deafness fell when you placed the plate before him. The presentation made it obvious that others had gotten to your food before him. The mixture of ingredients painting the canvas of his plate faster than prior times when he was the first to cut through the masterpiece of your dishes. This time it was tampered and by the looks of Jaehyun’s still neatly moved around plate, he was the one to break through first.

Throughout lunch Mark tried his best to not speak, only replying when spoken to or agreeing in some sense. Things got worse when your cell phone kept buzzing and buzzing uncontrollably on the kitchen counter that made the other two give each other a glance, this time, not gone unnoticed by him and piquing his interest further.

The incessant buzzing continues, enough that Jungwoo sighs before lolling his head to give you a weird look. “Is it that dick?”  

‘Oh?’ Mark thinks to himself, an eyebrow raising as he begins to chew slower. Your glare towards Jungwoo to hush him is futile when Jaehyun joins. “Haven’t you told him to stop bothering you after work?” He sounded angry, the type of rage Mark should have, not Jaehyun. In his mind: Jealousy and that made his feelings worse.

How selfish.

“What dick? What are you guys on about?” Mark was so annoyed and frustrated at this point that venom laced every single one of his words, spraying it as he flayed his hands. Your silence made it worse, more painful was that you did so while Jaehyun and Jungwoo took it upon themselves to explain. The two, immensely tired of you not saying anything, of not speaking up.

Jungwoo goes first, he knows, they work together for Christ’s sake. “What’s his name? Ah, whatever… Y/n’s floor colleague has been bothering her for a while, you should know.” He frustratedly shakes his head, fork digging into his plate without noticing the look Mark throws at you. “Yeah…” He mutters, eyes never leaving you, all knowing he’s lying and upset.

“You should really report him, Y/n-ie.” Jaehyun breaks through, forcing Mark’s neck to snap and look at him. He was just making things worse because all Mark could feel was his lunch rapidly collecting in his throat. Cutlery dropping from his hands.

‘Y/n-ie’?! What an insolent fuck! That’s what Mark thought of Jaehyun. How dare he use a diminutive for you? Who the fuck did he think he was? Not even he, Mark, your husband called you that. What a fucking asshole.

How selfish.

A coward too, he wouldn’t know how to react either way. Instead he revels in your words as a distraction. “My boss seems to like him a lot. The only one getting in trouble would be me.” You sigh, fork moving food around. Mark looked between you and your actions, you noticed him, that you took a few bites to make him stop.

“Why don’t you apply to where we work?” He suggests, chewing what was on his fork, now using it to point between him and Jaehyun. Foolish to not grasp yet how that would mean seeing Jaehyun more and having it rub in his face that even under the same roof you’ll run to him for favors.

You liked the idea, it was easy to notice how much you perked up at the fact that he suggested being together 24/7 no matter the different departments.

Jungwoo had other plans, “Then you’d leave me alone.” He pouts childishly. On other occasions he’d laugh too and call him cute but he doesn’t think he can see Jungwoo as fondly as before. “Move to my floor instead.” He continues to test the waters but is met with a kind giggle and shrug from you.

The afternoon transpired with finishing lunch. Jaehyun had insisted on cleaning the dishes while Jungwoo the pots. Mark on the other hand sat on the couch, eyes often stealing glances on how you interacted with the other two. If you tried to clean, they’d reject the idea and tell you to just go sit and do what Mark is doing: nothing; an obvious jab. 

Ending their visit with discussing the kick-back Johnny was hosting at his place in a few weeks. Something about the Champions or US Open? You’re not sure. You were growing more worried about Mark, that you ended up telling whoever to just text you the deets. They smiled with a nod… and a kiss to your cheek as a goodbye while waving to Mark who perked at the scene. He felt his eyes warm and heavy. Not sure if they were tears beginning to form from jealousy or insecurity. 

You throw him an acknowledging smile while making your way to the bedroom. He stood up, leaving the TV on to follow behind. Before you could open the closet door to fetch something to sleep in, you feel his arms wrap around you. There was desperation to his grab, his hold was rough. Your back hit his chest, feeling his exasperated breath on your neck. Soft kisses at first but nipping soon after to leave his name all over you again, claiming you since it seemed like the others weren’t being repelled.

“Mark?…” You call out, his hands knead your skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?… Why did you keep–” ‘everything’ he wanted to say, “that from me?” 

“Come on–” you intend to plead but he’s not letting it go. “Why?!” He asks exasperatedly against your face while he leaves wet kisses on the skin, pleadingly. “I didn’t want to burden you.” You confess, a whine at the harsh grasp.

“You’re my wife! I need to know these types of things, Y/n. You can’t just keep things from me, how can we be good to– how can it be good for us?” He exclaims; angry and wailing all at once.

‘How can we be good together like this?’ He wanted to say, biting his tongue to not tell truths while sober. Mark didn’t know what it was, but it hurt. He had been thinking about this for weeks. How to ask you overall about the things you’ve hidden from him but now that he has the chance to bring it up, he can’t help but feel resentful and pained. 

Why did you trust Jaehyun and Jungwoo more than him? He’s your husband.

He expected that once married, loyalty would be granted to him no matter what, one way or another. Just like she had granted it to Donghyuck despite how flawed their marital logic was.

Sure, he made things worse but would the universe be cruel enough for him to be in Hyuck’s shoes years later? He deserved it, he knew, something at least, but that ill side of him– what he had learned from her plagues him and demands you to love him unconditionally. To do things on your own without the help of others even when he’s the one to deny you any aid, when he’s at fault.

Mark is miserable and he expects you to be so too… even more than you already are.

Misery loves company.

His hands stopped their harsh kneading, turning you around to look at him. His tired and weary eyes looked straight into yours. But while he felt resentful and confused, you felt odd. Why was he acting like he cared all of the sudden? It was strange and while you appreciated it to an extent, you also hated it.

You weren’t used to it at least, and you weren’t sure if this act would last. You don’t want to admit it but that voice hidden in the vault of your heart loathes him more than anything.

“Okay…” You nod. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you things more often, yeah?” 

“Please…”

You nod and he nods, pleadingly; he’s not content and neither are you. 

After that discussion, the day transpired as if nothing had happened. He had returned to the living room leaving you to do whatever while he kept his distance. Only answering with hums and nods whenever you come out of the room.

Did you mind? No, it was so normalized it didn’t make you angry anymore. You actually felt like things were back to normal and this was sufficient enough. Mark on the other hand tried everything to ignore how he felt or regulate those emotions since he wasn’t too sure who he was mad with. 

By the time he had figured he was over it, you had fallen asleep alone like all those times he did weeks prior. A warmth filled his chest at the thought. An inkling telling him to wake up before you do the following day just to leave that dissatisfaction you had left in him, not accounting with how disappointed you were with him already that it wouldn’t affect you in the slightest.

He wouldn’t do it, though. Not because he cared enough, but because he wasn’t planning on waking up early to be petty. What he will do is go back to the living room and let his fingers roam like Thing until those crumpled and messy pages sat on his lap and he laid on the couch, stereo system on.

Instantly he’s met with those familiar sharp corners and loops. Numbers, increasing and decreasing significantly. The larger ones bold from rage, the decreasing one's neatly written with smiley faces next to them. He still couldn’t figure out what they meant but he surely enjoyed the recipes you kept adding to the journal and the doodles of how they turned out. Although, he felt that they lacked so much substance.

All of these felt either welcoming or asked that he be eradicated from this earth for the way he’s breaching your privacy, acting like an over controlling strict father despite being your husband. Almost like his dad, but don’t tell him that or he’ll throw a fit. For having lived so many lives, he's surely turning into the worst version of himself.

Through more flipping to see if he missed anything, he came across some interesting notes. All which made his stomach churn and that pride he would once feel, turned to– well, some type of disgust and concern…

‘I’ll do anything for him but every day I’m going insane with tense trials. It’s fine. If I have to go insane to stay with him I will.’

Mark sighs heavily, hands covering his face to soon slide off hoping his flesh would fall with them, groaning to himself.

Fuck, he loved you. In a fucked up way he did but how much could he endure knowing things aren’t fine and dandy? Sure, his first instinct is to try and fix things but there’s also that part that won’t let him strive for any change and it’s winning.

Change hasn’t been the kindest to him in the past. Hell, it’s the reason he’s morphed into what he is now but you accept him this way. That’s what the incessant and pestering part of him told him to let things be and just act like he doesn’t know what you truly are.

He should be glad, no? To know that you love him so much that it’s killing you. Yet, he isn’t. He’s not sure why, maybe because of his deep buried true morality but he has also grown to be selfish and he wants to relish in the glory of your love until you hit a breaking point.

For once he doesn’t want to be a Bernal character and it seems this is where he is slowly breaking that pattern— albeit, he is not enjoying it either. 

Perhaps it was the hour, his growing resentment, anger, and hurt, or he was overstimulated that caused the music in the background to tremble and clog his ears the longer he kept reading. Lists upon lists of things you had to do at work followed by entries on how much longer your hours would run every instance you paid no mind to that dick that the guys described.

Countless entries of your boss calling your attention after that asshole complains. Instances in which, despite how many pictures of Mark you put up in your cubicle, he makes an effort to make them disappear any time you’re not near. On company dinners, Jungwoo and you make it your life’s mission to slither away from the crowd– to be seen but not noticed, enough to not be reprimanded when you’re miles away from danger.

‘Jungwoo mentions in passing every opening in his floor as an incentive to ask for a transfer. Going as far as getting letters of assistance to request my temporary time in the department. Hours to days, they have been great but not everything lasts. With just one foot back inside in my department, the entire mood shifts and it’s back to reality.’

Mark doesn’t understand why his chest aches every time he reads your journal. Perhaps there’s a moderate amount of empathy but he also feels hurt knowing you’re hiding so much from him.

Years worth of things and even if you don’t say it, you make it known you hate the person he is. Mark is sure that if you weren't attached to him like you are, you’d loathe him the way you loathe everyone who has wronged you. He wonders how long it will be until your love runs out and he will finally become one of them.

He shouldn’t expect it but if it happened with Donghyuck who promised to never leave him, of course it can happen with you who he has wronged just as bad as his brother, even if you do everything in your power to prove him wrong. Mark tends to bite the hand that feeds him, if he gnaws for far too long, surely there will be consequences.

03:46, a warm night in 2008… Aggravated and nauseous from making your suffering about himself, Mark dictates that it was enough meddling for the day. Tiresome and bleary-eyed, head thumping achingly with the music debilitating him; Mark stands up frustratedly to turn off Sinead O’Connor angrily screaming ‘you’re a liar’ over and over making him forget about the journal on his lap.

The vegan leather taunts him with its loud thump against the floor, screeching as he picks it up but in the process he drops some notes. “Fuck me!” He curses frantically, knowing you’ll definitely know he’s been snooping when none of these end up where you originally placed them. He starts to panic, he feels his heart race dangerously, his aching head is now spinning, flipping through pages to see where he can put these in, yet in the process he stops.

“Don’t beat yourself up because of him. I’ll always be on your corner and so will Jungwoo. I love you, y/n. – Jaehyunie ♡”

I love you, y/n… Not ‘we love you’ but ‘I. I love you’.

Mark’s blood runs cold, his eyes bulge. In that moment he feels his chest and heart compress, squeezing the life out of him.

This is what Mark’s fears came to. He worried so much about your unconditional love becoming conditional, that the universe allowed him to see the incriminating clue that told him that sooner than later that was to happen. Right?

 ‘Dinner on me today! NO buts! Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?! XOXO — Snoops XD.’

The pitch black ink taunts him, questioning how recent or how old these must be. The handwriting felt juvenile with every smooth corner and small bottoms. The top of every letter felt bubbly and messy when connecting. Jaehyun’s could still be neat when messy and for some reason that bothered Mark more.

Unbeknownst to Mark, the papers were crumpling between his shaky fingers. As shaky as his breath restraining whatever he was feeling. ‘Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?’ Mark repeats to himself that same question for a hundred more times, each making him more angry. ‘Who else but her husband? Me!’ He wants to yell at the top of his lungs. Drill it in the minds of everyone in your shared circle. He was capable of taking care of you!

But being capable doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t nor put effort into doing so.

No, Mark didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to jump into conclusions of infidelity or anything down that rabbit hole. He knew you wouldn’t do it. He wants to think that, he wants to believe it. You’re literally ruining yourself for him, so why would you do all that to throw it all away? Regardless, he can’t swallow the lump in his throat. 

He also once thought him and Hyuck would be in each other’s lives until they died. It later turned into him believing Hyuck would fade into the shadows of this earth and not ever see him because she would be his, choosing him, but that didn’t happen. In fact it was the opposite. He also didn’t become the renowned artist he was in his college years with a list full of connections that left him when he fell from grace. 

He didn’t end up thriving in the studio where he was meant to start over and is now in a dead-end design engineering job because of his father and his connections, not Mark’s. Did he know anything about it going in? He knew the word design but oh god how far can connections go if he landed something like that.

Even you, he met you because of his father, and the bells of the life he avoided for years rang incessantly letting him know no one can run from their faith. No matter how hard they try.

It didn’t matter if he was or wasn’t in Hyuck’s shoes, it only mattered that he now knew how much pain Hyuck was going through seeing his wife rejoice in the care and love of men he considered friends. That and the fact that he was making your unraveling all about himself, at least they can share that too.

He couldn’t understand how you acted so peaceful and put together when during lunch he’d visit the cafes you frequented with Jungwoo and found you the same as the first time. Exasperated, vexed, and angry with a cigarette between your fingers when you two were to leave.

A chuckle on his lips remembering all the times you pestered him to quit smoking because you wanted him for many years to come. Now he’s not sure if you want to be with him as much, no matter how many times you write about it.

“You’re still a liar, you’re still a liar, you’re still a liar!”

Monday rolled around in which Mark swore to not allow Jungwoo another lunch date with you. Furthering his selfishness and restricting your moments of relief so he could take that time up. You wouldn't mind, right? It’s him after all…

It goes to say that when he stepped through the ample threshold of your floor with a cute little bag in his hand and some drinks in the other, that confusion crossed your mind before that thought was pushed back by adoration. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask with a warm smile. You felt like a child whose parents never showed up for any activities but this one. That childish glee and relief of knowing that you are loved. “Can’t pay my wife a visit?” Mark retaliates with a cheeky smile, leaning in to give you a short but sweet kiss.

You want to say it felt like when you first began dating. So sweet, tender, and soft. How he was before you married and his facade fell, showing how dependent he was. His small acts of love come through.

You want to believe it so bad that you’re willing to push back the tiny voice in your head trying to force you to question what he wanted out of you if he was willing to visit you this far.

“Well yeah,” You giggle in an effort to leave your desk. “Come, let’s go to the rooftop.” Your hand takes a hold of his wrist, pulling him along until that incessant blob of human flesh presents itself right in front of you both, blocking the way. 

“Well look at that. Your husband, right? Didn’t think you’d like the soft ones…” A mocking grin slapped on his face, arms crossed against his chest. He wasn’t much taller than Mark but he sure was confident to take a step closer to you both. Mark opts to carry all bags in one hand, twisting his wrist to hold your hand rather than you him.

You sigh, looking for ways to respond but Mark doesn’t give you time, walking around him with you in front, ignoring any calls from him to go back for a conversation. Such an insufferable man, Mark was aware but to you, this moment, you were still treating it like one of your earlier dates. His attentiveness and courage of protecting you. You missed that Mark and any resentment from marrying him faded for now.

“That’s him?” Mark breaks the silence, the walk to the rooftop consisting of him complaining from these few seconds they met. If he thought this much from only that timeframe, you wonder how long he would have lasted in your shoes. 

You responded to his complaints with nods and hums, taking a seat across from him on the bistro table. He laid back on the chair relaxed, if it wasn’t for his babbling one would think he wasn’t really affected.

“And, I mean, he’s such a dick.” He groans, sitting up straight, his roll of eyes halting upon noticing you pick at one half of the sandwich. 

Mayo wiped off, pickles on the bundle of used napkins, the turkey they touched on top of them, chunks of old avocado added to the tower. “What are you doing? Why are you picking at your food all of the sudden?” He leans against the table, elbows on the glass to be closer to you. In that instance, you stop your actions, looking at him through lashes before raising your head.

“Mark, I don't like these. I thought you knew by now…”

Fuck.

“No, yeah, I know. I’m sorry…” His hand leaves his chin, stretching it to hold yours. “Sorry, I forgot to check the order at the cafe, I didn’t want traffic to get me.” You smile at him, he smiles at you. You know he’s lying but it’s the thought that counts. “Plus, I think I came at the perfect time. Imagine I had come later and he had bothered you more?” His fingers squeeze yours, a little too hard if you say so. 

He’s received with a shrug. “He’s a dick, like you said.” You giggle softly, pulling your hand away to wipe them with another napkin. “He doesn’t react like that with Jaehyun, though. Does everything to avoid him.” Your head tilts, reassembling the sandwich to presentability. 

“Jaehyun?” You gave him that same look as when he questioned you seconds earlier, except it was softer and almost incriminating. You didn’t mean it in any form, more casually but after his findings, Mark can’t say he’s too happy with this information.

“Oh, well, when you can’t bring what I ask you to, I… sometimes ask Jae. So, they've met before…” Your gaze lowers, taking the other sandwich half onto your hands. “I think he’s scared of Jae, to be honest.” You giggle in attempts to break whatever tension you felt from your husband.

‘Jae, Jae, Jae. Christ, what a broken record.’ Mark thought, an urge to roll his eyes at the mention of his coworker. For fucks sake, he was the last thing he wanted to think about or even see. The only reason he saw him today was because of work but that should be it. He shouldn’t be hearing or thinking about his name here with you. Let alone hear it coming from you, his wife.

Stretching your hand towards him, you smile. “Here, eat the other half. These are huge on their own.” He took it, lunch soured by your incessant need to bring up Jaehyun and that dickhead from earlier.

Was this how he was paid? Making an effort to be a good husband just to have things be thrown in his face?

Lunch ended not too long after, he was on his own lunch break after all. It goes to say that his drop off and goodbye bid seemed lackluster in comparison to his greeting.

“Um, and don’t forget to file a floor change.” He gave you a tired smile and a quick kiss. It was the last thing he said to you while fixing any pictures of you two on your desk —three missing now— before heading towards the elevator. 

Like an act of a malice-meaning demon, when reaching the twelfth floor, the doors yanked themselves open like a grand introduction to a world renowned boxer or an all-show wrestler, showcasing that smug pug-faced asshole. A silent chuckle upon placing himself next to Mark who slumped against the railing and mirror walls.

Mark greeted him with a huff, head lolling similar to his eyes. The feeling got worse when he heard him blubbering, “At first I thought that the other guy was her boyfriend. You know, tall, dimples; suits her better.” He nods to himself, egging Mark’s ringing ears.

Here they went again. Bringing Jaehyun into every conversation. It’s made worse knowing that this idiot felt even Jaehyun could be your partner. That no matter how many images of Mark you display, to the world only Jae was good enough for you. Because he’s the only one who shows up.

“He seems like an actual man or that guy from the floor below. The orange haired one, a little weird but he surely goes out of his way to not let me have some fun for the day.” He laughs, snorting at his abhorrence. He turns to Mark, swallowing that disgusting lump of mucus in his throat, hand itching to come in contact with Mark’s smooth cheek. A pat of mockery. “She’s doing charity work with you.” 

Ironic, Mark would say. Ironic that he thinks you’re doing charity work with him when this idiot was never an afterthought. The older man insists on glaring at Mark, not letting their gazes drop, seeking any response from Mark even when the elevator rings, letting them know they’ve hit the garage lobby. He felt victorious feeling as if he had struck a nerve when Mark hopped off without a peep. Only for his triumph to be shut down shortly after.

“No wonder she has never mentioned you before. You’re repulsive to even think about and a sorry excuse for a man.”

A disgusted scowl replaced Mark’s poker face, glaring at the once mocking jackass whose face had sagged, shock turning into anger that he didn’t know how to express before the doors closed, making his target disappear from view.

Mark might have felt great in the moment but things could only go worse for you. He didn’t think about the consequences of his actions. He never did. He didn’t think about how it would affect you at work and the repercussions you faced for the weeks to come. Mark hadn’t processed he was at fault until your journal became frantic, pages with holes from how hard you wrote on them. Crumpled from the anger you couldn’t express besides abusing those pages.

He didn’t notice because he was indulging amongst the side notes and words highlighted with your tears about how scared you were of losing him. Your quick remarks on how you felt him pulling away or acting odd. Imploring to whichever higher being to not take him from you if that was the case. While you’re wallowing in the pits of your sadness hoping he won’t leave you, Mark enjoys the feeling of warmth seeing your desperation.

It meant you loved him, right? With how things were going on with Jaehyun, Mark took any crumb of your love that only felt real when you wrote about it. It’s hard to understand why he didn’t feel it was real when it came from your lips but it did when you confessed to the things you’ve put yourself through for him. For him, not Jaehyun, him, Mark. That felt like love.

Right, only on paper it felt like love. Not like now that you found yourself in Johnny’s kitchen with Jaehyun next to you like a guard dog, chewing your ear off with whatever he was saying despite your look of anguish. A worrying look to Mark and the likes of his— well, your friend it seems.

He had been enjoying the final match with Johnny, Yanyang, and the other coworkers they shared. You had been sitting by his side for most of it but it wasn’t until a few minutes ago that Jaehyun pulled you aside, asking for your help to make some drinks for the rest of the guests but now he was holding you hostage, begging you to drink some water.

Mark figured the drinks you had were getting to you and Jaehyun could tell. He won’t say he’s fond of that fact. That Jaehyun knows you well to the point he can tell when you need to be cut off.

Mark tried not making it obvious but when only his head isn’t turned to the TV and the host is making sure his guests are having a good time, well it’s hard to miss. Johnny notices it too, how Jaehyun was fixing you a slider, the words: “You haven’t eaten well, stop trying to fool me.” sternly spewing from his mouth.

No mayo, no pickles, no condiments at all. Just a plain cheeseburger slider. He knew how you liked it by heart and that’s something that makes Mark’s heart pound in hate.

The feeling becomes worse when your whispering turns frantic and almost audible for the rest to hear. Your words whining like you wanted to cry about how hellish work has become after Mark’s visit. Jaehyun shakes his head, hands pressing against the counter to lean against with an angry look on his face. That infamous look of hollow cheeks and sunken dead eyes. He wanted to say something but knew it was best to be a shoulder to lean on.

“And don’t tell me to talk to him about it because what’s the use?! You know how he is. I love him, I do but—” Your hands come in contact with your forehead, shaking it a bit, “Why can’t he just be a tad bit like you?…” You hiccuped, hands slowly sliding down to your mouth as you shut your eyes. It wasn’t a sign of regret but exhaustion, vile stuck in your throat. 

Jaehyun’s face softened, standing up straight to turn to you. To some form of comfort, his hand extends to rub your back, pulling you in for a side hug while you try to hold in whatever you feel. Jaehyun understands your words come from a place of hurt but confessions like that can be taken wrongly.

“Why can’t he be just a tad bit like you?...” Just like Mark had, who now felt his heart shatter. Disillusioned and hurt, stupid for thinking that you would want him no matter what. Worse off, it was Jaehyun who you confessed that to. Someone that everyone thought was a better fit for you.

I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.

Johnny took it upon himself to raise the volume of the TV, sparing Mark from any more anguish and saving your business to be heard by the other guests who by the graces of God were more interested in who would win the Stanley Cup this season.

His attempts didn’t work. Mark felt his world crashing down on him in this instance. He wanted to go out and scream, cry even, at the reviving memories flashing through his head. He’s seen this before— no, he’s experienced this.

Her cries to him about Hyuck to soon commence their affair in that same instance. If that was to happen in these walls, Mark thinks it’s his time to take a leap out of Johnny’s apartment balcony.

So when you leave me, I should die. I deserve it, don’t I? I can feel it getting near.

The vile stuck in your throat had been persistent on coming out, enough to push Jaehyun out of the way to run towards Johnny’s bathroom. It’s amazing how enthralled with the game his guests were to not notice anything happening behind them. To not feel Mark’s radiating poison as he watches his wife and ‘friend’ rush towards the bathroom, door slamming behind him. If it wasn’t for Jeno’s and Yangyang’s cheering scream, they would hear you hurl the slider into the toilet bowl, crying along with self-disgust.

Mark couldn’t hold it in anymore; abruptly he stands, ignoring Johnny’s sympathetic look. Not only for him but for you too, aware of Mark’s own flaws. He had thoughts of barging in and blowing Jaehyun’s ear off with his barking. Questioning you about what was going on, but he slowed down when he heard you hiccup and cry before and after vomiting. Jaehyun’s soothing hushes to you making his head spin but innocent enough.

Innocent until he opened his mouth. “Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, it’s okay, pretty girl.” Jaehyun coos into Mark’s eardrum through a megaphone to imprint the notes of his voice onto his brain. 

Pretty girl. That’s his pet name for you, Mark’s pet name. Hurt floods him when you make no effort to correct him and present this fact.

Since when have you become someone else’s pretty girl?

He couldn’t take it any longer, angrily slamming the door open to watch Jaehyun soothing you with backrubs, holding your hair as you went.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Mark spits out venom, mimicking that of a cobra. His eyes widened by hot fury as he approached you two. You wanted to speak, but the invasion from your gut stopped you, tears being the only thing you were able to respond with.

Jaehyun on the other hand gives him a look as if to tell him to calm down, that everything was fine, more worried about your well being than Mark’s insecurities. “Just helping her out, calm down.”

It aggravated him how collected Jaehyun’s words were, how little mind he paid him or how you made no effort to have Jaehyun stop giving you supportive squeezes (almost like you weren’t fighting for your life).

Mark huffs, hands taking purchase on his waist watching you two, the volume to the television and the guests drawn out by your heaving. He whispers, walking towards Jaehyun with that same menacing look– eye roll worthy, Jaehyun would say.

“I just fucking heard you, she’s my wife. What the fuck are you trying to do?” His finger rose to poke at Jaehyun’s shoulder. The taller one of the two feeling offended by Mark’s accusations and thoughts that he’d snake him like that. Jaehyun was not Mark.

“Sorry, that’s on me,” Jaehyun slaps Mark’s hand away, creating some distance. “I'm just helping her—” “Back the fuck off, she’s my wife…” 

Tired enough by this facade, Jaehyun scowls at Mark, pushing past him towards the door. “Then don’t be a shitty husband and she won’t have to seek other people to do what you can’t! I know how to respect marriages well enough, if anything I’m just helping her. Something you should do for once in your fucking life.”

Jaehyun bites back, watching Mark’s face falter as he slams the door behind him while you continue your sobbing. Overwhelmed by your bodily reaction but mostly for what just ensued in this room. With no form to defend yourself and Jaehyun. Hurt that Mark thought you two would betray him like he’s done to those before you.

You believe me like a God, I’ll betray you like a man.

In that instance Mark wanted to run to Jaehyun and gouge his eyes out, rip his stupid freshly bleached hair out, and beat him until he was nothing else than liquid matter. The words rang horribly inside his head to the point he was seeing red, his vision blurred and stars were floating in his eyes.

History was repeating itself and he was finally paying his wrong doings. He thought Jungwoo and Jaehyun were his friends but Hyuck thought the same of him and now he’s found himself in this predicament.

You're sweet, you're lovely. You go out of your way to make Mark happy so it was him all along. He's the problem and karma is finally making him pay the price.

Jaehyun understood it was his fault for being careless and using pet names but can one blame him when he was worried? Someone has to if not the one who bowed to do so. Even when he’s gone from eye sight, Jaehyun’s efforts are felt through Johnny who knocks on the door. Mark opens it slightly, Johnny standing before him with a glass of water and baking soda. Telling him about how Jaehyun sent him before leaving; for you to swish your mouth with this and drink some sparkling water to soothe your stomach ache.

Mark took it without a word, nodding at Johnny before shutting the door in his face as if this wasn’t his home. You were up on your feet by the time Mark turned around, lid closed as you flushed the toilet, reaching the sink to rinse your mouth before taking the glass from his hand. No words from either of you.

He looked at you through the mirror, arms crossed and factions softening upon noticing how tired and sick you looked. Gauntly, lips and eyes puffed out, and cheeks streaked. It was best to go home after that incident, only giving Johnny an apologetic goodbye while the rest of the guests paid no mind. On your end you were out of the apartment already, embarrassment laced on your face. 

And even through the car ride, all you could think about was Mark’s words and actions. Memories of Mark smugly telling his ex-best friend words Jaehyun spat at him flooded his vision, making it dangerous for him to be driving. To his side you grunted in discomfort, feeling as if vile was to rise from you again but he paid you no mind, made no effort to comfort you, more focused on his own feelings.

The look Hyuck had on his face eight years ago was the one Mark mirrors this night. One way or another one will pay for all their sins and you were his cross.

He didn’t talk to you for the remainder of the night. Didn’t care enough to question why you fell ill or how frightened you were about the possibility that this may be it, that this was his excuse to leave you behind.

The thoughts, his actions and words clouding your mind through your shower, skin care routine, and brushing your teeth. Spending minutes upon minutes doing the latter, disgusted by yourself. Brushing away all the vile you wanted to throw at him but instead ended down Johnny’s plumbing. For only Jaehyun to hear and understand.

Mark laid down on his side by the time you came out of the bathroom. You knew he was angry, his stiff body making no effort to move even when feeling the bed sink under your knees. He tried not to move when he felt your arms wrap around him seeking comfort in his warmth, but Mark wasn’t willing to give it to you. Without a care if he hurt you, which is what he did.

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Your words made his eyes open. Startled, his body hardens under your touch, almost like your upcoming tears were freezing him on the spot. Damp on his sleeping shirt but hot on his back. He turns abruptly, pushing back a bit in the process. “What are you even ta—”

“Why don’t you love me anymore?!” You cut him off, voice raising to something he’s never heard before. “You’ve been so distant. More than usual and I can’t take it anymore!” Your palms cover your eyes, pushing back tears, forbidding you to look at that mocking grin on his face as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

You’re the one who grows distant when I beckon you near.

His voice on the other hand makes sure you know how he feels. “You think so? I think this is the closest I’ve been to you.” He chuckles, taking into account that look of confusion on your face as you put down your hands, resting them on your lap. “Why don’t you tell me anything, Y/n? You tell Jungwoo everything. You ask Jaehyun to do everything for you. I’m your husband, why don't you don’t you trust me enough?” 

Your confusion falls, disgust and anger replace it. “When I ask anything out of you, you never want to nor know how to do it.” Your voice was hurt, head shaking a tad with every syllable, hate laced into each one. He hated how much your reaction resembled Jaehyun’s.

He doesn’t want to admit you’re right, “You ask the most absurd of favors.” He scoffs, sitting up to be face to face with you. “Are you fucking serious? You’re a grown man who can’t cook or clean for himself. Up until I saw you at the bakery I thought you didn’t know where it was but then I saw you with another girl there.” You huff, arms flailing like when you’re with Jungwoo. 

There would be some satisfaction in him to know your true self is here talking with him but bringing old news made him groan. “I thought you said it was fine and we’d drop it there.” He takes into account the glare you’re throwing him, smoke coming out of your ears the longer neither of you speak.

If he had known a few drinks would do this to you, he would have not let you drink. The thing is, Mark pays no mind to you to not notice you’ve drank mocktails all night. He was more worried about Jaehyun than you.

“It’s not fine when you’re with some other girl to a place you keep avoiding when I ask you to go. Is it because of her? Is she the one taking my place now?” Your voice came out choppy, acheful, with the question, inhaling and exhaling to calm yourself down.

He on the other hand doesn’t take it kindly, annoyed that you’d think about him that way but that's what he’s been thinking about you, so what difference does it make? It would not be his first rodeo, so are you that insane to think of him like that?

I’ll betray you like a man.

Mark stands from the bed, crouching to eye-level with you as if you were a child he’s lecturing. “It’s not because of her, I don’t give a fuck about her! I barely know her, she is just an intern, and hasn't been there for a month now! We were sent by my boss!” His fingers poke his temple, in a form to tell you to get it through your head.

“But I’m right? You don’t love me anymore.”

Mark stands up straight in disbelief with your words despite none defending his case coming from his own mouth. He could see how your heart was crushing with every passing second.

The truth is hiding in your eyes and it’s hanging on your tongue. Just boiling in my blood. 

“All this time I thought you were calm… level headed— but you're the opposite... you don’t talk to me, you tell Jaehyun and Jungwoo everything. Why can’t you tell me everything? Why can't you need and trust me?” His voice softens, calming down.

“Because you don’t ever want to listen to me! I can’t need you when you do everything in your power for me not to!” Truth is, he did know how to clean and cook for himself, he's done it before but he's grown selfish and dependent.

Your outburst left him speechless, all the sighs he had to give stuck and dispersed through every crevice of his interior, poisoning his flow. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t want to believe it.

“I give and give and give but I never receive! I love you so much, it's become so painful that I rather let it slide than be far from you.” You crawl closer to the edge of the bed, hoping to minimize the distance between you two. The feeling of proximity only seems to feel farther, leaving room for a blizzard to rest between you two.

Mark knows he’s not man enough, your coworker said it. He knows he doesn’t help or take care of you, Jaehyun and Jungwoo told him so. None of these men had to tell him for him to know he doesn’t deserve you. It just so happens to be that Mark is selfish and wasn’t able to process it until now. He swore he believed you through writing but now, with you telling him directly— reality is forcing itself upon him.

“I think we should take a break.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“What?” You ask confused and startled, looking up at him with fury in your eyes. “What? Don’t be fucking stupid. We’re married and we’ll stay this way! It's not as easy as you let out, asshole.” You sniffle, getting off the bed now, approaching him despite the gap he’s formed between you two. In all senses. 

“You’re just not who I fell in love with anymore.”

You wanted to rip his hair out, claw his skin and inject your pain and love into him so he could understand what you felt. You knew he was selfish but how fucking stupid could he be? 

“You’re so— you’re no fucking better than anyone else. You fell in love with the idea you made of me. Whatever the fuck that is! Any chance you get to see the real me you shut me down, Mark! Why can’t you just love me?! Not the stupid girl you thought I was.”

Your cries stopped, hands taking purchase on his arms, squeezing tighter with the adrenaline of wrath coursing through your veins. You were tired, tired of his foolishness and in times like these, you weren’t going to let him ruin what you’ve built.

“You fell in love with an idealized version of me too, if you’re still this in love.” Mark gulps, making no effort to move but his eyes felt heavy and tired. Hurt even, not sure if for himself or for you, empathy winning for once. Pity sounds better.

You think that I can’t see what kind of man that you are. If you’re man at all.

“I see you for who you fucking are. You’re selfish, you don’t want to do things for others unless you’re getting something out of it. You weaponize your incompetence for me to do things for you. You’re insecure especially with other men around me because you think of yourself exactly the opposite as them unless they’re more pathetic compared to you.” Your finger poked his chest, reminiscing on how he began berating Jaehyun.

“You’re especially jealous of your friends because they offer more for me than you do and that’s your fault.  You project your insecurities and mistakes onto them and me because you’re a bad friend, husband, and ultimately a bad person. Yet I’m still with you because I love you— even with everything you put me through and how you can’t help but compare me to— to her! Get over it and through your head, that was loneliness and you were the easiest victim. No one leaves their husband for someone they don't love.”

Like the pathetic man he was, he broke down. No amount of swallowing and gulping down the knot in his throat would go away. Tears streamed down his cheeks upon hearing you project onto the world what you had whispered to the toilet bowl earlier. Mark wasn’t aware that you knew about Hyuck and her but he wouldn’t doubt if you had come across letters from them both in the past just like he came across your journals. 

Having you voice what he had been thinking about since that experience caused his world to finally see true color, despite you being purposely vicious. He knew what that fling meant for her, for Hyuck, and for him. It just so happens that it meant more for him and here he was taking it out on the only person who has stuck by his side.

You loved him but you also hated him and that was more than clear to him now.

“Better reason for us to take a break. You deserve better… I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.” He sighs, sniffling, throwing his head back to not let any more tears shed. 

“I don’t care. If I go without you I’ll—I…” you clinging your nails to his shoulders trying to cut off your words. You knew what you wanted to say wasn’t healthy, not for you and not for him. Mark knows this, weeks of reading your entries allowing him to understand what goes within the walls of your brain. 

"Y/n please stop... you’re hurting me." It doesn't change the fact that feeling it was worse than reading it. “Then you’re a coward who would die within an hour in my shoes if I treated you the way you treat me.” You sternly and ferociously spit. He wails before doing the only thing he knew would calm you down. 

Leaning in, he kisses you, meekly. Pouring in the love he once had for you and the remaining he has now. But your body rejects it, feeling how phony it is. Pushing him off, running to the restroom to repeat the happenings of earlier. Mark sighs in relief to have you not corner him but in this instance concern floods him.

He follows you to the bathroom, standing by the door frame with crossed arms. Watching you hold your hair like Jaehyun had done earlier. Tears back in your eyes as you continue to lash out your rage against the white porcelain that's witnessed this on other occasions. Although this was one that should symbolize happiness, yet it’s clear you both won’t take it as such.

Mark took a look at his watch, 11:28PM. “Come on, get your shoes. I’ll take you to urgent care, you probably just need some electrolytes.” He approaches you, aiming to help you up but you resist, shaking your head defeatedly. 

“I’m not drunk.” You let out through gritted teeth. “No?” He questions smugly, annoyed at your rejection. “They were mocktails. These are normal symptoms.” He gives you a quizzical look. “Look in the drawer, Nancy Drew.” You huff, mocking him for his detective work these past weeks. It was only natural he’d find out eventually if he kept meddling in your journals.

With furrowed eyes, and look remaining, Mark pulls at the white drawer, the cold metal burning his warm hand. He digs and digs through piles of papers. All bills or old letters neither of you cared enough for. Reaching the bottom Mark feels something solid wrapped around a newer piece of paper. In comparison to the yellowing pages, this was white and bright, tied with a rubber band around the solid material.

He throws you a quick glance while taking it into his hands, unraveling the rubber to open it and come to view with three sticks, all with matching two-pink stripes. Any ounce of hope to restart is gone with the weight in his hands. Disappearing when he read the paper.

‘Laboratory report Patient: Y/n Lee. Sampled collected: May 15, 2008. Report date: May 20, 2008 Status: Pregnant Gestational age: 5-8 weeks.’

Mark reads it over and over, finally having the courage to look at you. His eyes wide and dim, reflecting on your cold angry ones. This was it. It was his life. What you would have taken as a beautiful moment, you can now agree this seals your faith. The look you gave him mirroring his misery. At least now you both were on board for once, basking in the fact this was a deadend no matter what.

You both know nothing will get fixed, all there is left is to pretend for the life that’s growing within you. Wreckless as ever, and the cycle of life continues. An innocent life to suffer the trails of a failed relationship for years to follow. That’s all Mark knows, that’s all you know. Generational curses don't end with either of you.

if you liked happy together: it’s too bad you’re married… to me, you’ll enjoy: stupid girl !

join yojeongin’s taglist to be up to date with future work!

taglist: @haknyeonsju @seungjiseyo @theskzvibe @wonyofanclub @lovingvoidgoatee

[neoaevis]

L.MK | It’s Friday, Baby

↳ Pairings: reader x mark lee

↳ Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship au! 

↳ Word Count: 2943

↳ Summary: You and Mark have been dating for a year, and your relationship is built on mutual respect and affection. You have a fantastic time together and love spending time together but, when it comes to physical intimacy, both of you have taken things gently, even though you both want to be intimate, you've never gone past making out.

✩ Warnings: first time sex with mark, big dick mark, some filthy stuffs, swearing, alcohol consumption, kissing, sofa sex, (send me an ask if you think there is more)

✩ A/N: Please tell me if you feel like I made some mistakes and drop by my asks to give some much needed feedback <33

You and Mark had been dating for about a year, and your relationship was based on mutual respect and affection. You enjoyed spending time with him, and the two of you enjoyed each other's company, but when it came to physical intimacy, you had always taken things slowly. Despite your mutual desire, you had never gone beyond making out.

As the week drew to a close, you and Mark decided to stick to your weekly routine of spending a quiet evening at home watching a movie. This was something the two of you had been doing for a while now, and it had become a comforting tradition. Mark poured a glass of red wine for you both and settled in beside you on the couch, his arm draped casually over your shoulder.

Yet your attraction to each other becomes too intense to ignore. You felt Mark's hand slip down to rest on your thigh while a particularly passionate scenario played out on the television. As the film went, his proximity became increasingly distracting, and you could feel his warmth and smell his perfume, driving you insane. You adjusted in your seat, attempting to find a more comfortable position, but your body appeared to have its own mind.

You shuddered with anticipation, and Mark seemed to take note and sense your discomfort. Abruptly, he turned to you and stroked a strand of hair away from your face, his expression concerned.

"Are you okay?" he enquired, gazing at you with worry.

You tried to keep your voice calm as you nodded. "I'm alright; I'm just a little warm."

Mark took your hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly before recommending that you both take a break. You both rose up to stretch your legs, and as you stood by the window, you felt Mark's hand slip into yours. You had a dreamy expression on your face as he touched your face, making your heart skip a beat.

His lips immediately pressed against yours, and you felt a rush of excitement as his tongue pushed beyond your lips to explore your mouth. As he brought you back to the sofa, you murmured into the kiss, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair.

Mark let out a low moan as the two of you kissed fiercely, and you could feel his erection pressing against your heat. You couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement and want at the understanding of  how turned on he was.

Your heavy breathing made it evident that both of you needed time to collect your breaths. You drew back, your cheeks flushed red with shame and longing, his eyes blazing with desire as he glanced in your flushed face and heaving chest. "You're so lovely," he said softly, his voice husky with need.

You sighed gently into his lips as his erection feels rock hard against you, knowing that you wanted to explore this urge further. You grind down in his legs as your palm moves down to his crotch, following the contour of his firm length through his jeans, with a sudden surge of boldness.

But just as you were ready to take things to the next level, Mark grabs your hand and gives you a hesitant look.

"Are you sure about this?" he questioned, his voice trembling. "I don't want to put any pressure on you."

You smiled at him, feeling a surge of admiration for him as a caring and affectionate guy. "I've never been more certain," you tell him with confidence. "I want this and I want you, Mark."

Mark's face softened at your remark, and he moved in for another kiss, his hands roaming your body with newfound intensity, his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, and then he pushed it up over your head, revealing your lace bra to the chilly air.

You gently gasped at the abrupt exposure, a surge of heat coursing through your body. Mark grinned at you, his eyes twinkling with passion as he moved in to kiss your neck down to your collarbone before reaching your cleavage as he caressed your back.

Mark's fingers moved to the clasp of your bra while you kissed, and with a swift motion, he unhooked it, revealing your breasts to his eager gaze. You sighed quietly at the sensation, your nipples hardening beneath his touch, and instinctively you pulled away to cover your naked body with your hands.

"I want to see you," he murmured, his voice low and sensuous. "I want to know everything about you."

You flushed as a wave of embarrassment poured over you. "But... what if you don't like what you see?" you inquired, hesitantly.

Mark gave you a warm and comforting look. "Trust me, nothing about you isn't tremendously hot to me," he remarked, looking straight at you.

You let go of your inhibitions and allowed Mark to see you with a sudden rush of boldness.

Mark kissed your breasts, his tongue tracing circles over your sensitive nipples. You exclaimed in delight, a rush of need developing inside you as he proceeded to explore your body with his tongue and hands.

Mark quickly flips both of you into a lying position so that he could lay on top of you and explore your body more thoroughly.

As you lie there, completely vulnerable to Mark's touch, you realize that you have never felt so alive. Every movement of his fingers seems to ignite a fire within you, sending shivers down your spine and making your heart race. You feel as though you are floating, lost in a sea of pure pleasure.

Mark's confidence and desire for you were palpable, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of hesitation. It was all new to you, and you were starting to doubt  if you were ready to take things further.

Sensing your uncertainty, Mark paused and gazed at you with concern. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I really didn't expect this," you muttered, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Mark's smile faded as he took in your words. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured you. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful for his understanding. Mark's willingness to take things slow and make sure you were comfortable put you at ease.

But deep down you know that your heart was already set on something wild and crazy, so you nodded as you mutter "I want to feel all of you," 

You couldn't help but gasp as Mark removed his shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs. His physique was a piece of art, and you couldn't help but get aroused when you were taken aback by the sight in front of you, which drove you to pull yourself up with your elbow.

He pushed you back into the couch with a smirk as his fingers began moving down your body, softly caressing your belly button.

As he continued his caresses, his fingers trailed lower, making you shiver with anticipation. You couldn't help but let out a small gasp as he finally reached the hem of your shorts and underwear. With a wicked grin on his face, he teased the elastic bands, tugging them down slowly, savoring the moment. 

"Let's see what you've got for me," he whispered huskily, his voice sending shivers down your spine. As he pulled your shorts and underwear down to your ankles, he trailed his fingers back up your legs, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

You arched your back as his fingers brushed over your most sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His touch was electric, and you could feel yourself growing wetter by the second.

"Please," you whimpered, your voice barely audible as you begged for more. His smirk widened, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you.

"Please what, baby?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement. 

"Please touch me," you moaned, your need growing more intense with each passing moment.

He chuckled softly, his fingers going closer to your center. He softly kisses your before inserting his fingers inside you, sending a surge of ecstasy through your body that left you gasping for air.

"Oh, god," you moaned, your hips arching up to meet his hand. "Don't stop."

Mark continues to touch you with a steady, leisurely pace, traveling up and down your body. His touch is confident and controlled, and you can feel yourself turning aroused with each passing instant.

"Does it feel good?" he inquires, his voice low and seductive, as if taunting you.

You nod again, biting your lip as you try to hold back your moans. Mark's touch is driving you wild, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

He inserts another finger, and the stretch stirs something inside you. "Mark, that feels so nice," you say as you attempt to extend your legs more, and to your joy, he slides his fingers quicker.

"My baby likes it, huh?" he asks in a sensual tone you've never heard before but is eager to hear more of in the future. "You're fucking wet," he adds as he sucks in your clit.

As he continues to work his fingers inside you, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your body tenses, and you can feel the familiar sensation building deep within you.

Just as you are about to reach the peak, Mark pulls away, leaving you gasping and wanting more. You look up at him, your eyes pleading for him to continue, but he simply smiles and says, "Not yet, baby. We have all night."

You feel a sense of disappointment wash over you, but you know that he wants to savor the moment with you.

He removes his boxers, showing his naked manhood to you. A wave of desire washed over you as you gasped at the sight. In your fucked state, you notice how thick and large he is, slowly wondering whether he could fit inside of you. As if he sensed you were thinking about him, he stared at you and softly pumped his shaft.

There were beads of pre-cum leaking and you couldn't resist the need to lick it down, so you rise up and give him kitten licks, making him moan in a deep seductive tone, but he pulls you away.

"Next time babe" he says while smoothing your face "I just so badly want to be inside you right now" he peered at your sparkling orbs as he pecked your forehead.

"Do we need a condom?"

You hesitated for a time, taken aback by the inquiry. You'd never had this talk before, and you didn't know what to say.

"I, um, I think so," you said, your tone unsure.

Your boyfriend grinned and went to your shared room to grab a condom; when he returned, he kneels before as he gently unwrapped the foil. When he put it on, he reassured you that he wanted to ensure your safety and comfort throughout your personal encounter together.

He kneels in front of you, his hands softly caressing your thighs as he positions himself between your legs, as he enters you, you moan loudly, lost in the sensation of him filling you completely.

He looks up at you and whispers, "You're so beautiful, my love."

Mark stays in a steady position to help you adjust but you continuously clenching and unclenching is making it hard for him to do so that’s why he grabs your thighs harder “Y/N, stop it or I might lose my cool” he warns you.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," you say, but you kind of love Mark's internal battle in front of you, which is why you clench on purpose this time, earning yourself a quick movement from Mark, you gasped at the abrupt intrusion, feeling a burst of warmth and wetness. 

"Baby, I warned you not to tempt me," he says as he rocks into you again, this time producing a steady rhythm to feel you tenderly before pulling entirely out of you, leaving you gasping for air, before thrusting back inside you sharply, filling you once more.

His warm tongue reaches for your breast and lightly nibbles and sucks it as his hands knead your other breast, ensuring that they both get the attention they deserve, sending electric sensations of desire through your body.

You tighten your pussy around his invading shaft, feeling the need to cum growing stronger by the minute, you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on as he takes you higher and higher.

“Fuck me hard, baby” you say to him as you grab his arms and push your hips into his.

“I love you, Y/N” you tell him as you grab his face as you try to kiss his lips.

The sensation is too fantastic; Mark obviously understands how to please you from all sides, which is why you get the feeling you had a while ago again.

You break the kiss to moan his name as your nipples tighten and your clit starts to swell. 

"Awwww, my sweet baby is cumming? " He tactfully encourages you to pull out your orgasm "Fucked baby too nice that she can't even respond? " He slaps your face, not in a horrible way, but it feels so dirty that you clench around him again.

He grabs your face and makes you open your mouth, spits in it, then swirls his fingers inside you, forcing you to gag, and then rubs your swollen clit.

"I'm going to cu cu mmm," you moan as you warn him, and when you can no longer hold back, you scream in pleasure as you come undone.

He chases his high, taking you further and deeper till your insides open up, refusing to stop even when you urge him to slow down since you just orgasmed. As a result, you soon feel a warm liquid pour between your legs, indicating that you have squirted making Mark empty himself up in the condom.

When he pulls out of you, you're left with a delightful sensation, the nicest sensation you've ever had in your whole life.

Mark rests his face against your chest after the hard and passionate lovemaking session, and you can feel the beads of perspiration building in his forehead, and you can't help but caress his hair as you bask in the afterglow of your shared joy. You were panting as well as absolutely delighted and joyful.

"I love you," Mark whispered softly, his breath warm against your skin.

"I love you too," you replied, feeling content and fulfilled.

Eventually, Mark lifted his head and looked into your eyes, a soft smile on his lips. "You're so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with admiration.

You blushed, feeling a warm sensation spread through your body. "You're pretty amazing yourself," you replied, grinning at him.

Mark chuckled and leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and tender against yours. It was a gentle kiss, filled with love and tenderness, and it left you feeling even more connected to him.

As Mark stood up from the couch, you watched him with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction. You knew he wouldn't just leave you there, and you wondered what he was up to. However, as he turned and walked towards the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of the condom he was carefully removing and disposing of.

A moment later, Mark returned to your side with a glass of water and a warm towel. "Here, drink some water," he said softly, holding the glass to your lips. You drank deeply, feeling the cool liquid soothe your parched throat.

He then gently wiped the visible cum between your legs off with the warm towel, making sure to be gentle and careful. You couldn't help but feel grateful for his attentiveness and care.

After, Mark tenderly picked you in his arms and carried you to bed, carefully setting you down under the covers.

You were utterly exhausted and ready to sleep. When you curled up against his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you, and you closed your eyes, feeling perfectly safe and satisfied.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, you felt a hand brush against your hair, gently sliding through the strands in a calming pattern. You opened your eyes and glanced up at Mark, who was looking at you tenderly.

"Are you okay?" he inquired softly, his voice filled with concern.

You nodded and smiled, grateful for his attention. "I'm alright," you assured him.

Mark leaned in and kissed your temple gently before continuing to massage your hair in a steady, relaxing motion. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay," he explained.

You felt your heart swell with love for your boyfriend, knowing that he genuinely cared for you. You relaxed even more as he stroked your hair, feeling entirely at peace in his arms.

"Let's get some sleep, okay? You need to rest," Mark whispered in your ear after a few minutes.

You nodded drowsily, feeling grateful for the love and care that Mark showed you. As you drifted off to sleep, you felt his arms tighten around you, holding you close and safe throughout the night.

With Mark by your side, you knew that you could handle anything that life threw your way. You treasured every moment spent together and looked forward to spending uninterrupted time together on the weekends.

[jungwnies]

syn ' he can't get you off of his mind after that day pairing ' fem!reader x mark

requested ' i did a little twist on it, but i hope it still meets your expectations!

it was around 3am, and it wasn't exactly the time to eat, but damn you were hungry.

so you left your house and walked to nearest convenience store, yep the one on the corner.

when you walked in it was crowded with a bunch of people, you didn't really know why, nor did you care.

you noticed a group of boys with cameras and laughed to yourself, "of course idols would come here."

one of the boys keeping an eye on you.

when you walked out the store without thinking anything of them, it shocked him and he was curious.

first he was curious how you got into the store because his management was outside with a bunch of bodyguards, but also because to him, you were stunning.

but with all the cameras flashing on them, he couldn't go out of his way to ask for your number.

not like he would anyways.

to be honest, you haven't left his mind.

he kept thinking about you, the way you paid them no mind just to get snacks, that's the kind of partner he wanted, but knowing he was an idol this would've been a dead end for him.

but, he couldn't just let you go.

"hyung, i swearrrr she's my soulmate." mark insists as he talks to johnny who is sat right in front of him.

"then go get her." johnny tells him, scrolling through his phone.

"dude, how am i going to find her again?" mark asks, defeated.

johnny laughs, "just go to the same store every day, then maybe you'll run into her."

"dude." mark says, "you're so fucking right."

he gets up from his bed, he grabs his jacket and slips on his shoes, "i'll be back."

mark takes a taxi to the convenience store and sits down inside by the window, it was pretty late at night, and he was hoping he'd see you.

he came here everyday for the past two weeks, and honestly it was getting tiring.

"i'm never going to see her again." he complains on the phone to johnny.

johnny laughs, "at least you tried."

the door to the store swings open and mark gazes over towards the person who walks in, it was raining outside and the second the person takes off their hood he smiled. finally.

you wipe the wetness from your face and look around, you say hi to the cashier and walk towards the back just to be stopped by the boy.

"uhm, so, uuhm." mark stutters.

"yes?" you ask slightly annoyed, because you just wanted a snack.

"i'm mark." he says putting his hand out.

you look as his hand and back at him, "okay?"

mark laughs awkwardly, "uhh, do you think i could get your number?"

you laugh, "what?"

"i, i just think you're like really attractive, and i'd like to get your number." mark confesses, a little shy.

"sure, give me your phone." you type the phone number into his phone and walk away with your snack.

as mark watches you leave, he feels a sense of relief. that was until he checked what you saved your contact as, 119.

mark laughs, but feels a sense of defeat.

you walk back into the store after watching his reaction through the outside window, "i'm just joking, i'm y/n."

mark laughs, "nice to meet you y/n."

2022 © jungwnies

[xiaojunsmintchoco]

Cold brew - Na Jaemin

pairing: barista!jaemin x barista!reader

genre: fluff, angst; enemies to lovers, coffee shop au

synopsis: at the coffee shop you work at, there's always this regular who comes and orders the same cup of cold brew coffee every morning without fail. you end up having a rather rude interaction with him one morning when you accidentally spill his coffee on him before his job interview – which turns out to be for the very same coffee shop you're working at. it doesn't matter to you that he got the job, but the fact that he's always on the same shift as you never fails to get on your nerves. Will the two of you sort out your feud, or will the both of you continue to brew these cold feelings towards each other? 

a/n: this is a very VERY long overdue fic for @hcsarchive ! i’m really really sorry for the long hiatus y’all, and for the decline in quality of writing and banner design :”) but to star, i genuinely hope you enjoy this fic that i churned up at 2 in the morning, and that your life will be filled with joy and many many good things! it’s been great having you as my friend, though we haven’t interacted much </3 I promise i’ll try to be more active here <3

"One venti cold brew for Na Jaemin!" you call, voice ringing out through the coffee shop amid the clinking of mugs and cutlery and cool jazz music playing in the background. As expected, a young man clad in a mint green hoodie and jeans rushes up to the counter. His soft, ebony-black bangs fall over his coffee-brown eyes as he claims his drink from you with a muffled "thanks" before scurrying off again, black backpack hanging from his back and laptop case in hand. 

"He came again?" Lia asks, popping a pastry into the oven and setting the timer.

You nod in response. “Na Jaemin. Here every morning, at the exact same time ordering the exact same thing”.

"Aren't many of our customers like this too?" Lia questions, uncertain as to why you suddenly brought up this particular customer. 

"Yeah, but they're not always here at the exact same time every day – sometimes they come a few minutes earlier or later. And even if they have regular orders, they sometimes order different things. This guy is here at 7 am on the dot every day without fail, and he always, always orders a venti size cold brew. I don't recall him having ordered anything different," you explain to Lia as the timer on the oven goes off, and you take the croissant out. 

"Wow, how are you so observant towards these details outside of his regular drink order? It's as if you're specifically keeping your eye out for his arrival. Are you?" Lia questions, raising her eyebrows at you.

"What the hell, no!" You hurriedly deny.  

"But he's your ideal type, is he not? Brown eyes, black hair, pretty cute," Lia replies with a smirk as she gets to preparing a latte, and in that moment you regret the day you'd spoken about your ideal types to each other. 

"I mean yes, but we don’t even know each other! We’ve barely exchanged any words apart from him mumbling his thanks to me when I pass him his drink,” you protest. 

“So? He comes here every day, you’ll sure have a chance to get to know him better,” Lia insists.

“One grande caffe latte for Kai!” you call out, placing the drink on the counter and flashing a smile at the customer, who says a “thank you”, picks up the drink and casually saunters off, in contrast to how Jaemin had practically flown out the door after collecting his order from you earlier. “I don’t know. Compared to all our other customers, he seems to be in a constant rush. He’s like the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland!”

Still, Lia remains adamant. “Trust me, if he’s your destined soulmate, there will be a way for you both to get to know each other. Really”.

You shrug, getting to work making a java chip frappuccino. “Nah, I don’t think he is. He’s probably just the eye candy who comes into our shop every morning for his daily cold brew”. 

Lia simply hums and turns around to take the next customer’s order, while a mild pang of longing settles in your heart. Yes, you knew he was really just eye candy to you, but a part of you wished that you’d at least be able to interact with him a little and get to know him as an acquaintance at least. 

»»————-　☕️　————-««

Your wish comes true the next day — or at least the first part of it. You finally get to properly interact with him, past the muffled “thank yous” he would give you whenever you passed him his cold brew every morning. 

But was it pleasant? 

Far from that. 

It’s about 2:30 pm in the afternoon, and the cafe is way more hectic than it should be at this time. Throngs of people flood the cafe, leaving all of the baristas overwhelmed, yourself included.

“I thought people drink morning coffee, not afternoon coffee!” Lia complains, practically sprinting to the other end of the counter, carrying a customer’s order on a black tray. “One blueberry muffin and one vanilla sweet cream cold brew for Shanice!” 

“I know right. Suddenly everyone’s ordering their coffee in the afternoon for some weird reason!” you exclaim, hurrying to save the pastries in the oven before they burned to a crisp. 

Your already-divided attention is briefly stolen by the sight of a familiar face coming in through the door — it’s none other than Na Jaemin. Weird, he already came in the morning, you think to yourself, already moving towards the cold brew machine out of instinct. You can’t help but notice he’s changed out of his usual hoodie and jeans into slacks, a white long-sleeved collared shirt and a blazer, more formal than the casual attire he normally dons, which leads you to think that he has something important on. As soon as you place the pastries on the counter, you head over to the register where Jaemin is to take his order. “Hi, what can I get for you?” you recite the standard phrase.

“One venti cold brew, please,” he states. 

“Alright, I’ll get that for you. Na Jaemin, right?” you ask, picking up a venti-size cup and a marker, scribbling the name on as he nods. 

You put some ice in the cup, and then stride over to where the brewed coffee is stored before dispensing enough to fill the cup. Just as you’re bringing it to the collection point, a voice calls for you. “Y/n! Hurry, there’s more orders!” one of your colleagues yells. 

“Okay, coming soon!” you reply back, calling out Jaemin’s name and order, passing the drink to him and preparing to hurry off. 

Only, you’d been too fast in handing the drink to him and had let go before his hands were properly around the cup, resulting in the cup falling from your hands and spilling coffee all over his shirt. Your jaw falls to the floor along with the cup as you watch his white shirt turn coffee-brown and prepare to offer multiple sincere apologies, maybe even offer to pay for his shirt to be cleaned. 

But before you can do that, he hits the roof. “Ugh! I have a job interview, you idiot! Why are you so careless?” he exclaims, clearly livid. Veins bulge out visibly from his forehead, a clear sign of his fury. Heads snap in your direction as the commotion distracts customers from whatever they were doing previously. 

Annoyance at how Jaemin had unnecessarily blown up at you, coupled with stress from the already overwhelming shift began to take over you, and you had to use every fiber in your being to maintain your professionalism and not hurl the best insult you could think of back at him. “Sir, I’m extremely sorry”. You murmur repeated apologies as you get several wet tissues for him. “I’ll be willing to pay for the cleaning costs, just let me know how much it costs when you next visit us”. 

Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to appease Jaemin. “That’s not the point. I don’t have spare clothes, you know! Now I might not get my job!” Jaemin exclaims, eyes boring into you accusingly. Unsure of what to say, you remain silent, your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish’s. “Thanks a lot, I suppose,” he spits, making sure his sarcasm came across clearly. With that, he takes his half-empty drink cup and stalks off. 

Meanwhile, you’re left with a taste that's even more bitter than the cold brew in your mouth from the encounter. “Wow, that was pretty rude of him,” Lia comments, coming up beside you. “Maybe you should have ensured that he was actually holding the cup before letting go, but that was still out of line on his end”. 

You sigh, shaking your head and turning back to the cash register, preparing to serve the next customer. “Whatever. Let’s forget that this happened”. 

»»————-　☕️　————-««

A week has passed since the incident, and you’ve all but forgotten about it, the incident almost having been cleared from your memory completely.

Until you see a familiar face coming in at 2:30 pm — none other than Na Jaemin, the customer who’d yelled at you rather rudely that day when you’d made an honest mistake. “Lia? Can you take this next customer? I’d rather not interact with him again,” you whisper to your co-worker while glaring daggers at him. 

To your surprise, Lia shakes her head. “I don’t think he’s here to order, actually. I think he’s here for his first day on the job”. 

You narrow your eyes at her as a sense of foreboding comes over you. “What do you mean?”

“He’s our new barista, and he’ll be working here part-time. Did no one tell you?” Lia explains, wiping the counter top. “The job interview he mentioned last week — it was for a position here as a barista”. 

“No way. Please tell me you’re lying”. You feel your eyes grow to the size of the saucers in your hands. 

She shakes her head. “I’m being for real here”. 

You watch as your supervisor comes out to meet Jaemin and they exchange greetings, before she passes him a set of uniform and he heads to the restrooms. “Oh, my gosh”. Your hand comes up to your forehead, and your lips form a thin line as you feel your annoyance levels peak again. “No way I’m sharing shifts with this guy”. 

Lia shrugs. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think. Hopefully he forgot that it was you who spilled coffee on him last week,” she says while placing a hand on your shoulder, in an effort to appease you.

At that moment, your supervisor comes out of the store room with Jaemin in tow and approaches you and the other baristas. “Everyone, this is our new employee, Na Jaemin,” she says, introducing him to all of you. “Some of you may know him, as he’s a regular at our cafe. He’ll be working the afternoon shift from Monday to Wednesday. I hope all of you look after him well, and show him the ropes”. She then takes her leave as Jaemin comes to join all of you behind the counter. 

“Hello everyone,” Jaemin greets, his pearly whites appearing as he gives all of you a small bow. So cute! You internally squeal as you greet him back. It was the first time you’d seen him properly smile, as every time he ordered coffee from you, his face had this permanently exhausted look on it thanks to what you can only assume to be the university student life. You return his greeting, relaxing as you realise that maybe Lia was right and he’d forgotten about the incident. 

Or…maybe not. 

“Aren’t you the barista who spilled my drink on me last week?” Jaemin questions as he pours milk into a blender, eyes narrowing into slits as he stares at you. “How do you still have a job? You can’t even serve a drink properly”. 

Okay, that does it for you. First day on the job and he’s already being so rude?

“Can you just forget about it? You got the job in the end, didn’t you?” you snap, making your annoyance clear as you somewhat aggressively spray whipped cream onto a customer’s drink. “Also why are you showing disrespect to colleagues on your first day here? How did you even get hired?”

Jaemin shrugs, and you feel a vexation prick at the back of your neck at his nonchalant attitude. “Bold of you to talk about respect, considering you were pretty disrespectful to me last week by spilling my own drink order on me”.

"Shut the fuck up, will you?" you hiss, trying to keep your voice from rising to fever pitch, in order to not attract unpleasant attention to the both of you.

Jaemin opens his mouth to retort, but Lia steps in. “Enough, you two. Let’s just move on from the incident, shall we? I’m sure she didn’t mean to do that”. 

Shooting her a grateful look, you move over to the shelf to grab a tea bag to prepare a customer’s order. “Not quite your ideal type anymore, huh?” Lia whispers from next to you as she washes a mug. 

Cringing, you shake your head furiously. “Appearance wise, still yes. Personality-wise, definitely not”. 

»»————-　☕️　————-««

Ever since Jaemin joined the team, it was almost like you couldn’t have a peaceful day at work, especially since you and Jaemin always shared the same shifts. Both of you were constantly at each other's throats now, even over small things, and today wasn't any different.

“Y/n! You didn’t heat this up long enough!” Jaemin hollers, gesturing to the chocolate chip cookie on the counter top. 

Rolling your eyes, you turn around to address him. “You didn’t serve it on time and it’s cooled down, you idiot. Also, Seungkwan asked for an extra espresso shot, which you didn’t add in. Who’s the one who can’t do his job properly now, huh? I hope the boss fires you one of these days”.

As a look of hurt flashes across Jaemin’s face for a fleeting moment, you feel a small pang of guilt hit you. Jaemin covers it up by rolling his eyes at you and muttering “piece of shit”, before moving over to add the extra espresso shot as you shove the plate with the cookie on it into the oven again. At that moment, his ringtone sounds out, and he takes his phone out of his apron pocket. Colour drains from his face at the sight of the caller ID, and he hurriedly excuses himself to the storeroom, leaving you to man the counter yourself since both Lia and the other barista weren’t able to make it to work today. “Hi, what can I get for you?” you inquire, plastering a smile on your face and turning to face the customer, who asks for a cappuccino. 

You open up the mini-fridge below the counter, only to find that there’s no more milk left. No big deal, you could always get more from the bigger fridge in the store room. Heading over to the store room, you push the door open and prepare to step inside when Jaemin’s voice stops you in your tracks. “…what? The surgery costs that much? I thought it was cheaper…” 

Peeking through the door slightly, you’re greeted by the sight of Jaemin pacing around the small room and clutching onto a handful of his black hair. From his tone and demeanour, it was evident that he was in a clear state of stress. "Yes, I got the job, but I don't think my earnings from the shifts I'm working currently can cover the costs". Another pause. "It's alright. I'll just ask the supervisor if I can work more shifts. It's more important that grandma gets well. Okay, bye. Send my well-wishes to her". 

Jaemin turns around and you dart back out of the room to avoid being seen, but you still catch a glimpse of the tear drops falling from his eyes, sending a pang to your heart. Sure, you both argued all the time at work, but it didn't mean that you had no empathy for him at all, now that you had an idea of his circumstances — even if it was a vague one. You recall when he lashed out at you for spilling coffee on him just before his interview, and now you're able to better understand his reaction, thanks to the newly learned information about his grandmother’s situation. Yes, his reaction was still rude and unnecessarily harsh, but he was going through a stressful time himself. Guilt floods you suddenly as you think of all the times you'd flung harsh words at him for no reason.

As Jaemin emerges from the store room, you enter and get the milk and start preparing the customer's drink, all while this question replayed in your head: what could you do to help him?

"Y/n!" a clear voice sounds from the cash register, and you recognise it to be your regular customer and best friend from junior college – Chaewon. 

Enthusiastically returning her greeting, you inquire about her order. "Chae! What would you like today?"

Chaewon scans the menu and makes her decision. "I'll get a tall strawberry frappuccino, no whipped, takeaway". 

"No problem!" You answer, and prepare the drink for her as she goes to the side to wait. "One tall strawberry frappuccino for Chaewon!" you announce, and your friend skips up to collect her drink. 

"Thank you! Here's a tip for you – you deserve it," Chaewon adds with a wink as she stuffs a wad of notes into your hand before sauntering away. "See you in class tomorrow!"

"See you Chae!" you call back. You head into the store room, intending to keep the money in your wallet, until the sight of Jaemin's wallet peeking out of his backpack catches your attention. A thought then hits you: why not give the tips I get to Jaemin? He needs it more than I do, anyway. 

Without a second thought, your hands are already pulling the wallet out of his bag and stashing the tip Chaewon gave you into the wallet. Putting the wallet back where it was, you stride out of the room again as if nothing happened. Yeah, I'll keep doing this. Hopefully it helps to ease Jaemin's financial burden, you think to yourself.  

Thankfully, the rest of the day goes by without a hitch. “Y/n! Good job today, just finish the last order and then you can go,” your supervisor comments, giving you a small smile. “Here’s today’s pay. See you tomorrow!” she finishes, passing you an envelope which contained your day’s earnings. 

“Thank you so much ma’am! See you tomorrow!” You reply, calling for the last customer and then heading off to the store room to collect your bag. Peeking inside, you catch Jaemin gawking at his open wallet, prompting you to just stay outside and observe his reaction for a while. "No way. I don't remember receiving any tips. So how did this cash appear?" he asks himself, opening and closing his wallet repeatedly – even slapping himself at one point. "Oh my goodness. Whichever supernatural power provided me with this, thank you," he whispers, putting his cash into his wallet before shutting it again and placing it in his bag. His stressed expression melts away, and is replaced by a smile – one of relief and hope. The sight makes your heart rate increase faster than you'd like to admit, but you ignore it and exit the coffee shop, glad that you were able to do something to brighten up Jaemin's day. 

»»————-　☕️　————-««

Jaemin had gotten the green light from your supervisor to work extra shifts, so over the next few weeks you both see each other more often as all his shifts coincide with yours. Though both of you are still rather cold towards each other, you argue less with him as you force yourself to hold your tongue whenever you're tempted to spew unkind things at him, knowing that he was going through a rough time. 

And of course, you continue with your plan of secretly giving him all the tips that customers leave you – whether it was sixty cents or fifty bucks. 

Today's just another day at work, and you overhear Jaemin on the phone as you're busy whipping up drinks for customers again. "Oh my gosh, no way". 

Though you know it’s technically wrong, the saying “eavesdroppers never hear any good about themselves” leaves your memory momentarily as you prick up your ears to listen to the conversation, hoping that it was news about his grandmother. As his voice raises in pitch and grows increasingly excited, you feel your heart begin to beat faster as well, like the wings of a bird about to take off. "We only need $50 more and she can get surgery? That's fantastic news!" 

Your heart swelled with joy, so much so that you thought it would burst right there and then in the cafe. Jaemin's grandmother would be saved! Though you didn't know the elderly woman, hearing the news still made you nearly melt in relief. 

"Thank you, see you again!" you flash a bright smile to a customer as you hand them their order. 

"Thank you! Here's a tip for you!" the customer replies and hands you some cash. Accepting it gratefully, you take a peek at it, and your heart leaps even higher than before at the sight. It's a fifty dollar note!

"Just what Jaemin needs!" you whisper to yourself, stashing the note in your pocket and making a mental note to put the money in his wallet when the day was over, since it was a very busy time at the cafe right now. 

As promised, you secretly stash the note in his wallet again after your shift is over. Hopefully, this covers the costs of the surgery, you think to yourself as you pull the wallet out, unclasp it and stuff the money in. 

“Wait, it’s you?” A familiar voice sounds from behind you, making you jump and whip your head around at breakneck speed as his wallet falls out of your grip and onto the floor with a clatter. 

“Jaemin?” you blurt out dumbly, stunned by your colleague’s sudden appearance. 

“Y/n? It’s you who’s been giving me the extra money?” Jaemin responds, seemingly even more astonished by the whole situation than you were. 

It’s at this moment you realise there’s no point hiding it from him any further — he’d already discovered the "culprit" behind the extra money appearing in his wallet. “Yes, it’s me,” you sigh, handing his wallet back to him. “Look, I'm really sorry about this, but I happened to overhear your phone converstion with someone one day, and you were saying something about there not being enough money to send your grandmother for some kind of surgery or something like that. You seemed so sad and I just couldn’t bear to see it because I know it must be so stressful, having a family member who’s severely ill and not having financial means to get them treatment. So I thought I’d just quietly help you by giving you whatever tips customers left for me — I don’t really need the extra money right now. I did all this secretly, because I was worried you’d accuse me of purposefully eavesdropping or pitying you if you knew what I was doing. Also, it’d be awkward if I were to suddenly start intervening in your family matters since we’re both not really on good terms right now,” you explain, attempting to clear the air of confusion by explaining your intentions. 

For a few moments, the only sound in the store room is the drone of whatever machinery is keeping the old fridge running as Jaemin slowly processes what you'd just told him. Finally, he speaks up. "Y/n, you have absolutely no idea how much that means to me. I was so, so worried when I found out the actual cost of the surgery, and that we might not be able to pay for it on time for my grandmother to survive. For so many nights, I couldn't sleep for so long because I was so worried," he explains. "But thanks to your kind donations, we'll be able to pay for it before she gets it today. Words alone can't express my gratitude to you. Really". He looks up and meets your gaze, and his eyes are moist with emotion. 

Your lips curve into a gentle smile. "I'm glad I could help, Jaemin. I hope your grandmother's surgery goes well, and for her to have a speedy and stable recovery," you answer. 

"I'm going to the hospital to visit her now, so I'll convey your well wishes to her. See you tomorrow, y/n". As he leaves the store room, he shows you a genuine smile, the first one he'd shown you ever since you both became coworkers. 

Your heart melts at the sight, like the marshmallows you used to top orders of hot chocolate. "See you tomorrow, Jaemin". You return his smile, and continue to pack your own things as well before you leave the cafe. As much as you don't want to admit, for some reason this much more pleasant interaction has you using every single ounce of your willpower to stop yourself from squealing out in joy.

»»————-　☕️　————-««

"Y/n!" A familiar voice calls out to you as you start up the coffee machine next Monday morning.

"Oh hey, Jaemin!" You reply calmly as said boy comes up to you, looking much more relaxed and confident, compared to the usual worried and downcast expression etched on his face that had been the norm for the past few weeks. 

"Excuse me," he murmurs, reaching out for the coffee machine and dispensing some into the plastic cup in his hand that was half-filled with ice, before calmly sipping on the beverage. "By the way, my grandmother's surgery was a success, and the doctor's prognosis for her looks good," Jaemin reveals, officially putting your worries about his grandmother to rest. 

"Really? That's awesome!" you exclaim, sharing your coworker's joy over the good news. 

Jaemin nods, a radiant smile forming on his face as he continues. "On behalf of the rest of my family, thank you so much. I know this probably isn't much, but please, let me treat you to a meal one day".

Though you initially refute his suggestion and say it's not necessary, arguing that you were simply helping him out in his time of need, you eventually give in to his insistence. "How is she now? Is she recovering from surgery well?" you inquire as you pile marshmallows onto a cup of hot chocolate.

"Yes, when I visited her yesterday, she had regained some of her appetite, and though she still seemed quite tired, she had slightly more energy than before, which are good signs," Jaemin replies, blending a matcha frappuccino. "Actually, do you want to come with me to visit her after work today?" 

"Why not? I don't have anything on today, so I should be able to come," you reply. 

"Alright then!" Jaemin grins, before turning and calling for the customer to pick up their order.

You return your attention to the drink you were making, totally surprised by your exchange with Jaemin earlier — much more pleasant compared to the interactions you’d had prior to this day. Maybe the saying your teachers had drilled into your head since elementary school was true. A small act of kindness could turn a situation around — in this case, it helped Jaemin’s family afford a life-saving surgery for his grandmother, and helped you and Jaemin warm up to each other. 

»»————-　☕️　————-««

Before you both go to visit his grandmother, Jaemin insists on treating you to a sumptuous burger dinner. Which is how you both end up at a restaurant, with the juiciest chicken burger you've ever seen in your life, along with fries that have been fried to crisp golden brown perfection and a cup of iced lemon tea. 

“How’s life been?” Jaemin asks, tucking into his own burger.

“Oh, it’s been quite chill. I just finished my graduating exam not long ago and am waiting for my results to come out, so I don’t really have much to do. That’s why I took on this job — to earn some money and pass my time,” you explain, picking up a few fries and popping them into your mouth, savouring the crunch that followed. “What about you?”

“University’s been kicking my ass,” Jaemin groans. “The professors have gone ham on my class — who gives their students freaking five essays to finish in a week? On top of that, I’ve got frisbee practices after school and also this job. Luckily my grandmother’s condition has stabilised, or else I’d have even more stress to deal with,” he adds. 

“Oh my, that sounds tough. All the best,” you grunt empathetically, knowing exactly how he felt. Though you had never studied in a university, you’d just finished junior college, and had experienced days where the onslaught of homework seemed never ending, leaving you feeling as if you were going to suffocate to death under the workload that only seemed to get heavier and heavier each day. “Oh yeah — speaking of your grandmother, what exactly happened to her? If you’re not comfortable sharing this with me, please don’t feel obligated to do so,” you hurriedly add at the end. You were aware that this was a very sensitive topic, and that Jaemin might wish to keep such matters to himself. 

“About that…” Jaemin’s voice trails off, and he scratches his head as he contemplates whether to tell you or not. “Okay. I’ll tell you, since you’re the one who basically saved her life,” he decides, before beginning his story. “It was cancer. Stomach cancer. She lost her appetite, and often complained of stomach pain. Initially, we thought that it was simply a stomach bug, and we took her to the doctor who just prescribed her some medication. But she didn’t improve — if anything, she got worse. The day she began vomiting blood, we knew that something was terribly wrong. A check up at the hospital revealed that she had stage 3 stomach cancer”. 

“Oh gosh, that’s horrible,” you muse, brows forming a furrow in the center of your forehead. 

“It was. Our whole family was devastated, especially knowing that she wouldn’t have any chance of survival unless she went for surgery. But at that point of time, my dad had just been laid off, meaning that we weren’t able to afford to pay for the operation. Hence we began scrimping and saving, with my dad taking on three jobs in order to try to earn some money. My mother took on two odd jobs, while also having to look after my younger siblings at home. I was really anxious about my grandmother, and I felt terrible seeing how exhausted my parents were. So, I decided to do whatever I can to help, which is why I took on this job, thinking that the salary I’d earn would be sufficient. But the hospital called back to say that the cost of the surgery would actually be more expensive than we initially thought, since my grandmother’s case was extra complicated, and it sent me back into a panic because I knew that even with extra shifts, the money I earned might not even be able to cover the costs. Gosh, I’m so glad it’s over,” Jaemin finishes, breathing out a sigh. The tears that had welled up in his eyes, now pouring out like rain, spoke volumes just how bleak that period had been for Jaemin. 

The sight of him tearing up made your heart ache. “I’m so sorry you guys went through that,” you murmur, reaching over to rub his shoulder to comfort him. “That must have been so tough. Fortunately, you guys were able to afford the procedure in the end. You're so strong".

Jaemin nods. “And it’s all thanks to you”. 

“Now I know why you were so worked up that day,” you add, thinking back to the day when you’d had your first proper interaction with Jaemin.

A quizzical look comes upon Jaemin’s face. “Which day?” 

“The day you came to the cafe for your job interview. I spilled your drink on you, remember?” you remind him, a sheepish smile gracing your features. 

Jaemin's brows furrow as he searches his brain, trying to recall the moment you had mentioned. His eyes widen, and he snaps his fingers as the memory returns to him. "Oh! Right! Oh my, I still feel so bad about it, jeez," he exclaims, his palm meeting his forehead. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that over such a small thing. I think that's why our relationship has been so sour". 

"No, no, it's fine. That was in the past, was it not?" you say, reassuring Jaemin that you don't hold any grudges against him over past events. “I’m sorry too, for saying that I hoped the boss would fire you, when it was a time when you needed this job most”. 

“It’s alright. Honestly, I don’t even have any memory of that incident, anyway,” Jaemin chuckles, popping the last of his fries into his mouth. “You done? Let’s go, then,” he decides as you nod. 

At the hospital, you get to know Jaemin’s grandmother. She took the chance to express her thanks towards you for donating the money that went towards her life-saving surgery. "Jaemin told me all about it," she mentions. "Thank you so much. Make sure to treat her to something nice," she adds, directing her comment towards Jaemin.

"He already has, and besides, there's no need for it," you chuckle. "I’m just happy that I could help". 

Your evening ends with you and Jaemin spending an hour chatting with the affable elderly lady over the happenings in your lives, who was a pleasure to talk to. "Thank you for coming over to visit! I hope to see you again, y/n. You're coming again tomorrow, right?" she confirms with Jaemin.

"Yep, that's right. See you tomorrow, grandma. Have a good rest," he replies, giving his grandmother a hug before leading you out of the ward and shutting the door. 

The walk out of the hospital is silent, but this time it's a comfortable silence and not one that's permeated by a frosty, cold atmosphere. "So…coming tomorrow?" Jaemin asks, breaking the silence.

"I think I can come," you reply. "I should be free. If you and your grandmother are okay with that, of course," you hastily add. 

Jaemin snorts and chortles at your answer. "Of course I'm alright with it! Why would I ask you if I wasn't? And plus my grandmother literally just said she hopes to see you again," he replies. 

"Alright then, I'll come," you confirm, laughs pouring out of your mouth as well. From relentlessly firing abrasive remarks at each other to being able to laugh together, you and Jaemin's relationship sure had come a long way.

»»————-　☕️　————-««

In the days that follow, you find yourself tagging along with Jaemin to visit his grandmother more often whenever you're free after work, and having dinner with him after. Through these interactions, both of you grow closer, and the fluttering in your heart whenever he cracks a joke or pulls a silly antic increases in frequency, which you often try to suppress. As much as you try to deny it, you’ve grown fonder of him as the days go by, as he shows more and more of his true self to you. 

It's also no surprise that now the old lady sees you as her own granddaughter, and often treats you as such. You came to trust her with whatever was on your mind as well, sharing with her deeper things that were on your heart and mind and taking the sensible advice she offered. She would also humour you with many different stories, from both her own and Jaemin's childhood. 

Today, however, was slightly different. You had gone to visit Jaemin's grandmother by yourself, since Jaemin had to attend a project meeting with his group mates after work. So here you were, seated in a chair beside her bed and laughing out loud as she let you in on some of the embarrassing things Jaemin had done in his childhood.

"You know, Jaemin used to be so shy to talk to girls when he was a child. Last time, he'd come and hide behind me whenever girls tried to talk to him. I would have to coax him out just to say hi!" she explains, chortling as she relates the memory to you and your eyes go wide. Jaemin seemed so comfortable around you, you'd never have known that he was so shy as a kid.

"Really?" you ask, letting the surprise sink in.

"Yes, really," his grandmother confirms. "And whenever he liked any girl he never ever made any move to confess. He simply kept his feelings to himself and only ever spoke to me about them". 

"Wow, I didn't know," you laugh.

"Yeah, Jaemin was terribly shy as a child. Come to think of it, you're the only girl he's been this comfortable with," she adds. "I actually think he feels a certain way towards you, but he doesn't want to say anything," she adds.

"How would you know?" You inquire, brows furrowing in surprise. Surely she was wrong?

"He's always bringing you along on his visits, if you're available. And when you're not, it seems to make him feel a bit sad," the old lady begins explaining. "Every visit, he has to mention at least one thing about you – even if it's as small as the smile you gave him when he arrived at work". 

"Oh…I see". You falter in your reply, unsure of how to process what his grandmother had just told you.

"And when I tried asking him about it, he tried so hard to deny his own feelings for you. But I can read my grandson, you know. He likes you more than a friend, but he doesn't want to say anything. He's too shy, and he’s scared that he’ll spoil the friendship between you two," his grandmother adds, before shooting you a question that catches you off guard. "Do you feel the same towards him too?"

"Well I- I…" you stutter even more, unsure of your response. "Okay, maybe I do. At first it was purely due to his looks, because I always saw him order from us during my shifts and found him really handsome. But as I got to know him better, I found things about his personality attractive too. Like how he loves his family so much, he'd willingly sacrifice more of his limited time to work extra shifts to provide the money they need. And how gentle he is towards the people he cares about. There's more, but if I were to list them all I'll be here past visiting hours," you joke, while at the same time voicing your true thoughts and feelings about Jaemin.

His grandmother nods, processing your answer. "I see. From my previous interactions with you, I can tell that you're a sensible, compassionate young lady as well, and I think you'd be a good match for my grandson. Now that you know he feels the same way towards you, will you be bold and take the first step to tell him your feelings?" she asks, looking up at you with hope in her eyes. 

“I…” you trail off, not knowing if you should accede to her request. On one hand, you had come to terms with the fact that you fancied Jaemin more than a friend, and what you felt was probably not just a fleeting crush, and you badly wished to get these feelings off your chest. On the other hand, you were immensely worried about what would happen if you told Jaemin these things. 

That he would see you differently. 

That he’d reject you, and you’d have to deal with the sting that would come after. 

That the friendship between both of you would be affected. 

There was just so much to worry about!

“Y/n, I know what you’re thinking. I know you’re worried about his reaction,” Jaemin’s grandmother drawls understandingly. “But trust me, he’s thinking the exact same things as you, and because of that he’s not willing to make the first move. So, now the ball is in your court. Are you willing to take that risk?” She asks, her gaze on you unmoving. 

“I…I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it,” you answer honestly. 

His grandmother nods, grunting in understanding. “Alright then, if you wish. There’s no pressure on you to do anything, really. The choice is really yours. But believe me — it would make his day”. 

That day, you left the hospital in the biggest dilemma you’ve been in for a long while.

»»————-　☕️　————-««

It doesn’t take too long for you to make up your mind. 

“I’m gonna do it”. You declare, striding out of the store room as you tie up your apron. It’s a monday morning, and you’re back at work again.

“Do what?” Lia asks, a quizzical expression coming over her.

“I’m gonna shoot my shot”. 

At this, Lia lets the plastic cups in her hand clatter to the floor. “You’re what?” 

You move quickly to help her pick up the cups. “I said what I said. I’m shooting my shot today”. 

“Yes, yes, I heard you, but with who?” Lia speaks quickly, looking as if she’s just heard the most ridiculous new in her life. 

“Na Jaemin, duh,” you answer, stacking the plastic cups up where they should be. 

“You’re- no way.” 

“Yes way. I’ve decided I’m gonna take my chances today, and if it doesn’t go as planned- oh well, what’s the worst that could happen? At most, I get rejected and I lose a friend,” you reason, explaining your thought process — though more so to try and calm your nerves than to appease Lia’s curiosity. Truth be told, you were becoming extremely jumpy, and you felt like you were going to begin bouncing off the walls any moment.

“Are you insane? There is no way on earth he’s going to reject you!” Lia exclaims, staring at you incredulously. “If he rejects you, it means the sky’s gonna fall down tomorrow”. 

“How are you so sure?” you question, narrowing your eyes into slits as you stare at her. 

“It’s so obvious, duh. I can practically see hearts in his eyes whenever he looks at you!” she answers as she gives the countertop a quick wipedown with a cloth. “Bet he’s too shy to speak his mind, though”. 

You shrug in response, arranging a few more mugs on the countertop. “I don’t know. But I’ll see how everything goes”.

“It’ll be more than fine. Trust me,” Lia declares. “But anyway, what’s your plan?”

You whisper your plan into her ear, and her brows furrow disapprovingly. “That’s it? That’s so basic, y/n!” she groans. 

“Hey, basic isn’t always bad!” you exclaim, shoving her playfully. “If it works, it works, okay!”

“Whatever”. Lia rolls her eyes jokingly. “But just know I’m rooting for the both of you”. 

Fortunately, Jaemin shows up to work punctually, meaning that your plan can be put into action. 

“Psst, Jaemin,” you whisper, waving your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Jaemin”.

“Sorry, what?” Jaemin responds, snapping out of his momentary trance.

You can’t help but laugh at his stunned response. “Looks like the mid-afternoon coma is hitting us both — I feel it too. So, I was thinking we make each other a coffee of our choice, just to perk ourselves up. What do you say?”

“Why not? I need the caffeine fix real bad right now anyway,” he reasons, standing up from his chair and moving to where the cups and mugs were placed. “Hot, iced, or ice blended?” he asks. 

“Surprise me”. You simply respond, flashing him a grin. “And I’ll surprise you too”. 

With that, you both begin whipping up drinks for each other. 

You decide to make him a venti vanilla sweet cream cold brew, since his usual order is a cold brew, but you also know that he’s been obsessed with iced vanilla lattes recently — so why not combine the best of both worlds? Being aware that he enjoys having a stronger coffee taste in his drinks, you make his drink a little less sweet. 

This is where your plan comes to life. Picking up a marker, you write this on the cup, taking care to write where the vanilla cream is visible:

Be mine?

▢ yes

▢ no

Now, all that’s left to do is to wait for Jaemin to finish with yours, pass him the drink, and then wait for his response. 

It sounds so simple in theory, so why do my hands feel heavy as lead now? You question mentally as Jaemin reappears, looking slightly sheepish. “Y/n? I’m done with yours, are you finished with mine?” he asks softly. 

“Yes, of course! Here you go,” you exclaim, pass him the cup of cold brew and take your drink, trying to hide how your hands are shaking as if a 9.2 magnitude earthquake is taking place on them. 

The sight of your drink sends a new wave of butterflies flying right through you, while at the same time causing a laugh to bubble up in you, which you fight to keep down. 

Jaemin had made you a classic latte, but with a hilarious yet heartwarming twist. He’d clearly given his best shot at latte art, as shown from the words on the drink which have now almost dissolved into illegible, messy foam streaks. Fortunately for you, you’re still able to comprehend it. 

It’s the exact same thing that you wrote on his cup. 

You peek in Jaemin’s direction and catch sight of him gawking at the writing on his cup. “Y/n…” he trails off, his facial expression a clear giveaway of the shock he’s feeling. “I can’t believe we were thinking the exact same thing!” he exclaims, before bursting into guffaws. 

“I can’t believe it either,” you respond, now laughing your head off along with him. “Gosh, and to think I was so afraid to do this!”

“So was I!” Jaemin chuckles, sipping on the drink. “If only I knew you had almost the exact same plans as I had”.

“Well…I guess our answers to each other are obvious then,” you giggle. By now, you’re smiling so widely, the corners of your mouth could reach your ears, and you feel as if your whole chest is going to explode with how fast and hard your heart is pounding. 

“Well then, cheers to our newfound love for each other,” Jaemin declares, raising his cup and pulling you in for a side hug, all while gazing at you lovingly. 

“Cheers,” you respond, bringing your cup to his as you lean closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as you soak up the warmth of his embrace. 

[kdyism]

STUPID CUPID. 

pairing. haechan x reader

genre + themes. friends-to-lovers, fluff, smidge of angst, christmas-themed, college!au.

wc. 5,342 / warning. christmas, mention of kissing, being drunk, dumb decisions, mistletoes.

synopsis. after being victim to jaemin’s cupid-ing last christmas, lee donghyuck has to figure out whether he wants to give up on you or go for it while risking the comfort of your friendship because he think you don’t remember last christmas.   

secret santa hosted by @neowritingsnet​ for @kthpurplesyou​ | hi bee! it’s me santa watermelon aka yunan <3 hoping i was mysterious enough and you are shocked, i hope this fic is to your liking! i switched writing between morning and night so it took longer, i wanted to drop it on dec 20 so that you’d have time before celebrations in case you do. crossing my fingers and sending this out to you, bee, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it 💞💖💓

yunn says hohoho likes, comments + reblogs are appreciated, i hope everyone else enjoys this quick fic! 

Lee Donghyuck is known for his infectious personality. He can leave a mark of his existence within a few seconds, he knows way too many people and most people would just think he is someone with too much free time on his hands.

“Did you get a name from the box?” unfolding his paper while maintaining a neutral expression, he sits in his usual seat and you bite down on your lips, eyes sparkling as soon as your eyes fall on the unfolded paper in your hand. “Let me guess?” narrowing his eyes, he hums. “...Taeyong,”

Gasping quietly, you nod chaotically and show him the name. “How’d you know?” you ask, a smile crawling onto your cheeks and you twist in his direction, your eyes looking directly behind him.

“When you see someone’s face as much as I've seen yours…” Donghyuck pursues his lips, “I would be an idiot not to know,”

Rolling your eyes at him, you dismiss his comment and continue with your preying. “How’s your schedule for this month?” you inquire, slipping your phone out of your pocket and suddenly, you look determined and shift your eyes back to him. “God, are you that happy?” he churns his face, watching your shake excitedly and your lips barely holding down a grin.

You gush in response, “Of course! You know I want his number,” skipping away from him, all he could do was sigh.

Waving you off, Donghyuck tries to hide his disappointment; unsure whether it was directed towards his paper or because of yours. Lee Taeyong, your most recent crush-ish, is a post-grad whose taking the same course as you for the same reason, extra credit. Donghyuck is already familiar with your boy of the week kind of crush-ishes—it’s not quite a crush, more like surface-level infatuation but if he didn’t know you any better, that’s what he would’ve thought.

However, it has never bothered him. Not until a stupid thing happened last Christmas.

Last Christmas changed everything, no warning or heads-up was given. He still remembers the night, unlike most nights at parties. He was sobered up, mind buzzing with all kinds of things until he was finally asleep on your sofa at almost 4 AM. He blames Na Jaemin for what happened, from his needless matchmaking to his punch-worthy grin, everyone knows that Na Jaemin’s favourite hobby is playing Cupid, going to all sorts of lengths to get his couple of the month to date. Hell, Donghyuck has actively participated in the talking up of girls, spreading rumours and finally, getting the ‘Characters’ to go on their first date.

It was funny and oddly satisfying when they do end up dating, Donghyuck for one wasn’t one to interrupt the fun. Not when he was directly getting the kick out of it. Except, he realized, it’s not very fun when the character line-up had his name written in the main leads.

hyuck💞: im booked all month

hyuck💞: why???? did you have something in mind???

“I hate him.” you declare breaking the silence that he embraced, “He said, ‘Uhhh I don’t know you…’ and left! Ugh, I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think what? That he would be a normal person and be cautious when a sophomore is asking for his number?” he cuts you off snarkily and you drop your jaws, putting your hands on his shoulder and asking, “And why would he be cautious?”

Cupping your cheeks with a smile, Donghyuck says, “One, you are not me.” raising his brows, you wanted to flick him but you let him continue. “Two, don’t you remember someone leaking Sehun—whose also from post-grad— his number was just spreading like disease between group chats, of course, they’d be more careful,”

Letting out an “Oh”, you pout, slumping weakly as you understand his reason. “Are they friends?” you wonder, Oh Sehun was also hot if your memory serves you well but he rejected you without hesitation and then you killed his memory along with your fascination with him.

“Yeah—we don’t really have that many post-grads,” releasing your cheeks, your face falls before you pull yourself up and you click your tongue at him and he shakes his head.

Donghyuck’s reasoning always changes your mind, he was the reason you were even in the social club, to begin with. He was friends with everyone, always making plans with everyone and you’d barely ever see him if not for your meticulous planning to match your schedule with him since you were naturally more free than he was with both his part-time and his “Hey, whose name did you get?” you ask, remembering that he was friends with Lee Taeyong as well.

“Why would I tell you?” he glares at you, backing away and immediately guesses, “I am not going shopping with you,”

Slapping your hand over your mouth, “How’d you know?” you splurt, your hands dancing in the air trying to show him your surprise. “Yeah, you’re obvious,”

Donghyuck could easily predict what was going on in your mind, not always but usually he could. From his second month of being your friend, he already knew that you thrived on being nosy. The way you made friends with people by letting them complain about their problems to having new crushes on every new person who you saw for the first time—there might be just one reason why Donghyuck would like some distance between the two of you.

“You know mine, why can’t I know yours?” you ask not looking away from him while he packs the study material he already knew you were going to ask that, so he scoffs wearing a smirk. “It’s supposed to be secret santa, not un-secret santa. Now,” he pauses, waiting for you to stand up again and he begins walking out of the hall as you follow closely beside him, mumbling, “That’s unfair…”

“To the cafeteria?” you ask and he nods.

“Yeah. so, I wanted to say but you keep shutting me up—Anyways, I am not going to see you until the Christmas party at Mark’s,” Donghyuck stops as soon as the elevator sounds, “I am blocking you and going on a detox,” stepping into the elevator, he leaves you behind stunned.

Just as the doors slide back, he smiles while saying, “I don’t wanna see your face anywhere near me, okay?”

To hyuck💞: you cant do this you hurt me 🤕🤕

To hyuck💞: im sorry what did i doooo??

To hyuck💞: unblock me plsssss 🙏🙏🙏

To hyuck💞: what will i do without you??? i need you bro

Message failed to send

There aren’t many nights where he quietly stays in his room, ignoring your text and pressing block on you. There have been times like tonight when the heart beating in his chest feels more painful than usual. He has never been the type to cry through the night. The ceiling of his bedroom is comforting, the mould collecting in the corners every winter, reminding him of his chores, and normally, he'd be on his phone scrolling mindlessly through social media and thinking about how he was going to be a better person tomorrow than today. Usually, they happen a lot later than 10 PM and only after he has spent his day with you already.

For one, he’s glad that no one could tell of his awful crush on you.

Christmas has always been easy, it's been pleasant, and unlike most seasons; the holiday season always gets him in the mood for a big gathering, cosying up with his friends and just enjoying their presence without having to mess around and it also makes him less of a troublemaker. He doesn’t follow Yangyang to the skating rink nor does he annoy Renjun in the library and he also leaves Mark to do his good thing of the day without bothering him about that club that opened a block away from college. He was even fine with you telling him that you’d be going out.

With someone who wasn’t him.

He was fine.

Until Last Christmas happened.

“I’m coming in!” Jaemin’s voice brings him back to his room and he sits up, sighing heavily. “Are you staying home tonight?” he asks as soon as the boy enters the room wearing his strawberry-patterned apron that a junior of his gifted him.

“Jeno has a project so he’s staying with his group at the library—I have been left behind,”

Rooming with Jaemin was a last-minute decision, when his dorm lease was up he was going to resign it, however, after your fingers held his hands this spring, shaking with excitement and your lips stretched in a smile, reminding him that you only lived ten minutes away from Jaemin. Before he knew it, he was signing a new contract with Jaemin who couldn't hide his mischievous eyes for him.

"Did you block Y/N?" Jaemin sits on the swivel chair in front of his computer, casually pulling the cord of his wired mouse. "I sent her back home saying you weren't here just now,"

"She came here?" Donghyuck bursts, eyes wide and Jaemin laughs, "Of course not."

Groaning, Donghyuck throws his head back in defeat. "This is all your fault. If I didn't kiss her at that party we wouldn't be going through this," he grumbles, closing his eyes and flashes of last Christmas pass by.

It was picturesque, so perfect and the heat of his lips on yours—he would've never guessed that you'd taste like wine.

You hate wine.

Jaemin rolls his eyes, dismissing the accusation. "It's not my fault you have a superiority complex about knowing where all the mistletoes are,"

Offended by that, Donghyuck gets off his bed and stares down at the boy who continues to grab his copy of the Forza Horizon 4 and strut back to the door. "You hang it up there knowing full well that me and Y/N always take that spot," Donghyuck said and he receives a loud hah from his friend who pulls the door open.

Jaemin looks him straight in the eye, his characteristic sweet smile on his face and he said, "Maybe you should've just been a big boy and kissed me instead,"

And well, he wasn't wrong, so Donghyuck resorts to slamming his face into his pillow and raging at it, screaming while swinging his legs recklessly until his shin stabs against his bed frame and gives him genuine reason to scream out. God, if you were here, you'd have a look of worry painted all over your face while you still laughed at his pain and to be honest, Donghyuck thought you would look nice against the background of his room.

Turning to lie on his stomach, Donghyuck wiggles in his bed to get comfortably under his sheets, and he unlocks his phone, your image glowing on the screen. He has an album full of just you. You love sending him pictures of yourself, outfit of the day, and once in a while, when you look really nice, you'll send him a decent picture that he would lose his mind about but all he responds with is an emoji, the one with two eyes looking sideways.

Gulping down frustratedly, he clicks off his gallery, and suddenly, his screen cuts with notifications.

leemark: u helping on 23?

leemark: please?? jisung broke his arm u know he can't help me now

leemark sent a sticker

you: you owe me one

Working graveyard hours, twelve-to-four, has its unexpected silver lining. Most people are asleep during this time and anyone awake usually just want to get home, aside from the hooligans who mind their own business if you mind your own because of the cameras placed inside the convenience store and the patrol team in the area from two-till-six because of recent crime level increase in the area. To Donghyuck, it was perfect for a decent-paying, low-effort job.

The one downside of this is, you live super close to Jaemin and share the same convenience store as them. Of course, he'd see you if you decided to visit the store at this time.

Donghyuck didn't think of you as someone hot before, casual dating was not his mind when it came to you and you were always busy being interested in whoever is new. Maybe you liked the unfamiliarity of them, the fact you didn't see them for consecutive weeks before they suddenly appeared in front of you, unlike the two of them, Donghyuck has been in your life consistently for the past two years and this year, something changed.

The pulsing of his heart, when the store's automated doors slide open and your familiar pyjama hoodie comes into his view, the way his lungs forget to breathe and he can't tear his eyes off of you until you make your way up to the counter with your BBQ pringles and cola on the side. "When are you gonna unblock me?" even your voice is so sweet now, his brain shooting fuzzy chemicals inside him and butterflies making his knees go weak.

Donghyuck doesn't want to like you.

"You know the schedule, wait until the party," scanning the codes of your items and billing you up, he takes your exact change, sliding your snacks to you.

"Can't you give me a reason? What did I do?" you ask, stuffing your snacks into your hoodie’s pocket and Donghyuck groans, you didn't plan on leaving, he could tell. "You saw my text and didn't reply, you could've just replied then—"

"That's just stupid, I blocked you as soon as I remembered I said I would," he argued back, clicking his tongue at your exasperated expression.

Giving up on that point, "Nevermind that then, just give me a reason then," you said, Donghyuck grumbling internally and you stare at him, waiting for a reply.

"Didn't I tell you I wanted a detox?"

Waving him off, you glare at him and ask again, "Am I toxic? To make you need a detox from me?" your eyes tingle, the heat making its way up to your neck and you mentally curse, you've never been able to argue without feeling the urge to cry.

"That's not what I mean by detox. I just need some time from you, my life is a mess right now you are at the centre of it," Donghyuck explains, his hands automatically holding your face and rubbing away the tears that brim in your eyes. "I don't mean to make you cry—with all the time away from me, you can go and try to snag Taeyong! Come on, you have a life without me in it too," he adds, his voice softer and fingers gently crease your cheeks, earning a pout from you.

You spit, "What's that supposed to mean?" you take his hands away from your face and wrap your fingers in his, "Taeyong isn't you, no one is you. You are not replaceable for me,"

Tears bubbling up again, Donghyuck shushes you and he doesn't want to feel this way; his chest clogs up and renders him breathless in front of you, and he feels guilty. "Hey, hey, come on don't cry," he frets, his fingers wiping away the tears and settling on your shoulders. If only the counter wasn't in between you, he knows for sure he'd have hugged you and given up already.

"You know, your touch always makes me not cry," you laugh, remembering the time when you almost broke down in class after getting an F and being required to repeat a course the next semester. He held your hand the entire two hours of the lecture and even stayed with you until you were back home. You didn't even know him too well back then.

It made your heart kinda race for him but the comfort of your growing friendship with him felt too precious.

"That's because you are like a baby, holding you will make you calm down," he exposes you, rolling his eyes as if it were an obvious truth and you scoff, "Just how many people do you think hold my face like I'm a chipmunk?" killing the mood, Donghyuck sighs, "Well, at least you are okay now,"

"Unblock me now," you said, regaining your reason once you've calmed down and he shakes his head without hesitation, suddenly regaining his previous determination. "Yeah, no."

A Y/N-detox isn't feasible if he thought about it, not when you've carefully matched your schedule to his because he is always working or has appointments with other friends, you work at the cafe down the fast food cabin he works at, take the same bus home as him and worst of all, you both share the same friend groups because of how much time you spend together as a collective.

"Do you guys like, hate me or something?" Donghyuck deadpans, slumping into the seat you were previously sitting at.

"You hate yourself," Renjun quips, his eyes not leaving his book and Yangyang nods in agreement while adding, "You didn't think it would be a good idea to tell us you didn't like her anymore? We would've not invited her,"

"We could've also made a group without you in it," Mark said, resting his head on the wall and dozing away. He had finished a shift and was supposed to work one more shift today because his junior broke his arm but thank the heavens, Donghyuck said okay and is covering the shift. Too guilty to go home, Mark has resorted to staying around until the end of the shift anyway.

Mark, unlike Jaemin, was Donghyuck’s only refuge. The one person who knew about his crush and the one person who told him, hey, she might like you. "Dude, just go home," he says, shaking Mark's shoulder and Renjun sighs.

Renjun says, "I tried already, he is just being stubborn," closing his book once he bookmarks it and crossing his arms on the table. "Now, you need to tell us what happened,"

Renjun has always been perceptive of his mood, always keeping up with the latest drama and the main provider of information to Jaemin's cupid hustle. Romance was just his forte. Donghyuck, though, was too scared to ask him his opinion on it in case he told him to just give up—as if he wasn't already trying in his own way.

"Promise me you won't laugh," Donghyuck gulps and Yangyang grunts loudly, "Dude, miss me with the suspense—We swear, now what happened?"

Inhaling, he blinks away into the distance. "I might be in love with Y/N and I am so ashamed to come out with it. I know it's stupid but you guys know how we are, it's always us together, Donghyuck and Y/N, we're friends.

Shit, I even blocked her to get over her but it's not working—I dreamt of her last night and it was so embarrassing to see her today,"

"Dreamt of her… like… like that?" Yangyang asks, his fists covering his dropped jaw and Donghyuck's face burns up at the suggestion but he doesn't deny it, much to Renjun's disgust, he gags and says, "Please don't give us the details,"

"She's been going insane on her own and constantly going on about you—this must be why." Mark nods as if a bigger picture was drawn in his head, he grins and goes on, "Jaemin wasn't joking when he said you liked her last Christmas. I didn't think the mistletoe trick would work,"

Gasping at him, "You knew!" Donghyuck points at him in accusation and grabs his collar, "That kiss messed up our relationship!"

Yangyang breaks them up, grinning at Donghyuck sleazily, and he says, "Dude, tomorrow's party, just fix it. There's nothing to lose—I can't believe you've dragged this on for a year, how adorable."

Two weeks without Donghyuck and you are but a shell of yourself.

It was so easy getting used to life with him, he came in and went out so nonchalantly. You hadn't realized how involved he was in your life until he was gone from your daily transit, he was gone from your walks home, he was gone from his shift at the convenience store and not a single text you sent him went through. No, your life didn't revolve around him but you include him in everything because, Donghyuck will think this is funny, you need to tell him about the stupid fight that happened in the café and Donghyuck will look good with this, you need to take him shopping with you.

Shit, you sent him a picture of random things that made you think of him.

There was only once that you thought you liked him, and you shot that down as soon as he said he liked a girl in his social club—you even joined the club for him, how could he like someone else… you gave up as soon as your heart latched on and to be honest, you were okay with that because well, he was still the closest person to you.

You didn't need the kisses to feel loved. His gentle hands creasing your cheeks habitually and his warm hugs because he feels like it, they made you feel loved. The way he makes time to see you in his busy schedule, you know he leaves hours in his day because you'll ask him for time, which makes you feel loved as well.

It didn't make sense for him to suddenly shut you out, not when he was leaving all these signs, he didn't do any of these with anyone else—last Christmas meant something to him.

You just knew it did.

"Have you guys seen Donghyuck?" you ask, holding your red cup of punch barely full and your head feeling dizzy.

Pointing towards a corner, "I THINK HE WAS WITH MARK," Yangyang screams at the top of his lungs, the earmuffs doing their work to shut out even his loudness.

Lee Mark throws the most exciting Christmas parties every year in his apartment building in collaboration with his neighbours. The shared pool and backyard were completely theirs to use, Mark would normally hang up mistletoes in the spaces between his apartment and everywhere else. The kissing begins as soon as you want to leave his front door anywhere else. And you never leave his apartment, so you never had to deal with the plant.

That wasn't the case last year, someone had hung up mistletoes inside the apartment and exactly at the spot you and Donghyuck always beeline to, that's where everything changed for him and out of nowhere, you had to be the one acting normal because he wasn't.

Stumbling your way into the living room, it wasn't too crowded in here and it usually only had Mark's closest friends loitering around. Your eyes immediately find Donghyuck, laughing loudly and he leaves his beanbag, and almost instinctively, you plop down on it as soon as you near it.

Fading out of consciousness, "Who said you could sit there?" he whined, his eyes half-lid as he grabbed your hand and you shot up, your head feeling clearer now.

You always steal his seat when he leaves to get a refill. "I was just keeping it warm. You don't have to yell," you said, jutting your lips out. Your cheeks painted in a flushing colour, Donghyuck guessed that you already had your share of drinks and made a mental note to leave the party soon because he was your ride home. Not that he'll be driving but even walking you home is considered a ride.

Well, maybe not this time because you guys didn't come together.

Letting go of your arm, you fall back onto the beanbag, and he gives you puppy eyes. "I wasn't yelling," Donghyuck grumbles, getting shoved to the side by someone and he turns to face them.

"Are you okay?" Jaemin asks, his lips almost meeting his eyes in a wide grin, and Donghyuck immediately has his guard up, feeling a wave of deja vu.

"You look tipsy, aren't you gonna go home?" Pressing his hand on your forehead, Jaemin looks towards the ceiling above you and smirks. "Oh, look here, guys," he gasps loudly. However, Donghyuck could hear the pretentiousness of it.

Donghyuck followed his gaze with narrowed eyes, right above him, wretched mistletoes greeted him in the dimly lit corner of the room immediately releasing a groan. "Ugh, not again!" Donghyuck cries.

Scoffing at Jaemin, he rolls his eyes. "What? You wanna kiss me this time?" he asks in a mean tone, and Jaemin giggled, moving away from the spot while saying, "Of course, not," Donghyuck felt his blood boil, if Jaemin was a cupid, then maybe that song about a stupid cupid was right.

Clearly, his arrows were faulty this time.

Last time, it didn't cross his mind that someone else would be hanging up mistletoes, Mark never hung them up in the corners of the rooms and especially not inside Mark's apartment because he was scared someone would make out on his sacred sofa or worse, inside his toilet. But he learnt his lesson, Na Jaemin goes to extreme lengths to pair up his couples after all.

You then ask, "Then—Are we going to kiss?" your eyes look curiously at him as you pointed at the plant. "It's you and me under it now,"

And from that point, it's never been the same. The last time, he kissed your lips, it was stupid. You were drunk and said okay for the fun of it, Donghyuck could only hope neither of you remember it.

But when his lips lightly brushed on yours, and he realized that tomorrow morning you'll be back to normal, your memory in fragments and he remembers it clearly, the regret that washed over him the next morning when he opened his eyes to the ceiling of his bedroom, the horror that clung to him when his phone was bombarded by his friends curious about how he felt now that he had kissed you.

He was in denial for a whole year.

Once more, "Are we going to kiss again," you ask, your fingers pulling his shirt, you bring him back to the present and guide him down towards you.

Donghyuck's knees go weak, and he falls onto the floor with his breath caught. This time, you are the one taking the lead. "You remember," he breathes out, looking away from you and you give him a tight-lipped look. "Yeah, I never forgot it," you said.

"Why'd you never say anything, I am so sorry about the kiss—" Donghyuck immediately says and you cut him off, —"I didn't say anything because I didn't mind, I actually liked it and I thought you did too because you kissed me twice…"

Perhaps it was the lighting in the room. Donghyuck never thought you looked hot but he did always think you were beautiful, but today, the lipstick you wore made him want to go crazy. "Don't you like Taeyong now?" he just had to ask to be sure and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you said, "You know my fascination with all my crush-ishes dies after I talk to them,"

"But you were so excited for the secret santa," "That's because it's gift giving and that's fun,"

Donghyuck didn't get your name, so he thought you weren't meant to be. No matter how stupid he thinks that idea is now, he still thought it was fate that you got Taeyong's name when you liked him. "I thought you were going to cut me off this Christmas to spend it with him, that's why I came up with the detox… to give you time away from me and me time away from you,"

Biting down a smile, you place a peck on his lips. "Have I ever gone on a date with anyone since you've known me?" you tease, and he immediately says, "Yeah, Yangyang. The two of you go on skate rink dates all the time, I see you guys,"

"That's just you being picky—you don't know how to skate so, of course, I go there with him and not you," flicking his forehead, you click your tongue and went on, "Plus, you always come along anyway,"

"Because I come along, it's not a date anymore,"

"Wow, genius," you giggle, rolling your eyes and Donghyuck sighs into your side, he thinks, his arms are allowed to go around your waist now and he's allowed to keep staring into your eyes.

Your eyes don't leave him either, the thumping bass of the background blending in with the sound of your heart skipping beats and your toes curl, butterflies choking your breath when you say, "Hey, there's a mistletoe here—can't you just kiss me already?"

Dipping his head down, his lips catching yours and this time, you taste like berry punch, your favourite and his hands cradle your face, he still isn't sure if this is the right way to go with you but when your lips synchronise with his, moving softly against his with your hands desperately clinging onto his shoulders.

It took him a mistletoe and a whole year to realize his feeling about you, so maybe, cupid wasn't the only stupid one, he was stupid too. You've been right in front of each other and yet, "Does this mean you like like me?" you ask against his lips.

Smiling, "Just how many people do you think I block?" Donghyuck lets his head rest on your shoulder, the rest of his body going limp as well on the floor, and you pat his back. "Are we together now? Next Christmas, will I be your boyfriend?" he asks weakly, and you nod. Although he couldn't see you, he could tell there was a smile on your face.

"Oh, by the way, do you know who put this in here? Mark doesn't put mistletoes inside his apartment right?" curiously, you point at the plant on top of you and he grumbles, "Na Jaemin," tightening his grip on you. Donghyuck thinks he should give his thanks to Jaemin too because, without him, none of this would've happened.

"Aah, now it makes sense why he came here last year—doesn't he always stay at the pool area with Jeno and that Junior of theirs?"

Nodding, Donghyuck says, "Yeah. He even came up this time too," mentally deciding to spare him this time.

And you giggle, cheerfully saying, "We should thank him, he is kinda like our cupid if you think about it. It goes well with his reputation on campus," the sound of your humming makes him smile, agreeing with you, "Huh, you think so?"

BONUS:

Beknownst to both of you, starting next semester Na Jaemin’s position as campus cupid was solidified using a picture he took once the two of you knocked out in the corner of Mark’s living; Donghyuck’s head nestling on your stomach and your head tilted upwards in a way that looked like it hurt—His greatest masterpiece he said, showing the photo and relying on the great love story until “How come none of you tell me about this?” Donghyuck accuses his friends, shifting his weight to one side and scoffing indignantly.

Yangyang shrugs, “It’s funny. And you guys look cute anyways, what are you mad about?” he asks, his face genuinely looking confused, which makes Donghyuck click his tongue, and Mark asks, “Are you mad we didn’t share the photo with you?” his eyes narrowed, hoping his guess was right.

“How’d you know!” you clap, nodding your head. “Hyuck changed his wallpaper as soon as he got the picture,”

“How did it take this long to find out, though?” Renjun asks, “You’re friends with everyone on campus. It's unbelievable it took you this long,”

©KDYISM, 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[lebrookestore]

for the record | l.ty

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x reader

Themes: strangers to lovers, rockstar! au, band! au, celebrity! au, journalist! reader, rockstar! taeyong, angst, fluff, slowburn, romance, very light comedy, PG-15; (moodboard)

Warnings: profanity, heavy ANGST, taeyong is a bit entitled at first, problematic paparazzi, kissing, food, alcohol consumption, drug use, a small mention of marijuana and use of it, smoking, lying, inaccurate depictions of the music and well as journalism industry, sexual innuendos, allusions to sex but nothing sexually explicit, suggestive

Word count: 51.4k

Summary: When you're presented with the opportunity to accompany the world’s hottest rock band, Cherry Bomb, on their latest tour for an article, you know it could be your chance at furthering your career and possibly acquiring a spot at the New York Times, every journalists dream. You strive to figure out the truth about all the rumours that seemed to hover around them, but you don’t anticipate are the extent of the lies involved, nor do you account for the charming front man.

Playlist: here 

Notes from brooke: she’s finally here! and yes, on seeing that word count you can best believe that i am not just touching grass, but rolling around in it. this was supposed to be 25k but i sort of....got.....carried away....yEP!! it took four, almost five long months to write but i firmly can that it is one of the best things i have written and am very proud of it!! i worked harder on this fic than i have for any of my fics, so feedback would be greatly appreciated!! <3

You knew you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. It was, in no way, professional.

“What do you mean he’s dropping out?” Johnny’s voice was just loud enough to reach your ears from where you stood outside his office, saving you from the embarrassment of having to press your ear against the door. The editor had the habit of being pretty loud when he was distressed or pissed off, and that little fact was currently working to your advantage well. You stood there, holding your notes and listening carefully to the one side of the conversation you were unintentionally privy to.

“Are you kidding me? It’s the biggest piece he’d ever get to work on,” Johnny hissed and you could almost imagine him getting up from his seat and pacing around the room. You had been working at The Link newspaper for around nine months now and had managed to pick up the smallest details about your co-workers, a habit of yours had often helped you many a time. 

The fact that Johnny had called this a big piece didn’t sound like much- after all, this was Los Angeles. There was a story waiting for you at every turn and corner if you looked hard enough for it, with so many aspiring actors and young D-List starlets running around the place, falling head first into any trouble they could find as long as it got them their fifteen minutes of fame.

LA hadn’t been the place you had initially wanted to end up in, far from it actually, but it was a start, one that you had taken on valiantly. After all, everyone had to start somewhere, and your brilliant plan was to somehow make it out of the sandy beaches of California and to the concrete jungles of New York by any means possible.

There was silence for a little bit, and you found yourself biting down on your lower lip, wishing you had access to the other end. A little shuffling, and then a frustrated-sounded slew of cursing.

“Damnit Taeil, that album went platinum in almost every country. That article would have gotten Jungwoo a spot in the New York Times if he wanted! He’s a fucking fool for dropping out.”

And now your mind was racing because the NYT had been your dream ever since your senior year of high school. Journalism was everything you loved and breathed, the fact making itself known when you worked on a newsletter for your school that year and realized how much you truly enjoyed the work of it. Managing to get a job at The Link barely a few months after you graduated from University was a feat in itself, but you had always loved dreaming big.

It seemed like Johnny was now done with the call because nothing more was being said. Remembering what you were there for in the first place, you readjusted your notes and knocked on the door politely. 

You were one of the younger journalists at the paper, which also meant that you had mostly been assigned the less….appealing articles to work on. Things that no one ever read, the little pieces that were just there on the paper for decoration almost, but you still gave them your all.

You also knew that you were capable of much more.

“Come in.” 

The usual jovial lilt that Johnny’s voice held was gone, now replaced with resignment over something he had clearly tried his best to avoid happening. You had a pretty good idea of what was going on by this point but didn’t want to jump to conclusions. A good journalist always did their research first.

Pushing the door open, you walked up to his desk where he sat, and placed your notes down, glancing up to meet his eyes. 

Johnny Suh, editor-in-chief of The Link, was your boss. Graduating from a prestigious college and landing the job almost immediately after came with its perks, one of them being working directly under someone so high ranking. You supposed the flipside of being so lucky were the shitty topics you had been given to write about.

One thing you wanted to make very clear during this meeting was that you were just as good as your older colleagues. The editor was a no-nonsense type of guy, as easy-going as he was firm, so you knew you didn’t have to put on any frills or fancies to catch his attention.

“The notes from my last article,” You informed him gesturing towards the file you had put down on his desk. After he nodded, you narrowed your eyes at him. “What was that about?”

“What was what about?” 

“Your call with Mr Moon,” You prompted, taking a seat on the usually empty chairs opposite him to relieve your feet from standing on those stilettos that you wore to work. He raised a disapproving eyebrow.

“I don’t appreciate my calls being listened in on.”

“A good journalist has ears everywhere,” You countered smoothly, knowing just want to say to gain the advantage. Johnny sighed, somewhat impressed at how quickly you had managed to justify your actions even though they weren’t something he approved of. Although new, you had never been one to back down from a challenge, no matter what the task given to you was and he respected it.

Which was why he decided to tell you what the call was about, however risky that was. Stretching his arms out in front of him, he rested them on the mahogany desk in front of him and put your notes to the side, finally looking at you and the determined look on your face.

“Jungwoo dropped the most important article we could ever lay our hands on,” He stated bitterly, visibly annoyed by this fact. “Do you know of Cherry Bomb?”

A stupid question. Practically everyone knew who Cherry Bomb was even if they didn’t want to. The band had taken the world by storm from their very first album and held it by the neck throughout, even four years later, claiming their spot as the hottest band of the decade. You weren’t a die-hard fan by any means, but you indulged in listening to their music on occasion because they were admittedly fantastic.

The mention of an album from earlier made a little more sense now. You nodded, eager to know where this was going.

“They’re going on tour soon,” He continued, “Jungwoo’s task was to accompany them and write an article on it. It might not sound like much, but with the pull that they have, anything written about them is considered excellent. It could have made his career as a journalist, but the idiot decided to drop out.”

The information he just dropped was pure gold to you. You could agree on one thing- Jungwoo was a complete imbecile for letting something like this slip through his fingers, but you also loved him for it.

“Give it to me,” You offered immediately, sitting up straight in the uncomfortable chair. It was the opportunity of a lifetime in your eyes and there was no way in hell you weren’t going to jump.

“Come again?”

“Give the piece to me,” You repeated, crossing your arms over each other and leaning back. “The Cherry Bomb one, I can do it.”

He frowned, “I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

You grimaced, disguising it poorly as you shook your head, determined. “Yes I am, I’m young enough to fit right in on a tour, and since I’m so new, unassuming enough to get all the details.”

Your points were valid because people loved someone unknown and small enough to be manipulated, a front you could put up to truly extract the information you needed. He shut his eyes for a moment, thinking it over before shaking his head once again.

“Y/n, I think you’re extremely talented, but-”

“But what?” You didn’t let him finish, refusing to leave the office without landing the article. “With all due respect, sir, cut the crap. The things I’ve been working on are stupid and unimportant, the last article you assigned to me was about lines outside of stores.”

You almost wished that wasn’t true, but it was. Because of it, you had been subjected to waking up early and walking about the city, interviewing random people who decided to spend their morning hours waiting outside a store for some sort of product- whether that be a new release of shoes, tickets for some sort concert, or even the new Cherry Bomb album.

You also knew you were pushing it because, for the most part, you were very respectful and careful about how you spoke with your colleagues, especially your boss, but you wanted to make sure he knew you meant business. Jungwoo’s trash would be your treasure.

He studied the expression your wore on your face and it told him that you weren’t going to back down in the slightest. Pressing his tongue to the side of his cheek, he contemplated your proposition. It would certainly make things easier, he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of telling Taeil to pick someone else. One less thing to worry about.

“There's just….one thing.”

You waited patiently, knowing from experience that people tended to give out more information if you stayed quiet. It was human tendency to want to fill a silence and you knew just how to take advantage of that.

“There seems to be a lot of dirt around the frontman of the band,” He drummed his fingers on his desk. “Lee Taeyong.”

“What type of dirt?”

“The type of dirt that the public love. Messy rumours and stories that everyone wants to know the truth behind. This piece isn’t so much about the tour and the band as it is about him.”

So that’s why this was so important. “An exposé?”

“Not exactly,” He clarified, “He’s been in quite a few scandals and they’ve been covered several times, but this piece is just to see if he’s improved and to get the truth behind it all. The good thing about it is that it doesn’t have to be anything too groundbreaking. It could be an article praising them for all I know and it would still do fantastic.”

The smile on your face widened even more. He was giving you information and that meant that you practically had this in the bag. This piece was yours, you just had to tip him over the edge to get a formal ‘yes’ from him. “I’ll write the best article you’ve ever seen.”

He adjusted his position in his seat, “You’ll be gone for months and will have to travel with them throughout the entire tour. Are you okay with that?”

“More than okay,” You assured him quickly. If anything, the prospect of being able to travel around the world only made you want this more. From what you had gathered, this was your chance at boosting your career and making a name for yourself in the journalism industry, inching closer and closer to your goal.

“Fine,” Johnny relented, “I honestly don’t have the time to think about this any further, so I’m trusting you won’t let me down. It’s gonna be a big step up from lines.”

You scoffed, crossing your legs over each other and drumming your fingers on the side of the spinning chair you sat in. This wasn’t what you had come to his office for at all, but you were, by no means, complaining. On the contrary, you were ecstatic, because you knew that this was exactly what you needed.

“Once I’m done, you won’t even think about making me write about lines ever again.”

From the very moment Taeyong walked through the door, he could tell that Irene was beyond pissed.

It wasn’t a new sight to him, he had been subjected to an angry manager many, many times before, almost too many to count. Since he was so used to it, he didn’t pay her too much attention as he plopped down on the couch in the studio, lazily resting his arm on the armrest and propping his legs up on the table in front of it.

“He lives,” Yuta muttered under his breath, the slightest smile on his face. Taeyong let his eyes scan the room, noting that each one of the members of his band- and his best friends- were present. He had known most of them since they were wide-eyed teenagers in high school with big dreams. Now, even four years later, there was not another group of people he would rather be stuck with. 

Yuta was the drummer and a damn good one at that, the type of person who could make a beat out of almost anything he was presented with.  He felt the most comfortable when he was sitting behind his drums, drumsticks in hand.

“Were we having a party I wasn’t told about?” 

The don’t-care-ish tone of his voice very visibly didn’t sit well with Irene, whose glare only grew in intensity. She slapped a tabloid of sorts on the wall beside her, lips pinched in a mixture of exasperation and anger.

“This is not a party, Taeyong. With your track record, you should never be allowed into one.” Her words were clipped and swift, but she had always been one to literally and figuratively rip the bandaid off. Unaffected, he pouted.

“Aw, what did I do now?” The moment he said that she held that very tabloid up for the entire band to squint at, and he could just about make out the headline of it.

“You,” she said the pronoun with such distaste that Taeyong had half a mind to act offended, but he knew better than that. If anything, he probably deserved the treatment she was dishing out to him right now. “Went and got caught by the paps a few nights ago, drunk as fuck with another girl hanging off your arm like candy.”

His eyes focused on the poorly taken picture that was plastered all over the front of the tabloid. As terrible as the photograph was, one thing that fame had taught him was that if you had fans, you could be recognized from just about anything, and it was definitely him on there.

He didn’t even remember the girl's name. Pity.

“You called us all here for this?” Doyoung cut through the silence, a disgruntled look on his face. Doyoung was on keys (synthesizer to be exact), but was somewhat of a prodigy, being able to master almost any instrument he put his mind to and could probably be his own band if he wanted to. He was also what you’d refer to as the responsible one of the group, the one with the least drama and frankly and no interest in it at all.

The other two in the band were Mark and Jeno, two guitarists that were excellent in their own right. Jeno was the youngest, and the only one that hadn’t known the rest since their high school days. They met the boy at the building of their label, and he blended in so well with the rest of the band that having him be a part of it had been a no-brainer decision to make.

“I was just having some fun,” Taeyong protested, “All the other guys do it as well.”

“Yes Taeyong, but they aren’t the front of the group, neither are they the media's favourite portrayal of a fuckboy, even if you live up to that title better than you should.” She snipped agitatedly, slapping the tabloid against the wall, prompting him to sigh. 

That was what he was. Lee Taeyong, frontman, and the bassist. He was also one of the main vocalists, though the entire band did the singing as a team.

When he started out at the tender age of nineteen, he never expected to be thrust into the limelight as he had been. Managing to land the record deal when they were nothing more than wide-eyed kids with a dream was a miracle in itself, but what seemed like an overnight success was overwhelming.

He had taken on the role of something of a leader within the band, but it had come with its own set of rules. Being the face of the group meant that he received more attention than the others, something he had never been pleased about due to situations like this, but he had gotten used to it.

So what if he was known as the fuckboy?

He was the fuckboy that had several shiny awards under his name, and he was fine with owning it.

Enter Irene, their manager who had been with the group since day one. Now, she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, carefully so that her pointed nude-coloured acrylic nails wouldn’t dig into her perfect skin.

“Tour is coming up,” She warned sternly, “For once could you put on your big boy pants and behave? You have to be on your best behaviour.”

“Irene,” He drawled, “When am I not an angel?”

“Your halo looks a lot like devil horns from here,” She grumbled, shutting her eyes and mentally counting to ten. Despite all her complaining about their wild lifestyle, he knew she loved being with them too much to quit working for them. Taeyong grinned unabashedly, sinking further into the plush cushioning of the sofa to get comfortable.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Look, I mean it when I say I need you guys to be good on tour,” She explained. “It’s all of your chance of clearing your name to an extent. A journalist is accompanying us this time and one article that doesn’t talk about any of you being drunk or running out of a bar with yet another woman would be lovely for your image. We work our asses off to keep you out of shit so the least you could do is take advantage of this.”

She was speaking to the entire group, but Taeyong knew it was a message specifically for him. He was no stranger to the speech and was frankly pretty bored of it at this point. He always loved the spotlight, he had been made to be on stage and in the studio, but if there was one thing he despised about it all was how unfair the media could be. 

Cherry Bomb was only four- almost five years old, but its popularity came with its drawbacks, one they had to get used to early on. Their lives weren’t normal in the slightest, but after experiencing it daily, it turned into the new normal.

“A journalist?” Jeno asked sceptically, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “I thought we kept the press off our asses during tour.”

The world tour, one to promote their latest album, Cherry On Top, and the most highly anticipated one of theirs yet. This was an important year for them, with the tour and the hope for Grammy nominations, everything had to go perfectly.

“Typically- yes- but Renjun and I both agree that this could be good for the band since it’s more of an observational piece.” She mentioned their publicist, who was miraculously somehow even more hot-headed than she was. Another person Taeyong was used to upsetting on the daily because it was their publicist's job to keep his fan image intact, and he always managed to disrupt that.

Irene glanced at him, a wary look on her face. “So please Taeyong, this is important, especially after what….has transpired.”

She didn’t have to elaborate at all because he knew exactly what she was talking about, all of them did. It brought a bitter taste to his tongue, but he swallowed it, forcing himself to give her his usual lazy smile. 

“Of course, I’ll be good,” He promised, making a show of putting his hand over his heart as if he was swearing on it, dragging his index finger over the area in a crossing motion even though he knew well enough that it didn’t hold much weight, “I’ll let someone else have a chance to lash out. Give Doyoung a turn to be freaky.”

In response, the ever-serious Doyoung threw one of the pillows at him. Taeyong yelped, managing to catch it right in time before it fell to the floor, digging his fingers into the foam pillow to grip it better. The manager shook her head, tired of their childish antics. 

Even with the nonchalant attitude he possessed and his quick wit, he wasn’t stupid, not in the slightest. The latest thing he had been accused of was not something to laugh about, but he had become pretty good at ignoring the paparazzi that he knew he’d manage to get out of it easily enough- he had to.

For the band.

It started to hit you that this was really happening when you found yourself standing alone in one of the tour buses.

There were four of them in total, one for the band, the manager, the publicist and you and three for the staff. You had arrived early to get a feel for everything and settle in so that you weren’t completely lost. All the buses were parked as of now, waiting for their occupants to arrive. 

In the few weeks that you had to prepare, you had done intensive research. You knew each of their names and their roles in the band, you had listened to some of their music to familiarise yourself with it, making sure that you weren’t going to be tagging along like some sort of wide-eyed kid.

You were a professional, and you were going to make sure you seemed like one.

“Who the hell are you?”

You whipped your head around to see a man standing there with a perplexed look on his face. He was staring at you like you were some sort of criminal who had broken into the vehicle, and so to dispute this possible theory, you cleared your throat to introduce yourself.

“I’m doing a piece for The Link? The journalist?” You prompted in hopes that it would jog his memory as you walked over and held your hand out. “Y/n L/n.”

Recognition flashed through his eyes as he took your hand and shook it firmly, nodding. “Right, Huang Renjun, I’m Cherry Bombs publicist. Sorry about that, but catching a crazed fan who managed to sneak in the last tour is enough to get someone paranoid.”

Jesus Christ. You shook your head, a little surprised at that tidbit of new information. You weren’t a part of the majority who did listen to the band religiously, so you didn’t know much about the fan culture at all, but from the looks of it, it seemed to be pretty crazed.

“Don’t worry about it,” You assured him, giving him a warm smile so that he’d feel more at ease around you. In the back of your mind, you made a mental note to try and keep him out of your way as much as possible, because a publicist's job, along with the managers, is to make sure that their client looks good at any given moment.

For this reason alone, it was quite unfortunate that you had been assigned to share a living space with them over the next five months. Your job was to get the most authentic version of the truth that you possibly could, while theirs was to project the perfect image. The contradiction was going to be tough to work around, but you would somehow have to make it work.

You were only accompanying them for the North American leg of the tour, which meant that after those five months they would be leaving for another three months to finish the rest of the shows.

“Well, you’re pretty early,” He observed, scanning the inside of the bus. “The guys have just arrived with Irene, so if you want to meet them you can go do that now.”

You thanked him politely and left the bus, giving him time to settle in by himself. Since it was the first time you would be meeting them, there was no reason to take your phone with you to record any sort of interview (something you’d have to do during the course of the tour). For now, all you needed to do was get acquainted with the people you would be dealing with. 

Walking out to the front, you saw a group of people conversing. The woman was instructing the rest of them- presumably staff- where they had to go. Off to her side was an even smaller group of just four people, but you knew who they were the moment you set your eyes on them.

Cherry Bomb. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you psyched yourself up for what was to come. When the larger group dispersed, you decided that it would be a good time to finally meet your topic.

The heels of your boots clicked on the gravelled floor as you made your way over, rehearsing what you were going to say in your head. Confidence was another thing that was crucial in your line of work since most of the time, journalists had to put themselves in the thick of their work. Experience what they were writing upfront just like you were supposed to. 

Other than your love for writing, it was your love for travel that pulled you into journalism. Growing up in a middle-class family meant that you had lived a fairly comfortable life with a roof over your head and a warm plate of food on the table, but it didn’t include the extravagant holidays abroad that you had seen all your friends go on. You were stuck at home every summer while they experienced a part of the world that they had never been to before. You knew that some articles would require you to travel, which meant that you could do what you truly loved.

Like now. This tour was possibly the best thing that could have ever happened to you because it was five whole months of travelling. Granted, you wouldn’t be able to fully enjoy every single destination, but it was better than nothing at all. 

The woman turned around and spotted you, asking a question before you even had the chance to speak. “Are you the journalist?”

“Pleased to meet you, I am,” You continued as smoothly as you could, even though she had completely thrown you off by being so abrupt. Clearly, she was much more prepared than the publicist. Looking away from her, you eyed the boys that stood beside her before realizing something.

One was missing.

“Right well, this is Doyoung, Yuta, Jeno, Mark, and I would introduce you to Taeyong, but he’s late.” The unamused tone of voice that she used told you that it wasn’t the first time the mentioned man had been late, but you brushed past it, smiling courteously at the other members that were present at that moment.

You introduced yourself once again, noting each one of them. Of course, you knew who they were already, you had made sure to memorize who was who so you’d have an easier time working.

For world-famous rockstars, they weren’t really all that intimidating. One of them- Jeno you remembered- returned your smile cheerfully, his eyes turning into little crescents of joy. It was honestly kind of cute and the others greeted you in the same way, welcoming. The politeness of your simper almost turned into something genuine, but that would have been far too much for a first encounter.

Doyoung’s expression, however polite, was doused in scrutiny towards you, but you couldn’t blame him. It was warranted.

Stay professional, you repeated silently to yourself. As lovely as they might be, this is a job, you’re not here to make friends. They knew you were supposed to be there, they were used to the attention.

Still, maybe making friends with them would be a good idea. If there was a level of trust between all of you, you’d effectively be able to get much more out of them-

“Must you always start without me?”

Your thoughts scattered almost immediately at the sound of the new voice like someone had thrown them out into the wind before you could even protest against it. The smooth, low tone of it went straight to your stomach and no one had ever been able to do that before.

You looked to your side to see who it belonged to, lips parting when you noticed the new face.

Dark messy hair that had a hint of red in it and intense eyes, crimson lips that had no doubt had thousands of teenage girls around the globe wishing they could press a kiss on them, he stood there in all his glory. He donned a jacket over a simple tee shirt and jeans, but there was just something about the way he carried himself that made it seem like more, one of those rare, enigmatic specimens of humankind.

Lee Taeyong.

And god, he was exceptionally beautiful. The music videos you had watched didn’t do him justice.

You didn’t even need the woman to tell you who he was, because you knew him very well, or at the very least, you knew most of the surface-level stuff. While you had done your digging into all the members, it was him who you had focused the most upon due to the tip Johnny had given you. He was the actual reason you were here.

“We wouldn’t if you showed up on time,” She scowled. He seemed completely unfazed at this. “Cut me some slack Irene, I left on time. There was traffic, including a swarm of fans outside my house.” He grimaced at that last bit, like the fresh memory of it was too much for him.

You had to take back your previous statement of them not being intimidating because Taeyong definitely was. His dark brown irises slowly swept over the group, deliberately even, and came to rest on you. A cocky smile rested on those lips of his and intrigue entered his eyes as he studied you. 

Most of your intel was public knowledge. His name, the fact that he was twenty-three and had been in the spotlight since he was just nineteen, which was by normal standards, barely a freshman in college. Of course, nothing about him was normal at all, but it was the comparison you had chosen to remember the fact.

And then there were the more interesting things. All the scandals he had managed to get pulled into, the way his name seemed to ghost every major celebrity slip up. From being caught on the regular with a new supposedly unsuspecting girl wrapped around his little finger to being caught drunk in Vegas, it was all too amusing to read.

Then you found something that put all of those measly scandals to shame. This? This was the real deal.

Superstar Lee Taeyong Sleeping His Way to the Top?

From the moment you spotted the article, you knew you had to know more. It wasn’t something that could be easily brushed to the side like the other rumours, it was a serious accusation that could potentially involve a nasty court case if it rippled out of control. Fortunately, there wasn’t much evidence for now.

It seemed like the writer of it knew this very well because they had remained anonymous. Worse, it had gotten a lot of attention from major media outlets and all of them started pointing out how quickly the band had managed to gain popularity and hit the charts. It seemed to fall into place perfectly.

But you knew how the media worked, you knew that anyone and everyone would pounce on the chance to sell a story, and this wasn’t any different. You knew that the real thing- the truth-  was often much simpler to explain. Most of the time, it was a far cry from what was being thrown around by tabloids and newspapers.

And you were going to figure out exactly that.

“And you are?” He inquired after a minute or so, the weight of his gaze had you rooted to the spot, cheeks warming. Even though this was the third time that day you would be introducing yourself, something about it felt a little different. Part of you was dying to find out if he was like they said, the other part wanted to know the person beneath that.

“Y/n,” You said slowly, “I’m a journalist doing a piece about the band and the tour.”

That infuriatingly attractive smirk on his face never faltered as he nodded. “Lovely to meet you, I hope we’re interesting enough.”

He hadn’t even bothered to tell you who he was like he somehow knew you had come prepared. You pressed your lips together, caught off guard with how self-assured he was, but also very intrigued. 

“I’m sure you are.”

Somehow, Taeyong was everything you had expected and nothing like it at all.

The first night consisted of travelling, shouts on the bus you were staying on and music being played. You made small talk with the band, mostly Jeno, and sometimes with Renjun, but mostly watched from the sidelines. You joined them for dinner and laughed under your breath at the bickering between Doyoung and Taeyong and the sarcastic comment Yuta made about them in the passing.

You were surprisingly comfortable around all of them and your polite smile turned into a genuine one throughout the evening. Part of you was glad about that, the entire ordeal would be much easier to deal with if you weren’t constantly guarded. 

It was the day of the first show of the Cherry On Top tour, the Chicago one, which was where you had woken up that day on the bus. You had never seen a more efficient set of staff as they quickly worked to set up the stage for the show that evening, from special effects to lighting, they worked hard to create a show the fans would remember and love.

Currently, you sat in the empty stadium, smack dab in the middle with an excellent view of the stage where the band was rehearsing. Even though it was just a simple rehearsal where they only ran through their songs and made adjustments when needed, it was still fascinating to watch their process. 

The stage was huge, and even though there were dancers to fill up the space, the five men managed to dominate the entire thing, their presence striking and eye-catching. 

It was also becoming increasingly obvious why Taeyong was the frontman of the group. He stood in the middle, guitar in hand as he sang into the mic, managing to grasp the entirety of your attention. The others were jaw-dropping as well, but there was something about him that was so entrancing that you couldn’t look away.

You told yourself that it was because you had to pay attention to him, nothing more, but he was a hard person not to pay attention to.

Soon, they called for a break, leaving their instruments on stage to come back to later. You didn’t move, however, staying nestled comfortably in your seat as you intently watched all of this take place. After all, the major part of your job was to observe, the smaller, much more important bit would only come with time but you weren’t too worried about it considering you had months to figure that out.

It kind of felt like you were on vacation and part of you wanted to get up and offer help, feeling very out of place as you saw everyone else running about, but you had to stop yourself from doing so. It wasn’t your place, and you’d have something to write by the third week of the tour for sure.

“Enjoying the show?”

You startled slightly, looking up to see Taeyong standing to the side of your seat, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. Once you had acknowledged his presence, he settled down in the seat next to you, legs slightly spread as he stretched his arms in front of him.

“The best show I’ve been to,” You said with a small grin, truthful. “And the only one.”

Surprise took over those pretty features of his. “You’ve never been to a concert?” He spoke like you had committed some sort of cardinal sin, blasphemy even.

“Nope,” You popped the p, shaking your head. The truth was that you would have killed to have gone to one as a kid, but just like travelling really hadn’t ever been in the cards for you, neither had a concert. You had had several artists you loved, but concert tickets were expensive, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ask your parents if you could get any.

“The first time I went to one was when I was fourteen.” His eyes were trained on the stage, the nostalgic look in them catching your attention. You sat up a little straighter, ready to drink in the information he was about to give you. “It was the moment I knew I wanted to do that for the rest of my life.”

“Something tells me you never go back on your word.” You acknowledged. Almost ten years later, he was doing exactly what he had promised himself he would and you admired the hell out of it.

“I don’t,” He hummed in confirmation, before finally looking back at you. “So, what do you think? About our performance, I mean.”

You thought about it for a moment before you answered him. “I think I’ll wait until the actual performance till I form an opinion, so it’s the most accurate, but so far I think you guys are amazing.”

Taeyong raised an eyebrow as if to say he didn’t believe that, “You don’t already have an opinion?”

“Was I supposed to?” You countered back, holding his gaze. You had interviewed plenty of people before, but never had you challenged them back- it wasn’t your job. What you were set to do was to gather information and string that information into something to be read, so you couldn’t quite explain why you had become so bold all of a sudden.

A slow, languid smile spread on his mouth as he studied your face like he held a secret that no one else knew and it amused him. 

“People like you always have opinions.”

“People like me?”

“Journalists,” He said simply, and you would have been offended if you didn’t know he was right. The celebrity world thrived on opinions, they were the fuel to the ever-burning fire, fanning it day in and day out so it would never die.

And you knew for a fact that he had been subjected to the majority of all those opinions, some less civil than others. It should have been enough for him to be completely reclusive towards you, yet, he was somehow so calm around you and had even made the effort to come up there and talk to you.

He was really something, you concluded, something you wanted to figure out.

“I prefer to have sight of the entire picture instead of drawing assumptions from thin air.” You chose your words carefully. “That work for you?”

The look in his eyes softened a little into something more genuine and he nodded, agreeing with you. “You’re going to base your opinion off of a performance that you view backstage?”

“I got a frontstage view from here, and the best part is that it’s without all the screaming fans.”

“I love it when we walk on stage and the entire stadium is screaming,” He admitted with a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s invigorating, sometimes we can’t even hear the music in our earpieces because of it.” You could tell that the band had a very strong bond just from the way he spoke about them- it was almost a little envy-inducing if you were being honest.

He let out a soft sigh, tapping his fingers absentmindedly against the plastic handrest of the seat. “But there’s something magical about empty stadiums too, the silence is…deafening almost, but in the best way possible. All this silence is somehow filled by the evening, and I didn’t realize how much that meant until I experienced it first hand.”

He still hadn’t looked away, and the air between the two of you shifted ever so slightly like you had gone from strangers to acquaintances. 

Maybe more. It wasn’t rocket science for anyone to notice the interest you held in him- professional or not- neither was it hard to pick up on his effort to come to talk to you.

“I can never choose if I like the emptiness or the full one more,” He confessed quietly to you, and it was only then you realized how close he was. For some reason, even though that little bit of information wasn’t anything groundbreaking, it felt important. He felt more real than any other person you had ever interviewed had, and that sounded cold in a way, but that was just how it was.

(Then again, your most fantastic piece until this point had been about people standing in lines-er - not something you were entirely proud of.)

“Maybe you don’t have to choose,” You muttered, your voice somehow sounding louder than it actually was. “Maybe you can have it all.”

It was only then that he looked away, scoffing slightly under his breath. The spell was broken, snapping you out of the slight trance he had managed to put you under, and you pressed your lips together, watching as his demeanour changed in the blink of an eye.

“In our world? No one can have it all.”

The opening act had just finished and the crowd was riled up, excited for the main event coming up. Kim Hyoyeon, a rising pop-rock star, was said to be amazing on stage and she definitely lived up to it, giving the fans exactly what they wanted and just enough to prepare them for what was to come.

Backstage was the epitome of chaos, you couldn’t keep track of anything that was happening at any given point in time. You didn’t know how Irene managed to stay so calm the entire time, but you chalked it up to her being used to the commotion. The look on her face was serene as she dished out instructions without even breaking a sweat.

Of course, it was a different story when the boys actually emerged from their greenrooms with make-up artists flocking them to touch up their make-up. They looked fantastic, feeding into their signature rocker look with the leather jackets and ripped jeans that drove the crowd wild.

Each outfit was different but tied together well regardless, making them look like the perfect team. 

And for some reason, you lingered on Taeyong, who donned a red leather jacket that matched his hair over a black vest that was loosely buttoned over leather pants. To top it off, several pretty earrings hung from his ear piercings, the icing on the cake. He was the type of guy who stood out and was gorgeous in every situation, but with the way, his hair was styled and make-up was done, that attribute of his was elevated.

In short, Lee Taeyong was hot as hell, and you were willing to bet on the fact that he knew it.

“You’re on in five,” Irene warned them and like clockwork, they all made their way towards a part of the stage that had been previously lowered down with all their instruments arranged on it. Yuta took his place behind the drums, Doyoung behind the keyboard and Mark, Jeno and Taeyong picked up their respective guitars. Then they gathered together and put their hands together, saying something before yelling out the name of their band. A pre-show ritual, you presumed.

Just as they did, Taeyong glanced back and somehow spotted you throughout the chaos. The side of his mouth curled up into a wry smirk as he adjusted his guitar in his hands and mouthed.

‘Enjoy the show.’

Hyoyeon returned backstage and it was then when the part of the stage that they were standing on began to slowly rise. You could hear the screams of the fans get louder with every passing second as the band emerged for them to see. To you, however, they dulled out due to the fact that you were still caught up in the fact that he chose to look at you.

Oh lord. What on earth were you thinking? You had known this man for a grand total of three days give or take, and even saying you knew him was a stretch.

But you did. You knew far too much.

The music began, loud and intense, you could feel it in your stomach even backstage. You could just about hear their voices and how well they blended with each other, having much more energy and stage presence than they did in the afternoon. After all, this was the real deal, the real show.

The first show of the tour was today, and the tour itself would last from May to the beginning of September. It was the kickstart, the show they had to start with an absolute bang to set the tone for the rest of it. Even though you couldn’t see them out there, you were kind of glad you decided to wait before forming a proper opinion to present to Taeyong. You could tell that they were one hell of a band just from listening to them play.

You didn’t get to see them during the twenty-second breaks they got to change outfits, but you could see the commotion that followed with the staff running around with the clothes and water bottles with straws in them. The scene jerked you to reality and reminded you that you were supposed to be noting things down to write about.

All you had been doing was enjoying and basking in the feeling the concert was giving you, but you weren’t getting paid to write about your feelings, were you?

Definitely not. 

It was over just as quickly as it began and you were envious of those sitting outside that were able to watch the show and take it in its entirety. Now, you had to put together what you remembered from the rehearsal with what you could hear from where you were with your imagination. It wasn’t like you had a terrible imagination or anything of the sort, quite the opposite. What you were a little afraid of was that if you ever did get the opportunity to see the show, it wouldn’t live up to what you had concocted in your mind.

That was ridiculous because what you were here to do was to tell the truth, not to hope for something else. And besides, you were sure that it would be positively out of this world.

They walked backstage as the show ended, grins painting their faces with pride at what they had just done. A smile of your own made its way onto your face as you watched them saunter out. Yuta raised a closed fist in the air with a triumphant look and the rest follow suit after him.

Backstage erupted in cheers for the successful first show and you were quickly pulled in to celebrate with them, even though you had nothing to do with it. For once, even Irene allowed herself to smile at Taeyong, which was a rare sight on the observation of the constant glares she sent his way and the expression of pleasant surprise on his face.

But then she said something to him and the happy look in his eyes dulled out ever so slightly, no one else would have caught it. He swallowed and then turned to look at you from across the room as she continued to speak. He dropped his eyes and nodded and she smiled again, patting his shoulder and walking away.

You didn’t know why, but suddenly you had the strong urge to try and reinstall the look he had before she said whatever she did that managed to take it away. The feeling was quick and rushed but strong and without even thinking you began walking over to do just that.

“My opinion remains,” You said after clearing your throat. For a split second, the usual self-assured look that he possessed wasn’t there, but just as quickly as it had disappeared, it was back. He raised an expectant eyebrow, prompting you to continue. 

“The best show I’ve ever been to,” You repeated your words from earlier. “Even if I didn’t get to properly watch it.” 

He was amused, you could tell from the way he was looking at you. Something about it had a flame alight in the pit of your stomach and you were mystified by it because it had never happened before, for you weren’t the type of girl who was easily flustered or affected by simply a look given in your direction by a pretty boy. 

You were usually good at deciphering what you felt, but this time you were at a loss, grasping at any semblance of an idea for what it could be that your mind presented to you.

Taeyong leaned over a little, “You will one day.”

And with that he strolled off, disappearing once again behind the doors of his green room. Once he was out of sight, you let out a breath that you didn’t even know you had been holding in and grabbed one of the water bottles from the table, unscrewing it and taking a large gulp.

Thinking was turning out to be dangerous, but for some reason, you didn’t want to stop.

~

“This isn’t water.”

Taeyong held out the plastic bottle he had taken from the mini fridge on the tour bus in front of his face, before throwing a confused look at his bandmates. It was only them who were awake then, still high off the adrenaline rush the show had given them, while everyone else was sleeping in the upstairs section of the bus.

“It’s not,” Mark confirmed without even looking up from his laptop. “It’s vodka.”

He wasn’t surprised, and shrugged, taking another swig of the drink and settling down on the couch. Smuggling alcohol onto the bus wasn’t a first, they had been doing so since before they were even legally allowed to drink, and although he was sure their manager knew about it, over time she found it easier to just let it slide. The number of things one could get away with when they were famous was astounding, some things better than others. 

“I’m surprised you’re here with us and not at some bar,” Doyoung cut into the conversation, squinting at his friend. Taeyong frowned lightly at that statement and how it made him sound, even though he knew band mates didn’t think of him like that.

“I do that when we have a few days in the city, not if we’re travelling straight away.”

Doyoung must have noticed the slight clench in Taeyong’s jaw because he continued. “There’s nothing wrong with it, I just thought you were following Irene’s orders. Best behaviour and shit for Y/n.”

Taeyong sighed and took another large sip of the vodka. This conversation was reminding him far too much of the brief one he had had with his manager right after his show, something he really didn’t want to think about.

“It’s started perfectly Taeyong, don’t ruin it.”

Irene’s cold gaze was trained on him, making sure every word had sunken in because she was right, unfortunately. The first show had been a roaring success, good enough to drown out the rumour that had clung onto his skin more than anything ever had. 

“You might not think it, because she wasn’t the reporter we were expecting to be tagging along, but she is watching. Don’t be fooled.” She warned, before patting his shoulder twice to make up for her harsh words. Encouragement on the smallest scale.

The moment she said that Taeyong looked at you. He didn’t know how he could feel you already watching him from where you were, but it only solidified what she had said about you, as much as he didn’t want to believe it. You were different from the press he had to deal with on the daily, you were genuine- or at least, that’s how he perceived you. 

He hoped he was right because not even a moment you walked up to him and said something that had a smile threatening to break out on his face.  He liked the fact you seemed different and he wanted it to be true, to be pleasantly surprised for once.

Scandals- he didn’t give two shits about them. Stressing over them was a waste of time, for the most part, created by a reporter that needed a little boost to their name because they were bad at actually finding credible information. They were rumours that were taken way out of proportion and everyone in the business was a goddamn hypocrite.

So he went out for a drink? Big fucking deal, everyone did that. He would never understand how he got backlash for letting loose once in a while when millions of people around the globe did the exact same thing, sometimes more so than he did. The media loved exaggerating and more often than not, taking things out of proportion when there was no need to.

Most of the time he ignored them and went on with his life, getting obsessed and tied down to people’s flaky opinions was a waste of time he didn’t have. Every week there would be a new picture of him in some magazine somewhere in the world with a new incriminating thing to add to his name, even if he truly hadn’t done anything.

It was a never-ending cycle.

But this time….this time pretending to be oblivious wouldn’t work. One little article had blown way out of proportion to the point where he expected a question about it from every reporter that managed to step in his way. It was maddening at this point, he didn’t want to be judged for the way he spent his nights, he wanted to be judged for his music. 

The worst part about it was the weight it held and the fact that it could drag the band down with him. 

Which was why he wanted you to be different. Your eyes didn’t have that hungry, vindictive look he was so used to, you looked more authentic than all the fraudulent people he had to grin and bear with on the daily.

Unfortunately, reality had no place for that type of useless, hollow hope, so he had no choice but to be on his best behaviour to make sure that you wrote only good things. Even if it was all fake, he had to get on your good side for the sake of the other four people that would be dragged down with him if he didn’t.

“Yeah,” Taeyong mumbled as the alcohol kissed his throat with a burning sensation he so often turned to for comfort. “Gotta keep up appearances.”

Nakomoto Yuta was charming with his long, unruly hair and Cheshire cat grin. One mere glance at him would have you know that he was a force to be reckoned with, a force that many would die to have with them in their beds and he couldn’t deny the fact that he had his fair share of nightly fun. 

He was a realist and a cynic, two qualities you generally enjoyed in a person, especially a subject. It made it easier to get the truth out of them.

So to your immense surprise, you were extremely bored.

Now, it wasn’t to say that he wasn’t an interesting person- he absolutely was. You knew an interview with him would also cash in the big bucks, but you were greedy and ambitious. You had your eyes on a different prize, the biggest fish in the pond.

Taeyong, of course.

To you, he was much more interesting. As real as Yuta was, Taeyong was guarded, he knew exactly how much to give the public and what to say. Over the past few shows you had spoken with him pretty often, striking up an odd friendship of sorts, but every interaction left more to be wanted from it. He challenged you back and left you thinking about what you had given and what you had taken.

The truce between the two of you had begun the day of the first show when both of you sat in that empty stadium and he told you his motivations for becoming what he was today. It benefited you nicely because you didn’t have to scour around and beg for details.

It didn’t mean that you didn’t have to work for it, though, because you definitely did. The talk between you two was mundane at most, everyday things. The type of coffee he liked, on which he would turn around and ask you the same question. More than anything, it was a trade-off, bartering on both ends.

Even so, you found yourself more interested in those little snippets of facts than the little interview you were holding with Yuta right now, and you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out why.

“Y/n? Are you even listening to me?”

You quickly looked at Yuta, whose eyes were filled with dancing mirth at your unattentiveness. He didn’t seem offended though, and you winced. “Sorry, I kind of got lost in my thoughts there.”

“Anyone could have seen that, you’re boring the pretty lady Nakamoto.”

Speak of the devil, Taeyong himself stood there, leaning against one of the walls of the bus as he looked at you. You had no idea how you didn’t notice him come him, simply because he was the type of person you couldn’t not notice. Rolling your eyes, you adjusted yourself on the sofa and turned back to Yuta.

“You’ve been with me for two hours or so now,” You said, gathering your things. “I think we can stop for today, thank you for your time, Yuta.”

The literal translation to your words: This is just a formality.

He didn’t have to know that though and smiled, nodding. “Yeah, no problem. You’re nice to talk to, unlike some other reporters I’ve had to deal with. One stalked me for three weeks.” He groaned at the memory and ran a hand through his hair, lips pinched in displeasure. You cringed at how bad that made the people in your line of work sound.

“We’re not all like that,” You started timidly, not knowing where the sudden urge to defend them- or perhaps yourself. Taeyong scoffed from where he stood, intruding a little on the discussion and smiled. 

“No Y/n, it’s the other way around,” He corrected you swiftly. “They’re not all like you.”

It was a compliment, one that had heat curling around your neck and up to your face. It made you feel like he was fond of you, at least a little bit, and you liked that thought. You got to your feet to retreat to the little part of the tour bus that you called your own upstairs, knowing that you were going to have to go over the recording you has taken of your interview with Yuta and pick out the few things you would be using for your article.

“When will you be interviewing me?” He asked, indulging in his curiosity as you made your way to the stairs, piling your tape recorder on top of your notebook, which sat atop your laptop. Somehow, you managed to balance a pen on top of that as well, along with your phone. 

Taking note of the tower in your hands that was probably going to fall any minute now, he reached out and took your journal and recording out from on top of it, held it for you like it was the most natural thing to do and ushered you to start moving. A little surprised, you mumbled a small thanks as you began ascending the steps.

“Soon,” You said finally after thinking over it for a bit, finally making it up to the top floor, walking over to your bit of it, which was right at the end.

“....Soon?”

You repeated the word, confirming. “Soon.”

“Why not now?”

God, he loved asking questions, didn’t he? Specifically questions you did not have any answers to at any given moment, and you shrugged. 

“You’re a famous person. Aren’t you like, busy?”

A mischievous smile made a show on his gorgeous face as he put your things down on your bed and leaned against the frame, hands tucked into his pockets. “For you? Never.” 

You stiffened at his words, staring at him in bewilderment because that sounded like he was flirting with you. It really did, but even the sheer thought of that was absurd. He couldn’t have been flirting with you, right?

Oh, who were you kidding? If the papers had anything to say about it (and you best believe that they had a lot), it would be that Taeyong flirted with anything had possessed a pulse. The moment you remembered this, you proceeded to mentally chastise yourself for trusting those sources. It wasn’t fair to him.

“I was going to go over my notes and recording from Yuta’s but….I don’t want to,” You confessed sheepishly.

“Aha, so he did bore you.”

“Of course not, I’m just lazy right now.” 

He didn’t believe you for a second, but let it slide anyway, watching as you arranged all your things neatly one on top of another again and pushed it to the side. “Okay, then let me interview you.”

To this, you raised a questioning eyebrow, not quite knowing where he was going with this. “I’m sorry?”

“I’ve always been curious about how it is to be on the other side, and since you don’t want to do what you have to, you can use this as a reason to procrastinate and blame me.” He bargained, taking a seat on the leisure seat opposite your bed and leaning into it. “Surely you can sit through answering a few questions when you make us go through it all the time.”

You silently laughed at his reasoning, finding it a tad eccentric. “It’s my job to ask the questions, Taeyong, and it’s yours to answer them, not the other way around.”

His lips twitched at your attempt to push him away considering he could tell you were almost completely on board with the idea. “It’s my job to make music and perform, not tell the world the last celebrity I fucked.”

You nearly choked on your tongue at how crude he was with his wording, coughing abruptly and covering your mouth with your palm. How he spoke about it so freely, you would never understand, and your fingers brushed against the warm skin of your cheeks, telling you that you were not used to it.

Taeyong cocked his head to the side in mock innocence at the reaction he managed to elicit from you. You were absolutely adorable and so damn inexperienced when it came to the world he lived in because of how different yours was.

“What? Isn’t that what everyone wants to know?” He drawled, and you rolled your eyes in an attempt to shrug off the effect he had on you.

The answer you settled for was cautious, one that you could play off easily without thinking of your heated cheeks at how blunt he was. “You think very highly of yourself.”

“Why are you a journalist?”

He dropped the previous topic, going straight to asking you a question you hadn’t expected, though now that you thought about it, it was an obvious one. Blinking slowly, you bit the inside of your cheek, “Because I love writing, obviously, and I want to work at the New York Times one day.”

“Is that it?” Disbelief coated every syllable.

“Must there be more?”

“You know damn well there is,” He chuckled, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. You sat down directly opposite him. “No one becomes something because of one flimsy reason, I can tell you that much. I didn’t form a band and get a record deal just because I love music. Of course, I love music, but I also love performing and hearing all those fans scream because of it. I love sharing that music with the world and I won’t give you any of that ‘I’m not in it for the fame’ bullshit. I love every second of it.”

He’s blunt, you noted mentally, storing the information in the back of your mind for later. Although he was the one asking you the questions this time around, he was also giving you little pieces of him. Somehow, it made the process more gratifying.

There was silence for a few seconds after that, leaving you with bated breath. Every time someone asked you the reason you had taken up journalism, you gave them the textbook answer, one that they expected. It was true, of course, there wasn’t a single thing you’d rather do than this, because you did love it.

And then there's the less known answer. One that you didn’t indulge in all that often because it seemed like an afterthought on your tongue. The fact that he could see right through you and figure out that there was something else to do with your career choice scared you a little.

“Travel,” You confessed softly, “I wanted to…see the world, even if it meant a work trip.”

He was the first person you had ever told about this secret desire of yours because every other time you pondered telling it to someone, it sounded rather silly. Even now, as you pronounced it on your tongue, the fire over the wish burned dimly at best, in fear of being pushed down and discredited for it.

He didn’t make fun of you, though, only furrowing his eyebrows. “Wow. I kind of feel bad for you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We’ve been to what-? Five different places now? And all you’ve seen in the inside of a stadium and greenrooms. That’s a pretty shitty way to see the world if you ask me.”

“I’ll take what I get.” You shrugged, once again adjusting the setup of your materials beside you until you were satisfied. “You do it all the time.”

“That’s not the same,” he argued ardently, but then dropped the topic altogether, not wanting to come across as overbearing in any way. “Thanks for the insightful information Y/n, I think I’d be an excellent journalist.” There was a particular sparkle in his eyes when he said that, like all the precious jewels in the world had taken sanctuary in them.

You watched him retreat downstairs, leaving you to your own devices and thoughts, ones that were much too loud for your liking.

There were many things that had angered his hot-headed manager in the past, and many of those times led to him being the unfortunate and unwarranted receiver of her fury. Over time, he had gotten used to it and took it in good sport, but he would never forget the very first time it happened. 

It had been after one of their first talk-show interviews when their journey together as a band had just kicked off, having gathered a substantial following and fanbase for being so new to the music scene. They were being escorted out of the building and into their cars after a successful interview.

They still hadn’t gotten used to the feeling of being swarmed by fans and paparazzi and were left in a mixture of shock and awe as they exited the building, immediately hit with the screams of fans begging for even a glance in their direction. Several reporters aggregated around them, pushing past the boundaries that their bodyguards had tried to set for their safety to thrust a microphone in their faces and yell out their questions. 

Renjun went over what they had to do when presented with situations like these every time they went out to promote their music when they were industry babies. Taeyong stayed close to the rest of his band mates, walking right behind Yuta with Jeno sandwiched between him and Doyoung who stood towards the back. They had always been fiercely protective of the youngest.

He was acutely aware of the bodyguard that walked by his side, his hands outstretched around the group to shield them from the unruly audience. Just as their publicist told them, he flashed the reporters a polite smile so as to not suddenly be on the top ten rudest celebrities list, and then looked down at his feet, avoiding all eye contact with the cameras.

Rule number one about being famous; you could never be too careful.

But he was only nineteen, artless and spontaneous in everything he did. A reporter yelled out his name so loud that he looked up out of instinct, meeting the culprit's eyes quickly.

And then a camera- or was it one of those dratted microphones?- knocked into the side of his face by his right eye so hard that he visibly winced at the sharp sting of pain that followed. His eyes screwed shut as he flinched away, almost stumbling right into Mark, who yelped softly in surprise. 

He heard Irene yelling infuriated at whoever had done that and the bodyguard moved so that he was covering Taeyong even more. Opening just one eye, he got into the backseat of the car and groaned softly, bringing his fingers up to the place that hurt to somehow assess the situation.

“Dude, you okay? Holy shit-” Mark's voice cut off midway.

Taeyong opened both of his eyes and stared in annoyance and bewilderment at the red stain that coated the tips of his fingers. Irene slipped inside, muttering profanities at the wildness of the paparazzi when she noticed him staring at his hand, and then at the cut on his face.

“Oh for fucks sake!” She all but growled, startling Jeno who was situated beside her. “I didn’t expect you to start bleeding from that.”

He glanced up at his manager, who wore a not-so-flattering glower on her face, taking her phone out and furiously jamming in a few numbers until the contact she desired popped up. Doyoung handed Taeyong a tissue to wipe his hands, his eyebrows furrowing in silent concern, but he shook his head, assuring his friend he was fine.

“You should have been more careful,” Irene snapped, holding the phone to her ear. “I hope that heals soon.”

“It’s not that bad, it doesn’t even hurt anymore,” He remembered reasoning with her. “I think it was just the shock that got to me.”

“It doesn’t matter if it hurts or not, Taeyong, you guys have an editorial shoot next week,” Her words made him freeze. “You have to look perfect.”

That was when it hit him- what her distress was truly about. She hadn’t stopped to ask if he was alright or if he was hurt badly, those things didn’t matter to her as their manager. What she cared about was if he would look good enough for a photoshoot coming up because that was where her priorities lay.

“I suppose the make-up artists can cover it up for now,” She muttered indignantly, before launching into an animated conversation with whoever she had called. Taeyong swallowed the lump in his throat and slumped in his seat every so slightly, admittedly hurt over the realisation that dawned upon him that day.

But it was an important lesson for him to learn, one he carried forward with him as the band got bigger and more famous than anyone thought was possible. When the swarms of cameramen got even larger and the photoshoots increased in number, he made sure to follow Renjun’s instructions to the T. 

Everything about celebrities was taken at face value. This was the cold, hard truth that he had to learn to live with because of how literal it was, because of how cosmetic and fake most things were. 

They used makeup on the cut for a few months to cover it up, until it healed incompletely into a small, almost unnoticeable scar, serving as a reminder every time he forgot about how his new world worked.

You were slowly getting accustomed to the after-show routine that happened every time. Cherry Bomb would retreat backstage, accompanied by the dying yelling of fans experiencing post-concert depression. They would be handed water bottles and would walk around for a bit, hugging staff and accepting congratulations, before finally deciding to retreat to the bus. You had mostly memorized the sequence of events after seeing it happen so many times.

Which is exactly why you were so bewildered right now when none of that happened. 

This time, all five of them seemed to be in a rush, wild looks in their eyes. They stopped for a moment to exchange pleasantries with Irene- a mere formality at this point- as quickly as humanly possible, their unequivocal hurry making a show with the bounce in their steps. Once she was done with them, they scrambled back to their green rooms.

Taeyong must have seen the look of pure confusion on your face because he stopped to admire it, a smile tugging at his cheshire lips at the way your eyebrows cinched and your own lips puffed out slightly in bafflement. He could tell that you knew something was up and that you definitely wanted in on the supposed secret that seemed to alter their usual routine.

Now, he knew very well that Irene would probably kill him for what he was thinking about doing. Then she would resurrect him from the dead, Jesus style, and proceed to murder him once again, repeating the process until she was satisfied. He was supposed to put the best version of himself forward for you to dissect. 

So if he knew this so well, why was he walking over to you anyway? When you noticed that he was coming towards you, you stood a little straighter, eyes widening slightly. “We don’t start travelling till tomorrow,” He said first, giving you context for what was going to follow. “So we’re going to a party.”

He could see the flicker of interest in your eyes. “A party?”

Taeyong nodded, “We’ll take about ten minutes to change and then leave in the car out back. Wanna come?”

Your first thought was your outfit. A sweater that was on the thinner side tucked into a skirt, formal enough without looking overbearing. Most of the clothes you packed for the tour were of the same nature, and for good reason, because it was exactly what you would wear to work, and that was what this was.

The funny thing was that you actually had to remind yourself that you were here for work and not pleasure. Especially when he was asking you if you wanted to come along.

“I don’t have anything party worthy to wear.”

He dragged his gaze over your physique and you never wished you were wearing something else more than you had at that moment. Something a little more impressive maybe.

“You look great.”

Scratch that, this was now your favourite outfit. 

He said it with such conviction that you were left with no other choice but to believe him. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, you tried to count to ten as you thought about how to say no. Ten, nine, eight…

“Okay,” You breathed out, miserable failing at your attempt to have any semblance of self-control. He grinned at you before walking away and reiterating where you should meet him in a few minutes, joining the rest of his bandmates. 

Gathering your wits, you excused yourself to go find the car he spoke about, admittedly nervous about the entire ordeal. The last time you had gone to a party was during your junior year of college. Your senior year had you completely occupied with exams and being editor of the school paper, leaving you with barely any time to go out, much less for a party. 

And here you were, agreeing to go to one without even thinking about it properly. There was so much wrong with this plan that you decided even analyzing your decision-making was not worth it.

Just when you were starting to think Taeyong had pulled a prank on you, they walked out, dressed in clothes that were more casual than the ones they wore on stage, but most of their makeup and hair styling was still intact. When they were closer, Doyoung stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes at you.

“What are you doing here?” He questioned- well, more like demanded an answer out of you. The others, except Taeyong, all looked a little puzzled at your presence and thats when you realized that he hadn’t told anyone he invited you along.

“She’s coming with,” He said, eliciting a look of outright indignation from the younger boy. 

“Are you fucking stupid? She’s a journalist, she’ll-”

“She won’t be recording or interviewing anyone tonight, right Y/n?” He said, voice impossibly sweet as he looked at you expectantly, one eyebrow quirked high as if urging you to say yes. You supposed that was your side of the deal if you were coming along. As a journalist, you should have lied and said yes with the full intention of taking in every detail.

So when you nodded and the word ‘yes’ left your lips, you were surprised to find that you genuinely meant it. Satisfied, he opened the door and cocked his head to the side, gesturing for all of you to get in. The others still looked pretty dubious of your presence, especially Doyoung, but they quickly brushed it aside and obliged.

You ended up sitting in between Taeyong and Yuta in the car, with Doyoung driving and Mark in the passenger seat. Turns out, Jeno had been kept back because of something new popping up in his schedule alone (something about a photoshoot for one of the brands he was an ambassador of, that Irene insisted she brief him about at that very moment in time) and would be joining all of you later.

Mark slipped a lighter out of his pocket and lit a blunt, glancing up at you through the rearview mirror and holding it up. “Wanna hit?”

“Is that…?” You trailed off, a little put off at how casual he was about it. He nodded. 

“Weed.”

“Jesus Christ Mark, why don’t you go tell her all our sins,” Doyoung groaned, tightening his grip around the steering wheel. Mark laughed his airy, broken record-sounding laugh, and shrugged complacently, unaffected by the possible repercussions of his actions.

“It’s not like the entire world already knows,” He deadpanned. You remembered the few articles about them being caught smoking on several occasions. “The place we’re going to is going to be full of this shit, I’m only giving her a taste. Speaking of which, do you want a cig or not?”

As you were with parties, you tended to steer away from the drug-using crowd during your school and college days, leaving you wary of the offer, so you shook your head.

“I’m good.”

“I’m not, give me one,” Yuta said right after you, and Mark did as he asked, handing a blunt over to the older man, leaning over to light it. You felt wildly out of place, nervously playing with your fingers in your lap and contemplating whether you should have agreed, after all, feeling the heels of your shoes dig into the car mat beneath your feet.

As if he could sense your doubts, Taeyong shifted slightly in his seat and dipped his head down until his mouth was near your temple. “Relax,” He said softly, the warmth of his arm around the back of your seat feeling as if it was being projected onto you, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Then he resumed his previous posture. “But yeah, you’re going to have to wipe the mildly terrified look from your face, princess, Mingyu’s party isn’t exactly a formal event with champagne flutes.”

The nickname was used in a manner of teasing, you knew. He was teasing you for being so tightly wound up and surprised at every little thing, but that didn’t stop an odd, fluttery feeling from taking place in the pit of your torso.

Your eyes widened in surprise at that statement of his- not the bit about the party not being a formal event, but the fact he mentioned Kim Mingyu, an actor who had built his reputation over being the ‘good boy’ actor of Hollywood. That was until he found himself in a dating scandal and was exposed for not being as innocent as everyone initially perceived. When he decided to embrace that part of him he received a lot of backlash, but a hell of a lot of respect for it as well, boosting his career through the roof.

As they said, all publicity is good publicity.

“You guys know Mingyu?” It seemed odd for rock stars to know an actor, at least in your eyes, and then you felt a little idiotic. Of course, they knew him. Mark nodded from the front, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing out the smoke.

“Yeah, for a while too. His parties are great to wind down at after a show.”

You had a feeling that his idea of winding down was very different to yours. “Interesting.”

It was clear to you from that moment that this party was going to be full of Hollywood’s finest and most sought-after. In short, a journalist's heaven, with so many stories in one place right within your grasp. So many stories and loose ends other press had tried hunting for ages and you had been given entrance on a red carpet.

You were a fool for not trying to pounce on the idea, all to keep the trust of a man you had been friends with for only a month or so. In a way it was laughable. Trying to keep enough of his trust in you intact just so you could tear through the walls he had built around himself for people just like you. 

He was wrong. You were just like the rest, and for the first time since you set foot on this tour, guilt crept into you. 

The car stopped, signalling that you had reached your destination. Swallowing the new and unwelcome sensation of guilt, you reminded yourself that there wasn’t a good or bad side to this, there never was, no matter how much the media tried to insist the same. It was ironic.

Getting out of the car, you bit the inside of your cheek, shaking those thoughts off and focusing on the house in front of you, or rather, the mansion, because your jaw slackened at the sight of it. The large iron gates walled off the piece of land from the public, enclosing the frothing fountains and tiled pathway that lead to the front of a house that looked a little old-fashioned, but in a tasteful manner. You could tell by the lights flashing in the windows that the party was already in full swing with no signs of stopping anytime soon.

The inside only cemented that fact and from the moment you set foot inside the house, it felt like you were lost. The same scent that had accompanied the blunt Mark and Yuta had used wafted through the air, lost in the haze of alcohol and other drugs.

You had no business being surprised, Hollywood was tainted with all sorts of different sins. Some of those very sins had become so commonplace that no one had the right to judge or ridicule them. You spotted a few familiar faces that you had seen on TV, or perhaps in the news as the band members dispersed slowly to get drinks and talk to their friends.

And then you were alone.

Taeyong stayed fairly close by though, knowing that this was a new scene for you. He admired the way you didn’t look scared, but more so curious as to how it all worked, eyes alert and scanning over everything. He could practically see the gears turning in your head as you made sense of it all. 

Yuta was on one of the couches, talking to a few ladies, Doyoung sat by the bar and Mark had disappeared completely, no doubt now occupying one of the many rooms of the mansion with a woman. You didn’t know exactly when Jeno showed up, but you spotted him once with a drink in hand, humming along to the music.

You really had no idea how this worked, you thought in bewilderment as you tried your best to pay attention to whatever the person talking to you was saying. You brought your cup to your lips and sipped on the beer that swirled inside it as you nodded whenever you thought was appropriate enough to look like you were seriously invested. The man was no doubt a celebrity, he had the same careless arrogance you had seen everyone carry around.

Politely excusing yourself, you downed the rest of the beer, having chosen the most basic drink out of the wide selection that Mingyu had to offer to play it safe. 

You managed to find an empty balcony on one of the floors, walking out to escape the heaviness of the interior, letting out a tired sigh; a sigh that carried all your worries with its exhale. The sky was dotted with an effervescence of stars that glittered against the dark canvas they lay on for the world to muse at, humble in their existence and still so captivating.

Once again, you started doubting yourself- because what sort of journalist wasn’t up for inserting themselves in the situations that concerned their work? George Plimpton, Earnie Pyle, Hunter Thompson- all excellent journalists that always took part. Granted, the things they did were a little more extreme than attending a party, but surely you should have been eagerly following in their footsteps instead of standing still and contemplating every step you took.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

You turned around on your heel to meet Taeyong’s eyes. He stood there, leaning against the door frame with a drink in his hand, looking straight at you. 

“Did you really?” You quirked an eyebrow, causing him to grin sheepishly as he walked over, joining you next to the balcony railing, resting his elbows on it as he leaned against it. You hadn’t invited him to join you, but he had brazenly done so anyway, and you admired that quality about him. 

“Nah, I was hoping I would though. I just know people say lines like those in movies.”

You let yourself laugh, instantly feeling more at ease now that you weren’t surrounded by strangers, but just with someone you knew to an extent. It was a talent of his, you decided, to so easily be able to draw people in.

“Good guessing skills,” You quipped, sighing. He looked to his side at you, a half smile playing on his lips in a lopsided manner.

“Well then, I’m guessing this isn’t your scene?”

“God, no,” You blurted out gracelessly, “I mean, it’s interesting to watch and indulge in for a few minutes but I get bored of it very easily. Reminds me of college.”

He hummed. “How is it? College, I mean. I’ve never been.” He stared at you curiously, and you recollected that Cherry Bomb had been formed right when he had graduated high school. Stardom and normal college life were not things that were ever meant to intersect.

“A little more relaxed than high school, but that gets to some people and they let go completely, and by your junior year you’re finally allowed to legally drink,” was the explanation you settled on. “Not that it stops the freshmen anyway.”

He pressed the mouth of his bottle to his lips, taking another sip as he drank in your words. “Sounds boring.”

“Not for everyone, I just happened to spend half my time in my university’s newsroom, so my experience wasn’t exactly the most exciting.” You shrugged, suddenly a little embarrassed over the fact. Here you stood beside someone who had one of the most exciting lives ever and you paled in comparison. Why was he even talking to you?

You looked so pretty right then, a rueful smile gracing your face like you regretted not participating more, strands of your hair falling in front of your face and out of your loose ponytail, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you were aware of just how bewitching you were. He couldn’t help but be just a little envious of the glass that previously held your drink, and how it had the opportunity of having your lips on it, rather than him being able to kiss you.

The startling realization that he wanted to kiss you was enough to pull him right back out of his trance, but there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with thinking about it, was there?

“You just haven’t been in any exciting situations,” He countered and it was then you noticed how the light from the moon flickered through the wisps of his hair, illuminating the edges like a halo. A crimson halo that is, two things that contradicted each other in an almost comical manner. Halos were supposed to be golden and pure.

You had a feeling that Taeyong was anything but. 

And you had no idea why you liked the prospect of that as much as you did. “I suppose you know exactly how to get into those types of situations.”

He smirked, an expression so dizzying to look at that you momentarily entertained the idea of looking around for a seat before your knees inevitable buckled, and gripped the railing rigidly. He took a step closer to you until the space between the two of you had reduced to far too little for your dwindling sanity. 

“Why? Are you interested?”

Suddenly it felt like the air had hiked up in temperature like it was warmer than before and it prickled at your skin. You blamed your sweater, but you could feel it on your bare legs too, and on the exposed skin of your neck. That very heat crawled upwards onto your cheeks, but you refused to acknowledge it, keeping your eyes locked on his. 

He was close, closer than your sanity would have liked. You took the opportunity to study him for a moment, from the rise of his cheekbones to the little, almost unnoticeable scar next to his right eye- you momentarily wonder how he got it. Somehow, he was still gorgeous.

“Maybe I am.”

He moved just a little closer, beguiled by how quickly you responded. It was evident that you loved challenges and he dropped his voice a little even though there was no one else around. “Good.” Tempting, an affirmation that he had wanted to show all those exciting places and situations to you and by god, you were so tempted.

He didn’t know why he was so taken with you, and you did not know how to get your body feeling normal again and not like it was in a sauna. That smirk, the way he looked at you and the way you stared back without backing down even for a second, it was new to the both of you. 

Oh, you were so fucked.

It was around four in the morning when your head finally met your cold pillow and your fingers curled into the thin blanket you used to cover yourself. The party had not ended yet, but the group of you decided to leave so you would get at least a few hours of sleep before Irene came along and yelled at everyone for their irresponsibility.

The moment you returned, you had changed out of your outfit into something lighter. A tank top and shorts, kicking off your shoes and hoping it would be enough to erase the effect a certain man had on you.

One would think that after having such a long day you’d fall asleep immediately, and frankly, you did too. You thought that the sweet, sweet cycle of REM sleep would take over your mind and you would be knocked out within minutes of lying down on the bed.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Your mind was still awake, racing faster than it usually did, only one thing- or rather, one person- on it. The reason? It was stressing you out.

The fact that you were so blatantly attracted to Taeyong was a problem. For one, it was highly unprofessional and just plain wrong to be into someone you were writing an article about. That alone should have had your insides twist with worry at what was to come. 

It was bad enough that the world thought most female reporters went about sleeping with their subjects anyway and you were mortified over possibly turning into one of those women, rumour or not. This was a job, a job you were supposed to do well and never look back at again, one that would kickstart your career for the better.

So why on earth did you feel so unapologetic about it? 

You had fallen for people before, but you wouldn’t say that you had fallen in love. The guys you had been with before had been benevolent and nonabrasive at best, the ones who tended to play it safe to avoid misadventures. The tenderness that was growing in your chest for Taeyong was so foreign that you almost didn’t recognize it.

It was the result of him, the way he was. The way he challenged you without ever putting you down, that proud look in his eye that he earned over the years, but it was one that never drifted into being that of an asshole. Not many people were able to pull that sort of confidence off, but he did it with such ease that it was irritatingly attractive. 

You guessed that it was because of this very confidence that he possessed, that alluring quality of his you couldn’t quite put your finger on, he was portrayed the way he was for the public to jeer at. It was human nature to hate those who flourished despite the odds and he was the textbook definition of graceful success. Naturally, they had to disrupt that grace why tainting it with whatever they could.

But it was how he stayed with you for the rest of the evening- or early morning if you were getting technical- at the party, helping you relax into the unfamiliar atmosphere. It was how he didn’t seem to care about the party, although you knew from your research that he was quite the opposite, it was nice of him to pretend like that wasn’t true. It was how he whispered a sweet goodnight to you before you silently climbed to the upper level of the bus and your bed, with that boyish smile you were coming to like just a little too much.

That was why.

“Fuck,” You whispered to yourself, and it sounded a lot louder than it was in the silence of the bus. It was bad because it went a little past just plain attraction. If it was just that, it would have been ten times easier to deal with. You could be attracted to someone without feeling a single thing for them.

But the way his voice went all the way to your stomach and ignited that incessant fluttery feeling you tried so hard to ignore. It went a little past just plain ol’ attraction, but even a little bit was dangerous. The sensation was so unfamiliar in a cold strange way that you didn’t know what you were doing with yourself and for some unknown reason, you couldn’t find even a small remnant of remorse for it.

Just once, you told yourself hopelessly. You would let yourself think about him just once.

“No, no, no, absolutely not Y/n,” You muttered in a half-hearted scolding directed to yourself, but as soon as you said it, you were thinking about the way he held his guitar, and the possibility of that red hair of his being soft at the touch. The pout that rested on his lips when he argued with you or anyone, for the matter, was just so damn charming.

And the smile that teased your lips at that very moment, one that you had to cover by putting your hand over it as if anyone could see you in the darkness of the night. The way you tried so hard to fight the giddy seed that had been planted in your mind, the little schoolgirl giggles that threatened to leave you if you didn’t try hard enough to conceal them. You groaned silently to yourself so as to not wake any of the people sleeping around you, turning to your side and attempting to bury your face in the thin pillow that was no longer cool enough.

Taeyong was layered. Like an onion.

You couldn’t believe that the first description you could think of was lines straight out of Shrek.

Insanity- that’s what this was. You were getting ahead of yourself, in a few months, none of this would matter. You’d write the article, it would get published and you’d get some recognition for it. Your life would go back to the normally boring version of itself and you’d forget about it all once the opportunities started (hopefully) piling in.

There was no reason for this to get personal. You closed your eyes and stilled, holding the pillow you had brought along for yourself between your legs and forcing your brain to stop working overtime. 

The first time Taeyong performed professionally was when he was nineteen, bordering twenty. Before they got their record deal, the band practised in garages and their rooms, and it was before Jeno joined. Then they were there, young and inexperienced when it came to the world they had just begun to dip their toes into.

He remembered feeling nervous, tapping his foot on the flooring repeatedly as he sat on the plush couches inside the studio, waiting for instructions. He could never forget how those nerves disappeared the moment he took his place behind the microphone and began singing with the rest of the band like they were never there in the first place.

Irene Bae stood on the other side of the glass, listening in. She was one of the younger managers, being twenty-four at the time, and although she hadn’t had much experience, she knew that Cherry Bomb was the group she wanted to manage and help get to the top. She saw their potential from the get-go and was smart enough to acknowledge that if she was the one in charge, she would reap the benefits as well.

Monroe was the first studio album that they released, and no one could have ever anticipated the success it brought to the table. In typical fashion for young rockstars, most of the songs revolved around drugs or sex but weren’t generic. Euphemisms and imagery floated through the lyrics that they worked hard on, no one could deny the raw talent they possessed.

The lead single of the album, Dark Clouds, debuted at 40 on the Billboard Charts, which was relatively high for a new artist, and it only kept climbing up the charts until it peaked at number two and stayed there for almost five weeks. The tracklist was full of hit after hit, and when you made such an incredible entrance into the scene, you had to expect both sides that came with fame: the good and the downright ugly.

The first time Taeyong ever had to deal with it was a few weeks after the album had been released and he had gone out to McDonald’s because he had been craving a burger. He didn’t think much of it at the time, but going out as a rising rockstar without any security was a stupid move on his part. Within minutes, he had a swarm of fans around him and he hadn’t the slightest clue of what to do, especially when the press showed up to ask him questions about the album.

That piece hadn’t been about anything scandalous, just about the first sighting of him without the rest of his mates. He realized that it didn’t have to be about anything great to be read because Cherry Bomb had become such a hot topic. It just had to be about one of them.

It was the first time he appeared in the papers without the rest of the band- just him. The moment Lee Taeyong became the ‘it boy’ that everyone loved to trail after, searching for something to pin him down with for the public to whisper about. 

It was then he knew that his life had changed forever.

Lee Jeno wasn’t as intimidating as Yuta was, you would classify him as the sweetheart of the group. Off the stage, those sharp eyes turned into softer crescents of joy, and that raspy singing voice melted into jokes that suited the freshly turned twenty-one-year-old. By the end, you had forgotten the last few questions you were supposed to ask him, ending up with your hand pressed to your stomach as you tried not to laugh.

You were slowly making your way through each member of the band, procrastinating taking Taeyong’s interview. You didn’t know why you felt like it, but it was a ticking time bomb, and as much as you wanted to know about him, you didn’t want to at all.

God, you were a terrible journalist. 

Finishing up, you gathered your things and began your journey back up the stairs to put together the most important bits of Jeno’s interview. You had finally managed to do Yuta’s a while after the night at the party, getting to work after a month of observing. Realistically speaking, you probably should have started a while ago, but it was fine.

“What happened to the original guy?”

Just as you were about to emerge from the stairs, you heard Renjun’s voice resound through the top floor. Instinctively, you stopped climbing and stayed in place as you took note of the slightly hushed tone of voice like he was hiding something. 

Then the irony of the situation settled in. This whole eavesdropping thing was quickly developing into a bad habit of yours and you should not have been so ardently encouraging it.

“Yes- no there’s not a problem with her- but I thought you were going to send the person who wrote the article about-”

And then he dropped his voice even softer. Secrets always piqued your interest.

“- the article about Taeyong.”

Your eyes widened and now you knew you had to know more because he was talking about articles and a ‘her’ that you were willing to bet was you. Invested, you crouched down a little and put your stuff down on one of the steps, praying no one would walk up right then and catch you in such an awkward position.

“I’m not upset Mr Suh, just surprised. We had an agreement when I gave you that story, one that ensured you would send over the same person who wrote it anonymously.”

Johnny? Why on earth was Renjun speaking to Johnny? Your insides twisted as a small realization dawned upon you and you were no longer thinking about working on your article. You were thinking about taking a little detour in your research to uncover a suspicion that was quickly growing.

“I’ve taken a risk Johnny,” Renjun continued a little coldly this time as if he was warning your boss not to disappoint. “I expect you to make sure it benefits me as well.”

You decided that this was the point where you would finally make your entrance, it sounded like the call was going to end now anyways. Picking your things back up, you retreated a few steps, ignored the little voice in your head that laughed at how stupid the scene must have looked, and walked back up, purposely being a little loud with your footsteps.

Renjun looked a little spooked when you walked upstairs, but no one would have noticed it if they hadn’t heard the conversation that preceded it. Your signature polite smile made a show as you gave it to him and sat down on your bed. Seeing that you would probably be there for a while, he excused himself.

And then you began. Pieces started falling into place, little things you hadn’t paid enough attention to. You pulled up the research you had done, that one article talking about Taeyong's promiscuity and how it lead to his stardom. Superstar Lee Taeyong sleeping his way to the top.

You couldn’t believe you never paid attention to the fact that it was written anonymously. Moreover, you couldn’t believe that you hadn’t noticed the two little letters at the bottom of the clipping. TL.

The Link. The entire thing had originated under your very nose and you had overlooked that piece of information. Now, each word of the article was something to think about, especially the little bit mentioning an anonymous source.

You couldn’t believe it. The very rumour that had dragged the band down started from the inside.

Loose lips sink ships.

And Renjun had been running his mouth all too gladly. He was their publicist for goodness sake, it made no sense. At the same time, it made perfect sense, a little drama went a long way in the celebrity world.

That pesky guilt from before about what you were doing tightened around you like a lasso, because how were you any different? You were lying in a sense as well, parading around and saying you were here for one thing while doing something else. You were a fraud who had listened in and judged another of your type.

He said something about not expecting it to be you who would come along for the tour, so you racked your brain to figure out why. Johnny knew this and agreed to your demands anyway, so why-

“Jungwoo,” You whispered in realisation. “That fucker.”

Jungwoo was the anonymous writer, you were sure of it. He dropped out last minute, leaving Johnny with no choice but to take what he got. You asked no questions he wasn’t willing to answer because all you had seen was an opportunity to further yourself. 

You weren’t naive, you knew that it could still very well be true. Renjun could have told the truth about the band's reason for what seemed like instant stardom to expose them without losing face or his job. Just because it looked like a betrayal done from the inside didn’t mean that it wasn’t warranted.

Your reluctance to get more out of Taeyong burned away, replaced with pure journalistic instinct. You were going to find out what was real and what wasn’t without thinking about your potential feelings. You were a professional, after all, and you were going to prove that the truth was just as good of a story, no matter what that truth turned out to be.

“Did you spend a night in prison?”

Taeyong turned to you, caught off guard at your sudden question. He was sitting in the empty stadium during the break, this time with a guitar in his arms as he mindlessly strummed it to pass the time. One look at him and anyone would know he lived and breathed music in the purest sense, something that was extremely admirable.

You had settled into the seat next to him, a mirror image of your first day together- minus the guitar in his hand and the on-tour lunch that was being handed out that you held. He quirked an eyebrow.

“Been googling me?”

“I have to,” You said immediately, so smoothly that one would have thought it was a rehearsed line, leaning back and getting comfortable in the seat. “Now, is it true?”

“Is this my interview?” He avoided the question once again, mildly amused by how forward you were being. “Where’s your little kit?”

“Perhaps- and my what?”

This was terrible. He had been trying to get you to like him like Irene had requested- well, perhaps not just because Irene had asked him to do so. He was starting to realize that there was a chance that he wanted you to like him as well, and the result of possibly getting an article that would silence all the fake news was just an added benefit.

“You know, journal, recorder, whatever.”

“I’m taking a different approach, now answer my question.”

Oh, the reason he didn’t want to was because of how humiliating the story was but you were staring at him determinedly and he knew he wasn’t going to get out of this one. Sighing, he dropped his head and carefully put the guitar in another seat. For the first time in a long time, he felt an embarrassed blush kiss his cheeks.

“I was barely twenty-one, it’s old news.”

“I’d say you were asking for it,” You said, mouth upturning in amusement at the pink that stained his cheeks. It was cute. “I mean, deciding to go spray painting in the middle of the night on the wall of private property? That’s just dumb.”

He groaned when you oh-so-kindly recounted his misdeed, it had covered the papers for days, which was odd because it wasn’t anything too scandalous- other than it being illegal, of course. It only stopped circulating when Kim Jennie was found making out with Lisa Manoban at a party.

While she had a boyfriend.

Yeah, that was a much juicer story.

“Look,” He attempted to justify his younger self's decision-making skills. “There was this after party that followed this fashion show we had been ford to attend as a part of our schedule, and it was the most boring shit ever. Caviar and champagne. The place was full of opera singers, so you can imagine how we stood out.”

He ducked his head, grimacing at the memory of his teenage self ditching a prestigious event to commit a petty crime for the thrill of it. Immaturity was something he was still trying to grow out of, but that was the price of having to essentially grow up in the public eye.

You didn’t have to imagine, because there were pictures of them at the party before the incident, all wearing dress shirts and trousers. All of them looked much younger, going through a platinum blonde phase for their hair and it was painstakingly obvious that they didn’t fit in with the aristocratic guests at all. You wholeheartedly pitied them when you had seen that image, pulled between sympathising for them and laughing. 

Taeyong didn’t understand why he felt the need to explain himself to you, nor did he understand why he felt embarrassed by it, running a hand through his locks. For some unknown reason, your opinion mattered to him, which even sounded ridiculous. Everyone had an opinion about him, and he had never given a flying fuck about them.

Until now, of course.

“I was bored out of my mind. I needed something fun to do, and Yuta was down. We were cellmates too.” He added that bit as a quip to earn something close to amusement from you. When you let out a short laugh, he was pleased that he succeeded. “Then Irene bailed us out.”

Wait, what the hell was he doing? This entire thing was completely out of character for him, he was the one others tried to impress, not the other way around. Never the other way around.

“You’ve been to Milan,” You said to him, childish wonder creeping into the tone of your voice. “All the pictures I’ve seen of the place are so gorgeous. I would die to spend even a day there.”

“Would you be up for a little vandalizing?” He asked hopefully, leaning forward with a shit-eating grin on his face. You threw him a pointed look, shaking your head. 

“I said I wanted a day in Milan, Taeyong, not jail.” You deadpanned, pushing down the urge to giggle. Giggle. For goodness sake, it was pathetic, you felt like a giddy schoolgirl with barely any control over her emotions.

You had decided to go forward with grilling Taeyong for your article, determined to get to the bottom of your little side quest. Taking a bite out of the less than appetizing catered lunch, you shifted in your seat so that you were facing him a little better, moving on to the next question.

“Did you fake date Kang Seulgi?”

“You’re very chatty today, aren’t you?” He muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “I feel like I’m on trial.”

“It’s my job to grill answers out of you,” You winked playfully, earning a petulant look from his end as if he was offended at that statement of yours. Your mind wandered a little and before you could hold it by the reins and keep it back, it wandered a little too far, the sides of your lips curling upwards in a small smile.

“And here I thought you were actually interested in me,” He teased, and now it was you who felt flushed, but not out of embarrassment. 

Then you went back to thinking sensibly with your head. “What do you expect me to do? Ask you to teach me how to play the guitar?” You offered him a sardonic smile as you gave up on the baked potato and cold mac-n-cheese that sat sadly on your paper plate, keeping it in another empty seat. 

“I could if you wanted me to,” he mused, deciding to throw you off a little for fun.

You blinked in bewilderment at the offer. “What? No, I was just-” You scrambled to get out of the situation you had somehow managed to fall in (literally and figuratively), shaking your head adamantly at him. “I couldn’t-”

And then you noticed the way he had his fist over his mouth, eyes alight with pure amusement and when a small snicker left those pretty crimson lips of his, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re laughing at me.” You said flatly, a sulky pout taking shape on your lips, “You’re making fun of me.”

“I couldn’t help it, you looked so distressed. It was…..it was cute.”

Oh. Oh hell no. You were practically yelling at yourself so you wouldn’t get carried away, no doubt several girls had heard the very same compliment from him. As if sensing your mental conflict, Taeyong simpered and continued speaking.

“And yes, her management begged us for the deal because her album hadn’t done as well as it had to. At all. In fact, it flopped hard. The publicity stunt had her sales skyrocket back to normal, but you can never trust anyone when it comes to arrangements like these. One snitch and the entire thing can fall apart.” 

What.

Oh right. Seulgi. You nodded, his words ringing loud and clear in the chambers of your mind. The tone of his voice was casual, but there was an undertone of bitterness, so slight that you would have missed it if you hadn’t been paying attention. 

You couldn’t imagine how he would feel when he learned of what Renjun did to him, to the entirety of the band. Even worse, you couldn’t imagine how he would react when he found out what you were working on because you had a feeling he had given you more than he had ever given anyone else.

“Ah,” You said quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “There’s an untold story behind every exploited one.”

Taeyong would never understand how you had managed to sum it all up in just a few words. It was like you had somehow managed to see right through him, and that scared him just a little. His years in the spotlight had taught him how to be guarded, and how to know just how much to give and take from the public.

What was scarier, was the fact that you were a part of the media. It was never a good idea to let them have any leverage over you.

“Yeah,” He whispered, gripping the neck of the guitar as gently as possible. “Most of the time they ignore it. Unfortunately.”

Celebrities like him were expected to bask in everything that was sent their way, even the scandals that did not benefit them in the slightest. The public was of the opinion that because he had fame, he deserved everything that came with it.

You were looking at him like you knew he had received the short end of the stick many times before, a look that had his throat closing in on itself, but he didn’t look away. He hadn’t even once thought about looking away. 

“I’m sorry,” You said softly, apologetically. Part of you felt guilty that you were one of those very people that exploited him, but you had to push that out of your mind to halt that train of thought before it consumed you. He forced himself to break the little spell that had been cast over the two of you, snapping out of your pseudo-staring competition and pulling the guitar back into his lap, strumming it mindlessly. You let your gaze fall from his face to the instrument.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Teach me how to play the guitar- at least a few chords. I heard somewhere that you could do a lot of songs with just four of them.”

He raised an eyebrow, mirth dancing in his eyes. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

You pulled a knee to your chest, “I like keeping people on their toes.” Your answer seemed to please him because he chuckled and then picked the guitar up once again, using one hand to signal you to sit straight in the seat, before placing it on your lap. It was a little awkward for you, someone who had never really held a guitar before, so you sat there and timidly held the top of it, waiting for his instructions.

“Those four chords you’re talking about? They’re C, G, F major and A minor.” He gently picked your other hand up and placed it on the fretboard, glancing up at your face to see if you were okay with the contact. There was something magical about his touch, which lingered on your fingertips, and you nodded softly, eyes locked with his. 

Electric ever so slightly, the air between the two of you had a buzzing you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Slowly, he looked away and back at your hand, positioning each finger on the respective string it was supposed to be on. Once he was done, he leaned back a bit and placed his thumb on the first string.

“Push down on them,” He murmured, and as you did, he dragged his own fingers across them, over the hollow part of the guitar, producing music.

It wasn’t perfect, you still didn’t know how to hold the strings down hard enough, your fingers hurt a little from even that first attempt and in reality, you should have been the one strumming, but it faded into the background when your heart stuttered a little with how he was looking at you.

Oh no.

Was this what a crush felt like? Apprehensive glances and short breaths, anticipation spilling over, it was absolutely unbearable for you.

“I might need a little practice,” you said cautiously, loosening your grip on the strings and finally registering the strain on your fingertips, cursing under your breath and bringing them up to your face to inspect them. A soft red hue gleamed through your skin, stinging ever so slightly at the parts that had been indented by the strings.

“Yeah,” He replied, just as soft. “It hurts at the start but after a while you barely notice it. I think you’ll have to use a pick” Both of you were skirting around the obvious tension, choosing to ignore it when there was no good reason to. 

“Show me the next one,” You managed to blurt out, trying desperately to break this pattern of getting so easily winded around him. Every moment you spent with him had you repeatedly reminding yourself of what you were actually here for, what you were meant to do because never, never in your entire life, had you ever met someone as magnetic as Lee Taeyong.

And so he did, the next thirty minutes passing by in a blur or strumming and pressing down strings on the fret until your fingers hurt and the scene of him and you sitting there burned into your memory even as you fell asleep that night.

And then, you were in New York.

CHERRY BOMB SOLD OUT IN NEW YORK CITY! 

The Grammy-winning rock group has been steadily growing since their first show and is now the one that claims ownership of the audience of fifty-eight thousand fans that showed up at their show last night, truly the Cherry On Top! As usual, the five men were excellent on stage, their showmanship making it clear why all those seats had filled up so quickly. No doubt some fans didn’t manage to get one, which only cements how successful the group is.

We have been saying this for years and it only holds true; we cannot wait to see where Cherry Bomb takes us!

- The New York Times.

Taeyong would admit that sometimes, he did let things go a little too far.

Now, the New York show had been the biggest one yet, with the entire stadium filled up and not a seat left empty and more than a week to spend in the city, he let himself loose for the night after the show. The success of the show and the adrenaline pumping through their veins led them to spend all that excess energy at yet another party.

When alcohol was bought into the mix, perhaps he got a little too drunk. He wouldn’t know how exactly to classify it because he had been wasted before, and this wasn’t it. He could still stand and think semi-clearly, good enough to make his own decisions. Well enough to know that the girl on his arm had definitely been flirting with him.

Conscious enough to know what she wanted when she asked him if he wanted to get out of there. Alert enough to remember exactly what happened the night before in that strange woman's bed, and by no means was this the first time something like it had happened.

Yuta had indulged as well, he could tell by the scattering of darker marks on the younger neck. He knew the both of them had somehow been caught by a lurking reporter that managed to get to the site of the party and caught a few pics of them walking away. Maybe he would see himself in the next issue of the paper, accompanied by a nice side of his manager yelling at him for getting caught. 

It was a cycle, an exhausting one, but he kept at it anyways. 

He would worry about that later. At this point in time, when he walked out of the shower right then in the morning and took a Tylenol for the mild hangover that he had, before making his way up the stairs and to the top floor of the bus.

There you sat, legs crossed over each other with one of your pillows resting on top of them to act as a makeshift table for your laptop, which you were intently staring at, looking very immersed in whatever you were reading. He took a moment to admire how focused you were, eyebrows furrowed and lips set in the slightest pout as the bright blue light of your screen shone on your face. 

Suddenly, it made sense why his hook-up last night felt a little more meaningless than it usually did anyway.

“Hey,” His voice cut through your reverie, making you startle a little as you looked up. There you saw a casually dressed Taeyong with hair that was slightly damp leaning against the frame of the wall. “Are you doing anything important right now?”

You shook your head a little too quickly for your liking, “Not really, just going over a little research, why?” You tried your best to sound as nonchalant and uninterested as possible, more to convince yourself than him. The pleased look that appeared on his face almost broke your resolve.

“Good,” He tipped his head towards the side, and you followed his line of sight to your suitcase. “Get ready and meet me outside in ten.”

You blinked rapidly, successfully confused with his instructions. “I’m sorry?”

“Get dressed and meet me outside the bus in ten minutes, I’m taking you out.”

You never had been very good with abrupt plans, and Taeyong threw you off your normal course enough as it is. Sceptical, and rightfully so, you asked, “Out where?”

“Trust me a little, will you?” He bargained, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on, “No questions, this isn’t one of your interviews.”

Without letting you respond, he walked back downstairs, leaving you there to stare at his retreating figure in mystification. That sentiment turned into exasperation at yourself for being so easily swayed, picking yourself up from the bed and going to do just as he asked of you because goddamnit, you were admittedly curious.

Pulling on something casual enough to look like you hadn’t tried hard enough but cute enough to perhaps receive a compliment, you grabbed your stuff and walked out of the tour bus, spotting Taeyong waiting for you as he scrolled through his phone. His other hand held a cigarette between his fingers, one he promptly put out when he noticed you arriving. Your mother would have given you a sharp talking to for agreeing to blindly follow a man, which was why you refused to completely let him have control.

You jogged over to catch up with him, coming to a standstill and asking, “Where are we going?”

“You never give up, do you?” He switched his phone off and slipped it into the pockets of his jeans, feigning annoyance at your persistence, although you could tell it was fake. “Are you sure you want to know? It’ll ruin the magic.”

“Magic?” “You know, the magic of surprises?”

You had to press your lips together in an attempt not to smile at how cute that sounded coming from him. The magic of surprises? What was he, a five-year-old? Now you wanted to see how he would act when in Disney World. From what you gathered, he’d probably buy all ninety-eight variations of the mickey mouse ear headbands. That image alone was too much for you, and you pushed it to the back of your mind.

“I like having all my facts straight before I jump into anything,” You stated plainly, giving him an expectant look. He sighed, as if growing weary of your prompt responses, and then-

No way.

Was Taeyong blushing? Your eyes could have very well been tricking you, but you swore you saw a light dusting of pink on his cheeks, perhaps out of embarrassment of what he was about to tell you.

“You said you wanted to travel…..” He trailed off, averting his eyes from you. You weren’t used to this side of him, away from the ever-present (or so you thought) confident smirk that played on his lips and the lazy amusement in his eyes. Here, you saw a boy that was a little bashful about his intentions. “And I thought I could show you around a few places in New York.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that one, staring at him in a mixture of question and bafflement over why he would want to do that. As if sensing your perplexion, he continued.

“I mean, I felt bad that you were being dragged along with us to all these places but was forced to stick around only us and we have a week in the city so I just figured you would like to see the place.” He was rambling a little bit, explaining his reasoning for what he was going and you couldn’t even lie to yourself, because you melted a little at how thoughtful it was.

“That sounds great,” You cut him off with a grateful smile, tucking your hands behind your back and bouncing a little on your heels. Relieved by your positive reaction, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in.

“Alright, follow me.”

He pulled a cap low over his head so that it cast a shadow over his face and obscured his features to an extent. He was still recognizable, but one would have to double-take to make it out.

Oh right, he was famous. The reality of that started to weigh a little more now that it was in your face and you were forced to acknowledge it since most of the time it was easy to get carried away with everything that happened on tour. You felt a little ridiculous for momentarily forgetting an integral part of who he was.

But you followed him anyway, out onto the unfamiliar streets of New York where cars whirred by in a blur of red and blue, the bright lights flashing even in the daytime. Cacophony drifted through the air like a song, but it could have very well been out of tune considering you didn’t know much about music. You wondered if Taeyong could hear it as well and if it made more sense to him.

It stunned you a little, just how much you wanted to know about his thoughts.

“There isn’t nearly enough time to show you everything I want to in one day, so I’m going to take you to two places I like best if that’s okay with you?” The smile on his face was small, bashful even, but it was enough to have your thoughts scatter and for you to bite your lip as you nodded slowly. 

His eyes lit up and you were seriously amused by how enthralled he seemed to be about the entire situation like he truly did want to show you around. He wasn’t doing this to be perceived as a nice guy, he remembered the little, insignificant fact about yourself that you told him weeks later and was now acting upon it. 

If only the tabloids could see this side of him and talk about it instead, the gentler, sweeter side that you were discovering bit by bit, instead of the rogue party animal that they usually plastered all over their front pages.

“It’s perfect,” You said, voice coming out a little breathless. He grinned and called for a cab, gentlemanly holding out the door for you to get in first, following suit. “Do I get any more information about this surprise?”

He shot you a disapproving look, “It wouldn’t be much of a surprise then, would it?”

“I appreciate the sentiment of giving me a surprise but I’m inquisitive!” The small, indignant pout on your lips almost elicited a laugh from his end, but he stood his ground and shook his head.

“No can do, sweetheart, you’re just going to have to trust me.”

And how could you not relent when he called you that so naturally, his voice lilting a little in a teasing manner? It didn’t mean anything, but you liked it anyways, a lot more than you cared to admit.

The first place he took you was the Museum of Modern Art, which puzzled you a tad because of how ordinary it seemed and how risky it was with all the tourists and locals that frequented the place. At any moment, someone could notice him and that would only lead to further complications that you did not want to think about.

After getting tickets to enter the place, you found yourself thrust into a world of colour and portraits, pieces of art that were probably worth more than your entire college tuition. Some looked oddly normal like they didn’t belong in a museum of all places, but they were placed near what you could only describe as masterpieces. A striking contrast, to say the least.

“Every time we’re in NYC, I come here,” Taeyong explained as the two of you walked around the place, hands casually tucked into his pockets as those expressive eyes of his wandered the artistry that spanned before them. 

You could tell something important was coming. “Why?” He let out a soft sigh, not sparing you a glance just yet, still focused on a specific piece in front of you, but you were only looking at him, patiently waiting. He had never had someone wait as you did, it had always ever been question after question, rushed and insincere, impersonal in a way that had him feeling comforted.

Or maybe that was just because he was used to that. It was no secret he liked the attention, it was just who he was, but having your attention on him was a completely different story, a completely different type of liking attention. 

“For perspective.”

You didn’t quite understand what he meant by that and hummed in question. “Perspective?” “I express my feelings and my state of mind with music, but not everyone does that. Poetry, paintings, sculptures, whatever the hell that is,” He pointed to something that looked like a paper mache of a leg from the knee down in crocs. “There are different ways to feel and explain things, even when it seems impossible to do so. Coming here always….helps when I’m having a musical block.”

And pay attention you did, because you knew there was something he was holding back, so you used your old tactic of staying silent to draw out more from a person.

“Cherry Bomb turns five soon,” He said, voice nearing a whisper at this point. “And I’m grateful- so fucking grateful that we’ve managed to stay on top for so long- but I can’t help but think about there being a time where we lose it all. When we’re not the best and can’t climb back up there, what then?”

Your heart broke a little when you heard how vulnerable he sounded at that. How real he was and how passionate he was about his band. 

Taeyong was such a colourful person- something like a saturated sunrise- the type of person to always stand out from among the crowd, set apart from them. The true masterpiece that roamed the halls of the MoMA.

“I don’t dwell on it for long, it’s like a phase I go through from time to time,” He laughed bitterly. “Mostly when I’m having a musical block, as I mentioned before, but when I come here and remind myself that there are different approaches to things I……I get over it, I guess.”

There was a certain element of weariness laced into his words, barely noticeable in the grand scheme of things, but it was as clear as day to you. He was tired of indulging in that cycle of doubting himself over and over again, finally getting over it, only to return to it a few months later.

“You’re forgetting something.” You weren’t sure why you were so adamant about taking that ugly thought of his away from him. He finally looked back at you, raising an eyebrow.

“I am?”

Nodding solemnly, you gave him a half smile, standing a little straighter as your fingers curled into a fist at your sides. “Some pieces and artists are timeless. I think Cherry Bomb is one of them.”

You were so perfect, somehow knowing exactly what to say when he needed it most. He came to the MoMA for perspective and this time it wasn’t where he got that change of outlook from. This time, it was from you, even if you didn’t know how much that had comforted him- how much you had comforted him.

What a mesmerising lie this was. 

A gentle beam pulled at the sides of his lips as he let what you said to hang in the air for a moment or two, disgesting it. He wondered if he would ever have to come back here again after meeting you because you sounded so much more appealing to him, and when he glanced back at the art piece, he snapped out of his self-induced reverie and asked.

“Are you hungry?”

~

Taeyong took you to a little café in Brooklyn, claiming it as the second spot he had set out to introduce you to in the morning. It was a rustic place, but pleasingly so, with little fairy lights hanging from over the display counter and soft jazz music playing in the background, the smell of pastries and bread wafting through the air, leaving you to inhale big gulps of air to savour it.

There weren’t many savoury options on the small menu they had, so you settled on a brownie and a normal coffee, playing it safe. Taeyong ordered a latte and a cheesecake without even looking at the options they had, and it reminded you that he too had roots in some places, even if his life seemed to be all over the place.

“I have a big sweet tooth,” He admitted when your food arrived, finally taking his cap off and revealing his head of messy hair, some of which stuck out endearingly in different directions. He ran his fingers through it to smoothen it out right as you fought the urge to do it yourself, curling your fingers around the handle of your cup of coffee instead to keep them occupied.

“I can tell,” You spoke, taking a sip of the bitter liquid that so soothingly kissed your throat. “So, why this place?”

He dug his fork into his cheesecake, cutting it and scooping the smaller piece up. “Because the owners didn’t know who I was.” Then he frowned, “Wait, I could have worded that better. I sound like some self-absorbed idiot, but yeah, they didn’t know who I was and I liked that I didn’t have to disguise myself here. And their apple pie is really good.”

He added that last bit like it was the most important thing to mention out of everything, eating the morsel on his fork. Digging into your cake, your eyes widened when the taste finally registered.

“Holy shit,” You mumbled, “This is amazing.” Swallowing, you licked your lips to make sure there were no crumbs stuck to them. “Now, back to those disguises you mentioned.”

Taeyong pursed his lips to keep his smile at bay at your endearing curiosity, “I don’t exactly have the luxury of being able to go out and not get swarmed.”

“Come on, you have to give me something to work with here. You can’t just mention disguises and not elaborate,” You prodded further, your natural curiosity taking over, but not for business purposes, you genuinely wanted to know more about him. And then, you promptly took another bite because god dammit, that brownie really was fantastic.

“I mean, hats are the norm,” He motioned to the bucket hat that he kept on his side of the table, part of which was handing off the edge, but he made no move to pull it back in. “But once I had to wear a curly wig and one of those fake moustaches. Not something I’d ever want anyone to see but it worked since no one did.”

The image that popped up in your mind was much too comical for you to even think about trying to hold back the chuckle that escaped you at that moment, and he shot you a playful glare, warning you under his breath. “Don’t.”

“How can I not?” You asked, trying your best not to snicker, “I have to see this for myself.”

“Over my dead body.”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears as you tried to coax him to show you a picture if he had one, to no avail. Being out of the tour bus, away from everyone and just the two of you was refreshing, you could tell he was a little more relaxed in the café. It suddenly occurred to you that even among his band mates he had to keep a sort of mask on, after all, he was the leader and the person who had formed the group in the first place. Most of the time, the responsibility fell onto his shoulders.

Something deep inside you appreciated the fact that he felt comfortable enough to let go in front of you.

And thats when a twinge of remorse pinched you, the sting so faint but definitely there. It had been making itself at home within your body and it was entirely unwelcome. Taking a sip of coffee to drown it out, gripped the handle of the mug tighter than you usually would as if compensating for what your conscious was trying to tell you. 

When he cracked a joke and you laughed along, indulging in a conversation with him that seemed to flow so easily, and when he insisted on paying even when you argued that you could very well do so for yourself, it told you something else.

It told you that this entire day felt like a date.

And it shouldn’t have, you told yourself repeatedly while you walked back out, falling into step with him on the footpaths. The sun was dipping below the high point that it hit during the afternoons, hiding behind the wispy clouds that seemed to caress the preeminent tips of the skyscrapers.

You had to remind yourself that he was known for being the guy that walked out of places with a girl hanging off his shoulder, the one that everyone somehow found themselves infatuated with, and the fact that you could understand why they were irking you. You were never supposed to let yourself get swept away in his current so easily, but you hadn’t anticipated it being so strong.

Walking with you felt natural like he could close his eyes for just a minute and pretend that he wasn’t Lee Taeyong, Cherry Bomb’s leader that tended to find trouble. He was just Taeyong and he didn’t know why he found that so appealing.

It’s funny how even the smallest thing can derail an entire experience, no?

Taeyong stopped walking, setting his jaw once he noticed it. He was about to raise his hand to his head to check if he was wearing his bucket hat, but thats when he realized it was in the palm of his hand- he had forgotten to put it back on.

“Taeyong?” You furrowed your eyebrows when you realized he wasn’t moving anymore, a faraway look in his eyes. “Are you oka-” You trailed off when you followed his line of sight, not really knowing what you were looking at until you saw the smallest flash.

Oh.

He reached out and slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer in a way that shielded your face from the camera- or cameras, who knew- and lowered his head until his lips were just barely brushing against your earlobe. The contact had you suck in a breath, registering the warmth of his fingers through the thin fabric of your tee-shirt, just barely there. 

“You wanted excitement, hm?” Your eyes widened and he slipped his hand down to yours, intertwining your fingers and giving you one of those cocksure looks of his. The way your hand fit in perfectly with his, interlocked as they had always meant to be like that made you want to keep it like that forever.

“How does running from the paparazzi sound?”

And then, before you could even think about responding to that suggestion of his, he pulled you along, breaking into a sprint that you had no choice but to join him in. Like clockwork, the cameras and reporters that were trailing you silently came out of hiding to follow suit, knowing that even a few words from the man you were with were going to be extremely valuable.

The thing about spur-of-the-moment decisions was that they always felt exhilarating, a feeling that would forever be arduous to put into words because there didn’t seem to be any that were good enough for the description. The monotone yet stunning city around you faded away as you focused on the equally, if not more, stunning man in front of you.

He turned around to glance back at you as the both of you took off, and it was then you caught the grin he wore on his face, the sparkling in his eyes that told you that he too felt the same rush you did. It wasn’t the first time he had ever experienced it, but now that you were there, it felt different, like it was familiar in a foreign sense. Your smaller hand grasped his with such trust that you knew he would somehow manage to extract the two of you out of the situation, cold against his warmer one.

You didn’t think you had ever seen something as enchanting as Taeyongs smile, even though you could barely focus on it right then. From the way, the edges of his mouth dug into the crevice of his face and little dimples popped up on his cheeks to the crinkling of the skin around his eyes in joy. 

Spotting a cab on the side of the street, he slowed down and prompted you to do so as well, stopping near it and deftly opening the door to the backseat to help you inside. You did so wordlessly, but your breathing had turned a little shallow from the small sprint and you couldn’t relax just yet, watching anxiously through the glass of the car to see the press closen in.

“Drive,” He instructed the man in the front, who was evidently surprised at the sudden occupying of his cab. Stammering, he twisted the keys in the ignition.

“Where to, sir?”

“JUST DRIVE!” Taeyong raised his voice to express his urgency. “Please, as fast as you can and away from here.”

The entire thing was bizarre, and then when the car started moving in the opposite direction to the paparazzi following you, you finally leaned back in the rough faux leather seats. You allowed yourself to glance to your side at the man by your side, who always seemed to finally be relaxing, and when his eyes met yours, there was a beat of silence.

And then you began laughing.

The sound came out a lot louder than you thought it would, but you couldn’t stop, hand pressed to your stomach in an attempt to control yourself. The rush of adrenaline had resulted in everything seeming so funny to you, because who would have ever expected you of all people to be running away from the paparazzi with a world-famous rockstar by your side? Even the concept was outlandish.

When Taeyong laughed along with you, you stopped trying to hold your amusement back. You let yourself lean into him in a mixture of bafflement and hilarity, moving your hand to cover your mouth to stifle the giggles that left it. 

“That was insane!” You exclaimed breathily, looking up at him. “My god.”

He had been worried for a minute there when he got into the cab, worried that you would have thought he was too much trouble, and it would have been warranted too, but the way you were looking at him right then like you would give anything to experience that again, assured him that wasn’t the case. Right then, it was the first time he noticed just how infectious your laughter was, and he was proud to be at least partly the cause of it.

“Exciting enough?” He asked hopefully, and you nodded enthusiastically, drunk off the feeling

“I know you probably deal with that a lot,” You said between breaths, “But that was a once-of-a-lifetime experience for me.”

The contrast of your two lives hammered against each other but you had somehow managed to find a sliver of common ground. While he loved attention, he had gotten annoyed over never being able to do normal things alone over the years, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, it didn’t feel like that.

“Hey, aren’t you one of those guys from that band? My daughter loves you.”

The driver’s New York drawl cut through the little bubble that encased the two of you, and Taeyong smiled and winked. “Tell her she has good taste.”

“Think I can get an autograph for her?” The driver picked a small piece of paper from the cupholder beside him, one that looked like a parking ticket and turned it over, handing it to Taeyong when the singer nodded. “Gimme a sec to find a pen, she better not give me that attitude of hers ever again after this!”

He signed the ticket- with such fluidity that it left you to watch in awe at how natural it was- and gave it back, telling the driver the destination as well, which was the stadium at which the buses were parked. 

When you were back, Irene stood there with her trademark glare plastered across her face. Doyoung looked a little baffled, but only shot Taeyong a look that you couldn’t decipher. The latter ignored both, walking with you into the bus. There were so many people and he still somehow managed to make you feel like the only person in the world, and you found yourself hoping that running from the paparazzi with him wouldn’t just be a one-time thing.

“Thank you,” You said sincerely, “For today, I mean.”

“Don’t mention it,” He waved it off, but you shook your head, reaching out and grabbing his hand once again. The act caught him off guard, but he didn’t once pull away or even attempt to do so. 

“I want to mention it Taeyong, it might not seem like much to you but….you gave me a part of my dream. You deserve to be thanked for that.” You had so many dreams, some being much too big for your own good, but today felt like you were finally inching closer to one of them instead of only being in the process of doing so. 

He squeezed your hand. “And you should never have to thank me for that.”

Right then, it was when the anvil of guilt settled deep in the pit of your stomach because it was then you knew that you couldn’t write that exposé, even if Johnny had said it wasn’t one. When you were good at what you did, you learned to read in between the lines, and this article was exactly that- one that was supposed to be written to fuck over Cherry Bomb.

LEE TAEYONG SNUGGLING UP IN NEW YORK CITY!

We’ve seen him stumble out of bars and parties with a girl, but never during the day! Folks, this might be the first time we’ve ever seen the twenty-three-year-old heartthrob looking relatively sober with the opposite sex! 

They were first spotted at a café, though due to the angle at which the pictures were taken you cannot see the woman’s face, it was definitely Lee sitting opposite her as the two chatted amicably, before leaving to walk with each other until they realized they were being followed and made a run for it.

He seemed protective of the girl, going so far as to make sure no one caught her face, which begs the question: who is she? Who is the possible woman who has managed to incite such a reaction in Lee Taeyong? More importantly, is there a possibility of romance on the horizon for the rockstar? All these questions that we are just dying to find out!

- Rolling Stone.

There was a certain fragility in being presented with something you were supposed to be good at, only to come out of the act fruitless.

With your fingertips pressed to the keys of your laptop, you seemed to forget every piece of knowledge you possessed on the art of writing, your mind going blank as you stared at the empty document that seemed to mock you. Words expertly evaded you and every sentence that you tried putting out sounded wrong.

Now, how were you to write an article that was supposed to deliver the truth while sounding sure of itself when you didn’t hold those sentiments just yet? It was a near impossible feat, and you sighed frustratedly, pressing down onto the keys and producing an incoherent string of letters that meant nothing, which was oddly fitting to your state of mind right then.

When you were younger and in college, you had prided yourself on being one of the best writers on the college paper, with a talent to compile research and information interestingly. It was what helped you through your first months working at The Link when the only topics you got were uninteresting ones.

You have always been a driven person, determined to reach your goals by any means possible. The first great article you had written was for the college paper in your freshman year and had been a ruthless piece about the best player on the soccer team using steroids. The team hated you after that since it had cost them their winning streak, but the editor of the paper at the time absolutely adored you for it.

That experience was the one from which you learned that the journalism industry lived off stepping on others’ toes, whether your intentions were right or wrong. You tried your best to ignore the selfish side of journalism, but it made you a hypocrite because you had always been the type of person to strive for what she wanted no matter the consequences it had for others.

It was at times like these when you truly hated writing. You hated what it could potentially turn people into.

“Y/n?”

You looked up to see Huang Renjun standing there, holding what looked like a magazine with a concerned look on his face. Ever since the day you had overheard his conversation with your boss, you had done your best to steer clear of the man to avoid complicating things for yourself.

“Yes?” You had no choice but to entertain him now, unfortunately, since the best of the band was at rehearsals and you were alone on the bus- save for Renjun, of course. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” He shook his head from side to side at first, before changing the direction and bobbing it up and down. “Yes, actually, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

Most people would have asked for that minute, but Renjun simply demanded it. You supposed that being a publicist had instilled that sense of entitlement in him, or maybe it was just a quality that he was required to have, to be able to grasp the attention of those he spoke to and lay down the rules he expected to be followed.

You momentarily wondered if that was how he managed to not be caught for what he had done yet, recollecting the wording he had used with Johnny. Smiling, you nodded and closed your laptop just enough to silently give him the respect he desired while talking to you, but open enough so that the light from the screen didn’t go out. 

“Of course, go ahead.” The repeated warning of having to remain professional rang in your head and it was at that exact moment when you registered that you barely told yourself to do so around the band, and never around Taeyong.

“Well, this article was released today and I think you’re the woman in the pictures attached,” He said nervously, handing it over. You narrowed your eyes and scanned the words, before acknowledging the slightly blurry pictures of you and Taeyong, one with his arm around your waist and the other with your hands joined together. Your face wasn’t visible in either, thankfully.

“Oh,” You said a little awkwardly. “Yes that is me, he wanted to show me this café he liked and we weren’t as careful as we should have been. I’m sorry if this causes any trouble.” Your apology was genuine, and Renjun couldn’t help but sigh.

“You…..know why you’re here, right?”

It was the way he said it that put you off, cautious and calculating like he was testing you. Funnily enough, you were set out to fail, and you were a-okay with it.

“To write an article,” You said plainly and the expression on his face switched like he had put on a mask, forcing a smile that was painfully polite, before thanking you and leaving. You had confirmed his fear, that you had no clue what was going on.

Unbeknownst to you, Taeyong was being talked to by Irene, and the conversation had started out similarly enough, before taking an entirely different direction.

“Is that you with Y/n on here?”

Taeyong nodded, though it was a little noncommittal.

“And you were so careless that you were caught by the very people you’re not supposed to?” She was tapping her foot on the ground backstage impatiently now, one hand resting on her hip and the other holding the magazine. Between rehearsals, she had dragged him off stage to confront him about what had happened.

“Yep, sorry about that, by the way. I just wanted to hang out with her for a bit.” He didn’t need Irene to tell him he had fucked up, he knew that well enough for himself. He just thought that it had been worth it considering the reaction it had pulled out of you.

His manager stayed silent, and he mentally prepared himself for yet another one of her exasperated scoldings that she kept specially for him. While he did that, he glanced longingly out at the stage where the rest of his mates practised their parts, simpering a tad at how it sounded a little empty without him. That was one thing he always loved about the band, the fact that without one of them, it didn’t sound like Cherry Bomb. They were a team to the very end.

“Thats….actually genius.”

Pure confusion took over as he frowned. It sounded like a compliment, but he couldn’t be too sure since it felt like he should have been in trouble for being reckless again. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, it’s genius. Winning the journalist over? Amazing!” She clapped gleefully, all signs of apparent agitation missing from her face, before sobering up once again. “I know I’m hard on you Taeyong, but I have noticed the effort you’ve made this time around.”

(He decided to not tell her about the time he took you to a party where Mark and Yuta smoked a joint in front of you.)

Had he made an effort? He didn’t know considering it wasn’t like he had been making a conscious effort to do so by any means. What he did know was that he didn’t like the implications that came with what Irene was saying, the implication that he was putting up a front to get a good ‘review’, in a sense, out of you.

Taeyong was not doing that. He genuinely wanted to show you the two places he treasured the most in New York and liked talking to you. He liked the way you smiled first with your eyes and then with your mouth, always in that order. If it was with your mouth first, it was a fake smile.

“Right,” He said haltingly. “Thank you? I feel bad about causing a commotion though, I know you hate dating scandals.”

That was right, Irene hated when Taeyong was pulled into dating scandals because of how often it happened. People loved speculating about who he could possibly be with and it had always been wrong. He had never done relationships, he was in a committed one with his guitar and music.

“I do, but I’ll let it slide this time, especially since I don’t think it will turn into one.” The grin she wore was larger than life itself, “Winning her over is the smartest thing you could possibly do, and don’t worry too much about the repercussions. You did that café a favour if anything. Their business is going to boom.”

He was happy about that, of course, he was, but all he could hope for was that it wouldn’t lose its charm. He also knew that he had to keep everyone happy, something that was so impossible for one person to do, but it was a burden he had to carry anyway. He nodded. “She seemed happy, so I’d say I won her over.”

“Good,” Irene smiled proudly, and the expression didn’t give him that gratifying feeling it once did.

Insomnia was turning out to be a good friend of yours.

You had read somewhere that the human brain was set in a way that when a question was proposed to it, it always wanted to find an answer, like a computer that had been programmed to do so. Some people used that to their advantage while studying, and it was a very effective method from what you had seen.

Right now though, you weren’t too pleased considering it was why you were lying awake in your tiny little bed. Your mind was racing and begging for answers you didn’t have to satiate it, and you were left being restless, trying to ignore the itch that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you tried to calm it down.

Goddamnit.

You sat up, a disgruntled expression on your face as you did so, trying to ignore the prickle of goosebumps that had appeared on your arms and the dryness in your throat, but when the cold nipped at your skin harshly, you decided it was time to solve both those problems. Throwing your legs over the side of the small bed, you got to your feet and then immediately crouched as you approached your suitcase, slowly unzipping it and producing a sweater.

Once you had put it on, you stood up and softly padded down the stairs to the small kitchen on the bus to grab yourself some water.

At first, you went straight to the kitchen, finding the cupboard that held the glasses with little trouble, poured yourself a glass of water and sipped it with every intention of going straight back to bed and forcing yourself to succumb to sleep. You liked to sleep, sleep was good and kept you from being irritable during the day.

But when you stood at the doorframe of the kitchen, it was then you noticed the dim lights and the silhouette sitting on the floor; a silhouette that had been haunting your thoughts for a better part of the two months you had spent on this tour trying to ignore it. You sucked in a breath, before finally succumbing to all the questions your mind was throwing at you.

Stupid brain.

You had to know the truth for it had been eating at you for so long now, and you were going to get it right now.

“Taeyong?” At your soft voice, the man looked up, squinting slightly to make out your figure in the darkness. In one hand he held a glass of some alcoholic drink and in the other something that looked like a cigarette- or maybe it was a pencil. You couldn’t be too sure.

“Y/n,” He said your name slowly, deliberatively even. “Hey.”

He sat on the floor, legs bent at the knees with his arms resting on them casually, the sight strangely domestic. The slight shiver that raked down your spine at his voice always managed to take you by surprise, no matter how many times it happened.

“What are you doing up?” You started with the simplest question you could come up with, taking his greeting as an invitation to join him. Despite your glass being almost empty, you carried it with you anyway as you settled down beside him. He shrugged, taking a sip of the golden liquid that swirled in the glass he held before placing it down.

“Got inspired for some lyrics, what’s your excuse?” He waved to the small journal in front of him with his other hand, his tone light-hearted. It was a pencil.

‘You’ was the honest answer your brain presented you to that question. “Couldn’t sleep,” was the pathetic excuse you ended up going with. Suddenly, the lower section of the tour bus seemed a little too empty, and you peered through the darkness, noticing that it was because no one else was there. “Where is everyone?”

“Out,” He said, waving his hand about aimlessly. “Getting high or something, I don’t know.”

“You’re not with them,” you observed, saying it like a statement even though it was more of a prompt for him to elaborate on. He raised his glass with a wry smile, tilting his head towards it. 

“I wanted to work on a song, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to miss out on the fun,” he leaned back a little against the couch and sighed. You were at a loss for words at what to say because there was no easy way to approach and tackle the subject that you most wanted to in a tactful manner. “I guess I just wanted to be alone for a bit.”

“Oh,” you felt a little idiotic right then. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Don’t,” he cut you off immediately. “Stay. My inspiration lasted about ten minutes before it fizzled out.”

“What usually inspires you?” You prodded, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your cheek against them so you could watch him, interlocking your warm fingers in front as you looped your arms around your legs. As a journalist that wrote for a newspaper, you were always being handed things to write about, so there wasn’t much room for inspiration per se, just skill and good research.

However, that wasn’t to say that you hadn’t entertained the idea of writing what you wanted, your own ideas and things plucked out of your imagination on occasion, but the problem with fiction was that as free as it sounded, it was never truly as free as one thought. That, and the fact that non-fiction was what was expected of you.

He thought about your question for a moment. “Inspiration is very unpredictable because you can get it from everywhere if you look hard enough for it. For example, take Jackson’s new song.”

“Jackson? Jackson Wang?” You asked incredulously, and he nodded.

“Yep, his new song Blow? He showed me some of the writing process and most people think it’s this sultry euphemism for a woman he’s sleeping with when in reality, it’s just about his damn cigarette.” He chuckled fondly at the recollection, remembering how dumbfounded he was when he found out himself, amused at the way your lips parted and eyes widened in bewilderment. Pressing his middle and index finger together, he brought it up to his mouth and then pulled it away by just moving his wrist, mimicking taking a drag.

“You’re kidding,” You weren’t sure if you were saying it out of mystification over the news that the song was supposed to be taken more literally than you had thought, or that Taeyong knew Jackson Wang.  You reckoned that half of his charm came from the fact that one could continually forget he was famous while in his presence. 

Taeyong smirked slightly, unable to stop himself from doing so at your expression. “Not at all. It’s just really easy to disguise a song as one out of love.” And with that, he turned his attention to the low ceiling of the bus, as if trying to peer out at the stars that were hidden from his view. You let yourself get carried away in the act of trying to read his mind and what he was thinking for a minute, before shaking yourself out of it after failing spectacularly.

“So what inspires you?” You repeated your previous words, “Not others, you.”

Another sigh escaped those crimson lips of his, clicking his tongue in a mixture of frustration and exasperation. “That’s a hard question, reporter, go easy on me, won’t you?” He was teasing you, light-hearted teasing that went straight to your head.

Evidently, your head wasn’t working well because you decided that it was the perfect moment to spring the million-dollar, definitely not an easy question on him. “Is it true?”

He raised an eyebrow at your abrupt blurting out of the painfully vague question. You wondered how you dared to call yourself a professional journalist when this was how you presented yourself at times. 

“Is what true?”

“Did you sleep your way to the top?”

Pin. Drop. Silence.

From the very moment the words left your lips, you knew you fucked up. They had sounded so unbelievably wrong even as you were pronouncing them so impetuously on your tongue, a tongue that you now bit down on hard in regret. You briefly entertained the concept of time travel, solely so you could go back and slap a hand over your past self from two minutes ago before she could ask the one that had been relentlessly plaguing her.

“The thing about inspiration,” He started slowly, cautiously even, “Is that people don’t realize it’s dependent on motivation, and those two things were very different. His eyes were trained on you now, unwavering, and you noticed how intense they were even in the dark, somehow seeming to be void of any colour while having little golden freckles of light like the drink in his glass dancing around in them at the same time. “Some are lucky to have both of those things present at the same time, others- not so much.”

You had no idea where this was going, but you knew that it was in your best interest to keep your mouth shut and listen, especially with how serious he was. 

“Motivation is what keeps me going every day,” He said haltingly, ignoring the cool draft of air that danced around his feet, “And inspiration rolls around when I’m most motivated. It’s how we write our music. Every song on all the albums we’ve done has come out of our studio and ourselves.” His jaw spasmed with the offence. “So no, I didn’t sleep my way to the top, Y/n, our music got us there fair and square.”

All the things you could have been and you chose to be a first-class jerk, but the firmness in his voice was all the proof you needed. The article was a lie, Jungwoo was a liar and Renjun was a cheating rat. Culpability settled deep in your gut, this time without the intention of ever leaving.

“I believe you.”

The sheer conviction in your voice surprised him, and so did the way you were looking at him, with that same determined look you always wore, but this time it was directed at him. You truly did believe every word that had come out of his mouth and he couldn’t have been more grateful because he hadn’t heard those three words in so long. 

I believe you- not from his manager, his team, or even his bandmates. They thought it, of course, they did, he was sure of that, but they never said it aloud to assure him of it. All they did was remind him of what he had to do to fix the messes he always managed to stumble into, willingly or not. When you said it, it was like the weight he had been carrying around for so long slipped off his shoulders and let him stand up straight for the first time in a long time.

“You do?” You hadn’t expected the undertone of vulnerability that came along with how he said that, the earnest hope that so subtly accompanied it. 

You nodded, locking eyes with him without the intention of ever looking away. You believed him so much that it was killing you a little because you had seen the hurt that flickered in his otherwise calm expression, the poker face he had perfected after all these years of wearing it. You didn’t have to repeat it because you somehow knew that it had settled in and made the impression you had wanted it to already.

Taeyong looked away first, but not entirely. His eyes fell to your lips, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, your mind running at a mile a minute the moment he did. The air between your bodies turned to electric static and nothing more, a magnetic pull that beckoned you closer to him as if you weren’t already right by his side. 

It was that vulnerability and your pure acceptance that tipped him over completely and he willingly let go.

His lips met yours delicately, ghosting over yours as your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, heart hammering through the confines of your chest, begging for freedom and solace in his hands, for it was fairly obvious that he had managed to snatch it away before you even noticed it wasn’t yours to claim anymore. As if sensing the fearful hesitance in the way he just barely brushed his mouth against yours, you let all of your inhibitions go and let your mind go blank as you pressed your lips back against his.

Somewhere through the seconds of your lip-lock, his hand cupped your jaw, calloused fingers holding you gently as his thumb brushed against your cheekbone, lulling you further into him. You could taste the whiskey on his lips, coaxing the guilt out of your system and replacing its heaviness with a warmth you couldn’t quite put your finger on, focusing on the way he kissed you. You basked in the way he moved his lips by yours as if he was memorizing every little thing about them, like a sunflower standing proud in the presence of the sun's rays.

When he pulled back slightly you found yourself chasing his lips, reaching out and tugging on the material of his shirt as you eagerly met him halfway once again and it was when you finally understood how addictions came to be. He lit a fire under the expanse of your skin, a fire you never wanted to put out for as long as you lived, to let it burn until it consumed your very being.

You weren’t sure when the both of you broke away from each other’s mouths, still buzzing from the pure intoxication he had provided you with. You were much closer than before, so much so that his hot breath mingled with yours as his forehead pressed against yours, and you stayed like that for a few minutes until his hand slipped gently into your hair.

“Thank you,” He breathed out quietly, staying like that. A fluttery jab hit you right in your chest at that, and you reached up until your hand was on his, deciding that everything else could afford to take a backseat if you were allowed to be in his arms like this, even for just a few more minutes. Somehow, you managed to find your voice despite being sure you had lost it the moment this bewitching man kissed you to echo.

“I believe you.”

And then perhaps you finally let yourself fall, but not aimlessly like you had in the past. Unprecedented, you let yourself finally entertain the idea of falling in love.

“Hello, this is Kim Jungwoo speaking.”

In truth, you weren’t too fond of confrontation. You were about to cut the call the moment the second ring buzzed through your device, but your tenacity prevailed, coaxing you to hold on until he picked up. You gripped your phone a little tighter, trying to ignore the sudden dampness of your palms.

“Jungwoo,” You started, putting on a professional tone for the sake of the call. “This is Y/n L/n from The Link, I apologize for the sudden nature of this call, but do you have a few minutes?”

To some, loose ends provided an area for speculation, where they could freely put out their thoughts into the world all while protecting themselves by mentioning it was all ‘alleged’. You had never been one to endorse speculation, especially when you had pretty darn good evidence pointing towards what was the truth. Jungwoo was the loose end you were going to tie up.

“Y/n! Oh hey, yeah sure, is something wrong?” You could hear the mild recognition in his voice- he just barely remembered who you were, you were sure, but that was to be expected. He was senior to you and had been working at The Link for much longer as well, so the most he would have known about your existence was the fact that you spent a whole three months running around and getting people their coffee.

Yes, you almost said, more distressed over the situation than you cared to admit. Although he couldn’t see it, you shook your head as you spoke, “Not at all! I just have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Knock yourself out.” You heard some shuffling from his head and you exhaled, mentally applauding yourself for making it this far. Now that you had taken the first step, the rest of it shouldn’t be too hard, and you sat up straight as if you were interviewing him, gathering all your thoughts.

“Give me a minute,” You pulled the phone away from your ear before he could respond, making sure that the call was being recorded, before putting it back. Usually, you would have put the call on speaker so it would be easier to take notes, but this was a special case. You couldn’t afford the consequences of anyone listening in. “Alright, it’s my understanding that you were assigned a piece of Cherry Bomb a few months ago?”

“I was.”

“And you pulled out last minute,” You continued, tapping your nails on the small table in front of you rhythmically.

“That is true, yes, but what is this about?” He was very obviously confused, unaware of the direction that you were about to take the conversation.

“Well, you see, I was put in your place to accompany the band on tour, but a few interesting things came up and I thought that it would be best if I asked you about it since it seems like you would know the most.” Your explanation was logical, you had taken a lot of time planning exactly how this was going to go in your head, keeping your tone calm and composed as you glanced down at the ticking hands on your watch. The afternoon was dipping into the evening.

He hummed unassumingly, “Alright, go ahead.”

“Why did you refuse to write the article?”

“Family emergency.” His answer was painfully generic, you had to pinch your lips to stop yourself from outright snorting at it. 

“But it’s such a valuable piece to have under your belt, Johnny mentioned that it could get you a spot at the NYT.”  It was probably not a very wise decision to so blatantly and harshly press on for what could technically be classified as personal information from someone senior to you, but it was what you had to do. 

He bristled a little, tsking over the phone. “Are you insinuating that a job offer is more important than family, Miss L/n?”

“I’m insinuating that you’re lying to me,” You replied, uncompromising to his attempt at gaining the upper hand. Now, this was a pretty big claim to put out there, but you knew you were right, and you were getting tired of people thinking you were so gullible and underestimating you.

“You wrote the piece on Taeyong.” You made no effort in beating around the bush, nor did you pose it as a question for his leisure, instead stating it as it was. A lesson that you were quickly learning was that you weren’t going to get anything unless you fought for it and you were going to fight for this just as you fought for your spot on the tour. 

Funnily enough, you weren’t exactly fighting for yourself this time.

“I’m sorry?”

“The anonymous piece about Lee Taeyong,” you clarified, not an ounce of hesitance in your voice. “I heard your source speak to the editor a few weeks ago and everything fell into place, especially when he came around to ask me if I knew why I was there.” The silence that followed your words was extremely gratifying because it told you that you had made the right assumption. 

“What do you want, Y/n?” He asked, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that it hinged along the lines of a threat with how low his voice was. You pressed your lips together, swallowing the annoyance that had sprung forth with how he was speaking to you. You fisted the fingers of your other hand, feeling your nails dig into the cold skin of your palm.

“I want the real reason you dropped the piece, Jungwoo,” You used his first name, in the same manner, he used yours, forcing yourself to calm down, leaning back in the small chair you sat in and letting out a controlled sigh. One thing you couldn’t afford to do was lose control.

He guffawed, “And pray tell, what do you think that is?”

Frustration drummed through your veins at his obvious dismissal, the scrutiny in the way he spoke to you. “You’re scared of getting caught because you know it’s a fabrication.”

“Is it?” He was playing it coy now, and your temper made a surprising show as it bubbled up to the base of your throat, threatening to spill out. You weren’t one to so quickly let an intense emotion wash over you like this, so it caught you off guard as well, leaving you to swallow it down along with the lump in your throat.

“You know damn well it is,” You hissed into the mic of your phone, gripping the edge of the table to keep yourself grounded. “He didn’t do anything of the sort and you’re scared of getting caught because of what you did because it would easily tie back to you. It’s why you wrote the piece anonymously.”

“Oh cut the act Y/n, I didn’t do it because I have anything against the man, I did it because I was offered the prettiest paycheque you could ever lay your eyes on for it. And Taeyong is a celebrity, several celebrities have done what I accused him of.”

“It’s wrong,” You said, utterly flabbergasted over how unbothered Jungwoo was over the entire thing. “Just because others have doesn’t mean he has, I know he hasn’t.”

All at once, it made sense why you were so earnest in your rage towards the man, you were angry because it was hurting Taeyong more than he let you. You saw a glimpse of it that night when he kissed you and the way he relaxed in your touch when you told him you trusted him. You discovered what a lovely being he was, even if it consisted of poorly hidden rendezvous that had you being discovered almost every time, but he never seemed too concerned. 

Nothing warranted him having to deal with the consequences of Jungwoo’s actions. You had learned that over the past few weeks that you had permitted yourself to get tied up in the whirlwind of chaos that consisted of his world. You learned that you liked it a little too much.

You thought of the way he looked at you when you told him you believed him. The smile that curled his lips when he saw you.

He didn’t deserve that at all. 

It hit you then, just how deceptive it was for you to claim that he didn’t deserve all this and that you cared for him when you were one of the main contributors. Were you not the person who had to write an article about him? Weren’t you the person who had jumped at the opportunity to write it just so it could benefit you? And from the looks of things, you were meant to write a piece to feed into the created narrative.

You would tell him. You had to tell him because it was the right thing to do.

Just not yet.

“Please, he’s a grown-ass man who is filthy rich, you don’t have to go around defending him.” The sneer in his voice did not go unnoticed by you, causing you to grind your teeth together in an attempt to not lash out at the pompous man. How dare he have the audacity to pretend he was better than you for spewing his lies and boasting about the money he got for it.

There was no point in arguing with Jungwoo; that much was clear from your short exchange with him, and you cleared your throat so you sounded composed. “Thank you for your time, Mr Kim.”

“Good luck with your article, Y/n, have fun playing hero if you must.”

You cut the call, biting down so hard on your tongue that it hurt to stop yourself from possibly lashing out against the man. Bringing your phone down, you stared at the screen in candid incredulity at how a person could be so selfish so as to endanger someone else's career- hell, this was Taeyong’s entire life on the line!- to further theirs, especially when it wasn’t warranted in the slightest.

You narrowed your eyes and pressed the icon for the recording app, your frown slipping into a sly smile as you saw the recorded log that sat atop all the others with the day's date.

Gotcha.

The first day of July brought in the middle of the summer, the clouds turning luminous as they passed by the sun, letting its beams flicker through and warm up the world below. Taking in a deep breath, you smiled when you made your way downstairs to greet the band that morning- and one of them in particular, because your trusty research had told you that the summer wasn’t the only thing that the first of July graced with its presence.

It was Taeyong’s twenty-fourth birthday and the day of yet another one of their shows, but this time everyone seemed to be more relaxed, smiles on their faces due to the occasion. You had never thought about how one would go about celebrating their birthday on the road, but since you were directly involved this time, you pushed your tribulations with Jungwoo to the back of your mind as you slipped into the kitchen and gripped the handle of the fridge, pulling it open to see the brown box that sat on the third shelf.

The day before, you had helped the rest of the band inconspicuously get a cake in his favourite flavour- green tea- and had it decorated with white and pink frosting, his favourite colour. It had taken you two hours to find a bakery that sold the specific flavour in San Fransisco, and by the end of it, you found yourself very lost in the new city. Thankfully, you had the boon of Google Maps to assist you in your journey back and had managed to hide it in the kitchen with the man of the day being none the wiser.

His liking of green tea cake was only the first of his many odd quirks that you had come to learn and subconsciously smile at the thought of, things that one couldn’t find through a simple google search. He bought lego sets in his free time and built them, apparently displaying all his creations on a shelf at his house, his comfort movie was Howl’s Moving Castle, and he had a hobby of buying and building a collection of unique shoes that he somehow managed to pull off and had a penchant for sweet snacks.

Taeyong was loveable in every sense, so naturally, it was so easy to fall in love with him.

“Doyoung, not the hair!”

His voice rang out, laced in mock annoyance and you rolled your eyes, shutting the fridge and walking out into the main lounge area, only to see the usually stoic man practically on top of Taeyong. Although he was generally calmer than the others, you had quickly picked up on the dynamic between him and Taeyong, which resembled something like Tom and Jerry, the two always looking for reasons to bicker.

“You’re old now,” He said, messing up his hair, much to the birthday boy’s despair, “How does it feel?”

“I don’t know, about as boring as you are.”

“Fuck off- oh, hey Y/n.” Doyoung finally stopped troubling Taeyong to greet you, also catching the attention of the latter, who glanced up to see you standing there with an amused grin on your face. It was always entertaining to watch the band interact with each other, it reminded you that under all the glamour and popularity they possessed, they were just a bunch of guys having fun.

“Hey,” You giggled at the sight, folding your arms as you leaned against the metal frame that separated the lounge from the kitchen area and biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from snorting at the way Taeyong’s hair adorably stuck up in different directions due to his friend's ministrations. “Looks like you’re having fun.”

“They’ve been doing this since the moment I woke up,” He all but whined, staring at you keenly with those captivating eyes of his softer than usual, as if urging you to help get him out of that situation. It was then you noticed him as a whole, from the sweatpants that hung low on his hips to his lack of shirt.

Bloody hell, did he have to look like this in the morning?

Even at nine in the morning, he looked stunning and as if this was a good enough reason to be annoyed, you let your eyes wander for a minute, lingering on the tattoos that decorated the expanse of his pale skin. Then you looked back up, pushing down the warmth that was creeping up onto your face, and smiled.

“Happy birthday.”

Taeyong ran a hand through his hair to try and fix it, his own simper making a show. “Thank you, baby.”

Oh, did we talk about the nicknames? It should have been illegal for a man this ravishing to be able to pull off saying terms of endearance and manage to have your heart skip a beat while he did. Doyoung pretended to gag and walked away, shooting you a look that you couldn’t read before leaving the bus. You paid it no mind as you made your way towards Taeyong, reaching up so that your arms looped up around his neck, and pulled him down to meet your lips in a sweet kiss.

His hands quickly found purchase on your hips as he chuckled lightly, the sound going straight to your stomach. You had grown very accustomed to kissing him and loved every second of it, even if sometimes those kisses were embarrassingly long. He was positively irresistible, that much you were certain of, and every interaction you shared with him never failed to pull you in.

So perhaps you were a little in over your head when it came to Taeyong, but by god, was it worth it.

“Oh, I like this birthday gift,” He quipped, kissing the side of your mouth and then tugging you closer so your body was flush against his, arms securely around your waist. You felt flushed but didn’t let it stop you from burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne deeply as if you were trying to memorize it.

“How much?”

“Kiss me again and you’ll find out.” An offer you took up all too easily, especially with the taunting smirk that clung to his lips and the mischievous look in those hooded eyes of his, a look that always managed to elicit a delicious shiver from you. This time, the kiss was slower but just as dizzying and you couldn’t help but sigh, embracing the hotness that invaded your cheeks.

You were so preoccupied with him that you didn’t notice the door of the bus crack open a little and the pair of eyes that watched the two of you. You broke away from the heated kiss, unable to stop the idiotic smile from blooming on your face as you pushed him away playfully. 

“I think I’m an excellent gift giver.” You winked, straightening out your outfit, “Now shoo, you have rehearsal.”

“Trying to get rid of me on my birthday? You wound me, Y/n.” He dramatically placed his hand over his heart, putting on a sorrowful expression that had you rolling your eyes in a combination of exasperation and amusement. 

You shook your head and some of your hair out of your face in the process, proceeding to complain even though it held no real displeasure, “I have to work, even if it’s your birthday, and you’re very distracting.”

“That’s a you problem,” He mumbled cheekily, not looking away from you even once, a gesture that woke those butterflies that seemed to have moved into the pit of your stomach once again. When you shot him a warning look that wasn’t threatening in the slightest, he fought a smile and raised his hands to the sides of his head in defence. “But fine, if you must.” 

You waved him off, letting out a sound of protest when he stole a kiss from you which left you with the objection stuck in your throat, but you acquiesced. By the time they would be done, you would have at least managed to finish up some of your work along with setting up the cake that you had spent so long scavenging for, and Mark was going to leave rehearsals a little earlier so he could help you.

“Have fun birthday boy,” You mumbled fondly, touching your lips as if silently questioning where all your reminders of professionalism went. “And put on a damn shirt!”

~

Irene's heels clicked on the pavement as she walked away from the tour bus after she made sure the door was closed, with her head held high as it always was, refusing to show even a hint of what she had just seen on it. After years of practice, she had gotten very good at controlling her expressions when needed.

She supposed that in some way this was her fault. After all, she was the one who told Taeyong to get on your good side for the sake of the article because of dire the situation was. She hadn’t exactly given him a manual to tell him how to go about it, had she? Winning you over would mean winning a battle.

So when Doyoung came up to her and told her that Taeyong was kissing you, all she could think was ‘Well that’s certainly one way to do it.’

As Cherry Bomb’s manager, it was her job to weigh the pros and cons of every situation and decision made regarding the band's career. She had been doing it for the past five years and had always managed to make sure they stayed on top of all the happenings, but hadn’t anticipated you to make such an….impact, to say the least. She was the one the agreed to have a journalist on board to make a good impact on would do wonders to extinguish the rumours that had been circulating.

The little affair between you and Taeyong wasn’t what she had expected to happen at all, so it fell under the category of being a complication, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was a bad thing. As long as they played it right, it would work out perfectly in their favour, and so she listed it as a pro.

For now.

She glanced down at the watch on her wrist, sighing when she realized that the rehearsals were starting a few minutes late due to the sound check taking extra time than usual. Usually, she would have hounded everyone to pick up their pace, but it was Taeyong’s birthday, and she did not want to intrude on your tryst back there with him. It was probably better if she didn’t, might make for an even nicer article.

Irene wasn’t one of the older managers, but she was a respected one because she knew how to get things done and she did it well. A lot of people asked her how it felt to manage the biggest band in the world, and how she was so good at what she did and her answer always consisted of the same smile and pretty thanks.

The real reason was too humiliating to actually talk about because it involved her past- the time before she was a manager because unfortunately, that did exist, even if she ignored it for the most part. 

It was why she was so hard on the boys. She knew from personal experience that the smallest of slip-ups could lead to everything they had worked for crashing and burning.

When she was seventeen, she had been scouted to be a singer and she had been very good too, but before she could even come out as an artist, her label dropped her due to lies that another singer she had been briefly involved with had spread about her. At merely eighteen, it frustrated her to no end that the dream that she had worked for over a year had slipped out of her fingers just like that.

It didn’t just frustrate her- it stagnated her for three years until she decided that if she couldn’t be out on stage, she was going to be behind it and make sure no one else ever had to deal with that. The very moment she had laid eyes on the band when they first formed, she saw the drive that she once possessed in them and insisted on managing them after she trained to be a manager. 

She was almost twenty-nine now, her chance at stardom had long faded with her youth, but she had settled for living vicariously through her boys. She loved them too much to let a rumour destroy them, especially when it was the very thing that destroyed her.

Seeing Taeyong being so affectionate with you was new, he had always been the wild card of the group, even if he was the oldest and the leader. He was never one to settle, so he must have really been pulling out all the stops to protect the group. Maybe she had underestimated him, but it was done in good spirit.

Under her care, she would make sure that they were untouchable if it was the last thing she did.

Even though every stadium they performed at was different, backstage always functioned with the same sort of organized unruliness no matter what. Over time, you had grown to appreciate how it worked, watching with the same wonder-stricken curiosity you always held with it came to it. 

You were home- kind of. This particular concert was in LA, which was where you lived and worked and where the band resided as well, but funnily enough, it wasn’t their last show. They still had around one month of the tour left, before they left for the rest of the world tour.

“I think you’re in the wrong place, miss.”

An enthralled smile automatically tugged at your lips and you had to suppress the urge to groan and roll your eyes at how easily Taeyong managed to lift your spirits. Turning around, you faced him in all his pre-show glory as he stood there with that cocky look on his outlandishly handsome face, and raised an eyebrow in question.

“What do you mean?” And at that, he produced a slip of paper, holding it out in front of you like you were a cat and it was a piece of yarn. Frowning as you tried to figure out what it was, you grabbed his wrist and plucked it out from between his fingers. “What’s this?”

“A ticket,” He replied plainly, looking far too prideful for his own good. “I promised you that you would watch a show of ours one day, didn’t I? Today is that day, so you should get to your seat because I picked you a really nice one during rehearsals today. Empty stadiums are great for figuring these things out.”

Oh.

You stared at the ticket, strong emotion flickering in your chest when you realized he had remembered what you had told him almost three months ago at this point. The small paper crumbled a little at how tight you were holding it between your index finger and thumb. “Thank you,” You whispered, incredibly touched. “But really, you didn’t have to.”

He brushed it off immediately. “I don’t go back on my word, remember? Now get out there, and make sure to scream for me.”

Taeyong kept chipping in and fulfilling small dreams of yours little by little, and you wondered if your new dream included staying with him because it was sure starting to look like that. You nodded, slipping the ticket into your pocket and pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss and silent thanks, before bidding him farewell.

Now, you may have been used to the disorder backstage, but nothing could have ever prepared you for the pure pandemonium outside. The roar of anticipating fans echoed through the entire stadium, not leaving room for even a smidge of silence, and you pushed through to get to your seat and once you had arrived, you had to admit that it was a good one. It was five rows away from the stage, close enough to watch everything upfront without having to look at the huge screens, but far away enough to not have to crane your neck.

When the lights dimmed, part of you joined their excitement as your breath hitched in your throat, anticipation drumming through your veins as your eyes trained on the stage. You had missed the opening act (an LA-based singer called Joshua Hong, under the same label as the band but a smaller artist in terms of a following- apparently, he had gotten famous from his cover of ‘Sunday Morning’ going viral, and the rest was history. You had briefly met him when he had returned backstage after his set) but it had left everyone even more excited for the main act.

Suddenly the resounding beat of a bass drum echoed through the stadium, accompanied by a countdown and a spotlight shone on the middle of the stage as it rose, revealing the band bit by bit. The audience waited in bated breath as they came up, a static silence coating the place for a few seconds.

And when Taeyong sang the first lyric, standing there holding his bass guitar in the front, the entire amphitheatre erupted in screams.

The energy in there was absolutely indescribable, infectious in the best possible way. The entire band joined in with the drumming, their instruments forming a melody so perfect sounding in the grittiest way possible. You could barely hear them singing because of how loud their fans were, their combined voices overtaking the artists they were there to see in the first place.

Chaos. Beautiful, unmatched chaos.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from your lips, left unnoticed as it was buried under all the cacophony and thousands of fans singing along to a song that they knew so well. After having done so much research and listening to their music in the process, you distinctly recalled the tune just enough to be able to hum along and participate in the smallest way.

The overwhelming glare of the lights illuminated them perfectly and you lost yourself in the music though you didn’t know much about it at all. From the pounding of Yuta’s precise drumming that acted as the backbone for it all to Doyoung’s flawless playing on the keys. The way Mark and Jeno’s respective parts on the guitars blended so well like they were one was a true testament to the artists they were.

But you were much too preoccupied with the frontman, who stood there, commanding every ounce of your attention with just his presence. He didn’t even have to look at what he was playing, automatically doing what he had to as if it had been written into his blood, tilting his head as he sang into the mic in front of him. 

They belonged on that stage and were destined to stay on it for the rest of their lives, undoubtedly timeless.

Pride swelled in your chest as you watched the boys you had grown to love and closer to over the past three months as they harmonized while never losing their individual sounds for even a moment, one a little more than the others. One you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life watching.

You froze amidst mouthing along to the words that you had picked up on, inhaling sharply as the thought crossed your mind before you could stop it, so unexpected that it rendered you speechless.

Were you in love with Lee Taeyong?

The answer came to you so swiftly that it nearly knocked you off of your feet, grabbing you and opening your eyes to how you felt about the man. When he happened to look right where you were sitting because he had personally picked out your seat, and sang a particularly romantic line that was cloaked in heavy bass and crisp drumming, you knew.

When the song ended, they started another almost immediately after, this time changing it up so that it was catered to the audience’s interaction, which they gave all too eagerly, their energy at an all-time high as the night was still young. The smiles never faded from each member’s faces as they performed, unequivocally feeding off the enthusiasm that they were being presented with.

You finally understood the buzz around concerts, the absolute adrenaline rush that they gave a person from simply standing amongst the crowd because you were finally a part of it. Your experience was a little different, mixed in with the realization of another emotion, but you loved every second of it nevertheless. By the time they had finished the third song, you knew that this was going to be their best concert yet.

They stopped playing, and Taeyong pulled the mic in front of him out of its stand and walked to the front of the stage, revelling in the growing screams that accompanied his every move. Delighted goosebumps arose on his skin as he drank it all in, the feeling that he got at the start of every concert no matter how many of them he played. His signature smile that drove their fans crazy made a show as he lifted the mic to his lips.

“Hello Los Angeles, welcome to THE CHERRY ON TOP STADIUM TOUR!!!”

~

After talking with the audience for a bit, they continued with a few songs, even including a mashup of two of them that drove everyone wild. Their stage presence was insane, from the way they interacted with each other and everyone else in the stadium, and at one point even brought out another popular artist that was in LA at the time to join them in one of their songs.

They played Dark Clouds as a throwback to their beginnings, and then Blue, a heavier, more emotional song that was close to their hearts as well as the hearts of their fans, who somehow managed to scream along even to those delicate lyrics. 

At one point, someone threw their bra on stage during one of the talking bits, leading to the very comical scene of Taeyong picking it up and hanging it on the end of his bass. Watching it happen was surreal, funny as hell, but so odd that you laughed hard along with everyone else. The sense of community that they created was admirable and you were grateful to be a part of it, even for just a few hours.

Truly, there weren’t enough words to describe the magnificence of the concert, the way the lighting ebbed and flowed according to the songs they performed and how the dancers that came out during specific performances put their best foot forward with everything they did. It was remarkably easy to see why Cherry Bomb was the best and why they would say the best.

The last song was an encore, a song that even you knew the lyrics to, bringing the enthusiasm that had dwindled ever so slightly from the start back to the area. When the last notes were played and the last lines were sung, and they thanked the crowd that night, you were surprised at the sudden emergence of tears in your eyes, emotional over the way it had ended so quickly.

It was the perfect ending to an impeccable show, one that would forever be engraved in your mind.

When the lights turned back on as they retreated backstage, it felt as if you were in the wrong place, like what you had just witnessed wasn’t reality in the slightly, but rather a beautiful dream you wished hadn’t ended. You stood there, staring blankly at the now deserted stage as the crowds dispersed, sobering up from the high they had gotten from the experience, hand stuffed in your pocket as you gripped the ticket tightly, unable to let go just yet.

You didn’t know how or when you managed to move again, snapping out of the spell the show had put you under, making your way to the front and to the door that led backstage, showing the guard that was stationed there the pass you had been issued at the start of the tour. Once you had walked inside, you possessed new respect for the work they did there, because there was no way the concert would have been as excellent as it was without those behind the scenes.

In the midst of it all, you saw Taeyong walking away from his mates, sipping on some water. He had lost the red leather jacket that he wore for every show, left in only a black vest that had a few buttons undone as they were, hair a little matted from the humidity. His eyes, however, were alight with a certain type of zeal that was the by-product of the adrenaline rush that no doubt coursed through his veins. 

He was stunning. 

He spotted you, pulling the bottle away from his mouth as he shot you a crooked little smile, and if you knew any better, you would have said that it held a hint of nervousness in it. Taking this as your cue, you began walking over, but before you knew it your walk turned into a sprint as you practically threw yourself in his arms, wrapping your arms tightly around him as you let him anchor you back down to earth. 

“...So?” He asked, hand on the small of your back and other at the back of your head, securing your position. It scared you a tad, just how perfect it felt like there was nowhere else you would rather be.

“I loved it,” You whispered, fingers clinging to the thick material of his vest, the cool surface of the pins on them pressed against your skin. “God Taeyong that was….I can’t even begin to tell you how-”

He chuckled faintly, the enchanting sound getting lost in your hair as he tucked some of it behind your ear. “I hope it’s still the best show you’ve ever been to.”

“It always will be.” It was surprising how sure of that you were as you stepped out of his embrace, mildly embarrassed over how naturally you had run into his arms like it was something you had meant to do all this time. To rid your mind of that thought, you blurted out, “We should probably join the others and get to the cars so we can leave.”

You weren’t getting cold feet by any means, you were simply adjusting to the concept of loving him. Now that it had crossed your mind, it seemed like a permanent notion that wanted to stay and you weren’t used to the delight that accompanied it.

“We’re not going with them.” He stated mischievously. 

“We’re not?” Your blatant confusion wasn’t lost on him, but if the look on his face told you anything, you would say that it was best to just follow along with what he had in mind. After all, you had been doing that for a bit now and it had always worked out in your favour.

Taeyong shook his head, his hand finding yours as he guided you out from backstage with the rest of the band, but then didn’t go in the car that the rest piled into, waving them off instead. With every passing moment, your curiosity grew and peaked when another car pulled up right where you were standing with him

“Most of the time when we’re in LA, we stay in this house that we have that’s close to our record label’s building.” He started to explain as he opened the car door for you, “But I actually have an apartment in the city, so I thought we could go back there tonight instead of back to the bus.”

He said this nonchalantly, but the meaning behind it was that he wanted to let you into his life a little more because it was becoming increasingly obvious that what he felt for you wasn’t temporary like it had been for other girls he had been with. Instead, it festered, amplifying with every minute he spent with you and surprisingly enough, he wasn’t against that possibility.

“Oh,” You whispered, voice oddly soft as if you had somehow picked up on this and were moved. The phantom of a smile danced on your lips as you nodded, slipping into the passenger seat as the driver got out of his, tipping his head to Taeyong and walking away. He took the driver's seat, started the car and looked at you through the rearview mirror.

Taeyong had always known he was a selfish person, and while some might have seen that as a flaw within themselves, he had never done that. He liked knowing what he wanted and getting it, but there was something about you that amplified that part of him because, with you, he wanted it all, even the things that weren���t possible due to who he was. Things he couldn’t have because of what he had played this relationship off as to the others.

Falling for someone was hard when the entire world could watch.

But being the selfish soul he was, he wanted it all. Perhaps it was a foolish notion to create and keep wishes that were much too out of his reach, yet the thought of discarding them never once occurred to him.

Much like Taeyong himself, his place was nothing like you expected but fit perfectly with who he was. It was massive, more appropriately called a penthouse, with huge windows and an interior that was on the expensive side, and when he switched the lights on you could see how it was minimally decorated, nothing too fancy since as he had told you before, he didn’t stay here very often, but with a pleasant ambience. 

“I may have fibbed a little,” He admitted, a sheepish look slipping onto his features. Walking into the place, he placed the keys on the table with a soft clattering sound that seemed much louder than it was in the emptiness of the apartment.

“The apartment isn’t exactly what I wanted to show you.”

You raised a questioning eyebrow at this, “What is it then?”

He was just full of surprises, wasn’t he? If there was one thing he had taught you, it was how to appreciate the ‘magic of surprises’, as he had so eloquently put it all those weeks ago when it took you out in New York. Somehow, he always managed to spring one on your unsuspecting self whenever he pleased and you couldn’t find it in yourself to dislike it.

Taeyong gestured at you to follow him as he walked even further into the apartment, through a small corridor and into a bedroom, where he opened one of the closets to reveal a singular object sitting inside.

A guitar case.

He carefully picked it out, holding the rough fabric of the case as he unzipped it and let the top half fall open to reveal the neck of a guitar, which he gently gripped as he pulled it out. 

It was a deep Walnut brown, lined with a lighter shade of the same colour that accentuated the edges and curves of the instrument. You walked forward to where he was standing slowly, studying the surface of the guitar once you were close enough to do so. He dropped the now empty case and it crumpled to the floor, already forgotten.

As he held the guitar up horizontally for you to gaze upon, you took note of the various little markings on the bottom that you couldn’t deduce to be accidental or on purpose, but it gave it character. You gently ran your fingers over them, briefly smiling at the small signature of an old artist that was planted off to the side of the guitar. It was a reminder, one that told you that he was once a wide-eyed fan in the crowd.

“I got this when I was twelve,” He said ardently, reminiscing the clear fond memories that came along with it. “It was my birthday and until then I had been using my dad’s old Gibson to learn how to play. When they presented me with this I was ecstatic because it was the very first guitar that I could call my own.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as he thought about it, running his fingers over the now loose strings- the result of being unused over the years. He toyed with the tuning heads aimlessly, a wistful expression twisted into the existing look on his face. “I named her Izabella- the same name that Jimi Hendrix named his most famous guitar because I wanted to be just as good as him someday.”

The image of a tween Taeyong filters through your mind, a short little kid sitting on the floor next to this huge present, a sparkle of excitement entering his eyes when he realised what his present was. You imagined his smaller figure holding it for the first time and naming it, vowing to be the best guitarist there was.

“I used her in all my school competitions, played at every event I could until I got into bass, and although it’s technically a different instrument, I practised on Izabella anyway.” He placed the instrument down with care, leaning it against the wall. “When I got my bass, I still played on her from time to time, but then I formed the band and slowly stopped paying attention to my first guitar, but I carried it with me when we moved to LA. “I guess that you could call it my first love.”

You stared at him intently as he looked at you properly with a boyish smile. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I tend to get caught up with music. Fuck, I even consider an instrument my first proper love.”

“It’s admirable,” You stated earnestly. He scoffed.

“And a little weird, no?” He took a step closer to you, tilting his head ever so slightly. “I care for you Y/n, but being with me…..it won’t be easy. The fans, the fact that I put my music before everything, the paparazzi waiting for every single mistake you commit- it’s not normal, but if you’re okay with it-” 

He paused as if carefully thinking over the words that appeared to be so easy to put out when they left his lips.

“-I would love to keep you by my side.”

There it was again, that vulnerability that simultaneously warmed your heart whilst weighing it down with another bout of relentless guilt.

“Taeyong….” Your whisper trailed off into the silence of the apartment, hanging over your heads as you tried to pull yourself together, your affection for the man that stood in front of you finally blossoming into the beautiful rose that it had set out to be when it was merely budding. You thought about how fitting it was because of how much like a rose Taeyong was himself, delicate and beautiful but guarded with the thorns around it, untouchable.

You had to tell him.

Not soon, not later, now. You had to tell him right then as the wind beat gratingly against the windows, never once entering his space, leaving everything inside perfectly still. 

“The piece I’m writing isn’t about the tour or the band.” You announced abruptly, swallowing the lump in your throat so that you could lay out the truth before him with utmost verity. His eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment as you spoke, knitting together endearingly. 

“It’s about you.”

Faint amusement shone in his eyes. “They tend to be like that, yep.”

“No you don’t understand,” You shook your head, ignoring the anxious bristle of goosebumps that rose on your skin. “I didn’t realise it before, but this article was meant to be against you from the very start, I was meant to write a false exposé on you that rode off the one accusing you of sleeping your way to the top because the reporter who was initially supposed to come was the one that wrote it.” 

Your voice wobbled a little, your nerves seeping into it before you could stop them from doing so. “I caught the person who leaked that information- the false information- to my editor a month or so ago and confronted the writer, who confessed. I didn’t know what this was but I promise I’m only going to write the truth.”

Flushed cheeks and heavy breathing, you stared at him almost desperately, waiting for something- any sort of reaction from him. You hadn’t realized how much you were scared of this moment until you plunged yourself into the deep end, confronting it head-on without thinking too much. The silence felt a beat too long.

His eyes softened at your integrity, the promise that you conveyed with your words for him. It only seemed fair to give you the same trust that you instilled in him.

“I believe you.” 

Trust was a finicky concept, one that could make or break a person completely. His trust in you lifted the weight of carrying around the burden of the true nature of the article off your shoulders, and you exhaled in relief. “Then….I would love to be by your side, Taeyong.” 

“Yeah?” His voice came out in a whisper, so close now that his breath tickled your lips. A challenge spoken with that smirk-clad mouth of his, one that only succeeded in bringing heat to your face with every teasing syllable. He believed you and that was all that mattered.

You didn’t make any motion to move away, instead, instinctively moved closer until your lips met his, a silent thank you and confirmation of what you wanted– him. He pulled you closer until your body was flush against his, not a breath of space between you as his fingers brushed against the exposed skin of your waist, slipping under your shirt to secure you in place as if someone could pull you away at any moment. You could feel the rhythm of his heart against yours and every point your body connected with his, hyper-aware of every little thing he did and the electrifying way he did it.

Your guilt was long forgotten, fading into the background as you fell into the sheets of his bed, entangling with him with every kiss and promise whispered against your skin. Your fingertips traced every tattoo you had previously only had the liberty to admire and the curve of his lips, fingers intertwined as you found refuge from the world and your troubles in the comforting embrace of his arms. You laid beside him, body curled into his side, so close that the hair that fell across his forehead brushed against your own, noses pressed together and lips just barely touching.

Taeyong couldn’t help but look at you- really look at you- as you slept, the way your eyelashes kissed your cheeks and cast shadows over your face, hiding your beautiful eyes from the world at that very moment in time, and sighed contentedly. You seemed to perfect there, under the linens of his bed that had always seemed a little too lonely for just him. 

Maybe it was never supposed to be just for him to inhabit.

Carefully slipping out of the bed, he padded across the floor to a window, reaching for the packet of cigarettes that sat on the small table close by, opening it and pulling one out. Then, he picked up the lighter from the old ashtray on the table, lighting the cigarette and holding it up to his lips, ones that had just kissed you more times than he could count, as he stared out into the blinding, starstruck city of Los Angeles.

Taking a slow drag, he breathed the smoke into his lungs, letting the drug get to his head and relax his mind until all he could focus on were the bright lights that blurred through the tempered glass, blinding the city that had been his house for the past five years, but never a home.

You were walking on clouds.

There was a bounce in your steps as you walked into the concert grounds in the late afternoon, a simper dancing lightly on your lips as you glimpsed up at the vibrantly coloured sky of Phoenix, oranges and blues swirling together splendidly. The sun was lively, playing hide and seek amidst the clouds and occasionally revealing itself- the very clouds you felt as if you were skipping over.

It had been a while since you had felt this elated. The last time you could remember experiencing an emotion remotely similar to this was when you got elected the editor of your University’s newspaper, and that was almost two years ago, perhaps a little more.

Cotton-candy clouds beneath your feet, light as a feather without a worry in the world.

You had awoken later than usual that day, finding yourself alone on the tour bus since they had to start rehearsals for the show in the evening. After managing to throw together some breakfast, you worked on your article; a new and improved article that you were starting from scratch; before finally deciding to join them. 

You walked, the stadium this time not being too far from where the buses were parked, coffee in hand and spirits climbing higher with every step you took. 

To say that you were in a good mood would have been an understatement. You finally knew what to do with your article and it was going remarkably well for someone who had neglected it for so long. Of course, your delightful frame of mind might have had something to do with a certain someone as well.

As for the piece, it was an exposé alright, but not the one everyone would be expecting. It would wake the entire world up to what had actually happened, carefully crafted so that the rumours that had spread would be considered void once it was published.

The sheer thought of your work having such an impact brought another smile to your mouth and you indulged, a sense of pride rushing through you. Your dreams had always been much too big for your own good, but now that you had your sights firmly set on them, you allowed yourself to entertain them.

You decided to surprise Taeyong, slowing your pace as you pushed the door backstage, practically tiptoeing at this point. Something you had come to cherish was the way his eyes always lit up without fail when he saw you, even though it had been almost two months since your little relationship of sorts began. Growing up, you had always believed that excitement like that for someone was fleeting, it faded within a week or so, and you thought this because of how implausible the concept was to you.

Now that you were someone holding those very sentiments, you were glad that you had been wrong.

In retrospect, it was childish to want to surprise him when he knew he would see you every day, but with only a few shows left before they left for the rest of their world tour, you wanted to make the most of every moment you had with him. Then, you would have to wait for four months.

Judging from the currently empty stage, they were on a break from practising for the evening, making your plan all the easier to execute. Once you located the green rooms with little help, you made your way over and grabbed the knob, twisting it clockwise slowly so that the click would be barely audible and pushed slightly.

And right then was the third time you eavesdropped on a conversation, this time both parties were present, which stripped you from the trouble of having to imagine what the other was saying. You stopped pushing, leaving only a sliver of space between the door frame and the edge of the door itself as you heard Irene speak.

“I’m a little concerned about whatever you have going on with Y/n.” 

Her voice was matter-of-fact, stating this plainly- harshly, even. You subconsciously straightened yourself up at the sound of your name, freezing your motions of opening the door to effectively listen in without being caught. The irony of it all was not lost on you, because here you were once again, doing something you probably weren’t supposed to.

“I thought you’d be overjoyed,” Taeyong replied flatly, disinterest in the conversation as clear as day. An exasperated sigh from her end followed, but before she could say anything, he continued, “Wasn’t all this your idea in the first place?”

Her idea? What?

The silence that followed was oddly suffocating, your brows knitted together in confusion, feeling like you had missed a substantial part of the exchange. Your grip on the doorknob tightened as if having control over that would make up for your lack of information right then.

“I told you to be on your best behaviour and get on her good side so we’d get an ass-kissing of an article out of it. This is a little extreme.”

“It’s none of your business.” His words held a warning, but they were so defensive; reeking of transgression that you had come to recognise so easily after carrying out your own guilt for so long. 

She clicked her tongue, taking it in her stride and refusing to back down. “It is my goddamn business, Taeyong, everything about your life is my business. You know this.”

Your face suddenly felt tight, lips parting in stupefaction and an anxious lump making itself known in your throat that made it imperceptibly harder to breathe. For the first time in all your instances of listening in, you wanted to walk away lest you heard something- and yet, you didn’t know what you wanted to hide from.  

But your feet were firmly planted to the ground, rooted in place as was your hand on the doorknob, blinking rapidly as you tried to process what was happening. 

Intuition was meant to save you, so why was it mocking you?

“I have it under control, so just- just stay out of it, okay?” The agitation in his voice felt misplaced, a projection of what he couldn’t hold in. 

“Will it fix everything?”

“Irene-”

“Goddamnit Taeyong, will we get an article that fixes everything?”  The chill in the air bit into your skin, your own desperation almost matching the very same that was held in her voice, one that felt personal

“We will.”

Nothing could have ever prepared you for the sharp sting that tore through your chest at that moment, mercilessly destroying every shred of hope that you possessed. Scraps of the entire picture fell into place like a line of dominoes falling over, practically knocking you off your feet as all the air in your lungs escaped you

Her idea?

A good article?

Get on her good side?

You ripped your hand off the doorknob, recoiling so quickly that one would have assumed that the metal piece was made of fire, eyes widening in devastation as your heart sunk six feet under the ground. You staggered backwards, your feet carrying you as far away from the green room as they could before you could even comprehend the action, unaware of the happenings that took place as the world around you crumbled.

And along with it, your trust in Taeyong shattered just like your heart had, revealing him for what he truly was.

A dirty liar.

Escaping backstage, you stumbled out into the grounds, gasping for oxygen as if would help make sense of all that you had just heard and pull out whatever unsullied truth that could possibly lie between the muddled words. When you found nothing, the burn in your ribcage worsened in its intensity until you had to lean against the walls of the building for some- any- semblance of stability.

If you had been on cloud nine just a few minutes ago, you were now facing the torrential downpour.

You glanced up and peered at the Phoenix sky that had lost all its charm, never having looked as cold as it did right then. 

~

Taeyong clicked his tongue, walking out of the green room and straightening out the sour expression that twisted his features, finding a certain comfort in the constant buzz backstage. To say that he despised when Irene brought up the topic of you and the article was an understatement, and she had started doing it more often, much to his despair. 

He had started saying whatever the manager wanted to get her off his back, mindlessly nodding and agreeing with her questions and decisions to avoid any sort of unnecessary conflict. He knew she had noticed his complacent attitude, but it was all worth it if it meant he could spend the time he would usually use up arguing with Irene with you instead.

A small frown slipped onto his face at the realisation of you not being there, which was odd. You always tagged along on show days, so seeing you missing was odd.

A sliver of worry sequestered its way inside of him, but he shut it down just as quickly. There was always the possibility of you growing tired of having to sit through the same routine almost every week. Maybe you’d just show up for the show instead of the entire thing.

Having successfully convinced himself, he picked up his bass and walked back out to finish the sound check. He relaxed, any concern fading away the moment he found himself back on stage and singing into the mic with some of the people he loved the most in the world, even if it was just in an empty stadium.

It reappeared with a cruel vengeance when he saw that you hadn’t shown up for the show.

~

You couldn’t find it in yourself to plaster on a smile and walk back inside, surrendering to the pangs of hurt that seemed to come in waves, a viscous riptide that you had been caught in with no rescue team on the way. It pulled you further in until your feet could no longer reach the floor of the ocean and you were left to drown.

So you walk back to the bus, away from the growing discordance of fans arriving and back to the place you thought would alleviate the heaviness you felt. The journey back offered ruthless clarity, blaring in your face the moment you found yourself standing inside the bus when you realized that it all felt so uncharacteristically foreign.

Gone was the homely feeling that had grown over you every time you were inside of it, instead replaced with the same bleak frigidness that the sky had presented you with.

The very sentiment in your heart.

And so you walked back out, wishing you had a jacket to shield you from the constant chill in the air tonight, one that nipped harshly at your exposed skin, yet you couldn’t bear to go back inside to get one. You stood outside the bus, watching as the sun dipped below the skyline and the sky darkened even further until it was all one sorrowful colour- an unyielding dark blue.

The moon came into view, insulting you with the serene beauty it possessed no matter what the circumstances. On most nights, you would appreciate the way it was a constant, travelling back into the sky almost every night even though it knew the sun would eventually outshine it, breathing daylight onto the surface of the earth and rendering it forgotten. People regarded the moon as a thing of romance, the very notion made you scoff. The white light that it derived from the sun was nothing short of austere, desolate in its illumination. You shut your eyes, tipping your head upwards to bask in it, despising the way that you would never look at it the same way ever again because of this day, this evening and this night. 

You stood out there for god knows how long, only realizing that hours had passed when you registered the dull ache on the soles of your feet and the clicking of cars opening and footsteps closening in.

Glancing to the source of the sound, your eyes searched for Taeyong out of habit and hardened when you finally spotted him walking over. It wasn’t as if you had forgotten that you would have to face him- you hadn’t at all- but it had been nice to pretend to not know for at least a little while.

He saw you standing there, looking at him with an expression that he couldn’t read no matter how much he tried to. Noticing that you were a little away from the buses, he muttered a mindless excuse to Yuta as he departed from the group to join you instead, questions rising to his mind with every step closer.

The way your heartbeat picked up the moment he was close enough for you to look at through your periphery was bitterly ironic, you had to bite down on your tongue to avoid letting out the humourless laugh that bubbled to your anxiously bitten lips. You hated the fragment of hope that naively slithered into you, how you were so aware of how foolish it was to even possess so little of it.

“Hey,” He muttered, faltering a little when you didn’t do so much as to look at him, opting to stare at your shoes instead of at him and the sound of his voice- the voice that always went straight to your stomach and scattered your thoughts without fail. When it happened once again, you panicked as he continued. 

“You weren’t at the show today.”

And suddenly it made perfect sense why you still retained that hope for him. 

“I wasn’t,” You confirmed his statement, hoping your voice hadn’t come out as choked up as it felt. 

“Why?” The benignity in his question felt much too raw for you, your tongue stiffening into silence and laying heavily in your mouth. You heard the soft click of the tour bus door as it shut, leaving you alone with him under the twinkling stars and mercenary moon. 

You didn’t know how to answer, letting out a shaky breath to brace yourself for whatever left your mouth in the next few minutes and to deal with the cold in your pathetic little way. “Does it matter?”

If he had thought something was wrong before, he definitely knew it now. There was a sense of detachment in the way you said it- not nonchalant per se, but more so like you were doing your best not to be concerned. He could see it in the slight quiver of your lower lip, the way you seemingly couldn’t bare to even steal a glance at him.

“Of course it matters, you matter Y/n.” 

This. This was why you still hoped so futilely that everything you had heard was just a big misunderstanding, that you weren’t simply a means to an end. You had loved the way he made you feel; important and loved; how he spoke to you so affectionately and made you feel like you were the only woman he had ever wanted. 

But hope and denial are two sides of the same coin, a double-edged sword of the sort, and the thing about double-edged swords is that it’s going to hurt no matter what way you twist it.

“If I matter so much, why did you lie to me?”

His breath caught in his throat and stayed there, forming a lump in his throat that seemed to restrict his breathing and ability to speak. “What?” He whispered out, strained.

You glimpsed at him subsequently, wondering just how long you had been living in blissful ignorance, how utterly gullible you had been when it came to Taeyong. How many times had you told him you believed him and trusted him without a doubt, handing over your fragile little heart to him to do as he pleased with it?

“I heard you talk to Irene,” You admitted hoarsely, your hand curling into a fist to keep yourself together the only way you could think of. “This entire thing- you and I; whatever the fuck we were- it’s a lie, isn’t it?” You abhorred the way your words came out brokenly as you looked into his eyes, attempting to peer inside his very soul to extract the answer from him, waiting for the resplendent rose of love that had bloomed in the cavity of your chest to make itself known.

The thing about roses was that although they protected themselves with their thorns, they never cared about those they hurt in the process.

“Y/n I-”

The rose wilted instead, the septic truth crudely cutting through your futile hope and forcing you to open your eyes to the reality of the world around you, never accounting for the state of pure agony it left you in. The regret that shone through those expressive eyes of his hurt you to your very core, confirming your worst suspicion. 

“You’re a fucking liar.”

You could barely comprehend the words that left your lips, lips that had been kissed by the traitor that stood in front of you right then. “I trusted you Taeyong, and all you did was lie to me.”

“I didn’t want to,” He said weakly, not bothering to even attempt to deny the accusation you had thrown at him, his voice failing him every time he thought of doing so. He thought of every moment you had shared your own vulnerability with him when you so lovingly put out the truth for him about what you were doing and how he had so shamelessly continued to love you while betraying you at the same time. “You were never meant to hear that.”

It was almost satirical, so much so that you had to scoff humourlessly at that, hating the sudden ache that was present behind your eyes and the dampness that followed. “So you just planned to keep lying to me? Wow.” You laughed bitterly and looked back at the sky, willing your tears to disappear. You couldn’t bear the idea of crying in front of the man that hurt you so badly, he didn’t deserve another second of weakness from you. “Real nice.”

“No that wasn’t-” Frustration bled into his voice, guilt slamming into his chest so violently that it drowned out every other emotion inside of him, consuming him whole until all he could do was defeatedly stare at the mess he had made of everything; you and him.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

Oh, how the mighty had fallen. 

The world was cruel to drop such an unexpected heartbreak onto you when you had never been looking for love in the first place. You had been here to do a job that would push you ahead in the world of journalism. Unadulterated fury filled your veins because you were angry and so deeply hurt. 

“What did you mean, then?”

He couldn’t say a single thing, now the one who shied away from meeting your tormented features. He hated the fact that it was him that had rendered you like this when it had never been his intention- truly it hadn’t- he would never hurt you on purpose. He had tried to keep it under wraps to avoid hurting you, had grown disdainful of talking about it with Irene for this very reason. 

It was all his fault, intentional or not.

His silence killed you, clawing at your skin as if attempting to reach the broken pieces of your heart as tears cascaded down the flushed skin of your face despite your attempts to blink them away. You should have known that it was too perfect to be true, you should have known that something would go wrong sooner or later.

You just didn’t expect it to be sooner.

“You may have not slept your way to the top, but you sure as hell slept with me to fix your reputation.” Your voice cut through, shakier than you would have liked. You would never forget the sincerity in his voice when he told you it wasn’t true, but then again, wasn’t it the very thing he had done to save himself?  

His selfish tendencies had once again caught up with him, ripping the rug from right beneath his feet before he even realised it was happening.

You had run yourself dry, left with nothing but the shards of your heart lying around you, mocking you for every opening up to someone you had known was unattainable. Picking up the pieces of whatever dignity you had left to call your own, you spoke quietly into the wind, just loud enough for him to hear.

“You want a good article? I’ll give you your damn article.”

If there had meant to be any malice in your voice, your weariness had squeezed it all out, leaving you with nothing but a sorrowful muttering of the words and somehow that hurt more than any yelling ever could. He flinched, shutting his eyes and going over every single thing he regretted about what he had done, wishing he could go back in time to undo it all and withdraw the grief he had bestowed upon you.

A few days ago, you had thought you would be the one to disrupt his world but stopped just in time for his sake and he had taken advantage of it all.

You had finally fallen in love and realized why you never let yourself do so before.

The air was far too cold for you to cope with anymore, a stark contrast to the hot tears that make their way down your face, blistering your skin. You brushed past his stoic figure and forced yourself back into the claustrophobic tour bus, ignoring the concerned looks thrown in your direction and for once in your life wishing that you could be well and truly invisible. The only comfort you received was the warmth of your makeshift bed as your pillow stained with the rest of your unspoken sorrow.

Like the unused, weak strings of his old guitar, the trust and love you had for Taeyong snapped, and the recoil had been the harshest thing you ever had to deal with.

People liked broken things.

Things, humans- it was all the same to them. Once the public had noticed his scar, they turned it into something to love, romanticising it and saying that it gave him character. He supposed that in a way, they were right, but he could never forget what it truly meant for him. 

The stage lights were too bright, beating down on his face. They had been getting brighter with every show until he could barely even make out the crowd that so eagerly cheered for him and his boys. He adjusted the mic in front of him and donned a practised grin that was almost entirely believable as they got ready to perform their next song. A sad song. 

Sadness and misery were as excellent muses as they were callous, any emotion could be if it was powerful enough to drown out everything else. Fans assumed that because of this very fact, producing any sort of art form using these emotions as your basis was easy and natural.

It wasn’t. It was the hardest thing in the world to put your hurt out there for the world to gawk at and judge like they had the right to do so. 

And so he began to sing, but there was a certain weightage to his cadence that dragged the song down, making it truly poignant and inciting tears from the onlookers. Every syllable that left his coral lips was difficult to pronounce, but somehow, he managed to choke them out just in time and miraculously in tune with the music that had long faded into the background.

He did this again and again, over and over until he felt ashamed to do so but had to because of what was expected of him. Every time he looked in the mirror and put on that notorious smile of his, it seemed to glare back at him, taunting and jeering at him for everything he had done.   

But he wore anyway, day in and day out for the cameras, lips pressed together so tight that no one even noticed when it continually faltered. Every show, he put his miserly heartbreak out on display, mingled with the guilt that had harboured roots in his fragmented soul, pushing themselves into the cracks and splitting it into even smaller pieces. 

It didn’t matter. You weren’t around to see it.

You were something of a ghost, keeping to your upper level of the tour bus and avoiding the lower one with every fibre of your shattered being. The faraway look in your eyes seemed to be a new permanent aspect of your personality, along with your perpetual absence from every show and every aspect of the tour. 

Instead, you sat alone with your laptop as your only companion, teeth ground together and eyebrows pulled taut as you stared at the blinding white document that lay before you. You would type out a few words and then proceed to press your index finger to the backspace button and erase it all, letter by stingy letter like they had never been put out into the world in the first place. And then you would be left with a blank canvas once again within those metal walls.

You would emerge from your sanctuary occasionally to perhaps grab some food or take a walk to clear your head, and then you would see him from across the room and forget why you were there. His eyes would meet yours and you would simply hold the gaze for a few seconds, empty and then full of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

Then you would look away and life would drag you along like the moment had never existed. For the days that you were forced to be around everyone, you would smile and silently envy the way the band could do it so naturally without even having a second thought about if it looked fake.

Your smile was fake and Taeyong knew it from a single glance. He knew it from the way your eyes stayed dull as the sides of your mouth curved upwards painfully like it killed you to do so.

He knew he had lost you the moment he saw that hollow smile. 

He couldn’t bear to speak to you and reap the results of what he had sown, and you couldn’t bear to listen, a spiteful sort of yin and yang situation that was slowly eating away at the both of you. It left him with no choice but to watch as you made yourself scarce, a phantom of his every misgiving that haunted him even when he shut his eyes. You were still there.

Two broken hearts brushing past each other every single day without truly ever making contact, going on with their days with so much to say and nothing at all. 

It was a good thing people liked broken things.

But this? This was what showbiz was. It was messy and brutal and most of all, ugly. Under all the makeup touch-ups and glamorous lifestyle and glittering lights, at the end of the day you had to shed all of it off and see it for what it really was:

A godforsaken trap.

And so the last few shows dragged on, the last few days slipped by and suddenly they were walking backstage after their final show. Staff hollered jovially, drinks were being passed around in celebration, but he couldn’t get himself to relax, not when you were standing only a few feet away from him with that forlorn look in your eyes and a pitiful smile plastered on your face.  Not when you were so close, not when all he could do was reach out and barely touch you before you disappeared again, slipping away from his grasp once again. 

What a cruel time for him to realize he loved you. 

Your two suitcases knocked into the back of your legs as you fished out your keys from the carry-on bag that was slung around your shoulders, slotting them into the lock of your apartment door. You twisted the metal things once, twice, until the door gave way and swung open, giving you a view of the place that you had so proudly once called your home. 

The familiar homely scent had somewhat faded in the time you had been gone, now mingled with a musty, forgotten type of smell that quickly found settled deep into your skin, leaving you to straighten up your hunched posture and sigh heavily. Turning around, you gripped the handles of your bags, pulled them inside behind you and shut the door as quietly as you could to not wake up anybody. Your flight back to Los Angeles had been an early morning one, and so there you were at five in the morning, standing in your doorway like an idiot.

The last time you had been in LA had been barely a month ago, but this wasn’t where you had slept. 

It had been in between the delicate sheets of Taeyong’s bed and arms that held you like you had been everything to him. You almost scoffed at the memory of your naivety, and at how easily you had been swayed by the star-studded lifestyle you had plunged yourself into.

Or perhaps it was just how easily you had fallen in love with someone so utterly elusive.

He was now probably halfway across the world in a private jet while you were right back where you had started. You had watched them leave, before turning around and walking away, away from the lights and tabloids and shy smiles in poorly lit-up tour buses that would forever remain a secret from the rest of the world.

And him.

You dropped your keys on the table as you dragged your suitcases with you, collapsing down on your worn-out couch and sinking into the cushions as the exhaustion of the entire ordeal hit you all at once. Your eyes fluttered shut as you took a minute to gather all your thoughts and pull yourself together.

His face flickered through your mind, causing your throat to close up in on itself as you snapped your eyes open, sucking in an arduous breath through your teeth. 

“Y/n.”

You recalled how he called out your name just before they left for their jet, how he sounded almost desperate to get whatever he was about to say off his chest. Even with how tired you were, you recalled every second of the interaction perfectly, down to the way you turned to face him when he said your name so perfectly.

He stopped in his tracks as the others walked a little away from him, nearly wincing at the way your eyes wouldn’t meet his and the hesitancy you displayed. It was too late for you and him, it was too little too late to fix what he had done.

“I lied about us to them,” He never once looked away from you even if you couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t bear to look away if this was going to be the last time he ever saw you.

“But nothing about us was ever a lie.”

His words haunted you with every step further you took from them, on the plane as you tried to forget it and as you picked up your luggage and called a cab. As you climbed the tiresome stairs of your apartment complex and even now as you sat there, you were pathetically thinking about it even though you had tried everything you could to forget.

But Lee Taeyong wasn’t the type of person you could forget easily, not when you could still imagine how it felt when he touched you and the weight of his gaze. The earnest remorse that laced his voice.

You punched in the code to your suitcase lock, unzipped it and pulled your laptop out. The cool metal rested upon your jean-clad legs, the blue light causing you to frown as you opened up your document and began to write, but not out of any sort of inspiration. You wrote out of the anger that had settled deep within your soul and motivated you. 

Anger at his audacity to think that it would be alright to make you fall in love with him just to avoid the possibility of his notoriety falling apart. You typed out everything you possibly could about what he had done and how it was all true, every single accusation you could throw at his face and how he truly did sleep his way to the top because for fucks sake, he certainly did it with you, didn’t he?

Then you stopped amidst your hateful frenzy, realising that there was no way you could do that to him. If you did, you were no better than that bastard Jungwoo. You stared at what you had written, reading it twice, three times and swallowing the telltale lump that had formed in your throat. Selecting it all, you glimpsed at the blue highlight and deleted it with a single click because you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

But you were so, so unbelievably angry.

Unconsolable rage consumed every fibre of your being, leaving you with clenched fists and gritted teeth until you accepted what it really was: grief. A broken sob escaped your chapped lips, the wretched sound breaking the silence that had been weighing you down for the past half hour you sat there in your apartment.

You were grieving a love that you still felt so strongly but was never yours to claim in the first place. 

And you cried for the first time since the day you confronted him, at last comprehending that your anger was simply the sheer heartbreak you felt in its rawest form, the very proof that you had loved. You broke down in the dead of the night, feeling so implausibly alone in the midst of everything that had happened these past few months. 

Before you had even known it, everything you had ever wanted had slipped right through your grasp, leaving you to grieve its loss all by yourself. You weren’t sure when Taeyong had become your every dream rolled into one magnificent wish, but it burned brighter than any wish you had ever had, which was perhaps why it hurt so bad.

How had the ultimate opportunity turned into something that shattered your very soul? Life had a merciless sense of humour because even though you had made the spiteful promise of writing an article that would destroy him, you couldn’t go through with it, because when you loved someone, you could never intentionally hurt them.

You exhaled shakily, staring at the empty document through the heavy thumping of your ruptured heart in your ears and the blur of your tears, blinking them out of your eyes. Then, in the dead silence of the early morning, as the sleeping world stirred to life and began with their monotonous days, you began to write.

And what was it that you wrote?

~

“What the hell is this?”

You calmly held Johnny’s gaze, a mixture of frantic and fury burning in his eyes as he glared at you. The velveteen cushioning of the seat under you was all too familiar, as were the wooden floors beneath the heels of your shoes, the first time you had stepped into The Link’s building in a long time. 

“The article you assigned me,” You responded plainly, spurring any sort of emotion that threatened to make a show on your face. He shut his eyes and visibly sucked in a laboured breath, tapping his fingers impatiently on his desk.

“You’ve made some…..serious claims here,” He started to reason with you, and you could already see where this little colloquy was going to go. Gripping your phone, you took a careful note of the restraint that was displayed in his voice, but refused to back down from your own goal. “Ones that don’t fall under our initial arrangement.”

There were definitely some liberties you had taken with your article, but none of them were things of fallacy. You were well aware that it was the reason the editor was so skittish, although he tried to hide it to the best of his abilities from the way he pulled at his tie to loosen it around his collar ever so slightly and cleared his throat. It was a thing of amusement, to watch him try and figure out how to convey what he wanted to you without giving away what he had done.

You had been through too much to be thwarted by someone who was also in the wrong in the entire situation. You were done being a pawn in their little game.

“There wasn’t any arrangement, you said I had to write an article and I did just that.”

“Y/n.” He said your name defeatedly, “where did you get this information from? It’s so out of the blue.”

And with that, you pressed play on the recording of the call you had with Jungwoo a few months ago, watching carefully as Johnny’s expression shifted from weariness to shock as it played out. When your voice came through, telling Jungwoo you had overheard Renjun speak to the editor, all colour drained from his face.

Pausing the recording, you leaned forward in your seat, a corporate smile playing upon your lips in triumph.

“That’s how I know my claims are true because I have confirmation from one of the people involved in the audio proof. The only dirt around Taeyong’s name is the dirt you planted there.” You said this firmly, trying to ignore the way his name felt heavy on your tongue. 

Johnny clenched his jaw. “Look-”

“Publish my article,” You interrupted, more tranquil than you thought you would be when it came to this. There wasn’t a bone in your body that was scared when you put your terms out for him. “Or I will publish it myself and put Junwoo’s and your name on it. If you post it, I will let your less-than-ethical arrangement slide with only Renjun having to face the consequences.”

He clicked his tongue, knowing that he had no choice but to go through with your requests and although he didn’t particularly like it, he couldn’t help but admire the way you went about it. You had gone over and beyond with your journalistic work, cracking the truth behind it all and making sure the odds were in your favour. 

You had proven yourself to be a kick-ass journalist, no doubt one of the best of your generation. A grin made a show on his features, respecting you a lot more now that he knew what you were capable of.

“Consider it done.”

You returned his smile with a genuine one of your own this time around and warned faintly, “No major edits.”

He shut his laptop and nodded. “Not one.” Satisfied with his answer and the knowledge of him being far too smart to double-cross you when you had such damning leverage, you stood to your feet and turned to leave his office when he called out.

“And Y/n? Excellent job.”

As you stepped out into the busy corridors of The Link’s building, you felt a sense of warm pride wash over you at what you had managed to accomplish. You let yourself breathe in the cool air-conditioned air that held the slightest tone of coffee in it and held your phone up, knowing that you had one last thing to do, but it was the most important of them all.

You selected the audio recording until the option to share it popped up, clicking on it and swiftly forwarding the call to a certain manager. Then, you slipped the device into the pockets of your coat and walked away, leaving every cumbersome worry that you could behind.

THE TRUE ‘CHERRY ON TOP’.

These past few months, I have had the opportunity to accompany the band Cherry Bomb on the American leg of their ongoing world tour, as I’m sure most of you have been keeping up with. 

From the very start, I was thrust into a world far too glamorous for me to ever keep up with, from the shows to the red carpet events and parties. I had never been the type of journalist that involved myself with the happenings of their research, but this was my exception. It was nearly impossibly to not get caught up with it all, especially when everyone around me was so inviting.

People talk about some celebrities being genuine and the nicest people they could ever meet and Cherry Bomb fit this description to the T. All of them are so wonderfully unique and lovely to converse with, dare I say, befriend, that it was only a matter of time before I was comfortable around them. Never once did they ever make me feel like an outsider even though I was very much exactly that.

These men live and breathe their music and are the most passionate people I will ever meet. 

I even had the pleasure of viewing one of their concerts and when I saw them up there on that stage, I could understand why they are so successful. Seeing Nakamoto Yuta give it his all behind those drums of his, Lee Mark and Lee Jeno complimenting each other with their parts, Kim Doyoung and his genius playing the keyboard, and finally, Lee Taeyong standing up there with his bass guitar and leading it all- it was a truly magical experience.

Initially, when I first started my research and drafting of this piece, I had convinced myself that I would be writing a little bit on every member, but now that the experience is over, I have decided to take a different route, one that tied into all that I have mentioned above.

It is a known fact that there is a rumour going around about the reason why the band is so popular, one that states that their success is due to the frontman, Lee Taeyong, sleeping his way to the top.

I am writing this article to very firmly counter that statement with the truth because the rumour is crude and very false.

Their crushing success is to only be credited to themselves because they have worked tirelessly for it. I have received a first-hand look at the amount of effort they put into everything they do, and they are the most hard-working people I know. It is not because of Taeyong’s sleeping habits in the slightest.

After some more research, it had come to my attention that these rumours had started because of a single, unassuming catalyst: their very own publicist, Huang Renjun.

The aforementioned publicist was the one to plant the seed of all the rumours, that catalyst if you will, quietly hiding under anonymity to avoid being caught out for his actions. The article that was written about the entire (fake) ordeal was written by a journalist working for the very paper I write for, as I have to admit with much regret. 

I am not aware of his motives as to why he decided to go so far as to lie about the very artists he was supposed to protect, but when I say that this is the truth, it is. My aim with this piece is to tell the truth, and the only lie presented within these words is the telling of the one that the publicist told.

The ‘Cherry On Top’ tour is no doubt one of the best they have ever played, each show exceeding the last, and a true testimony to the great musicians they are. Every one of them has given their all and sacrificed a lot to be out there doing what they love, even if it feels like they have been handed their success, they most certainly have not been.

And Lee Taeyong certainly did not sleep his way to the top.

- Y/n L/n, The Link.

Afterparties had been a thing of enjoyment at one point in Taeyong’s life and although that time had not been too long ago at all, it certainly felt like it. He recollected how easy it used to be for him to indulge in such meaningless practices and when he used to think that getting blackout drunk was good fun.

It had been two months.

The concert in Paris was an astounding success and he had only been just a little tipsy while performing. Alcohol and cigarettes had turned into something of a coping mechanism for him, but now as he stood amidst other celebrities he didn’t know and different socialites that somehow managed to get into the party in a bar in The Marais, he felt much too sober. The glass in his hand felt heavy as he gripped it, the edges lightly digging into his skin. 

He had never realized how jarring his lifestyle was until this moment, detesting the way it was so superficial. The glitz, the lights, the girls- all the appeal that they once possessed had long faded into the background, leaving him to grit his teeth and pretend to be enjoying himself as he walked several red carpets that he very frankly, did not give a fuck about. For the first time, he felt like a fraud, undeserving of the spotlight that had been bestowed upon him so long ago, attention that he would have to take to his grave.

The change in his demeanour had been picked up by his bandmates, but they didn’t say anything. He suspected that they had an inkling of what had happened that night between you and him, but had decided to give him space.

Space had led to him making several mistakes if the empty glass bottles and occasional stranger in his hotel bed said anything. 

But there was only so much one person could handle.

He turned around, pushing through the turbulent crowd until he found himself standing outside the bar, calling one of their cars to take him back to the hotel early, back to the solitude of his temporary room. He knew that his absence would be noted, perhaps even given to the press as a tip-off, but he could care less about it. 

Taeyong couldn’t stand the thought of staying there and plastering on his poker face for even a second longer. He had ignored everyone anyway, including the lineup of ruffled girls who had evidently been very upset over not managing to catch his fancy for the night. He knew there would be whispers about his reluctance, the faltering happy expression that he had tried so hard to keep plastered on his lips.

But how could he even pretend to be happy when in every single person, he could see you?

He slipped into the car, leaning back in the seat as he instructed the driver of his destination, glancing out of the windows to view the smoky nightlife of Paris at such a late hour. Everything was much darker than one would imagine, giving the city of love a much more desolate feeling, lonely even. The streetlights flickered uncertainly, casting their yellow light onto the pavements. Taeyong nearly wanted to get out of the car and walk down those pathways, to be able to pretend that there weren’t going to be people trailing him with their flashy cameras for just a few minutes of seclusion that the night provided so mercifully.

He didn’t though, instead waiting until the driver parked the car and politely told him that they had reached. He dragged himself back up to his room until he was met with the room he shared with no one and a minibar that was conveniently right next to his bed. 

Love was the type of emotion that was tempestuous and violent, but it never acted alone. For most, it was with adoration and fulfilment, but for him, it was tainted with the guilt he so desperately tried to escape with every emptied glass bottle that sat in the trash. It was at times like these when you would pop into his mind without fail and he was once again reminded of the fact that you weren’t by his side.

And he had no one to blame for that but himself.

But god, he missed you.

He missed your smile and the way you’d try to control your excitement, the look in your eyes when you were passionate about something that contrasted the shyness that would enter your voice, and the way your hands would oh so gently cup his face. He missed the infectious tinkling of your laughter and the dedication you possessed when it came to your job and just you.

He hated what he had become and most of all hated the thought of being someone you couldn’t love or want. The prospect of you never needing him again even though he knew he needed you more than anything.

The brandy in his glass burned his throat as he allowed it to numb every splinter of penitence that swirled in the pits of his stomach, eyes closed as he tried to forget you.

An impossible feat.

A sharp, almost frantic knock on the door of his room snapped him out of his reverie. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he could only frown when he registered the time. 5:00 am. Who could it have been at such an early hour?

He contemplated pretending to be asleep so that the person would hopefully move on, but when another rap on the door came not even a minute later, he relented and walked over to open it. Once he swung it open, he was met with Irene standing there, phone in hand as her ever-vigilant eyes fell upon his slightly dishevelled figure and grew disapproving for a split second. He had forgotten that she tended to be an early riser no matter how late her evenings got.

To his surprise, beginning to speak before he could even attempt to comprehend what was happening. “You actually did it.”

“I- what?”

“The rumours- they’ve dissipated. They hold no merit anymore because you got that article, you son of a bitch.” Her eyes gleamed with pride as she spoke, thrusting her phone in his face resolutely. “It got released yesterday, and I would have seen it sooner but Renjun isn’t around anymore.” She said the publicist's name with a substantial amount of scorn, shaking her hand about in his face so that he would take the phone from her.

Her mention of the article had his heart in his mouth as dumbfoundedness bled into his fatigued features. “Wait, what do you mean Renjun isn’t here?”

“He’s fired,” She said flatly. “Because he’s a rat.”

“I still don’t follow.” He was too tired for her cryptic messages and in no mood to even think about entertaining them. She sighed.

“Renjun was the one who started the rumours, and I would have never known if Y/n had not sent me proof of it and written that article. I would have seen her message sooner but you know how it is with my inbox, always full.” The moment your name left her mouth, Taeyong couldn’t truly focus on the rest of what she was saying, nodding along mindlessly where he thought was the right point. More than anything, he wanted to ask Irene about you, what you had said and maybe, just maybe, if you had asked about him.

“Somehow she found out that it was Renjun who decided to spew bullshit about you,” she gritted out, “but it’s all dealt with, and his entire career in the industry is over. You should read the article by the way, after all, you’re responsible for it. I sent you a link to it.”

She plucked her phone out of his hands and walked away, leaving him to hurriedly fumble with his own. He shut the door and clicked on the link Irene sent him, more so to have even a little part of you for a few minutes than you truly find out what had taken place, eyes scanning over every word you had written until he reached the very end.

And it was then that carefully curated expression of his finally crumbled, and for the first time in a long time, Taeyong let himself cry.

NOVEMBER; ALBUM OF THE YEAR GRAMMY NOMINATIONS:

— Solo; Kim Jennie — Maniac; Haechan — Pop!; Nayeon — Ruby; Lee Jihoon — Cherry On Top; Cherry Bomb

To: ynln00@gmail.com Subject: NYT interview proposition.

Greetings Miss L/n,

Your recent article about Cherry Bomb has been making waves in the journalism world, and we at the NYT have taken notice. 

This email is written in the hopes that you would consider sitting for an interview for our newspaper. After reviewing your past work, we have concluded that we would love to have a journalist like you on board. Your writing style is concise and conveys what it needs to, a quality we appreciate.

It is evident that you strive to put your best foot forward and are not afraid to take risks, something that is considered very rare. For these reasons, we would love to offer you this opportunity. Salary and such will be discussed in person, which is how we would like to hold this interview.

We look forward to receiving a positive response.

Tiffany Young.

Head of HR- New York Times.

tiffanyyoung.1989@gmail.com

It was human tendency to gravitate toward the very things that destroyed them. You supposed that very inclination was the reason you were there on your couch once again, the stem of a half-full wine glass resting between your index and middle finger, the cool mouth of it pressed to your tinted lips. The redness from the drink had stained them, your eyes trained on the television screen in front of you. 

There wasn’t a point for you to be viewing the Grammys, but something had pushed you to do so and so there you were as the entire arena where the award show was held was shown. The cool February air jabbed unsolicitedly at the skin of your arms even with your heater on, and you let the sweet fermented drink kiss your throat soothingly to combat the chill. 

You knew that they were going to be there. 

You could hardly believe that it had been five months since you had seen them and so perhaps this was you satiating the small part of you that missed them. 

As you watched the opening performance, you realized that you hadn’t the slightest interest in anything else but the singular award that they had been nominated for. So if that was the case, why were you subjecting yourself to sit through the entire ordeal? You leaned over to pick the television remote up to switch it off and release yourself from this mundane sort of self-affliction.

The camera panned over the five men you were there for a brief moment and instantly you stopped, settling back into your seat. Of course, they would show them within the first few minutes of the show, they had the entire world at their heels.

The entire world waiting in anticipation for the results of the nominations just like you. 

The first hour of the show past painfully slowly and yet, you didn’t move, waiting patiently for it to happen. It felt odd, the fact that it was taking place right there in LA and you had to watch through a screen anyway. The fact that they were so close to you, back home and within your reach, felt a little unreal to you.

Kim Mingyu himself walked across the stage, grinning at the road of clapping that followed his every step. You allowed a small simper to make a show at his appearance, recalling the night of the party you had attended with the boys and how it had ended with you and Taeyong out on one of the numerous balconies of his mansion.

“Thank you, thank you!” He waved his hand politely to calm the audience. “I am beyond honoured to be here presenting this award tonight! Now, I’m aware all of you are here for me,” he paused as a light pattering of laughter made its way around the hall, “but I do have a job to do, so without further ado, here are your nominees for this year's Album of the Year!”

He listed out the five nominees, the camera focusing on each of them as he said their names for a few seconds. When it came to Cherry Bomb, you mentally chastised yourself for how quickly your eyes sought out a politely smiling Taeyong sitting with the rest of his mates. This wasn’t their first time attending, they had won the award twice before, the first time for being the best new artist when they had just started, and the second was for this very award.

Needless to say, there was a lot of pressure on them.

You could see glimpses of their nerves shine through their smiles and the way they held their drinks. Then, it went to Nayeon, who had already won one Grammy that evening and had it standing proud on her table, evidently calm because of its presence.

Mingyu smiled right when the cameras returned to him, showing off his perfect, pearly white teeth. He lifted the golden envelope in his hands, “And your winner for the Album of the Year for this year's Grammys is….”

Everyone held their breath, including the nominees themselves. Little shots of them popped up side by side on your television, showing you the way Yuta visibly stiffened in anticipation and how Taeyongs fingers curled around the flute of his glass, eyes trained on the stage and at the announcer, his friend.

Mingyu flipped the top of the envelope open and pulled out the card that held the winner in one swift motion, holding it a little away from him before his eyes lit up. He then bent down a little so that his mouth was once again in line with the microphone, letting the audience stew in their anxiety for just a second longer.

“CHERRY BOMB!”

Cheers erupted as the screen enlargened on them as their smiles grew wide and genuine, a sharp exhale leaving your wine-stained lips. Something like a weight had been lifted off your tired shoulders and you sat up straight, your lips curling up in a relieved and glad smile for them. For the strangers you had grown so close to in so little time.

As for Taeyong, he had barely registered it when he heard the name of the band he had formed when he was just a teenager. He had to stop himself from flinching at the thunderous clapping, eyes blown wide when he finally realized that they had done it. They had won.

Doyoung leaned over to hug Jeno, and then Taeyong as they got to their feet, bashfully smiling in elation at achieving their ultimate goal of the previous year. He took a cautionary sip of the bubbly champagne that sat inside the flute he held and placed it down, straightening out his suit as he led the walk to and up the small stage.

Mingyu handed him the golden gramophone statue, whispering congratulations away from the mic for only them to hear and exchanging hugs, before walking off stage. He turned to face the audience with his best friends right at his side and thousands- millions even- of people clapping for them. 

“Wow this…” he trailed off, glancing down at the award in his hands with a nervous simper playing on his face. “Firstly we’d like to thank the recording academy and god- the list is far too long, but wow, thank you to our incredible fans and our manager Irene Bae who always knows what to do. Qian Kun our producer, Alexandra, James and the rest of our amazing team.” He spouted every name he could remember, doing his best to sound grateful because he truly was.

There was just one thing.

“And thank you to one person out there who knows who she is,” He gripped the award better, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly in his throat as his tone quieter, staring right into the camera. “I think about you every day.” 

You.

The need to breathe deeply arose all of a sudden, leaving you to suck in a large gulp of air while you wondered if the wine had finally gone to your head. And you knew as he held the award up once again with a gratified expression on his face and shook it slightly, and as he handed it to his members, that he was talking about you.

And he had won, all of them had. Through every hardship and roadblock, they managed to get to the other side in triumph.

The pride that swelled in your chest for him along with the warm pressure behind your eyes told you all you needed to know. As the first cup of wine turned into your third, you were drowning in the realization that you still loved him vicariously with every broken piece of your heart that still belonged to him.

History liked repeating itself.

Once again you stood in your living room with suitcases- suitcase, singular this time around. It was a small one with just enough items to last you an entire week in New York City. There was plenty of time before you had to leave for your flight, one that you had booked well in advance and had given yourself enough time in the city to not throw yourself straight into the interview.

You could have gone three days later and you would have been fine on time, and yet there you were, standing by your couch while clutching the handle of your bag. Your flight was at seven the next morning and it was ten post meridian right now, so to say you were early was an understatement. In truth, you had no idea why you were so cautious about everything you were doing, and neither did you understand why you felt like you had to leave right at this very moment.

But not to the airport. The airport was the last place you were thinking of then. If you left for the airport, you would have been leaving behind unfinished business in your wake.

There was so much to consider if you left, if you did get the job that you had been dreaming of for so long. Bank work, resigning from The Link, ending your apartment lease- and the most important of them all, if you could live with leaving without seeing him again. 

“I lied about us to them.”

Regret was a funny thing, it nipped and poked at your insides until you had no choice but to acknowledge its infuriating presence. It made you think things you did not want to, forcing them to the front of your idle mind until you gave up trying to fight.

“But nothing about us was ever a lie.”

His last words to you echoed through the chambers of your mind, eliciting a sigh. You still hadn’t the slightest idea what he had meant by that, or the possible implications it retained. It gave rise to questions that would stay in the forefront of your thoughts without any answers.

And before you knew it, you let go of the suitcase handle and grabbed your keys, slipping out of your apartment and calling a cab. Within minutes you were sitting inside said cab, telling the driver Taeyong’s address before you could talk yourself out of it. It was so impulsive, so completely unlike you that you were a tad concerned, but you wanted answers. The memory of where he lived in the city was burned into your memory, the information finally proving to be useful.

For all you knew, you could have made the right decision that day to walk away and this would all be for nought. 

But it could have also been your biggest mistake.

The elevator ride up to his penthouse was when your intrusive thoughts returned with full force. You had miraculously managed to keep them at bay in the cab, but now as you waited in that metallic little box, you couldn’t help but try and dissect why you were here. You could have perhaps slept for a little before your flight, or checked if you had everything you needed for the nth time.

Instead, you were there, walking out into the hallway of the building he stayed at that was almost haunted with the ghosts of your past selves rushing through it the morning after that night, hand in hand with soft giggles and secretive smiles being passed around. A self-inflicted déjà vu, or perhaps not, because history truly did love to repeat itself, cyclical in nature as it went through the motions of a story it already knew so well.

Now all that stood between him and you was a measly wooden door. 

What if he wasn’t at home? What if he wasn’t staying there for the night and instead with the boys? What if he wasn’t even in Los Angeles, but rather somewhere else and you had wasted all this time?

You knocked. Then you took a step back and waited.

When you heard the slightest padding of footsteps and the rattle of the door, you knew that there was no turning back. When the door opened, the warmth of his apartment hit you all at once, leaving you to unclench your anxious fists and stare at the person that stood at the doorframe. 

“Y/n?”

You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through your body when he said your name ever so softly, his eyes wide but softened at the sight of you as if he could hardly believe you were real. Locking eyes with him, you once again felt the effects of having his gaze upon you, the intenseness of it trained on just you. You didn’t think you would ever understand how he managed to have such an effect on you.

“Can I come in?” Your question came out timidly as you averted your gaze, knowing that if you kept it locked with his you would never be able to finish what you had started. You didn’t see him nod, but felt him move aside and push the door further open for you. When you were inside, he shut the door and turned to you, unsure of what to say.

Nothing had changed inside his place, nor had much about him other than appearances. His hair was darker now, the hint of red you had grown used to missing and replaced with a solid brown that matched the swirl in his eyes. 

“You’re here,” Taeyong mumbled almost inaudibly. “Why are you here?”

He hadn’t thought he would ever see you in person ever again, least of all standing in front of him in his house- what had been a home for a few minutes that night- in all your stifled glory. 

You looked to the side and out the expansive windows that stretched out from the ceiling to the floors, out at the twinkling city. The last time you had been here, the curtains in the living room had been drawn closed, giving you privacy from the rest of the world's prying eyes.

“I don’t know.” But you did know, what you needed from him was so painfully obvious that you couldn’t even bring yourself to say it. “This was a mistake.” 

He studied you, from the ever so slight tremble of your lower lip to your unfocused eyes that wouldn’t look at him. “No, it wasn’t.” 

The way he could read you so easily was ridiculous to you, causing you to scoff under your breath as a frustrated smile made its way onto your face. 

“I don’t understand you.” And you truly couldn’t because people like him were so evasive and fleeting, always just a little too far out of your reach. He paused, eyes flitting all over your expression as if trying to assess what you meant by that, what you wanted- no, needed- from him. “You say you want me in your life and then proceed to lie about us to everyone else already in it. But you tell me nothing about us was a lie.” You sucked in a shaky breath, going over everything that had happened between the two of you.

“Y/n-”

But now that you had started letting it all out, there was no stopping you.

“And I don’t know what to believe, because I placed all my trust in you and you just- you broke it like it meant nothing.” His heart broke when your voice did, putting himself in your shoes. How confused and hurt you must have been, to think you were nothing but an easy way out of a tricky situation. 

“No,” he whispered, contrite, “it meant everything to me.”

You stayed silent, letting the silence blanket the both of you. The faint ticking of the second hand on a clock somewhere in the room made up for it.

“Have you made me a liar, Taeyong?”

The earnestness that laced your voice along with the way you finally, finally looked at him had him instinctively reach out to touch you and hold you and wipe away the pain that he had inflicted on you, but he stopped himself just in time, letting his arm fall limply to his side in vanquish. 

“God, no,” He almost exclaimed, shouted even, wanting to do anything he could think of to prove himself to you, to get through to you. “I told you the truth that night, I never lied to you about wanting you Y/n, I never fucking lied about that.”

You remembered that night all too well and shut your eyes once again to counter the telltale warmth of your eyes. 

“Even when it all started? When you first kissed me?”

“Even then.” The way he stated it with so much fervour made your thinking come to a halt.

“Then tell me the truth,” you said ultimately, “the full truth.” 

That one request was all he needed to divulge everything that had happened, the way the rumours about him were getting to a bad point, how worried Irene was about it and her warning to them. How everyone assumed that everything he was doing with you was for their benefit and nothing else, and how he stupidly- utterly senselessly- went along with it to make things easier. The way that he completely forgot about him having to win you over for a purpose because he genuinely wanted you for just you, and how he regretted every sore decision he made.

And you listened as every question of yours got its answer and locked itself away from your memory, the sincerity in his voice finding you and holding your hands, squeezing them until you could let them go. Half of you wanted to hate him more than anything, to scream and cry and make him hurt the way he hurt you.

But the thing was, you already knew he was hurting. And the other half of you wanted it to stop because loving someone meant shielding them from any sort of hurt.

And you loved him more than you had ever loved anyone or anything. 

“Telling them I was with you for a good article was a lie. It was still a lie even if I didn’t mean it.” There was Lee Taeyong, seemingly on top of the world with everyone at his feet, confessing to you what no one else knew. For your eyes only.

“And I’m so sorry for it.”

When you opened your eyes, he was looking at you, his round eyes filled with so much sorrow, so much desperate hope that you would believe him as you did so trustingly all those months ago. All that vulnerability out in the open again for you to peer at and judge, but did you even have the right?

“You really hurt me, you know,” You mumbled slowly, cautionary,  wanting him to hear it from you at least once. You needed to say it to him, to get it off your chest.

A single tear trickled down your face, and the moment it did, Taeyong stepped closer, cradling your face between his hands as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I know,” he breathed out, dragging his thumb gently against your cheek and wiping the tear away. “I hate myself for doing that to you, I regret it more than anything. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your fingers found the cloth of the shirt he wore, clutching onto it and leaning into his touch, finding solace in the gentle touch of his hands against your face as he whispered apologies to you, chipping away bit by bit at your resolve. 

When the curtains falls, the lights dimmed and stage effects ceased to exist, beneath the glitz and the seemingly perfect lives of celebrities, there were humans. Humans who made mistakes and fucked up sometimes, humans who were judged for those very mistakes even though thousands of people all over the world did the very same things. Now, as Taeyong stood there and held you like he couldn’t bear to ever let you go, and barred his soul for you with every ‘I’m sorry’ that fell from his lips in utmost sincerity, he was the most human you had ever seen him.

And who were you to judge someone just like you? So painfully human and flawed, willing to make up for it?

“You hurt me and I love you anyway. Does that make me an idiot?” You had already forgiven him, speaking against the ghost of his lips, one hand coming up to clutch at his wrist to ground yourself at the moment. 

“Fuck, no,” he tilted your head upwards so you were looking right into his eyes as he spoke, leaving you to believe every word he said. “You’re not the idiot, you never were. I was the idiot, baby, I fucked it all up.” That brown of his tickled your forehead and every sense of yours was oblivious to everything but the man in front of you. 

“You did,” you nodded faintly, letting out the softest exhale as you blinked the tears out of your eyes, but never dropped them from his. “Guess you’ll have to make it up to me.”

Almost immediately, his lips found yours, kissing you with such reckless abandon that you almost lost your balance and would have fallen if you hadn’t been holding into his hand. One of his arms fell to your torso and looped around it, pulling you closer until it was impossible to do so anymore, securing you in place. Your eyelids fluttered shut and you let every single one of your fears and thoughts melt away like it usually did when you were around him because you knew that this, right there, was exactly where you were supposed to be.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to.” And he meant it with every fibre of his being, willing to do anything and everything for you. 

“I believe you.”

It didn’t matter how many people made up fake news about him or never believed anything he said because you did.

“Then will you stay in my life? By my side again?” He asked you this softly, not wanting to push you into anything. “And- fuck, I can’t promise it’ll be easy, because there will be people prying into your life when they find out about us if there’s going to be an us, and unwanted attention–”

“More running from paparazzi?” You offered with the slightest twitch of your lips.

“Definitely more of that.” He chuckled, tenderly pushing some of your hair out of your face so none of it obscured his view of you, “But there’s no one else I’d rather run from them with.” His eyes searched yours for any semblance of an answer and you dipped your head a little in confirmation.

“I’d run with you for the rest of my life too, Taeyong, and I forgive you,” you choked out with a teary laugh, your previous emotions crashing down on you all at once, melting into a concoction that was completely overridden by your feelings for him. You would face the Huang Renjun’s and Kim Jungwoo’s of the world head-on, hand in hand with the man you loved, inevitably coming out triumphant.

Because you believed him. You really, truly believed him.

“Yeah?” He asked, in disbelief almost, engulfing you entirely in his embrace when you nodded again, whispering the very same word just loud enough for him to hear but soft enough to be mistaken for an echo. He pressed kisses into your hair and you knew that you had made the best decision you could have by coming here, letting yourself relax in his hold. 

“For the record, I love you too,” And you didn’t think you had ever heard something so beautiful as him saying those three fated words back to you. After a beat, he continued in teasing, “Isn’t that what you journalists say? For the record?”

You laughed, wiping any stray tears, now of happiness, that had escaped your eyes in the process. “No, you idiot, it’s ‘on the record’ for things that they want to be counted, and ‘off the record’ for things that they don’t want in the report.” His attempt at using journalist lingo was endearing to you, as was the fond grin that rested upon his lips as you corrected him. 

“On the record then,” Taeyong said matter-of-factly, “I love you, Y/n L/n.”

You leaned upwards, pressing your lips to his lightly, before pulling back with wide eyes. “Oh god, I have to go!”

“What?!”

“I have a flight in the morning- to New York,” You had momentarily forgotten about that minor fact, attempting to detach yourself from him, a futile gesture he promptly refuted by holding you even tighter.

“New York? Why?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you preemptively smiled in pride. 

“An interview for the New York Times.” You patted his arm around you. “I’m flying in early tomorrow morning, my interview is on Monday.”

He frowned, “That’s a week from now. Cancel the flight and stay with me for a bit before you leave me pining after you.”

You knew very well that you had been overthinking it when it came to booking your flight so early and felt flushed at his words. “But-”

“Stay. Please.”

And with that he had you.

“Okay,” you nodded without giving it much thought, knowing where you had to be most at that very point in time. “I’ll leave later.”

Of course, there would be tribulations, you expected no shortage of them, but you knew that as long as you had him by your side to push through the fog and uncertainty, you would be okay. You were up for all of it, from the sleepless nights tainted with the burning taste of whiskey to the mesmerising laughter-filled ones that would no doubt haunt the halls of his apartment. And perhaps now the streets of New York when you would soon step into them.

“I love you.”

Looking up at him now with a soft smile that formed as you said the words, you knew that he had once again given you another dream by giving himself. You brought your hands up to his face and cupped it, memorizing every detail of your most brilliant dream yet so you would never forget it in this lifetime, or any life after this one. As you stood there, fitting so perfectly in his arms, he felt at home at long last, finding joy in the fact that it was because of you and how it would always stay a home with you there.

“On the record.”

fin.

[daegall]

Lee Donghyuck is definitely drunk.

↳ Sober Donghyuck doesn't have the balls drunk Donghyuck has.

pairing: rival/enemy!hyuck x reader

genre: angst, fluff, crack, college!AU, party!AU, rivals to lovers!AU

warnings: alcohol consumption, pining, much swearing

word count: 5.5k words

a/n: HI GUYS this is actually the long awaited part 2 of the 'is lee donghyuck drunk?' drabble HAHA i didn't expect it to get this long but uh yeah it is now ^^ my writings a bit rusty after a break so i hope that isn't a problem, do enjoy the fic, love u guys ^^

networks/taglist: @neoturtles @knet-bakery @kflixnet @nct-writers @k-radio + @soobin-chois @markhyuckselca @jaehunnyy <3

In freshman year, Lee Donghyuck went to his very first college party, got wasted with his fellow freshman friends Huang Renjun, Lee Jeno, and Na Jaemin, and woke up the next day missing 3 classes. The fact that they were miles away from campus and didn’t have a ride definitely did not help.

Even then, Donghyuck still treasures the memories, keeping them close to him. He has a picture of him and his friends grinning in the bathtub at that very party in his wallet. (he had to pay Johnny Suh 30.000 won to not post the photo on facebook, as they were already completely wrecked.)

Apart from that party, Donghyuck has only been drunk thrice at other parties. He’s usually the driver, so he can’t drink that much. When Jeno takes over, however, Donghyuck goes crazy.

The second party he got drunk at, he ended up filling up a whole bathtub full of milk and cereal and convinced Jaemin to come and eat with him as Renjun took photos of them. Those photos he keeps by his bed. Jaemin is the one who keeps it in his wallet.

The third party he got drunk at, Donghyuck ended up getting the host’s trampoline in the pool, and attempted to have some fun, only to sprain his ankle. The picture Jeno took of him in the ambulance with a drunk smile and a thumbs up is now his lockscreen.

And the last party Donghyuck got drunk at, he made the pretty girl from most of his classes hate him. He doesn’t know how, or why, but all he knows is that whatever he said, made you mad, and made you two rivals now.

Time to add another party in that list, none other than the party he hosted himself.

Donghyuck doesn’t remember much. He remembers meeting you at some point by the couches, bringing you outside, and… kissing you. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t remember much about last night’s party, but he does remember the smell of your perfume, the taste of your lips, your fingers tugging at his hoodie strings to bring him closer.

Everything about you makes Donghyuck completely sober, but at the same time completely wasted, drunk on you. Drunk on the way your eyes shine as they stare into his, the hope that they hold, the small smile on your swollen lips.

Lee Donghyuck remembers some things after that. He remembers frantically getting up, he remembers asking Jeno for a ride to his dorm, he remembers completely shutting himself in his room after that.

Donghyuck remembers that night, he remembers the anxiety sitting at the pit of his stomach, the guilt he feels for leaving you hanging, the regret of kissing you.

There’s no doubt he wanted to kiss you, he’s wanted to since the moment he met you. What stopped that urge, however, was the confusion clouding his mind. Why did he kiss you? Without your consent? Did he even kiss you well? Did you like the kiss? Fuck, wait, do you hate him now?!

What Donghyuck doesn’t know, is that you feel the exact same way. You go back to your dorm heavy hearted, almost heart broken, anxiety hazy in your mind, sick in your stomach, everywhere.

God knows you’ve liked Donghyuck for a while now, after Jeno told you his mistake of making you hate him, of how he regrets it every day and night, how he wishes you two could just be friends.

That night you go to bed with a head full of thoughts as well. Does he regret it? Was it a mistake? Was it a dare? Perhaps he did it for fun. Were your kissing skills just that bad? Shit, does Donghyuck hate you now?!

In the morning, you don’t want to get up.

Neither does Donghyuck.

However, his lucky charms cereal calls out to him, being hungover on an empty stomach sucks.

His breakfast buddy for today is just Jeno, in charge of driving last night, and he senses Donghyuck’s struggles. Donghyuck never plays with his food, especially when it’s lucky charms, and especially when they’re watching TV together on the couch.

“Yo, you good bro?” Jeno mumbles through a mouthful of his food. His eyes leave the daily morning news on the TV to focus on his best friend, who’s clearly way out of it.

Donghyuck hums mindlessly, taking a big bite from his cereal.

“Why are you up so early?”

Donghyuck shrugs, eyes glancing at Jeno, only to land back on his cereal once again.

Jeno grimaces at the lack of responses, placing his bowl of rice and egg on the coffee table. “Jesus Hyuck, just tell me what happened last night,”

Donghyuck sighs, and decides it’s better to tell Jeno than to leave him hanging, he would have some good advice about his situation, right? He clears his throat slowly, gulping, before his arms cross awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

“I, uh, may have kissed Y/n last night.”

The words come out slowly, softly, as if Donghyuck said it any louder, everyone on campus would know.

Jeno’s eyes widen, and he moves his body to face his friends completely. “Hyuck, are you serious? This is great!”

Donghyuck swallows the rest of his cereal, before nodding, "No, yeah, I agree—well, I would agree, if I just hadn't ran away right after."

Officially, this is the worst thing Donghyuck has ever done at a party. Jeno spent a good 20 minutes scolding Donghyuck, repeating the expression of how disappointed he is, when this could have been the very chance to get you to finally like him.

With Jeno's class only 10 minutes away, he had to stop, but didn't leave without telling Donghyuck to talk things out with you and apologize.

It's way easier said than done, he realizes, as the moment he sees you on campus, Donghyuck feels the thumping of his heart in his eardrums, his knuckles growing white and numb as he grips harshly on his backpack straps.

He tries to push away the anxiety and the urge to turn around and run away and wallow in self pity, and somehow it works. The urges are gone the moment Donghyuck takes a step closer to you, who's lining up by the burrito stand to get some lunch, it completely vanishes when you look up and notice him.

Donghyuck's mind his completely blank, mouth hanging lightly, as he makes his way towards you slowly but surely.

Nothing can stop him from thinking you look pretty much perfect right now, grabbing your burrito and swinging your backpack around to stuff your phone in the front pocket, nothing is ever going to stop the heat travelling ever so quickly to his neck, cheeks, nose, just at the sight of you.

This is it, Donghyuck is right in front of you. One of his hands releases its deathly grip on his backpack, as he reaches out a hand to wave at you. On his lips is an awkward, lopsided nervous smile, and despite that, you can still see the genuine happiness and softness in it.

God, why is he suddenly so attractive to you now?

"Hey, Y/n—"

Donghyuck stops in his tracks, his body freezing, and going limp at the same time, as he feels your presence completely brush by him. Not only have you ignored him, you left a slight nudge to his shoulder.

Donghyuck doesn't enjoy the sensations in his stomach because of what had just happened. He feels regret, the regret of even thinking of walking up to you, and the guilt. All the guilt, from all this time. From the moment you met, to every single snarky and very uncalled for comments he's made about you, every teasing and so fucking frustrating smirk he's given you that's visibly made you the slightest bit upset, the kiss last night.

You don't talk to each other for a hot moment.

Even in class, where everyone expects the both of you to go back and forth about a certain topic, both your mouths are shut.

Every time Donghyuck tries to talk to you, you ignore him, or avoid him.

You have a right to ignore him, right? He ran right after the kiss at the party, he had the guts to try and act normal with you, he's clearly trying to play with you, right?

Some part of you begs that whatever you remember from that night is true, that it was Donghyuck's lips on yours, kissing you so tenderly and lovingly, that it was his hands in yours, his skin burning against your own.

Another parts begs of you to not get your hopes too high, you might get hurt more than you'd like to. And what's your problem, suddenly finding him so very cute and attractive and everything just because he kissed you?

What, just because he made the effort of escorting you outside when someone bumped into you, just because he genuinely asked if you were okay, just because his kiss felt way to genuine, now you're gonna like him?

As much as it is hard to admit, yes. Completely. You've fallen head over heels in love with Lee Donghyuck overnight because his tone was not snarky or snobby like you remember it to be, because even when he's supposed to be inside the party, being with the people as the host, he went out of his way just to make sure you were feeling well

, because Donghyuck looked at you so lovingly, because you know exactly what his look was, because you bet you were looking at him the exact same.

The next time you see Donghyuck other than in lecture halls or hallways or the back of your mind, is a christmas party.

Mark Lee’s Christmas party.

Lee Donghyuck and Mark Lee are known for being two peas in a pod, so there’s no doubt he would be at this party. You just didn’t expect him to look… so fucking cute in his rudolph-the-red-nose-raindeer ugly christmas sweater and raindeer ear headband. The glow in his eyes is captivating to you, instantly drawing you to him.

You hope he doesn’t see you. Partly because you have a god awful santa ugly sweater on you, and also the fact that you’re quite literally gawking at how fine he is tonight.

But alas, the night flies away. You spend most of your time talking to your calc friend Shin Ryujin, who’s excited and jumping around telling you how the girl she’s had a crush on for a solid 8 months has finally agreed to go out on a date with her.

You also spend some time talking to Mark Lee as well, catching up on a lot of things as the last time you talked was months ago. He’s telling you and Ryujin about how his songwriting progress is going, when a certain song gets played by DJ Johnny Suh.

It’s none other than Mariah Carey’s ‘All I want for Christmas is You’, a holiday classic, and Mark is not going to let you just sit down on one of the best bops of the century.

As you’re waving your hands up in the air, Ryujin spinning you around with less-than-innocent giggles, you catch just a slight glimpse of Donghyuck. He’s with his usual friends, Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin, and they’re all grinning and smiling and dancing like there’s no tomorrow.

Though he looks so happy, the moment he opens his eyes, it’s not as bright as you anticipated them to be. There’s a certain darkness, and you suppose it’s because he’s staring straight at you, but you might have been tripping.

After that, no sign of Donghyuck.

Some part of you tells you to go after him, to just be with him and get back your playful fights and bickering and everything because god, you miss him. Another part tells you to stay put because it’s your fault you got in this whole mess. If you hadn’t been a coward and ignored him, maybe you could be talking, maybe you two could be something more.

You don’t know why you brushed by him that morning, you didn’t even mean to bump shoulders with him. You panicked is all, which caused him to think that you may even hate him now, when it’s the complete opposite.

You hope he knows.

Lee Donghyuck has no idea, however.

He thinks you absolutely hate his guts now, completely ignoring him in class, and in a party, and anywhere you two go. He has nowhere else to confront this too, other than his friends.

As always, Jaemin passes him a drink, and Donghyuck accepts it unknowingly, still speaking to Renjun.

“I mean, whatever I did, can’t be that bad… right?”

Jeno grunts and takes the drink from his hands, shaking his head at Jaemin, and they start arguing, as Renjun gives his response. “Hyuck… you ran away. That’s like the douchiest thing you could do.”

“It’s not like I had bad intentions! I panicked and my feet moved on their own, okay?”

“Okay well, you better explain that to Y/n, because you sound like a douche to me, so she probably sees you as a douche too.”

Donghyuck, stressed and shitting his pants of fear and frustration, slumps in his seat, and starts playing with the Christmas lights taped to his sleeves. Though there could be a thousand different things distracting him right now, hundreds he could be focusing on instead of you, (Jaemin wrestling Jeno for no reason) all he can think about is you.

The way you’re wearing the exact same reindeer headband as him, the way you pick on your sweater as you talked to a beaming Ryujin, how happy you looked on the dancefloor as you danced with Mark. Then his thoughts drift off to that very night he kissed you. He relives the scene in his head, he can feel your breath against his lips and your eyes staring into his, but when he opens his eyes, you’re not there. And he has to change that.

Before any of his friends realize, Donghyuck snatches the abandoned bottle of alcohol that Jaemin left on the floor, and takes a big swig of it. Instantly, all his friends freeze, all gaping at Donghyuck.

“You said you were gonna drive home tonight,” Jeno mumbles grumpily.

Donghyuck smiles wryly at him, before taking another sip. “Need some of that liquid luck if I wanna get with the girl.” His words are lightly muffled by the back of his hand wipes across his lips, and albeit that, he still gets it all over his face again as he takes another drink.

And after 3 more gulps, Donghyuck realizes he really isn’t confident enough to get through this. “Actually, I think I’m gonna need a lot of that liquid luck.”

It’s 11pm, you’re in Mark Lee’s room, looking for some painkillers.

Ryujin had a little too much to drink tonight, and she is in Mark Lee’s bathroom, with Mark Lee himself taking care of her as she throws up into his toilet.

Finally finding the pills in Mark’s drawer, you quickly make a beeline towards the bathroom, which is right down the hall.

However, your course to the bathroom is rudely interrupted by someone who bumps into you quite harshly, and to your surprise, they fall right into your arms. The person who had bumped into you was none other than Lee Donghyuck, all with his rosy cheeks and droopy eyes staring up at you.

Well, this seemed familiar.

“Y−Y/n?” Your rival's confused face finally contorts into a very delighted, joyful and drunk smile as he realizes it’s really you. “Y/n!”

“Donghyuck?”

He stands up straight, only to tumble right back into your arms again, but this time, with his arms circling around your waist. His cheek buries snugly into your shoulder, and you can feel Donghyuck’s breath right by your neck, his lips softly brushing against your skin.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you drunk?”

Much to your surprise, he nods against you, his arms tightening. “Yup,”

“Wha—Hyuck, why are you drunk?”

You have the biggest urge to melt right there in that spot, to throw Donghyuck off you, dig your own grave right in front of Mark Lee’s bedroom, and bury yourself for eternity. Another urge you have, is to place a kiss on Donghyuck’s cheek.

Shit, that name. It has Donghyuck's heart spiraling in ecstasy and bliss, a warm feeling blooming from his stomach and disperses in no time. It causes a grin to spread on Donghyuck’s lips at, and before he can stop it, it's spreading to his lips, and they land clumsily, but softly, on the skin of your neck.

It's warm and loving and so very special, especially when Donghyuck starts giggling and mumbling nonsense into your skin. Why is he so adorable now?

You resist the urge.

“Hey, come on, let’s get these pills to Ryujin and Mark, and then we’ll get you some water, okay?”

Donghyuck is alright with anything you say, as long as he gets to hug you and bring you close to him, he’s down for anything.

Mark is confused why you’re taking such a long time, did you maybe come across something life changing in his room, or something? It can’t be that bad, he doesn’t own anything that crazy, after all.

When you arrive, however, he can say it is life changing.

Because who would have guessed that Lee Donghyuck, your rival and sworn enemy, would be clinging on so dearly to you and grinning into the base of your neck?

“Jesus Christ, what happened to him?”

You throw the pills at Mark, to which he catches very easily, “Man, I don’t even know.”

Ryujin's head pops up at the sound of your voice, twisting around to grin and throw her arms up in the air. “Y/n!! Come here babe!”

Even if you wanted to, you are physically unable to, with a human sized koala stuck to your side and never letting you go.

Donghyuck’s nose scrunches at her words, and he sticks his head out at Ryujin to stick out his tongue childishly as well. “No! Y/n is mine!”

They then start yelling at each other, with Donghyuck pulling you closer to him, and Ryujin attempting to crawl to you. Your breath hitches when you feel Donghyuck’s fingers fit clumsily between yours, and he digs his nose into your neck with more yells at Ryujin.

To your luck, Mark grabs Ryujin, before shoving the pill into her mouth, and passes her his bottle of water. “Drink it, or you’re going to get 10 times sicker.” You take your friend’s distraction as a chance to bolt, but with Donghyuck bolting with you as well, of course.

When you reach Mark’s room once again, you practically throw Donghyuck on his bed, but he doesn’t seem to mind, giggling the moment his head meets the pillows.

“Damn it, Hyuck, why did you have to bump into me…”

Donghyuck’s head springs up at the question, the pout on his lips ever so tempting as he messes Mark’s bedsheets up and brings it closer to his body. “What’s wrong with that?”

You can’t help but sigh, and climb onto Mark’s study chair, squeezing your eyes shut.

You can’t completely tell how you feel about this whole situation. You’re glad you can finally interact and talk to Donghyuck, but at the same time you’re so disappointed that it’s while he’s completely batshit drunk. But then again, if the both of you were sober, there’s no doubt you’d turn the other way and run away from each other. Who knows how long it would have lasted like that.

“Fuck dude, I don’t know! Why did you run away after you kissed me?!”

At your question, Donghyuck squirms around, sitting up, before his eyebrows furrow harshly, and he huffs. “I don’t know! I wanted to stay! I wanted to kiss you again and again and again, especially when you looked so f-fucking pretty, but my legs moved my themselves man!”

He looks up at you, his eyes glazed wet with a sort of clarity, lips pursing, and he grabs your wrist to pull you onto the bed with him. You nearly scream at the sudden action, but instead you groan out in pain when the top of your head knocks into Donghyuck’s jaw.

He doesn’t seem to mind it at all, not a single bit, simply rubbing at the spot. He’s too occupied with something, and that is to make things up with you. Donghyuck still feels a little bit tipsy, but he’s gained so much more consciousness than before, and the surge of adrenaline and alcohol in his veins give him more confidence than he would like.

“Y/n, I like you.” He states blankly. There’s an urge in you to refuse to believe it, to save yourself from some sort of rejection or heart break, but another urge to listen and believe and have hope feels so much better to have. You hope you don’t regret it later.

“I like you, so much. So fucking much, Y/n, I cannot express how frustrated I am because of all my actions.” Donghyuck scoffs, cringing at the memory of your falling face when he ran away, how could he be so fucking stupid? “That night, I meant everything. Every word and action, and the kiss, I wanted to kiss you again, I wanted to love you, call you mine and finally be yours after months of wanting to be yours, but I was scared.”

“Look,” Donghyuck’s hands slide to press against yours, observing each and every crevice and line, tracing the tips of his fingers along them, touch so soft you almost melt. “I know what I did was wrong. And I regret every moment spent away from you after that. I’m glad I’m here, drunk, because if I was sober, I’d be thinking about how fucking stupid this could be, but Y/n, I am stupid!” Donghyuck’s eyes reach up to gaze into yours, his emotions sincere and loving. You can feel the weight on both your shoulders lift as he looks at you so longingly, as if you were the reason for every moment he spends alive, every laugh he’s let slip through his lips, every second he spends smiling.

“So fuck sober Donghyuck, he can go screw himself.” You almost want to laugh, agree, but instead you quietly chuckle and look away. When you look back, Donghyuck no longer looks at you longingly. He looks at you, as if he knows you’re going to spend every moment of his life with him, he’s scared to lose you, but knows he won’t. “I love you,” he whispers.

And suddenly, his hands are released from your hands, one reaching behind you, clasping the small of your back, the other by your waist, pulling you closer. His breath grazes against yours, noses bumping, and you swear your eyelashes brush against his own.

And when Donghyuck’s lips finally come connecting with yours, you realize, Lee Donghyuck is sober.

Well, not completely, but mostly.

You can tell by the way his lips barely taste of any alcohol, he barely smells like alcohol. His kisses are slow, tentative, your lips molding on his softly, unlike all the messy and clumsy drunk kisses you’ve shared.

His hands that hold at your waist are gentle and comforting, sliding up and down to ease your tension. Instantly, you do. Your hands finally release from their previously clenched form, and instead find Donghyuck’s sweater, pulling him closer.

With every kiss you share, with every breath he takes from your lungs, with each touch, you know this is real, he’s not lying, and you’re definitely in love with Lee Donghyuck.

It takes a while to pull away, with slightly tipsy Donghyuck still chasing after your lips, pecking the corner of your mouth, your chin, your nose, your cheek, even, and it leaves you laughing with glee. Donghyuck finally halts, only stopping just to lean back and look at you so adoringly, so lovingly, to sit and bask in your presence and listen to your blissful laughter.

God, how much more perfect could you get?

“You’re so pretty,” Donghyuck finally mumbles under his breath. His fingers trail up to tuck your hair behind your ears, fixing your sweater just after. “Absolutely perfect.”

Your heart swells and jolts in giddiness, your stomach churning with butterflies when Donghyuck leans down to leave one last kiss on your jaw. There’s a permanent smile practically glued to your lips, as he flops down on his bed.

And before you can say anything, before you can ask if everything was real, you turn to see that Donghyuck is completely passed out on his bed, quiet breaths slipping from his lips. Your heart sinks and flips both at the same time because of the sight.

It sinks, because you’re worried. What if Donghyuck didn’t mean all this? Yeah, he might be a little sober, but what if there’s a possibility?

Your questions are all debunked a moment after, because of the reason your heart flips. Donghyuck’s arms are still circled around you, fingers curling around yours, before he tugs you to him roughly, causing you to tumble right next to him on the bed. With a content smile, Donghyuck hums, before leaning forward to tangle your legs together, and stuff his face into the side of your face and ear. You try not to laugh at the ticklish sensations, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter, because not only does Donghyuck laugh along instinctively, he enjoys the sounds of your laughter.

And before you know it, you’re out like a light as well.

Donghyuck wakes up with an aching head, his whole body numb and slightly sweaty, hair stuck up in every single direction. He vaguely recognizes the room, but it still takes him a few minutes to realize he's in Mark Lee's room.

Why is he in Mark's room? What did he do last night? Oh god, did he get drunk again?

When Donghyuck attempts to sit up, he instantly tumbles down due to the immense spinning of his mind, and he falls back to the bed. No, yeah, Donghyuck was definitely drunk last night.

He can't remember what happened last night, just a few fragments of memories here and there, but he won't think too much about it. He'd for sure throw up if he forced his brain to work a little more.

But he doesn't really have to force his brain. Not that much. Not when you come walking in with Mark's apron hanging by your neck, a piece of what seems like pancake between your lips.

Clearly, you don't expect to see Donghyuck awake, and neither is he to see you. When he sees you, your surprised eyes, cheeks stuffed with your breakfast, to the breakfast between your teeth, his memory relieves.

Oh my god Lee Donghyuck kissed you last night. Donghyuck is surprised he can remember it, he usually doesn't remember it, but with an event so big, he's sure he's going to think about it every single night.

You quickly gulp down your food, fixing your apron and appearance in front of Donghyuck, "Y−You're awake!" You cough awkwardly, socks shifting against Mark's carpet, "G−Good morning,"

In Donghyuck's opinion, it really is a good morning.

“Hey,” Donghyuck murmurs, looking away from you. Why did you have to look so adorable in your ugly Christmas sweater and Mark’s damn ‘kiss the cook’ apron?! There’s a light heat that travels to his cheeks, and that’s all Donghyuck needs to know that he’s blushing, and there’s no way he can face you without literally melting.

But to you, you see this as a sign of something negative. You’re not sure, maybe regret, or embarrassment, perhaps he was going to tell you last night was a mistake, everything was a mistake.

Donghyuck bunches up all the courage left in his bones, his blood, everything, just to face you with pursed lips, red cheeks, and soft, shy eyes. It’s really all he can muster, along with his words, “Look, about last night—”

“—Did you regret it?”

Instantly, Donghyuck freezes. “What?”

You shift uncomfortably in your spot, squishing yourself into Mark’s bedroom door frame, hoping it would ease the anxiety blooming in your stomach.

Donghyuck’s shyness and worried state flies away in a second, when he sees the worry in yours, and he knows that his shyness and blushing cheeks won’t do anything to you.

“I mean, you were drunk, so you didn’t mean it… right?”

“Y/n,” Donghyuck’s voice is laced with an emotion, an emotion so deep, one you recognize as a bittersweet fondness. “Y/n…” He repeats. Your heart is beating in your ears, your head almost going light, as he beckons you towards him.

With every step you take towards him, Donghyuck can feel his love tenfold, heart swelling at the way you tug awkwardly at your sweater sleeves, falling deeper in love with you when you sit next to him on the bed.

His eyes furrow when he sees the amount of space you put between you two, his hand reaching out to wrap one of his arms around your waist, the other softly seizing your wrists to pull you closer to him.

“If you can’t tell already,” He murmurs as his fingers fit between yours to play with your fingers. “I don’t.”

His gaze leaves your intertwined hands, glancing back up to yours. Finally, they’re bright with hope, love, surprise, they glisten with adornment and relief. His eyes reflect your own emotions.

“I don’t regret it. Not a single bit. If anything, I should be thankful, because god knows I would never even have the balls to talk to you, not after that one party when I ran, and definitely not when my feelings were scaring me so much.”

Donghyuck’s chin rests on your shoulder, the tips of his hair tickling your ear. “But now, I’m sure of my feelings.” He smiles. “I love you, Y/n. I have ever since that day you stole my answer in calculus.”

You snicker, knocking your head on top of Donghyuck’s, your hands tugging at his to fully intertwine them. “That’s funny, I remember you cursing at me at the end of that class.”

“Hey, I was nervous!”

The room is left in an atmosphere full of laughter, love, actual fucking love, and you realize that you are so butt crazy in love with Donghyuck. A moment later, the room is left in a silence, one so comforting that you don’t want to say anything.

Donghyuck’s rumbling stomach says otherwise, and he hides his face shyly into your shoulder.

“Hey, I was making pancakes for you, want some?”

His head suddenly shoots up from your shoulder, and you’re surprised at the tears that quickly form around his eyes.

“Wha—”

“—Can I kiss you?”

Well, that’s one way to have you swooning. “What?! Hyuck, I just made you breakfast!”

“And that’s a very valid reason for me to kiss you. Heck, marry you!”

And when you’re left speechless, your lips slightly gaped, Donghyuck panics a little. He just got you, how could he already freak you out?

However, the way the corner of your lips curl up indicates that you don’t actually hate the idea, and before he can stop himself, Donghyuck is reaching out and connecting your lips into a kiss.

Oh my god, when you kiss him back, it feels like a dream come true. This time, you still taste like the peach lip balm you use, but with a little tinge of peppermint (he suspects from the stash Mark keeps in the kitchen), and he loves every second your lips spend between his.

Your hand creeps up to tangle in his messy bedhead hair, and you smile lightly into the kiss at how messy it feels.

It seems like the both of you want to kiss forever, never let go, after years of pining, and you truly think that situation is happening, but the thought is short lived as the door slams open.

“Hey Y/n, is Hyuck—Jesus christ!”

You both part, but your plan to fly to the other side of the bed is ruined, with Donghyuck’s arms wrapped around you.

Not only is Mark Lee at the door, but Ryujin, awake and very much sober, is there too, cackling on the floor.

“On my bed! My fucking bed!”

Donghyuck merely shrugs, wiping the corner of his lips smugly, “Do you mind? We’re kind of having a moment—” His façade shatters in a moment, when you smack at the back of his head.

“No pancakes for you.”

“Wait, no, I’m sorry!”

So, does that answer the ongoing question of 'is Lee Donghyuck drunk'? Yeah, he's drunk.

Lee Donghyuck may be sober everyday, but he feels drunk in love every time he’s with you. (You cringe at his words as you try to dodge his kisses on your cheeks, shaking your head, “Hyuck, that’s way too corny.”)

[rainverry]

warning/s: profanity, consumption of alcohol, tiny bit of angst @nct-writers​

[12:29 AM] 

jaehyun is drunk – you can tell by the redness of his ears and the way he slurs his words. his stubbornness is also clearly amplified when he’d arrived on your doorstep moments earlier and refused to come in. instead, he chooses to stand on the sidewalk, staring into the dark and empty street with you.

“i love you so much, baby,” he whispers, reaching out to touch your face. your body warms at his words, but you’re taken aback when he pulls away and suddenly shouts into the dead of the night, “i fucking love you!”

“jaehyun, shh!” you reprimand, grabbing his hands that he had dramatically thrown into the air to emphasise his declaration. “you’ll wake the neighbours up.”

jaehyun looks down at his hands clasped in yours and smiles sorrowfully. “i don’t care,” he mumbles. “you don’t love me anymore.” 

with that, his eyes turn glossy with tears and your heart breaks at the sight.

“hey, what are you talking about?” you ask softly, caressing his cheek which pains you even further when you realise he’s started crying. jaehyun leans into your touch, closing his eyes and savouring the comfort that he may never get to feel again. when he doesn’t answer, you take his hands into yours. “jaehyun, what’s wrong?”

his mournful smile is back again. “taeyong said you’re leaving me. i’m sorry if i did anything wrong, i love y–”

the sound of your ringtone slices through the night and you rush to answer the call and put it on speaker.

“hello?”

taeyong’s frantic voice cracks through the phone. “is jaehyun with you?”

“no, i’m not,” jaehyun replies foolishly before you could speak. 

“oh thank god,” taeyong’s relief is clear as he rambles on, “listen, y/n, jaehyun’s been drinking and–and johnny gave me this stupid dare to tell him that you were going to break up with him, so i did it and i left him for a split second and he was already gone, i’m–”

“taeyong, you idiot,” you snarl, “i’ll deal with you tomorrow.”

when you kill the call, you look up to see a glimmer of hope that flits across jaehyun’s expression. 

“so you don’t want to break up with me?” he asks meekly. 

“of course not, babe, i love you too much!” you wrap your arms around jaehyun in a hug, and you immediately feel him melt into your embrace as all of his worries fade away. “come on, let’s get you sobered up and into bed.”

masterlist

[all-about-kyu]

Pairing: literature major!Mark x science major fem!reader Genre: fluff, friends to lovers, college au Rating: PG Warnings: mentions of academics, language, a little crying, two kisses Word Count: 2,119 Note: for @moonctzeny​ Merry Christmas, my dear!! I hope you’re having an absolutely phenomenal day <3 thanks to @kthpurplesyou and @daeeun-toikiii for proof/beta reading (I’ll cite all the poems used in this story at the very end) 

I know we're only friends, but as we grew closer and I got to see all the small things there is to love about you, I could feel myself falling for you. I love the way you smile when you see me, and I love the way you crinkle your nose when you laugh. I love the way your eyes sparkle, and I love the little thoughts you let me in on, as the night turns to dawn. - BGT

“I have another poem for you!”

Your best friend bursts through your apartment door as he speaks. You’d just been studying for the hell that is your Biological Chemistry course. So naturally, Mark scared the shit out of you. Since starting his romantic literature course this semester, he’s been reading random poems to you. Every time you find them either too romanticized or too dramatic, Mark rants about how it’s meant to be that way.

“You could’ve warned me! I’m studying Krebs cycle right now… can you come back to me in, like… a day or two. This shit has me going insane.” you whine.

“How about a break while I read you this.” he offers.

“Fine. Hit me.” you sigh, leaning back in your chair.

He pulls a small, leather-bound book out of his bag. It has a plain cover, something you assume is an artistic choice made by the author. Mark clears his throat as he looks at you and you nod, letting him know you're ready.

“You and I are like the tributaries of a river. We look alike, flow differently, and yet together, complete each other.” he starts, “You add to my strength, and together, we strengthen our growth. You’re my best friend in the truest form, and together, we shine in the brightest form.”

His eyes meet yours again, and he smiles brightly, waiting for your analysis. You’re deep in thought. It’s been a few times since he’s read a poem to you that makes you think a little deeper. You aren’t sure if the poem is meant to be inherently romantic or platonic. In all honesty, maybe you’re listening to it wrong.

“It sounds platonic.” you state frankly.

“Not all love is romantic..” he says as if it’s common sense.

“I know that! I just was expecting a direct romance in a sense it’s typically put.”

“Romantic literature is always relationships… it’s romanticized writing…”

“Mark, we both know I’ll never understand that shit. There’s a reason I’m a biomedical major.”

He laughs lightly and closes the book again before putting it away. Mark takes it upon himself to dig through your kitchen to find something to eat. You’re far from bothered by it. It makes you happy that he’s comfortable enough to be at home here. You pull your textbook back into your lap, hoping to get at least a little more studying before Mark inevitably drags you out of the apartment. As you look at the page, you know you won’t be able to force any more knowledge into your brain, not right now, at least. You toss the textbook onto the table in front of you. It makes a loud thud as it lands. Mark lets out a slight noise of surprise when it happens, making you giggle. No matter how long you’ve been friends, you’ll always adore his little habits and quirks.

It was cold out. Unnaturally cold for where you are. Even with a heavier coat, gloves, and a hat, you feel like you’ll shiver enough not to need a workout later in the week. You keep questioning yourself for leaving your home when there was no real reason to. The whole reason you’re outside is purely because Mark wanted you to come over and hang out. He said something about studying together despite not sharing any courses. You’ve always caved when it comes to Mark, though. You’ve never been able to pinpoint what it is, but you just can’t tell him no about most things. Being around him helps you think more clearly. You’ll never be able to describe how it helps in words, but it really does. Mark’s apartment complex isn’t far from yours, but with the weather, it feels far away. When you get into Mark’s apartment, you make a b-line for the spare bedroom to grab any possible blankets to wrap yourself up in. You stop dead in your tracks when you hear Mark on the phone. Something tells you that you should not hear the conversation. You find yourself listening in still.

“How am I meant to get her attention, though?” Mark whines, “Hyuck, listen to me! I don’t know how to tell her I’m in love with her, okay? I’ve been friends with her for too long to risk losing her– No! This is different! I’d rather have a shitty unrequited crush than not have her in my life at all.”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach. You don’t know who he’s talking about, but part of you wants him to be talking about you. You decided it was best to act as if you had never heard it and announce your presence as if you had just arrived. Mark quickly hangs up the call and steps out of his room. He gives you a tight smile but still wraps you up in a hug.

“Did you happen to hear any of that call I just had?”

“No,” you lie, “why was it someone special?” you poke.

“I don’t think Donghyuck constitutes someone special.” he laughs, “Anything, in particular, you need to study today?”

“Abnormal psych… I still don’t know why they’re making me take it if I’m a biomedical science major.”

“Um… the brain controls everything?”

“I know that, Mark! But do I really need to know disorders of the brain?”

Mark just shakes his head at you before making his way out to the living area. He commented that he’d be working on a creative assignment for his romantic literature course. Something about having to write a romanticized poem of his own. You make yourself comfortable next to Mark, your head resting against the couch while you listen to the podcast your professor assigned you to listen to. As you listen, you start to understand why it’s so important that you took this class. Maybe your professor heard you whining about it not pertaining to your major and found this to listen to. You can’t entirely focus, though. Mark keeps sighing dramatically and shifting next to you. You look over and see his eyebrows furrowed together in thought and softly mumbling a few words to himself every few moments.

“Writer’s block?”

“You could say that…” he says while gnawing on the end of his pen.

“Stop that!” you chastise, pulling the pen away from his mouth, “You don’t know how many germs are on that thing, and then-”

He chuckles, “You’re cute when you’re concerned about me.”

You look away, “What do you mean by that? Of course, I’m going to worry about you! You don’t know how to properly cook anything, let alone have a stable sleep schedule!”

“I don’t mean a thing,” he muses, “mind listening to a few inspiration poems I have?”

You nod.

“Can you hear my heart? Oh, but I can tell! We are twin stars with different births. My caring shadow– It has your face. The voice of my soul knows your name. Tell me, can you hear my heart? Oh! How I love you, my best friend.”

You hum, “Sweet, but it seems vague in some way. Don’t ask me how. I won’t be able to describe it.” You stand up and enter his kitchen to find some snacks. “Continue, though!”

“What’s a friendship, my love? It’s when you promise me your company and keep your promise. It’s when we joke about each other and laugh at ourselves. It’s when we know we’re not perfect and accept each other as we are. It’s when we value each other’s friendship above all else.”

You hear his words, and suddenly your heart starts beating faster. Something feels different about the atmosphere of his apartment. It’s warm and comfortable, but something has definitely shifted. You don’t hear him talking, and part of you is scared to respond to the poem he was just reading.

“Hey, you okay?” you hear him call.

“Y-yeah, um, that one was adorable, actually.” your voice comes out slightly shaky.

“Is that your whole analysis? No gripes?”

“Nope!” you insist, “What’s the next one?”

Mark walks into the kitchen and sees you standing there, staring blankly into one of the cabinets. He chuckles and reaches for your hand on the counter.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem out of it.”

You look over at him and immediately meet his eyes, “What’s the next poem you have?”

He knows you’re avoiding his question, but he opens the small leatherbound book again, “I love you more than just a friend. Although this may be wrong, my feelings that I have for you are real and true and strong.” he stops, letting out a shaky breath before continuing, “I won’t deny the love I have. I cannot tell a lie. I’ve loved you since we met, the days that followed by; I love you still I think of you each passing of each day. I yearn to be with you again, to tell you it’s okay. I love you more than a friend, and we may never be together walking hand in hand-” he cuts himself off again with a choked noise, “Just you, your love, and me.”

Again you can’t meet his eyes, you can feel his boring into you, but you just can’t. You’re scared. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and your mind is running a mile a minute with a million different ideas. Mark reaches for your hand again and squeezes it. When he calls your name, you nervously look over at him. His eyes are wet, nearly about to spill over with tears. He looks just as scared as you are. Neither of you talks for a few moments. You just hold eye contact and hope the other speaks first.

“Do you want to know something?” he speaks softly.

“Hmm?”

“Those last two… aren’t assigned readings.”

“Mark?” you question.

“I wrote those last two…” he admits, “I didn’t know how to tell you and-”

“Mark,” you stop him from rambling, “you wrote those about me?”

He nods, and you feel warmth burst through your chest like fireworks. A few tears fall from your eyes unexpectedly from sheer happiness. Mark searches your eyes, trying to figure out what to say next. He opens and closes his mouth a few times with the hopes of words coming out, even though they never do. You can’t think of any word, either. The only thing your can think to do is lean forward and press your lips against his. Mark squeaks out a small surprised noise but quickly accepts your actions. This was absolutely not how you were expecting to spend your day. You wouldn’t have changed a single thing if you could, though. Mark has always been your home. Some people have a place or an item as their home. Yours is a person, though, a person who’s been there for you through everything, someone who you know will always support you no matter how crazy you sound. Standing here in the middle of Mark’s kitchen, kissing him for the first time, feels like home more than anything else. You had no idea your home could feel more comfortable, yet here you are. When you pull away, Mark immediately bursts into a smile and wraps his arms tight around you. You laugh lightly and reciprocate the hug.

“You wanna know something else?” he laughs.

“Sure.” you smile brightly.

“I wrote another one.”

“Tell me.” you request in a dreamy tone.

“As I think of our friendship, I begin to see mere words can’t describe what you mean to me. When this cold, hard world has me lonesome and blue, I look up to see my angel, my sweet angel, you. You dry the tears that fall from my eyes. You bring me sunshine to brighten my sky. You rescue me when I’m scared and alone, and take my hand to lead me home. No matter the miles that keep us apart, we’re always together in each other’s hearts. Sometimes we take for granted, I fear, the ones who are so close and dear. We get so caught up in life and the things we must do. Sometimes we forget to stop and say I love you. If ever you felt I forgot or didn’t care, let me stop right now; my true feeling I’ll share. You’re the sun in my sky, the bed where I lie. You’re the home where I’m safe, the field where I play. You’re everything I am, everything I do. So, what I am saying is–” he pauses and places a soft peck against your lips, “I love you.”

“Mark Lee, you’re starting to sound like a dramatic poet.” you tease, “I love you too.”

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @neowritingsnet​ @kwritersworld​ @k-vanity​ @nct-writers​

Tag List: @jaehunnyy​ @its-taeil-time​ @brattybunfornct​ @notbeforelong​ @n0hyuck​ @roseforseonghwa @spiderrenjunfics @umbralhelwolf​ @ericssmile​ @honeyhuii

Poems used (in order of apperance):

You and I by Astuti

Twin Stars by Claire Estevez

Friendship of Love by Peter Stravropoulis

I Love You More Than Just A Friend by Bradley Lester

Our Friendship by Marsha M. Griffith

[heartshyuck]

Die for me 

pairing: haechan x reader 

genre: ANGST, thriller/horror, some fluff ig, established relationship, magic au. 

synopsis: Grief leads to desperation and fear. Haechan can no longer handle the grief that eats away at him. He’ll do anything to bring you back to his side, even if it means to defy death. 

word count: 7k

warnings: death, smut but it’s … not?, manic episodes (funeral mania), delusion, hypo mania, blood, violence, rituals to bring back the dead, distorted bodies, suicide, self harm and profanities. 

a/n: this is my first fic after a while! Of course it’s a hyuck fic but because it’s been so long I apologise if it’s a little rusty. This fic actually made me sob lol, like full on ugly cry. Now what I mean by smut but not smut is that it happening but like bro wtf is happening yk. If you don’t get it then you’ll see, minors please dni. It has a lot of dark themes, don’t read if you’re not fully comfortable reading about all the warnings. 

Grief is an ugly emotion. All consuming and rooted into the depths of your bones, muscles deteriorating and flesh being eaten away - it rots you whole but it does not change you. Grief only reveals what is the worst of you, stripped down to your core. Desperate. It feels like fear.

Stage one: denial

Haechan sits in your shared apartment, or what used to be. His hands twisting and turning the silver band that weighs heavy on his finger. His eyes, red and drooping but still tears manage to fall slowly despite the sting. He stares at your ring that now lies on the table, its once matching silver band now coated in a crust of dried blood. The images of your lifeless body lying on the road resurface and a new fresh wave of tears break the dam once more. His breath becomes heavy, fast and uncontrollable, he lets out a sob - lips quivering. His face is contoured by pain that lies heavy in his chest, a pain that forms a numbness, emptiness. He cries until he tires, eyes drooping and red, they finally close - the cycle continues.

The doorbell rings again. Haechan is still in his suite from the funeral when he rubs his eyes awake. His head pounding and ears ringing, he looks around to see where he is and he’s still lying on the couch. “______” he calls out, getting up to find the bedroom empty, “_____” he calls again as he heads to the door, the doorbell still ringing. “_____?” he questions as he swings the door open, only to find Mark with a deep frown on his face.

“Hey” Haechan says, yawning, rubbing his eyes that are still sore. “Come in” he says, opening the door wider for Mark to step in. “_____ isn’t home right now, must have gone out to go get something.” and Marks frown only deepens, his eyes watery and he stares at Haechan as if he’s hurt. “What’s wrong?”

“Hyuck” Mark’s voice cracks, his lips quivering

“What’s wrong?” Haechan panics “Mark what is it?” but the older doesn't answer, tears streaming down his face “What is it?” Haechan’s jaw is tight and the words struggle through as he grows impatient, fear settling in the pit of his stomach. “Mark!”

“_____’s gone” he says crashing into him, arms engulfing Haechan

“What do you mean gone?” He says in a small unsure chuckle

“She’s gone, Hyuck. She died two days ago” he sobs and Haechan’s legs give way below him, dropping to his knees, he shakes as the tears come back once again and Mark’s still holding on to him.

“This is a sick joke Mark” Haechan tries to even his breathing, “seriously not funny” he sniffles and Mark only pulls him in closer, holds him tighter. “Where’s ______?” Mark doesn’t answer, shivering with sobs that echo throughout his body, “Mark?!” Haechan’s voice is desperate and broken. “Please” he begs.

Mark can only shake his head, gripping onto Haechan’s suit jacket, “She’s gone.” He repeats again and again until the words swirl around in the air, Haechan’s mind going dizzy and his vision blurring with tears, his breathing shallows and his heart aches.

Haechan wakes up in his bed this time, shoes kicked off , jacket and tie thrown onto the floor - there’s no sight of you or Mark who he remembers being here. His head is pounding but he doesn't remember drinking, he presses the base of his palms into his eyes trying to get rid of the soreness. He grabs for his phone that’s on the bedside table and displays it’s eleven pm, and he turns to his side to see your side of the bed is still empty. “______?” he calls out but there’s no response, you must be wearing your headphones he thinks. Sighing, his body heavy, he swings his legs out of bed to search for you.

“_____” He calls out again as he enters into the living room where he expects to find you on the floor, papers sprawled out in front of you, laptop on the coffee table and you furiously typing away and he’d probably have to drag you away from your work and into bed. You’ll insist that you’ll be finished in five more minutes but you both know that’s a lie. He’ll ask if you have eaten anything and you’d guiltily shake your head, so Haechan would head into the kitchen and make the bargain that you could work until he came back with food, then after you’d have to eat and join him in bed. But you’re not there.

Maybe you’re coming late from work, he thinks and makes his way back into the bedroom to call you. It rings once, twice, three times, four times, five times and then finally “Hello” Haechan smiles, “Hey Hyuck! Nah i’m just kidding, this is my voicemail loser! Leave me a message if it’s important, love you” You voice says back to him and no matter how annoying it is, Haechan can’t help but smile when he hears it. “I love you too” is all he leaves in his message.

There’s one more person to call when you go awol like this, head buried in work forgetting that there’s a life outside of that office of yours. “Hey Jaemin” Haechan says as the rings finally stop

“Hey hyuck” Jaemin’s words are careful, his voice solemn.

“Is ______ at the office still? It’s pretty late and I’m guessing you’re still there too because you’re just as bad as her” Haechan laughs but Jaemin stays quiet.

“No she’s not here.” Jaemin says softly after some time.

“That’s strange” Hyuck replies, a little worried.

“How about I come by?” Jaemin offers

“Sure?”

It’s close to midnight by the time the door rings and Haechan jumps up hoping you forgot your keys but once he swings the door open, his smile drops upon seeing Jaemin standing there instead.

“Come on, I’m not that bad” Jaemin offers a small smile. “How are you doing?” he asks, carefully

“I’m okay” Haechan says as he lets him, leading him into the living room, “worried where _____ is though, I called her parents but they just said I shouldn’t be alone right now and told me to drive down.” He shrugs confused.

“Maybe you should take that offer?” Jaemin lifts an eyebrow “or go to your parents, I know your mum wants you back”

“Maybe but they’re acting weird, I’m not sure what it is really” Haechan says as he drops onto the couch “I’ll talk about it with _____ and see if she wants to go this weekend” he yawns and at his words Jaemin grimaces.

“You want to spend the night at mine? Come on I insist” Jaemin pushes

“I’d love to but ______ isn’t home yet.”

“Hyuck” Jaemin sighs

“What?”

“_______ is dead.”

“I don’t know why you and Mark think this is funny but seriously this needs to stop” Haechan sighs

“Get up. Now!” Jaemin pull Haechan off the couch, “put your shoes and jacket on”

“Jaemin seriously I’m not going anywhere until ______ comes back”

“I’m taking you to her”

The drive was silent, Jaemin didn’t say where you were but Haechan got into the car without hesitation, it felt like years he’d spent away from you. The only sound that filled the silence was the splashing of rain against the surface of the car. The windshield wipers are relentless in their work, continuously wiping again and again but to no avail as the rain too is relentless.

Jaemin stops the car outside a graveyard and fear rises in Haechan “What are we doing here?” he asks in a panic but Jaemin doesn’t answer, instead turning to open the door he walks out and waits for Haechan to follow him. “Jaemin?” he calls out after him as he follows him through the rows of graves “Jaemin! Answer me!”

“No you listen to me!” He turns as he screams; rain drenching him, his hair sticks to his forehead. He grabs Haechan’s shirt, pulling him closer and turning him towards the headstone that reads __________, beloved daughter and wife. “She’s gone and she’s not coming back” Jaemin cries as he shakes him. Haechan stares at your name etched onto the stone and his mind swirls, his eyes blur and reality finally falls into place. He pushes Jaemin off of him, falls to his knees, and an ugly sob ripples through him.

“She’s gone hyuck but she wouldn’t want you to live like this. It’s time you accept it, to remember the amazing person she was and why you fell in love with her and then learn to live without her. You have to accept this so you can heal. Jaemin says as he falls beside Haechan, rubbing up and down his back - trying to comfort him.

“I can’t heal.” Haechan chokes out “I don’t want to”

"Grief is all that untold love that you have for her and you told her you loved her everyday. It's love being preserved" Jaemin whispers

And Haechan feels the cold settle in his bones, the rain washed off his face by the steady stream of tears. His throat closes up, his mind fills with fog and he goes dizzy. His heart stops beating

Denial is protection from the pain that follows after. When you finally come to terms with what has happened, finally comprehend the loss in your life; guilt rises up and eats your consciousness away. Your mind goes from delusion to fixation, constantly thinking about that day. What could have been different? How could you have stopped this? Who’s fault was this?

Stage two: pain and guilt

Haechan’s at Jaemin’s place tonight, the doctors advised it’s best not to be alone during difficult times. He doesn’t want to be constantly doted on by his mother, constantly asking if he was okay when she knew he wasn’t - impatient to see him heal. He couldn’t take up your parent’s offer, everything about that house reminds him of you, it was you; where you grew up, where he first kissed you, where he asked you to prom and where he asked you to marry him.

Under the apple tree at the far end of the garden, the swing your dad put up one summer still hanging onto the branches and it was after dinner with your parents. You sat on the swing as Haechan pushed you, he didn’t plan it and you hadn’t spoken about it but he knew in that moment with the moon breaking through your hair, the most beautiful smile on your face as you laughed at something stupid he had said, he knew this was it. You were the one. The question fell from his lips clumsily. “Will you marry me?” he sounded uncertain, as if he was asking himself and your laughter halted, you turned with eyes wide and glossy but when you asked “are you serious?” He didn't need time to think and he didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” he replied in an instant “will you marry me?” this time more confidently and you pressed your lips to him muttering a yes against him.

The memory burns him, the pit in his chest fills with fire and spreads throughout his body with an ache that leaves him paralysed. Jaemin is no better than his mother really, taking days off of work to look after Haechan, cooking his favourite food - constantly doting - but at least he doesn’t ask if Haechan is okay, if he’s feeling better or telling him that time heals all and that things will get better. Haechan doesn’t believe they will and Jaemin knows that.

“The doctors prescribed these for when you have” Jaemin pauses “ an episode” he places the capsule into the draw of the bedside table

“A manic episode” Haechan corrects him but Jaemin brushes it off

“It’s Sunday.” Jaemin says as he pulls the curtains back “You want to go to the florist and deliver ______ her flowers?” He smiles as the sun rays flood the room. Jaemin introduced Haechan to you, all the way back in middle school when Haechan was still a rambling mess when it came to talking to a pretty girl but Jaemin thought you two were made for each other - even back then. It was a Sunday morning and Jaemin had stayed over at Haechan’s convincing him to go out and pick a sunflower out of his mother’s garden, which he later got told off for but it was worth it when he delivered it to your door and you had taken it after placing a kiss on Haechan’s cheek. Every sunday after that Haechan would pick a sunflower to give to you, when you moved in together a vase of them was waiting for you on the kitchen counter. Every sunday.

Haechan only nods in response, no matter if the promise was death do us part, his love for you was alive and it was the only thing he was sure of.

Haechan has visited this florist countless times but this time he can’t seem to step foot inside, to see the people he’d see and speak to about you. The woman at the back who’d cut and arranged every bouquet he’d bought, who’d ask how you were? Her husband who assisted her, who had given Haechan advice for every time you would get into an argument and he’d come here to buy an apology flower, and their daughter at the till, who had given many bunches for free, saying she couldn’t capitalise on love.

“I can’t do it” Haechan turned to Jaemin

“Slow steps” He replied with a smile before stepping in, the small bell announcing his entrance and the daughter at the till suddenly straightened, her head looking towards the customer who had just entered and she greets Jaemin with a familiar smile and it pains Haechan, just how much of his life were you ingrained in? When Jaemin has been invited into the back to pick out the flowers he wants, she spots Haechan and she waves, a small smile painted across her face and he waves back. She picks a small bouquet of white chrysanthemums - symbol of death- and places them around a single sunflower.

And the bell announces her arrival, “I’m sorry for your loss” she says with a soft voice, her arm extended for Haechan to take the flowers. His vision blurs with tears but he focuses it enough for him to take them from her.

“Thank you” he says, choking on the lump that forms in his throat.

“You’re welcome” She mumbles but the sob escapes regardless and she wraps her arms around Haechan and he hugs her back, a small fraction of his pain reflected

“Tell her I said hi” she says before she heads back in, Jaemin waiting for her by the till.

“She refused to let me pay” Jaemin says as he steps out

“Of course she did,” Haechan smiles, wiping his cheeks and waving one last time through the window.

“Let’s go” Jaemin urges, leading the way.

“Hey ______” Jaemin says as he sits in front of your grave, pulling Haechan with him. “I brought Hyuck with me like I promised you last week and he bought you flowers like he promised he would.” he says, placing down his separate bouquet of flowers. “I miss you at work, everyone does but especially me. I miss talking shit about everyone with you, Renjun isn’t as fun. I miss driving you home and I miss seeing you smiling stupidly at my best friend” he laughs “I miss you” he mumbles. Haechan hasn’t seen Jaemin cry for you but he supposes it’s because of him he doesn’t but Jaemin can’t help the tears that drop, which he is quick to wipe away. “I’ll let the idiot speak to you now, I’m sure he has a lot to say” Jaemin stands and walks away to leave Haechan alone with you.

“I suppose I owe you an apology” Haechan says as he places the flowers down “I’m not taking this well but I suppose you know that. You always did say I’d be hopeless without you.” Haechan’s eyes begin to well with tears once more “I just can’t help wondering what if I had picked you up from work instead or what if your boss hadn’t kept you back an hour later.” His voice breaks “I just play that day out in my head and wonder what I could have done to stop it from happening or to at least stop it from happening to you.” he lets out a deep sigh and sniffles “I miss you so much ______. I love you so much. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just live on, when my life was supposed to be spent with you. I can’t. I can’t do this without you.”

Haechan joins Jaemin a while after and a silence fills in as guilt rises in Haechan, towards you and Jaemin. “You know” he starts off as Jaemin begins to walk ahead and he hums in encouragement for Hyuck to carry on, “you don’t need to hide your emotions because of me.” he says quietly, guilty “This must be hard for you too, you were her best friend too … you loved her too” Haechan says looking at the park across the road and there’s a long silence as if Jaemin is contemplating what to say next.

“I’m not hiding my emotions” he finally breaks the silence, “I’m not that considerate of you” he laughs and pauses. “Don’t feel guilty. You’re my best friend too and I love you too. I’m going to be here for you as long as you need” he smiles and it warms Haechan, the slightest glimmer of happiness but it’s almost instantly stopped out by guilt - that he could be happy without you.

“We should get everyone together” Jaemin says, “Just the guys. They’ve been dy-” he clears his throat “begging to see you” he corrects himself. “I didn’t let them because I thought you needed some time to yourself before you were suffocated in hugs” Jaemin let out a small laugh, looking to Haechan to read his expression.

“Thanks, I appreciate it” And Haechan really does, without Jaemin he probably would be sprawled out on his apartment floor, still looking for you. “And yeah, we should have them round”

When enough guilt builds up and you feel guilty for even hurting, for even feeling any pain because you’re alive. Your life wasn’t stolen from you. Because you’ve laughed and you haven’t lived every moment in dread and sorrow. When enough guilt has built up that you wish you were dead and then you feel guilty about that. That’s when the anger settles in.

Stage three: Anger

Haechan thought he was doing well. He thought he was getting better. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he could do this. Yet seeing all these faces, so familiar and so comforting just made it more clear that something was missing. Someone. He looks around the room to see Jisung and Chenle fighting over what movie to watch tonight and he could just imagine you ruffling their hair and telling them we could watch them both. He watches Jaemin cook with Jeno trying to assist and you’d tease him saying that he’s only by Jaemin’s side so he could eat whilst they cook. Renjun and Mark would be setting the table and you’d be helping, dragging Haechan up to go wash glasses to bring to the table. This was Haechan’s family.

But now sitting around the table with the empty seat beside him, where you would have sat. He doesn’t think he can do this anymore. Everyone laughs and talks as if nothing has changed and he’s sure they’re just trying to be normal but they do it so effortlessly. The only thing giving them away is their careful eyes, hovering over him and he hates them. Hates being watched like he’s in a cage in the zoo, just waiting for him to do something. He hates that they’re careful with what they say, not mentioning you but he would hate it if they did because the pain would burn brighter in his chest. He feels guilty that he doesn’t want them to have a good time, he feels guilty that he doesn’t want them to talk about you and celebrate you, he feels guilty that he feels at home when you’re not here and he feels guilty that he wishes he had died instead and it was you who had to live with this pain.

The noise is too much, the laughs are too much and they were all too much. “I can’t do this” Haechan whispers and no one seems to hear or notice. “I just can't,” he says a little louder and only Jaemin turns his head, a little concerned look on his face as if to ask if Haechan is okay and Haechan looks back hopeless and lost. “I can’t do this” He sobs and now all heads turn to him. The laughter stops, the noise falls into silence. The silence is too much.

Haechan grips onto his fork, knuckles turning white and he holds his lip in his teeth to bite back a sob and he draws blood, his teeth sinking in. He’s shaking and tears are already falling and they all look at him, stunned - wide eyed and shocked. As if he was something else. Haechan bangs his fists on the table, again and again as he chants “I can’t do this” and he gets louder and louder until he’s standing on his feet. “I CAN’T DO THIS!” he shouts, shaking.

Jaemin slowly makes his way to him, placing a hand around his shoulder. “It’s okay, slow steps” he whispers and it irks Haechan, sending his skin shivering as it crawls up his neck and into his ears. Slow steps is all he’s been hearing but he can’t even take those. He pushes Jaemin off him, hard enough to have him staggering back a little and then he punches him. Once, then twice and Jaemin doesn’t fight back and it pisses Haechan off more, so he tries to punch him again but someone’s caught his arm, pulling him off and pinning him down. He struggles against the arms pushing him down, kicking his legs and pulling away at the intense grip - he manages to break free. There's shouting and screaming, ringing in his ears and his eyes blur into white as the noise begins to fade. Silence; that is too much.

Haechan waves his arms around trying to find something. Anything. His fingers brush against something smooth, cold and he grabs it, water spilt down his arm. He smashes it against the floor again and again, beating it. The glass cuts through his skin, wedges itself in, water mixing with blood. More restraints pull at him, he punches blindly until one hits. Haechan screams as the noise finally floods back in, as his hands throb and his heart aches. A pill thrown in the back of his throat, water invading his mouth and he’s forced to swallow.

“No!” he pulls free once more, shoving two fingers down the back of his throat, retching to try and get the pill back out but his body goes lax, mind clears and eyes droop down.

There’s a bright white light burning into the back of Haechan’s eyelids, strong enough to wake him from his slumber. He has the urge to rub his eyes open but he can’t seem to move. His body is sore, tired and he can’t fight the restraints holding him down as his wrists are tied to the bed. Haechan’s in a hospital, he knows he is because he knows that smell - overly clean. He spent days in here, holding on to your hand, praying you’d wake up. He spent every night here, sleeping by your side because he couldn’t sleep without you at home.

“You’re awake!” An unfamiliar voice says “He’s awake!” their voice gets further and Haechan tries to move to sit up but his body won’t respond.

“Stop struggling” now that’s a voice Haechan recognises but not one he expected to hear anytime soon. The bed moves up with the click of the button and Haechan now sits up and can finally see Jaemin’s face. Bruised and slightly swollen, he has a few cuts - one by his lip and another by his eyebrow.

“I got you good” Haechan says in an awkward laugh, not knowing where their relationship stands now. Jaemin laughs too, deep and loud and it’s comforting to know that even after all this, Jaemin is still here beside him.

“I let you win, I didn’t fight back.” and Haechan knows that but he still says

“Didn’t or couldn’t” Haechan lifts a brow, smiling.

“Whatever. I look hotter like this, even got a nurse's number” he smiles back and Hyuck snorts as Jaemin waves around the small piece of paper.

An uncomfortable silence fills the room after the conversation dies and Haechan supposes he owes Jaemin an apology but he isn’t sure it’s enough. There’s still that anger that sits at the bottom of his stomach, embers coming to light and will burn his whole body again. Is there any point in asking for forgiveness when you know it’s going to happen again? And just as Haechan was about to open his mouth, Jaemin spoke first.

“Don’t apologise” he says calmly “we both know why it happened and it doesn’t excuse you being an asshole but I am going to be more understanding. I also told you that I’ll be here until you need me, so don’t think I’m going anywhere.” and Haechan smiles at his words, nodding slightly.

There’s a knock at the door interrupting the conversation, the doctor entering. “Hello, Mr. Lee. It’s nice to see you in better conditions.” “How long was I out for?”

“Three days” and Haechan’s eyes widen “Manic episodes tend to last for five day, sometimes more and sometimes less. We thought it was best to keep you under strong sedatives.” The doctor explains “we recommend you see a therapist to help with your grieving, we understand this is a difficult time for you but we hope to see you better and this seems like a good option. Consider it.” The doctor says before he leaves.

“You should” Jaemin says as the doctor walks out the room “just try it” he says when Haechan gives him a sceptical look “also your mum flew into the city” Jaemin warns as he gets up “She’s waiting outside. I didn’t let her in because I didn’t want you to get overwhelmed and we all know how she is but you know she loves me so she took to reasoning” Jaemin says in a smile “I’ll go get her”

And once you’re too tired to be angry anymore, you begin to bargain. Trying to find a way to make life a little more bearable, to subside the guilt and anger, to contain it. You look to cope.

Stage four: Bargaining and depression 

Haechan has moved back home, even after it was clear that Jaemin held no hard feelings; it just felt wrong to burden him with that again. Haechan was scared of himself, scared he’d lash out again and hurt Jaemin and just how many times is Jaemin going to take it. He’s scared of losing him too. Scared that Jaemin would fear him.

Also his mum had come into the city, Jaemin couldn’t house the both of them, though he insisted he’d sleep on the floor. The apartment still smelled like you and in a way it comforted him, you were home. Though Haechan’s mum immediately replaced that with the smell of her cooking and that was home too.

“Donghyuck” she called as he stared down at his phone, swiping through old pictures of the two of you, the therapist that Haechan had been seeing had suggested looking through them whenever he missed you, to live in those memories, a temporary solution to try and contain the manic episodes. Problem is, he missed you every waking second, he missed you in his dreams. “Hyuck!” she called again

“I’m coming!” he groans, feeling as if he was seventeen all over again.

Dinner was great, Haechan hadn't seen his mum in a few months and he felt as if he was in highschool, scolded and adored all at once. His mum was careful not to mention you but she loves reminiscing and you're in every story.

"Okay last story" she giggles and Haechan smiles as they sit with their plates empty in front of them.

"You said that two stories ago" he laughs "and I don't know who you're telling, I lived through them all"

"I know" she hums, moving around a few cold vegetables with her fork "but I love telling them and there isn't a whole lot of people to tell them too. And this one isn't even a proper story!"

"Last one." Haechan smiles

"Okay." She claps her hands "Remember when you were first dating _____" and she says it carefully but her excitement overrides it. Haechan loves watching her speak about you, the way his mother's eyes bright up and her lips just lift into a smile. She did always adore you.

"Of course" he smiles

"She gave you that nickname", Haechan, "and you refused to be called by anything else" she laughs "and back then I thought that it was childish love and you were being a young kid drunk on infatuation but then I met her and when she would say your name," Haechan's heart inflated at the memory, the way you would say haechan or hyuck was as if you gave it a whole new meaning. When you said his name it meant love, adoration and warmth.

"It was the way she spoke to you and the way you gave her all your attention. I knew from that moment that she'd shape who you were." And Haechan’s mum takes a deep breath trying to calm herself . "I must have sent you to go get something but it was just me and ______. All we spoke about was you. It was all she ever wanted to speak about with me" she snickers "she made me so proud of the man you were growing up to be, I just want to remind you that that amazing man was there before you met her." She smiles. "Anyway, it's getting late" she stands and takes both their plates, heading to the kitchen.

"You know mum," Haechan follows her with two glasses in hand "I'm pretty sure ______ fell in love with me because I was amazing" he grins

"You owe it all to me" she giggles

"I was gonna say, dad" and she hits the back of his head causing him to yelp "I'm kidding" he says as he braces for another hit.

"You better be" she scoffs and Haechan laughs, a true laugh and one he doesn't feel so guilty about. He kisses his mum on the cheek "Goodnight" he wishes her before they both separate into their rooms.

Haechan's phone rings as soon as he closes the door behind him, as if on cue. "Hey" Haechan says as he presses the phone against his ear.

"Hey" Jaemin, sounds too enthusiastic for eleven pm "how are you doing?" He asks carefully and this is how it is. Straight after breakfast, Mark will call to check how Haechan is feeling - if he isn't feeling too well then Jisung will call in less than ten minutes for him to hop online and play with him, that would keep him busy until late afternoon. Jeno would then call quickly, followed by Renjun, who's phone calls always seem to last longer than necessary. Then Chenle would either show up with dinner or ask to go out, if he's busy he'll just drop in a few texts. Then finally once the day is done, Jaemin calls to make sure everything is okay. Haechan appreciates it he really does, having such a supportive and caring friend group but he feels like he's on a twenty four hour watch. Everyone waiting for another episode. Everyone, trying to catch the signs to make sure they can stop it.

"I'm good. Played basketball with Chenle and kicked Jisung's ass in overwatch again." And Jaemin laughs

"Go easy on the kid, let him win sometimes"

And Haechan blows air out of his lips and scoffs "As if. It's not a win, if I let him"

"Is this coming from the same person who claims they beat the shit outta me when i wasn't even fighting back" and Haechan goes quiet "I thought so" Jaemin snickers. "Anyways I was just checking in. How's your mum by the way?"

"She's good. Loves being with me obviously"

"Obviously" Haechan can practically hear Jaemin roll his eyes. "You thought about going back to work?"

"Maybe?" He says uncertain "I'm not so sure though"

"Slow steps" Jaemin says in a yawn

"We should head to bed" Haechan whispers remembering the time

"We should. I'll call again tomorrow, night"

"Night" Haechan says before hanging up. Sighing, he falls on the bed and closes his eyes. He sees you.

Figure laying beside him, hair messy and intertwined between his fingers. He pulls at it and you moan, leaning closer towards him and hungrily capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. Your eyes are hooded as you climb on top of him - sheltering his body with your own. Everything fades as you bring your lips back to his once more, warmth engulfing him, every cell in his body shivering with fuzzy pleasure. Your hands roam lower, down his chest and abdomen, he bites his bottom lip holding on to his last bit of sanity. But he’s going over the edge as the euphoria has his eyes rolling back as you wrap your lips and make their way down his body. He’s shivering and begging for more. It’s too much and not enough. Your touch is ice but his body reacts like fire, a fever burning its way down his body. He is stickenly in love with you. His eyes roll back as your mouth makes your way around him. His breathing shallows, his mind scrambles as he holds onto the back of your head. Thrusting up, faster, harder as he meets you in the middle. He watches you worshipping him between his legs, tongue swirling and pulling him to the edge and his mind is reeling to hold on. Just a little bit longer. Only to stay with you for a few more minutes.

So he pulls you up, lips meeting once more with your tongues fighting against each other, teeth clashing. He presses himself into you as if to hope he can find home in your skin, bruising your lips and taking all the air from your lungs. You position yourself on top of him, fast and rapid movements bringing you both to a euphoric trance and Haechan’s eyes are closed. He can hear you, soft moans finding their way out of you. He can feel you, tight and warm wrapped around him. Smell you, the addictive smell of your body he presses his face into the side of your neck as he meets you halfway. “open your eyes” you say softly in his ears and he shakes his head. “Open them Hyuck, look at me” you moan louder.

And when Haechan finally pries his eyes open, the room is empty and the white sticks to his abdomen and palm.

Haechan flinches at the sight coating him, he withers in the after lasting pleasure and shivers with slight disgust at himself but he can’t help that his body yearns for yours. His body itches with desire, aggravated within its own skin and seeking only your soothing touch or your melodic voice.

He needs just a part of you.

He holds the phone to his ear. One ring. He knows it won’t go through but for a moment he’ll let himself pretend. Two rings. That you’ll pick up, all excited and happy; ready to tell him about your day or how much you miss him. Three rings. Even if you don’t pick up he’ll hear your voicemail anyways.

Four rings.

Five.

Six.

Sev-

“Hyuck?”

and Haechan can’t breathe. His lungs have ceased their ability to pull in air, and no matter how hard he tries to inhale they’re already full. Yet his mind spins, his eyes spot with black.

“Hyuck” you call out again “breathe”

But he doesn’t. He can’t.

“Haechan” your voice comes out strangled, broken and scratchy. “We’re running out of time” you warn, impatient. “Answer me!” The voice comes out deep, a ringing in the back and goosebumps make the way to the surface of Haechan’s skin.

“Yes” he gulps past the lump in his throat, getting air in his lungs finally.

“Save me” your voice returns, slow and loving. “You can save me”

“How?” Haechan doesn’t hesitate, “I need you ______” he begs, tears already dropping down his face. “I can’t live on in this suffering” sobs breaking through, he’s hunched over and saliva drips onto his hand as he holds it over his mouth. He shudders and sniffles, face contorted in pain.

“Death is the release of all suffering” you say, voice slightly distorted. “but we were never suffering. You can bring me back.”

Haechan stills.

Reality is shocking. After so long being stuck within your pain, your feelings and in your head, it feels like being splashed with cold water. The reality is, death will always have a presence in life. It is the only thing in life that is promised.

Stage five: 

“I feel great!” Haechan is sitting opposite Mark and Jaemin at a coffee shop downtown. It’s been a while since he went out and he almost missed his favourite time of the year. Spring. The time for new beginnings and life. Haechan was ready. “I’m going back to work soon, I’ve been thinking about it”

“That’s great dude” Mark smiles

“And I think I’m gonna go through ________’s stuff too”

“You sure?” Jaemin asks

“Yeah I think it’s time”

“You can take more time you know hyuck” Mark says

“I know but I feel like I’ve already taken up so much time and it’s time to finally move forward” Haechan sighs and the conversation stills, Jaemin and Mark clearly have something to say but fidget and side eye each other uncomfortably. “I’m gonna head back home” Haechan announces, this conversation coming to a statement, and him not having the energy to hash out problems.

“Sure” Mark says awkwardly “bye”

“I’ll walk with you” Jaemin gets up

The walk is silent. Haechan can feel Jaemin staring at him, eyes heavy on his figure. He doesn’t say anything because everything feels like a test, if he’s going to break or not. Haechan is sick of failing but not too confident in his words. He also doesn’t want to lash out at Jaemin.

“Are you okay?” Jaemin breaks the silence

“Great” Haechan says through closed teeth

“Yeah seems so” Jaemin says but an underlying tone confuses Haechan.

“What does that mean?” It’s comes out more aggressive than Haechan intended

“You seem happy”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

Jaemin takes time to respond, silent until they finally reach Haechan’s apartment complex. “Sorry.” He apologises first “it is a good thing, I’m just being over cautious” he laughs awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

“Don’t worry about me anymore”

“I’ll always worry. Especially now that your mums gone back home”

“Worry about me less” Haechan pats his shoulder “thanks for everything over these past few months, I’m sorry and I love you” Haechan doesn’t specify what he’s apologising for but Jaemin can take a guess.

“It’s what friends are for” Jaemin shrugs “love you too” he says taking him into a hug and Haechan melts into his embrace, eyes watering up but he blinks them away.

“Bye” Haechan breathes out and Jaemin waves walking away.

The house is empty. The blinds are drawn. There’s a faint lining of ash along the floor and along the windowsill candles burn low. Haechan takes off his shirt and slumps down onto the floor. He breathes in deep before taking the knife and slashing it against his palms. Digging his fingers into the wound, he dips them in blood and drags his finger along the floor to paint a pentagram. He places a candle on each point, and lights them.

Haechan begins slashing more skin, blood dripping and merging with his painting until the neat drawn out lines are slighting blurring together. He walks back towards the kitchen, grabbing at coal by the stove. The black rock is coated in his blood. He places it on the fire. He turns back towards the pentagram.

He sits and waits. His head spinning and throbbing. He sees you emerging from the fire, screaming and crying as you reach out a hand for him to reach and he does. Heat kicking away at his skin, he smells his skin melting away. He hears you calling him, your sweet voice taking his mind off the pain. His stomach lurches, his chest tightens as he comes closer. His legs smear at the blood as he sits within the pentagram, both hands I’ve the fire of two candles, the other knocked over and holding their flames against him.

He begins to wretch and gag, bile rising up and saliva flooding his mouth. He spills the contents of his stomach out onto himself. He heaves and retches again and again, falling to his side, spreading along the floor turning pink as it mixes with the blood. His eyes are heavy, he no longer knows where he is, he sees you smiling. He sees a younger you in middle school, still shy and still only talking to Jaemin. He sees you in highschool, more confident and still radiant as you giggle at whatever stupid thing he said, he sees you ok that swing looking up at him the moon beaming on your face. His mind goes blank, his body goes lax.

Death is the release of all suffering.

a/n: thank you for reading until the end! It been a long long time since I have put something out (I feel like I've come back from the dead) I do hope to write and put out a lot more this year and do have a lot planned but I won’t say much else bc I'm bad at sticking to my word. Sorry this one is disturbingly depressing but happy hyuck soon! Thank you once again for reading my writing <3

© (heartshyuck) 2023. All Rights Reserved.

[yojeongin]

happy together | m.l + l.dh [FINALE]

→husband!lee haechan x reader x bff!mark lee

genre: smut, angst, hurt, marriage au, love triangle, forbidden affair, friends to secret lovers, 90s/00's au

synopsis: with you by his side, mark's convinced things are finally going his way. his mind is set on his plans but haechan has plans of his own that also include you.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! toxic marriage, mutual infidelity, morally grey characters, jealousy, distrust, possessiveness, fingering, finger sucking, unprotected sex, public sex, oral sex, mild sadomasochism, hair pulling and scratching kink, accidental voyeurism, biting kink, pet names, lots of making out, manipulation, all parties purposely hurting each other, smoking, mentions of death.

wc: 29.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

part 1 | epilogue

© 2023 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are ONLY characters. read at your own discretion.

an: legend says ella y yo by don omar y romeo santos was made after hyuck confronted mark about the affair lmfao. ik I said morally grey but... they border on evil atp kinda. the epilogue will be mark centered, there's no hyuck or happy together yn but mark's actions there will be consequences of what happens to him here. don't be confused it will be mark x reader just know epilogue yn isn't the same as happy together yn lol.

The leaves had long fallen by the time you and Mark continued what started that afternoon at the lake. From early October to late December with a few days left of 1999, all that’s left is the inquiry of how the year would end. 

But right now that didn’t matter to either you or him. Not when he had you perched on the counter. The cold ceramic against your ass makes you squeal with every single one of his thrusts. His upper half was bare. Shoulders littered with red marks from your fingernails and teeth prints elicited by his every stroke.

Mark felt swollen and warm inside you. Every movement made the both of you hyper-sensitive knowing an orgasm was soon to come. Your clothed upper half absorbing all his sweat and yours. Almost rasping his chest to a burning extent but he doesn’t complain, as long as you’re close. 

His breath tickled your neck; the hairs on your nape stood whenever his lips landed on the flesh; restraining themselves from juvenile markings. Your lips parted whenever his teeth nipped the skin. His tongue eased the slight pain from his actions to repeat them until you pulled his head by his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. 

With every tug of his hair, Mark’s pace increased and your whining became louder; pulling your hips closer to his. His hands were warm against you, perspiration making his clinging easy. Soft to the touch and in need of more. 

“Fuck I’m going to—“ he halted, feeling spurts come out in strings while you held him closer to you. “Yeah?” You ask, kissing the side of his face. Your insides coil in pleasure with every thrust along the friction of his pelvic bone against your clit. 

“I’m going to cum!” He exclaimed, holding even tighter to you. Every time you two found yourself in this situation he held you like this, scared that if he didn’t you’ll feel like he didn’t need you enough. Almost as a tactic to make you crave his touch and affection. 

You caressed his hair, hand dropping its grip to let your fingers cradle his head as he thrusts within you. Pistoning at a cruel pace but anything for either of you to reach your highs. Feeling him within your walls, touching every crevice with his cock. 

In a matter of seconds with a few more thrusts from him, you felt yourself come undone. Your moans mixed with whines that he swallowed when slotting his lips with yours, ensuing in a sloppy kiss. He came second, pulling out when he felt he couldn’t hold off anymore and ropes of cum latched themselves onto your thighs. 

Even after, he didn’t pull away from you. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder and his right around your waist, grasp as tight as before. Yours was loose on him, arms trembling while trying to cool off; Breathing heavily against his bare hot skin. 

It was then that it dawned upon you two that the buzzer and the home phone were ringing maniacally. You tried pushing him off to see who was this desperate to get in touch but he didn’t budge. His fingers only dug into you. Your eyes widened at his actions. This has become quite normal in the past months that you’re starting to accept it but not too fond of it. 

The home phone that stopped ringing and his own abandoned one beside the both of you began with anger rooted in. Mark swallowed the lump that had gotten stuck in his throat when seeing the caller ID. He threw you a glance, putting his finger up to his lips as advice. 

“Hyuck? What’s up, dude?” His hand pushed you closer to him. 

“Where the fuck are you guys at? I’ve been calling, ringing the buzzer, leaving voicemails, even paging you both, and not one response. What the fuck?” 

He paced around feeling defeated by the cold; phone to his ear gripping it without a fear that the plastic would pop off. You could hear him; so much anger in his voice, exasperation from the unknown. That desperation made your insides flip, satisfied with his frustrations. 

“Oh sorry, we’re in the room working on a piece. The music was all the way up.” Mark‘s fingers began caressing your skin, hoping you’d make a noise but nothing came out of you. He wasn’t lying about the music or the piece but that was long before you two had decided to act on any carnal instincts.

“Can one of you buzz me in? it’s fucking cold and there’s no one in the lobby. I couldn’t find my keys in the morning either.” His chattering teeth product of this horrid winter in the city. His words had made you realize the bathroom window was open and along the honking of cars outside, the biting breeze entered in swirls. Piercing your exposed skin the longer Mark held you there while working to remove the smell of sex. 

“Uh, yeah— yeah, give us a few secs to wash off. It got messy, ha.” He looked at you, but your eyes were nowhere insight. “Alright, plea—“ Mark didn’t let him finish. He ends the call, tossing the phone towards the wall and letting the already chipped-off paint smear itself more. 

He didn’t move; cooling down before he was to let you go and begin to clean off. Looking into the mirror behind you. Mark didn’t want to admit it but he was beginning to hate the act of sneaking around and fucking his best friend’s wife on the time windows he wasn’t home. It didn’t help that after a month, Hyuck was coming home earlier than usual, decreasing his time with you. 

Mark knew he shouldn’t have gotten attached. Even when he used the excuse of Hyuck being a complete shit to you; on a moral scale, Mark would be in the wrong too. Especially when you’re his childhood best friend’s wife.

But with all that moral guilt, Mark wasn’t sorry for being with you. He loved the feeling he got when sneaking around. He loves when he’s buried deep in you, hearing you moaning, and whining for his touch. He loved knowing you smiled and laughed because of him and not because of Hyuck who would only cause your mood to deteriorate. 

Yet with how much he loved all that, he hated that you were still Hyuck’s despite how much Mark told himself you were his. His piercing hatred-filled glare through the mirror and towards himself said it all. 

With one last push at his chest, Mark separated himself from you. He watched you clean off his dried cum in a rush, complaining about how much of a hassle it was. Pulling out body wipes to remove the lingering smell of sex and sweat off of you; leaving no sign behind for him to see. 

Mark watched you through glaring eyes. With every passing second he stood bare before you, his chest compressed. Feeling his emotions trying to suffocate him more and more. Reality did its best to make him see the bigger picture he’s avoiding. In addition he receives your exasperated hand motions and expressions for him to get out of the way and start getting cleaned up. 

The door was left ajar on your way out. He could see from the slit your jumpy steps to spray yourself with perfume after changing shirts and the house with a spray that sat on the kitchen counter after buzzing in Hyuck. 

When he saw you coming closer to the bathroom again, a sort of relief washed over him but it was taken away when you harshly closed the door. Depriving him of what you’re doing to make the apartment comfortable for him: your husband. 

He stood motionless for a second. The surrounding noise filled his understanding of what was behind that door. A timer was ticking in his head, the tapping of your shoes replaced the ticking. Every second became louder and his chest trembled knowing the outcome. 

Mark heard his breath, shaky and unstable while his eyes widened. The scent of air freshener crept in through the bottom slit of the door. Filling his nostrils the second he heard the front door shut; that loud boom shutting off the timer. 

He sighed heavily, eyes shutting tight while simultaneously lowering his head in frustration. The muffled words of the pair pushed him further into these deep feelings he was harboring. 

“God fucking damn it.” He curses, enticed by the sound of your voice calling Hyuck ‘honey’. His head turned towards the door, jaw clenching but that’s all he could really do. At the end of the day he was living under his roof and eating his food. 

He reached for a hand towel, wetting it to pay away the staining sweat and dry cum that lay on his thighs. Pent-up frustration still lingered, enough to toss it with too much force into the hamper as he put his clothes back on.

Mark leaned over the counter again, mimicking the position the both of you were in before his best friend’s arrival. He still felt your warmth, it always lingered around. His gaze fixates on itself through the mirror. 

That noticeable damage stress causes slapped on his face, muscles visibly tense. All his thoughts were the same lately: You. That's all he thought about. Whether it was positive or negative, you’re the only one crowding his thoughts.

He takes a hold of the doorknob, a soft sound emitting that causes Hyuck to turn towards the closed room. You don’t turn to it, fixated on flipping through the channels of the television. Your hand on your hip, and some small humming slipping along. 

He was aware of the hesitance of the one behind the door. Becoming alert, he raised himself from the couch. Enough to not draw attention from you, when he saw that the knob was turning and the door was now ajar; his hands took a hold of your waist pulling you towards him. 

While Mark looked at the happenings before him with disdain, you dismissed the older male. Laughing with your husband about him startling you; complaining about the lingering pain from his grasp. He held you tightly, back to his chest, and for once in the past years, he felt comfortable. 

For the past month or so things had been going too good to be true with Hyuck. At the beginning in which you and Mark began this rendezvous, you both continued to bicker and argue with hopes of completely ruining each other. As time progressed, you stopped inciting arguments with him. You still wanted his downfall to continue but for now, ignorance was bliss.

You ignored him and kept the peace for the most part, too tired to continue the cycle he still tried to keep up. It was comfortable at this point. But when he began to feel foolish and embarrassed that you didn’t continue or follow along, he took it as a small victory, a glance that things were turning for the better. Quite honestly he felt good, not feeling neglected anymore was nice.

But Hyuck was no stupid man. With something like that, there’s always an underlying factor. Especially when it comes to your mercy. Though his inkling began the night of your anniversary dinner, he began to notice the lingering touches. And at times you still argued you’d always run off to Mark’s room, refusing to get out. Making him drag Mark towards your shared room so he wouldn’t sleep in the same room as you. 

Though he never actually caught either of you doing anything. That pang in him worsened as the days progressed. And seeing how much you preferred being around his best friend was killing him. He hated seeing how you laughed and had a conversation with Mark but not him. 

He hated seeing you smile at Mark but become cold whenever Hyuck came home. It didn’t help that you always smelled like Mark. Whenever he arrived, the smell was prominent enough that it even intoxicated him when you two slept. 

He began coming home earlier in late November. Always pretending to fumble with the keys to give you both time to become decent if he was to catch you. But every time he opened those doors you’d be in the kitchen or lounging on the couch. Alone. 

Those times he’d sigh in relief. Eyes searching for Mark just to find him on the balcony smoking with a look of angst that kept getting worse as days passed by. He felt foolish each time, angry at himself for doubting you both of ever betraying him. Only he was sick enough to ruin you, he should know better than to think of you in that light. 

But it never got easier. Jealousy is consuming him daily even when he keeps telling himself there’s nothing to worry about. His jealousy is not too different from Mark’s. While Hyuck might enjoy your affection and present love, Mark was hating how quickly you changed the roles. Now it was him you treated like worthless trash and only had around for a quickie. If anything he now felt neglected.

“Did you find your keys?” Mark asks, settling on the free couch across from you. Hyuck turns to him, his smile falters. Both men ported that subtle defiant glare with each other. He shakes his head, turning from him to you, and presents you with a smile, making one of your own form too. 

He liked this. This was comforting even if he knew nothing ever lasts between you two.

“Haven’t looked for them yet.” He answers, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He pauses for a second to glance at Mark again. His scent strongly lingered on you even if you thought the perfume could drown it out.

Mark looks at you momentarily, hoping you’d decide to get out of Hyuck’s grasp to at least show some care but that was wishful thinking. “You should’ve rung other tenants, they probably would’ve let you up.” He remarks of his long wait, turning to the TV in hopes it would aid him in ignoring you both. 

He hated this, it was unbearable.

“I guess.” You look between both of them, repositioning your legs on Hyuck’s lap and hooking your arms around his neck. He holds you tightly, hands taking a grip of your thighs and waist. Mark tried not to see the way he caressed you. His fingers glided over the fabric of your skirt and looked at you as he teased the idea of them going under.

Getting fed up from your quiet giggles and his best friend, Mark stood up ready to head towards the rooftop but Hyuck stopped him. “Where are you going?” Mark looked between his hand and your face, seeing how you did nothing to avoid his gaze. “Smoke, why?” His foot begins to jitter the longer he remains there. 

“Let’s eat first. I have some news. ” Hyuck answers, helping you both off the couch. His hand clutches yours, pulling you towards the dinner table. Mark followed suit, sitting across you while boring daggers into your eyes as Hyuck warms up the food that had gotten cold in the trance of waiting. 

“Are they bad ones?” Mark questioned, glare not dropping trying to figure out if it was disinterest or guilt in your mirroring gaze. “You’re home earlier than recently and even brought food.” 

Haechan granted him a chuckle, the microwave’s buzzing muffling it. “You can’t let anything slide.” Shaking his head, your husband took the seat beside you. “Not bad at all actually.” 

Mark didn’t seem to enjoy the answer, opting to gather the drinks. While it went unnoticed by Hyuck, you couldn’t help but feel the hostility weighing down on your shoulders. To ease that, you decided to pry for an answer as well. 

“No but actually, why are you home earlier?” You ask, preparing his plate despite his protest. This was so different that the quick change-up still felt foreign to all of you but mainly Mark. It’s almost mimicking the life you two had while newly weds.

He turns to you with a stoic look, swallowing the piece in his mouth. “Why? You don't want me to? Was I interrupting something?” You muster a nervous laugh, kissing his cheek to deflect. “Not really. We were working on last-minute touch-ups for Mrs. Oh’s commission.” You squeeze his hand and elicit him to smile in return, dropping the hostility. 

“I know it’ll turn out great.” Oh, he was so full of shit and you knew it. He can act all he wants but his feelings towards your art will never change. “How’s the painting going, Mark?” His focus shifts to the quiet man. Mark had that same angry look plastered on his face, obvious that he wasn’t enjoying himself. 

“Good. Your wife is of great help.” He raised his beer bottle, guzzling the liquid as if his life depended on it, without a care for his liver. Hatred seemed to be the only thing that filled your husband’s body upon the sentence spilling from Mark’s mouth.

His slow chewing and persistent glare towards the older male made this tense dinner worsen. “That she is.” His voice had deepened when the words cascaded. It was ruining your night how obvious they were being. But if they weren’t going to act upon it and grant you entertainment, then you’ll have to shift that tension.

“Hyuck, you never answered my question.” You turn to him, dropping your grip from the fork and leaning back on the chair rest. “Right, well. I’ve been working with them for a while–”

“You’re quitting?!”

“Let me finish, love.”

He grins trying to hide his dissatisfaction with your interruption. His hand takes a hold of yours, squeezing it. “I’ve been overworking myself. Working overtime to the point it’s been a big reason our marriage is the way it is…” You don't meet his gaze, it drops just like your stomach knowing what he could mean. 

Not only does it cause sadness but it also irks you that he’d drop that in front of Mark. Sure he knew you guys weren’t doing good but why bring it up now that you’re both ignoring it?

Regardless he continues. “What I’m getting at is that I have some hours accumulated and I’m taking three months off.” Both you and Mark turned to him startled. Three months was a lot for a simple vacation and when you think about it, he’s not that pleasant when he has free time at hand.

“That’s a lot of time, Hyuck. What do you even plan on doing?!” He could hear the concern in your voice, you still weren’t ready to see him day and night. Mark seemed to have your sentiment at heart. He too was thinking of how awkward and uncomfortable things will be with him at home. 

Yet all Hyuck could do was laugh wholeheartedly until it turned dry and low, glaring at you both. “You two don’t seem to want me around.” His fork hits the plate with a loud thud, your eyes rolling at his attitude. Just when things were nice, he always had to sneak in his tantrums. 

“It’s not that, you just haven’t had time to yourself in so long. What do you even plan on doing?” At that second Mark felt warm. The tone in your voice reminded him of how you would talk to Hyuck months prior. It gave him hope that you two would cut the crap and go back to argument after argument. At least then you'd run to him for comfort. 

Donghyuck pouted, nodding in agreement. “Yeah... That’s why we’re going on a trip.” He pats your thigh, a smile creeps on his face. “A family friend has allowed me to use one of their homes. I thought it’d be nice to spend New Years there since we spent Christmas here.” He looked around for a reaction, a little annoyed that neither gave him one. 

“Well?” He raised an eyebrow, smile faltering. 

“When do you guys leave?” Mark questions, a dumbfounded expression on his face. Hyuck pressed his lips together with a twinge of guilt the longer he looked at his friend. Has the hostility been so bad that he's not including himself? Well… Mark’s best interest wasn’t that at heart.

“Tomorrow and you're going too.” He points his finger for visualization. In the second Hyuck’s gaze drops to search for his napkin, Mark and you both turn to each other. Mark questioned what would be of this relationship while you wondered what your husband was planning or if he truly was clueless. Nonetheless, the biggest concern was how your little game would continue with Hyuck around 24/7 now. 

Donghyuck’s plans only seemed to interfere with Mark’s. Even more now that he was thinking about all the things he planned on revealing as a surprise. Mark didn’t have three months. In fact, at the beginning of the year he had to start moving into his new apartment. Having you two help him move in was going to be the reveal but now everything was ruined. 

“Are you okay?”

Your genuine concern broke both of them out of their trances. Mark turned to you with his big round eyes, feeling his chest warm again; in awe of your simple actions. Hyuck’s chewing slowed down when he looked between you and Mark; confused and scared at the same time. 

“Mark?”

“Um… yeah it’s just–” 

Fuck he missed hearing you say his name endearingly. 

In that instance he gave you a sly smile, scratching his head in discomfort. “I actually can’t stay the whole three months.” A sort of apology settled in his eyes knowing you're both confused. 

“I already found an apartment and I wanted it to be a surprise for you guys when I start moving in… I get the keys on the second.” He chuckles nervously, avoiding your gaze but turning to his best friend.

You knew that day would come. In fact, your fear of him leaving is what led to both of you starting this affair. Yet you didn’t think it would be this soon. What was once hostility between your husband and his best friend now transferred between you and Mark. 

Maybe you didn’t care too much that he was leaving anymore but you did care that he hid something that big from you. It’s like he didn’t know you at all. Surprises were never your thing and if he had pulled that on you when the time came, you’d be absolutely furious with him.

“Did they give you hell for the working situation?” Hyuck’s voice interfered with your internal monologue, turning your gaze from Mark to him. “Kind of… I mean I’ve shown them proof of freelancing with the paintings and even if that wasn’t enough, I’ve managed to get Taeyong’s help in being a co-signer for payments. Just until I finally settle with the artist studio.”

“It’ll be sad to see you go. Right, y/n?”

“Right.”

“So does that mean you’ve gotten a job?” Hyuck excitedly questions, forgetting the remainder of his meal. Mark’s body sways at the mention, a smile forming on his lips. “Yeah…” He spoke, trying his best to not seem too excited. 

While the two seemed to be celebrating, your mood had soured. He found an apartment and chose his location but didn’t tell you any of it and then complains that you’ve changed. He truly wasn’t any better.

“What location?”

“Huh?”

Hyuck hums in confusion, seeing your expression. “I want to know what location he chose. Yasuki gave him two options. So which one?” There your husband lets out a confused chuckle, shaking his head and leaning back on the chair. “Why haven’t I heard of this?” He laughs a bit more, pushing his plate away from him.

“Because you’re never home.” Your hostility was ruining the night now. What started with them was ending with you. It was not helping Hyuck’s feelings when it came to you and his best friend. When he thought it was a simple delusion, your reaction to knowing Mark was leaving left a bitter taste in his mouth to the point he was blaming the meal.

Mark cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “I’m going to give digital work a try. So that studio— it’s an hour away.” He gulped turning to you in fear of how you’d react. It wasn’t that far from each other but you still weren’t processing that he was going to leave you. 

An awkward air surrounded the three of you. While Hyuck went back to eating and you played with your food at this point, Mark cleared his throat trying to rid of that anger that filled him earlier. As much as he despises your recent treatment, it pained him more to see you sad because of him.

“So, what time do we leave tomorrow?” 

“Not too early. There’s still some errands I have to run before we leave the apartment alone.”

Hyuck lifts his head, answering Mark before rising from his seat. “Are you done?” Your voice cuts through. You were used to him leaving the table whenever but you didn’t want to be alone with Mark right now. At most you knew he’d cling to you as a means to ask for forgiveness and you didn’t want to deal with it.

He hums, taking his plate and washing the remains himself. It’s been a while since he’s done anything to help around the house. The action alone causes some irritation with you despite knowing you should be glad. “I’m waking up early tomorrow so if you excuse me I’ll go wash up and sleep after the game.”

Making his way to the bedroom and soon after back out to the bathroom; Hyuck closed the door behind him feeling that chilly breeze from the open window. Everything seemed fine but an ominous feeling enveloped him upon looking at himself in the mirror. The light fixture above emits a green hue to compliment the dark tiles. 

He couldn’t point his finger at it but being in this space and in the position of him leaning against the counter was causing that ache in his chest again. If he remained any longer he could see himself form scenarios in which he wouldn’t be happy and he rather not disrupt the peace you all reside in. For now at least.

As soon as Hyuck turned on the shower, Mark joined him in opening the faucet to finish washing the dishes. “Just leave them there.” Your monotonous voice filled his ears. Head turned to you with a hum as he scrubbed the last remaining utensils.

“I'm already finished, don’t worry about it.” He tried smiling. “Jesus fucking christ seems like everyone can do things themselves now.” You didn’t give him time to respond, opting to walk towards the living area. Flipping through the channels to get some watch time before Hyuck either forced you to watch the match or subtly shoo you away. 

Mark looked at you dumbfounded. He knew you were upset with him, enough to make him regret ever not telling you the news when he heard them. To an extent Mark knew you didn’t like things being hidden from you (though you adored hiding things from them). But he had justified his actions by hoping you’d be ecstatic by the time the reveal came. 

In his mind, he pictured you happily helping him move into his new apartment. Happy to see him finally start his life all over again with hopes this time he wouldn’t fail. Sometimes he wished you’d end up moving in with him. Leaving Hyuck and this faux persona you’re both creating nowadays. 

But by the looks of how you’re taking in the news, he should’ve planned better. Things between you two became complicated and mostly carnal. So he’s been trying to avoid making you upset but nothing was working. He was becoming a burden to you in his eyes and he was starting to feel frightful. 

“I’m going to go smo—“

“You do that.”

Your fingers threaded through your hair like his had earlier, not granting him even a direct look. Cutting him off after deciding to just watch the remaining minutes of the match before the one Hyuck wanted to watch.  

Mark’s mouth was left ajar, speechless at how easily you blew him off without remorse. This same thing has become quite recurrent every time he upsets you and as much he tries not to, each time you leave him feeling useless to the point he’s stuck to your hip doing anything you want.

He nods in disappointment, taking his box of cigarettes and keys, making his way to the rooftop. With the door closing behind him, you sigh in annoyance with what life is bringing your way. 

By half time, Mark had come back ignoring that bubbling jealousy as you caressed an angry Haechan whose body you enveloped as comfort given his team was losing. Three hours later he had woken from his slumber to the faintest sound of the television still on in the living room. 

Curious and with a dry throat, Mark stood from the bed making his way to the living room, opening the door as quietly as he could. 

“Today through this exclusive TV offer you can get twelve fascinating issues of Zoobooks for 19.95…” 

Distracted by the advertisement, you hadn’t noticed Mark approach you in awe after realizing the shirt you’re wearing is his. Small details like this made him forget all those abrupt outbursts you’d throw his way that only made his heart ache. If only he knew how many of these Donghyuck has endured.

His arms wrapped around your waist pulling you to his chest. Lips landing tenderly on your neck and leaving playful pecks. Your low giggles made his heart swell, hands taking a grasp on his own to loosen his grip and let you turn to face him. 

“Hyuck you should be asleep…” You drag out the ‘e’ once face to face with the older male, your smile falters upon the realization. His mirrored yours; smile dropping, eyes filled with despondence, and a knot in his throat. 

“Oh… it’s you.” To an extent he could hear the pity in your voice, subtly apologizing for confusing him with your husband. 

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” His sadness had become anger, that same knot choking him to a physically painful extent. Despite that, your pity had subsided and boredom was evident. 

“What if it was him and I said your name? I don’t want either of us to die before the New Year.” 

In his entire anger, he hated that his only thought upon your words was: ‘I wouldn’t mind dying with you.’ 

With that thought alone Mark was beginning to feel frustrated with how easily his emotions ranged because of you. Nevertheless ending his turmoil of emotions, you pulled him down to the couch with you. Encasing his lips with yours once situated to give him some peace of mind.

A kiss was always enough to calm him down. Pulling you closer to his body and resting his hands on your hips as you both continued this lustful kiss. Sighing into the kiss once he felt like he needed a breath of air; one of his hands traveled to hold your face carefully. His warmth radiated to your cold cheek.  

“What are you doing up this late?” He whispers, repositioning himself to the armrest on the right and pulling you to his body. Mimicking the position you and Hyuck were in earlier. 

“Last minute cleaning before we leave tomorrow.” You took the remote control from the coffee table, disrupting the once semi-comfortable position. “I’m starting to regret it knowing he hasn’t packed anything yet. Have you?” 

“Not precisely. I had packed everything for when I started moving into the apartment—“ and he knew he fucked up right then and there. 

Your body became tense against his, hard enough that he feared you had become a statue. Shutting his eyes in regret; Mark started beating himself over not being careful with his words. He had gotten so used to speaking freely with you that he was beginning to fear he’d have to censor his vocabulary now. 

In a frenzy of panic, the words escape his mouth with fear: “Move in with me.” 

There was no denying his words had startled you. Removing his grip from your body to face him, the questions brewing in your brain engrave themselves into your face. 

While Mark worked with that nervous laugh that escaped him involuntarily, his hands reached for your face to plant short kisses onto your lips in hopes they’d ease both of your emotions. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yeah!” 

A peppy feeling in his chest. “I mean it’s smaller than this place but I think you’ll like it.” Your eyes scanned his face, a layer of blush flushing it the longer you stared. The effects of being stared at by someone you love.

“The terrace is spacious so you can have all the plants you want. The bedroom can be your studio and we can have the bed in the living area.” He was so happy and blinded by the scenarios of having you in his home as his wife that he couldn’t see the gears turning in your head. 

How willing were you to follow through?

An amused laugh escapes your lips. Mark felt the airy comfort of acceptance to which he mirrors your laugh, kissing you now that he’s satisfied. 

“Sounds like a plan, huh? You can do whatever you want while I work for us. I mean I like you and you like me. We can start from square one, I really like you, y/n. Go with me, what else do we need?”

You knew what was needed but for now, you’ll bask in his boyish delight and kiss him like many times before; igniting his hope.

Mark took your kisses as confirmation. Hopefully a few days from now you both will find yourselves running off and leaving this stagnant life. It could be true, this may be your yearned fresh start.

He held your body closer, pillowy lips encasing yours to swiftly place them against your jawline. He created a path amongst your cold skin. A fluttering feeling brewing in your stomach the closer his lips got to your neck.

His tongue lapped at the flesh, drawing circles until he kissed it to create a tingle to run up your spine. Mark was always delicate when kissing your skin. Yes, he wanted to show Donghyuck and everyone what he did to you but for respect towards you, he restrained himself. 

“I’ll make sure you’ll get clients no matter what. You can even work remotely from the apartment or not at all if you don't want to. I'll do fine enough.” 

His warm whisper traveled up your skin to your ears, booming within your head but not much in a pleasant way.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes…” 

The word left in a groan, hands moving your hips to make you grind against his growing bulge. Quite interesting how easily he can get turned on. He was too enthralled with the way your body felt against him and his hopes to start a new life that he didn’t notice a wave of fright wash over you when hearing the slight creaking from your bedroom.

Not wanting to worry the man beneath you, you smiled, taking his face into your hands. He returned the smile wider, leaning in for one final kiss of the night. Your unexpected moves of getting off him creating a whine to slip from his lips.

“Good night, Mark. Remember to pack up before he finishes his errands.”

You didn’t give him time to return the words or feel frustrated with the mention of his best friend but it didn’t matter. All he cared for was the new life both of you were set to start together.

Fear had always plagued you upon entering this room even before Mark arrived. Whether it was because you knew an argument would brew or because you’d have to sleep in it alone. Things are different now. Now the fear stemmed from entering the room after your rendezvous to see Hyuck staring at the door until you entered, ready to lash out for these years of misery.

But in this reality he wasn’t staring at the door. He sat on the bed, back towards you while looking outside the vast window. Curtain pushed to the side that made copious amounts of neon lighting enter your shared bedroom. His figure had made your heart stop, begging for clemency at the fright he gave you.

You feared he heard you and Mark speak let alone any of the noises any of you could’ve let out from making out. While your heart banged against your ribcage to be let out, Hyuck restrained his bitter chuckle. That familiar smell swaying its way to his nostrils. At least you were in the room with him now. 

“Can’t sleep?” Your words didn’t elicit a response from him, if anything he could barely produce a sigh. With no response you approached him. Climbing on the bed, feeling the mattress sink under your knees, complaining about your abuse until you reached him. Wrapping your arms around his waist like Mark had done to you earlier, lips laying on the crook of his neck to take a whiff of his musk.

“What were you doing?” He asks, avoiding your own question. He didn’t need an answer, he knew perfectly what you were doing. Now that he had you this close, that pungent smell of Mark on you suffocated him. It didn’t help that the walls were thin and he could hear both of you murmuring. He may not have heard actual words but it was enough to know you two were together. 

His head turned to look at you upon not gaining an answer. It’s not that you took a while but he wanted to familiarize himself with your face whenever you were lying, just like you knew when he lied.

“Cleaning before we leave. I don’t want to come back to a dirty house.” You answer, kissing his cheek with a smile right after. 

Fuck. There’s no incriminating factor. Perhaps you're used to it by now.

Hyuck hums, sighing once again to rid his nostrils of Mark’s lingering scent. It was painfully intoxicating his loins. If he didn’t do anything about it, he feared not waking up tomorrow morning. Death by heartache. 

Shifting in his spot, Hyuck takes a hold of your body, laying you slowly underneath him. The image before you made your heart swell, giddy excitement filling your entire being. He didn’t do anything besides hover over you but that remorseful look in his eyes made you feel inherently nice. 

You didn’t want to feel this way. As much as you act civilized and occasionally loving towards him and in front of Mark to put up a facade, you are still angry and hurt for what he did to you nearly two years ago. You still hated him with your entire being but sometimes the nostalgia of happy moments took over you and made you miss him like crazy.

You knew you hated him. But despite how much you hated him you will always have that parasite in your system that’ll force you to remember the times he’s made you happy. And now that you found yourself with him hovering over you and looking at you lovingly, you seemed to cave.

When you thought he was leaning in for a kiss, his lips landed on your forehead. A tender and soft kiss is what he laid on your skin, taking in the scent of your hair rather than Mark’s. At least this would help ease his aching heart. 

Hyuck wondered if this feeling is what you felt when you found out about him and that girl. He never saw you cry about the situation but instead saw you tear down the house with any argument that ensued due to the subject. Perhaps he should be the one to act that recklessly. After all this was between his wife and his childhood best friend but he knew he wasn’t brave enough for that. 

In contrast to his inner turmoil, you found the action sweet. Trying your hardest to avoid that feeling of giddiness he was causing you. You two stayed like that for a few minutes, enough for his own scent to rub off on you from how close he held you. Satisfied, Hyuck pulls away, a gush of cool air getting between your bodies to remind you of that lost warmth.

“Don’t overwork yourself, you’ve done a good job keeping the house clean.” His voice still held that sleepy hoarseness, making his praise fill you even more with satisfaction. While he laid on his side again and whispered a sweet good night, you took the opportunity to turn to him and steal a kiss.

For the first time in a while, you initiated the kiss. Catching him off guard, Hyuck opens his eyes surprised before easing into it. Reminded how sweet kisses from you were and how much he had missed them all this time.

Pulling away with a smile on your lips, Hyuck returns it amused. “Good night.” You whisper, laying your head on his chest while his arm wraps around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. You two may feel hurt for the actions you’ve both taken but for tonight you’ll play along with those emotions that crave the comfort of puppy love. 

The next day came quicker than expected. All of you had different illusions created regarding your relationships and Mark seemed the most excited about the ones he’s created. Not that you wanted to ruin that hope but you needed time to think about it. On one hand it’d be a perfect way to finally ruin Donghyuck and make him pay for what he’s done to you but on the other it was such an abrupt proposition that you’re still trying to process it. 

And for the past three hours, you’ve sat calmly in the passenger seat of your car now that Haechan finally finished his errands, road trip in process. Both of you hand in hand with the radio working as the only source of sound. Even with that, Mark’s bitterness couldn’t be taken away. The image of you being so loving towards the man you fought with daily was consuming him in the worst way possible. 

Can one forget everything said that easily?

He tried distracting himself with anything he brought but even that couldn’t do anything for him. His glare shifted from you to Hyuck anytime someone talked. For the past hour both you and your husband had been passively debating on what to eat before arriving at the vacation home. Mark had given up his rights to make decisions, not caring much about what he ate. If it was for him, a good cold drink and a cigarette would be considered a meal.

“I don’t want to eat pasta again this week.” you whined, fingers squeezing his. A low grunt left your husband’s throat, rolling his eyes at how hard it’s always been to get you to choose what to eat. “Then let’s stop at a rest area and buy something from those restaurants?” His voice got louder, not enough to be considered aggravated but enough to make Mark shake his head with a grin.

“And eat in the car?! We still have two hours left, I don’t want the smell to stay!” Mark covered his face with his hands, laughing silently seeing you let go of Haechan’s hand. You pout in dissatisfaction while Hyuck ran his fingers through his hair, a huff of annoyance escaping him. 

It wasn’t long until the sun went down and due to his busy morning, he didn’t get to eat breakfast or lunch. Poor guy was on the brink of fainting from starvation. “We should’ve ate while you were putting gas.” The words escaping you had traveled to Hyuck’s ear, leaving behind a bitter tone.

Raising the hand that was in his hair, he turned to you irked. His face was red, mouth agape in disbelief since you were the one who didn’t want to eat in that area. “I told you and you didn’t want to!—” 

He was abruptly cut off when a popping sound was heard, dissipating any anger and laughter from anyone inside. Right now, you all felt confused and scared realizing it was the sound of a tire the second the rubber began flopping on the concrete and the drive was no longer smooth.

“Just what I need, Jesus fucking Christ.” Your husband mutters, opening his door angrily to get out and inspect the damage. You looked at him with the same expression he gave you before beginning his berating but now you followed behind to see what happened. With everyone gone, Mark is left alone in the car, realizing this could get much worse.

“Pop the trunk, let me get the spare out.” Donghyuck states, patting the metal and looking at you a bit tired. But your ashamed grimace was putting him out of ease. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t have a spare…”

He rubbed his face, sighing in frustration. “Are you being serious, y/n? Why don’t you have a spare?!” 

"I— we took it out to transfer the first batch of canvases to Mrs. Oh's house, we just didn't bother to put it back in..." 

He wanted to yell at you. To start an argument in which both of you would tell the other to die without saying the actual words. He wanted to walk away and leave both you and that traitor alone with the car just as long as he was far away; but he couldn’t.

Things have gone well and last night had given him hope too. Haechan knew he couldn’t ruin things this fast over a tire or being hangry. The only rational thing to do is sit down and act like he was fine, like it was all fine and under control. 

Taking a seat next to Mark, the both share a brief look before sitting in silence, defeat washing over your husband. Mark didn’t give any input and you yourself didn’t know what to do. Only thing that came to mind was comforting Hyuck.

That in mind, you push his legs together, taking a seat on his lap and making him face you after wrapping your arms around his neck. He looked beautiful in your opinion. His plump lips formed a pout, lids heavy from exhaustion. Even when dull you adored his eyes.

“Does your phone have signal? Can we try calling a mechanic?” He shakes his head, grunt sounding more like a whine while protruding his pout more. “Yours?” You mimic his response, pulling him closer by the neck.

Mark saw everything from his peripheral, knuckles turning white the tighter he held his book. His heart was screaming, aching, and threatening to explode if you kept being this blatantly affectionate in front of him. Did you have no shame? No remorse? What were you playing at to love him just last night but rub in his face that another man could have you publicly?

The nail in the coffin came when you leaned into Haechan, slotting his lips with yours and kissing him tenderly. Turning his head to an angle towards you both, his eyes squinted and lips parted with aversion. The image seemed too familiar. Was it from last night or the afternoon in this same car that started this affair but he too felt betrayed now. 

Having enough of watching you kiss away your husband’s stress, the older male made his way out of the car, slamming the door causing both you and Hyuck to separate. His gaze turned to his friend, panting to regain air but before he could question anything you kissed his swollen lips once more, holding him for dear life.

“Better?”

“Much better.” 

Hyuck smiles at you, kissing your cheek before helping you off his lap. He wouldn’t have minded staying like that for a while but his subconscious told him to go to Mark. To talk to him while he remained agitated and with swollen lips: evidence of your adoration. It may be malicious but why shouldn’t he when everything pointed to his betrayal. 

“You good?” Your husband raises his eyebrows, thumb swiping against his red swollen lips. An action Mark watches bitterly. “Just taking a smoke.” Placing the stick between his lips, the older pushes the box towards his friend as an offering. Hyuck takes it, leaning against the car waiting for Mark to pass him the lighter but the latter turns it on with his own. In the instance that their heads came together and tips of the burning cigarettes touch, a flash goes off making both of them turn startled.

Haechan blows off the smoke, ruffling his hair when realizing it was you that took a picture of both. No one said anything. You simply smiled at them, rolling the film for whatever was your next target. 

For the following half an hour you all remained silent with the exception of your camera whenever they did something you liked and occasionally the radio if anyone saw it fit to turn it on.

The sun was threatening to fall and worry finally settled; the three of you throwing worried glances to each other. When the universe had enough of you all acting useless; the presence of an older woman cleaning her hands on her worn out apron stood before you three. 

“What seems to be the problem?” Though sounding hostile, she meant well. Clearing his throat, Hyuck stood from his position on the seat he had settled on not long ago. “Hello… Our tire popped and we don’t have a spare. By any chance do you have service to call a mechanic?” His hands rub against his jeans, smiling at her in hopes that would help. 

She simply chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief. “Who doesn’t carry a spare tire driving through here? Have you seen the potholes?” Her chuckle turned into laughter, mocking the three but nevertheless she didn’t mean any harm and instead asked them to follow her.

“There’s no mechanic for another two hours and the one we have has been out for the past week but my son and husband should be here from work in around ten minutes. My son has spare tires and you can work it out with him. How does that sound?” 

There was no other choice. All of you had to be gone soon if you wanted to enjoy the remaining days of 1999 and Mark’s stay with the two of you. Nodding, Hyuck agrees, eliciting a smile on the woman’s face that invites the party to her home. 

The car was left on the side of the road but the vast windows of the home allowed all of you to view it for precaution. The walk from the vehicle to the house was a bit far with the troubles of wet dirt from past rain and some stray thorns but both men tried their best to make your path clear.

It was much colder upon entering the home. The walls were freezing and the lights dull. The house was lovely but that ominous feeling was creeping on Mark enough to hold your arm and pull you closer to him. You mustered to side eye him, confused on his actions but pulled away when Hyuck turned to you both. A subtle dissatisfied look on his face.

“Spending New Years at the beach?” The lady questioned in order to create conversation. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea so far.” Haechan smiles, looking around when taking a seat on the plastic covered couch. The older lady that soon introduced herself as Magui had gone to the kitchen to continue cooking dinner.

She had confessed that her husband and son left her alone the entire day. Most of the time only seeing them when they came back and when making them lunch. Seeing yourself in her, you searched for a sliver of sadness but who figured some people don’t mind the life you have. She spoke highly of the men in her life so maybe that was the key to her happiness. 

“Are you staying with family for the New Year, Magui?” You egg the conversation, sipping on the hot chocolate she handed all of you now that it was getting colder. “We’re spending it with my family. They live in the next state over. Today is their last day of work for the year so we leave early tomorrow.” Her smile became warmer the longer she spoke to you all, feeling more at ease herself. 

“Are you all spending it with your family?” Truth be told she wanted to know what was the deal between the three of you. She was an older woman, the more wiser and she could see the glances both men threw you. Were you with the beautifully tanned honey haired man or the brunette with gracious cheekbones? Both of them made their infatuation clear but only one of them would be presented as your partner.

Mark shrugged, giving her a shy smile. “Just us three.” Haechan answers, taking your hand into his. There her answer went. Parting her lips to let out an ‘ah’, she nods at the reveal. 

“Seems a little lonely doesn’t it?” It did but none of you would want to admit it. After all the past years you’ve spent it with Hyuck’s family so this was a change of pace. “Not necessarily. I only have them.” Mark answers, his eyes shifting from her to both of you. 

He had his family but his brother and mother were cowards that did anything his father said. He, like you, spent Christmas and New Years with Hyuck and his family, that’s the most he’d see his best friend in a busy year. 

“Yeah… well his family too but he wanted to change it up this year.” You laugh nervously, squeezing your husband’s hand who only raised his eyebrows as a response. You, like Mark, didn't have a good relationship with your own family. 

Not too long after your mother’s death, your father remarried a woman you could only describe as a geriatric cunt. Preferring her over you: his own daughter, things hadn’t been the same as they were when you were younger. Years of neglect had gotten to you and you treated him as nothing more than your creator. 

Well, that’s your version but in reality all these years you treated your father horribly for trying to move on. Yes, he loved your mother but he knew he couldn’t take care of you and your brother alone and his current wife was a delight. Even after all these years of your reproach, they still loved you dearly and tried their best to keep in touch. 

As the years progressed you ignored your father’s advances on fixing this damaged relationship but he kept trying. You couldn’t understand why your brother had forgiven him but you couldn't. Maybe because you refuse to acknowledge you were in the wrong in wanting your father to cope the same way as you did. So if you were miserable he should be too.

This year he had invited you all to his home once again for the holidays. He knew you spent it with your Husband’s family but it never hurt to try. Whenever you didn’t answer his emails, letters, or fax he’d resort to Hyuck who’d only reply with: ‘I’ll let her know.’ Knowing full well the answer will always be no.

Donghyuck never blamed you for trying to stay away from your father. He saw how Mark’s own relationship with his was and he didn’t want to push you either. All he could do was stay by your side and offer you comfort despite not agreeing with you. At least he knew his family would always produce warmth and love for his loved ones.

Soon enough screaming from outside took everyone’s focus. Magui knew it was her husband and son; greeting them ever so lovingly and kissing their cheeks as a welcome; her face lit up in joy. 

Maybe in another universe this could be you and Hyuck. Maybe.

“So?” The older male spoke with a gruff voice, hand turning to the three of you sitting on the couch as he took his spot on the recliner chair his wife sat on earlier. Presumably none of you were sitting there by the time he arrived. “Their tire popped right outside.” Words came out choppy while chewing on a piece of potato, making sure it was well cooked. 

“Chivi go change it out, get one of your spares.” Magui ordered her son who stood with no hesitation. Cocking her head towards her son while looking at your husband; he stood up to follow him, pulling you with him in the process. Not trusting to leave you alone with Mark even when there were eyes all over.

You began freezing the instant you crossed the threshold, your jacket doing nothing to warm you. You didn’t complain much. In a way you did prefer being with him for the time being, still feeling awkward around the older couple back inside.

“Ah. Yeah… Horrible burst.” The one called ‘Chivi’ speaks, raising his eyebrows while releasing a small laugh. With a flashlight he pointed at how horribly ripped the rubber was, flaps barley hanging close together. “My spares are used up and old themselves so I recommend you change it as soon as shops open again and get a new one. It’ll last you a good few weeks but it’s best to be cautious. Are you okay with that?”

Anything was okay than staying stranded in a small town nearing the middle of nowhere. All he wanted to do was get to the home, shower, and rest for the remainder of the night. He was exhausted and hungry, he wanted a break.

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine. How much would it be?” Haechan nods exasperatedly, hand reaching for his wallet but Chivi stops him. “Nothing! Actually, can you go get me a pack of tortillas and a large bottle of coke? I forgot to get them and ma’s gonna kill me if she finds out.” He laughs, finding this comedic. 

You let out a giggle yourself. After waiting a good 10-20 minutes and night had finally caught up to you, all this family asked for was the essentials to their dinner. It may be the simplest of requests but you found the family endearing perhaps because you were still fixated on the fact that in another life you too could’ve had this sweet family with Donghyuck.

“Sure, no problem.” He heard your voice for the first time this night, smiling at the confirmation. He handed Hyuck the keys to his truck, rushing you both while giving directions to the nearest grocery store that seemed to be 15 minutes away if you went straight ahead. 

When arriving the both of you got the items rapidly with barely any exchange of words, exhaustion weighing down both of you. Besides their requests both you and Hyuck opted to get them a cake. It was minimal and perhaps the most random thing to give but you wanted to show your gratitude to the family in case they didn’t take payment for their help.

On the way back, he cracked the window open letting the cold air in, making you turn to him a little peeved. “Cold?” He taunts, tongue pushing against his cheek before chuckling. “Very. Feel.” Taking his hand onto yours, Hyuck pretended to shudder at the contact of your cold skin but didn't let go. 

“We finally have some time to ourselves.” He deviates, holding your hand against your thighs which you covered with a blanket you were able to get out of the car before leaving. “Yeah, I suppose so.” At least the first night out without any argument and ill words thrown at each other besides your make up anniversary dinner. 

From time to time he’d turn to you, seeing as you watched the trees blur away but focused on how beautiful you looked. The way your lips shined from the lip balm, your nose with the faintest hint of blush from the cold, and the way your eyelashes batted against your cheeks whenever you blinked.

If it wasn’t because of the darkness, he’d think you’re glowing. You didn’t look as miserable and dull as you did months ago and before Mark’s arrival. That only made him feel guilty and incensed; being aware that his best friend has been able to liven up your life. Just Mark and not him: your husband. 

Haechan’s hand begins to smoothen out the creases of your sweatpants, his hand progressively getting higher on your thigh enough to make you feel a tingling ache between your legs. His hand became warm enough that it almost felt like you didn’t have cloth between you two and he was directly caressing your skin.

“What are you doing, Hyuckie?” your head rolled to face him, sultry eyes begging him to not stop even if your voice tried to act like it. “I never got to fully taste you that night, princess.” A smile crept on your face as his hand inside your sweatpants, pushing away the fabric of your underwear. 

There was always sweetness and comfort in the way he called you said nickname. You always surrendered under him whenever he said the word. If only he knew the effect it had on you, he’d exploit it to have you eating from his palm.

“We can’t—” You choked up, his fingers pushing through your cavern, enveloping them with your warmth. He held a smirk on his face, biting his inferior lip to repress a mischievous chuckle. “Not here…” You moan, he curled the digits once reaching as deep as he could, slowly moving them within you. 

“We can’t fuck in someone else’s car.” An airy breath left your lips, panting the while he continued to move his fingers, tips gracing your g-spot. He knew your body well, no one but him. 

“Why not?” He whines, fingers leaving your body and making you cry from emptiness. His hand reaches his plump lips, smothering them with your essence as if it was lip balm, licking it off after seconds and rejoicing from joy at the taste he longed for. 

Your eyelids fluttered at the image, feeling tears well up on your waterline. “Lay your blanket in the back, we can there.” He sucks on his ring finger, biting at the skin, teeth dancing across the flesh to leave behind a red trail before drying them off on his neck. 

In your seconds of contemplation his phone rang angrily inside his pocket; removing his attention from you. You wouldn’t deny that it bothered you, it had ruined the mood and both of you couldn’t ignore it as your pager kept buzzing when the calls went unanswered. 

It felt like Deja Vu for the one on the other end.

“Mark–” “Mark.”

Hyuck shakes his head with a chuckle, not surprised that even when gone he’d interrupt another intimate moment. “We’re taking too long apparently.” Turning to look at his disappointed face while he sped off to the house; you couldn’t help but feel his frustration. He didn’t talk after that, leaving the reminder silent. 

On arrival you took it upon yourself to break that silence, cupping his cheek into your cold hands making him look at you. “When we get home, okay?” You kiss him, easing his irritation. He nodded in agreement, his own hand on top of yours and pulling you closer to him to deepen it.

He swiped his tongue over your lower lip, you parted them to give him access and when his free hand traveled under your shirt; your pager buzzed again causing him to laugh into the kiss. This time bitterness won. 

“Let’s just go.” He sighs, unbuckling and rushing out the truck. You shared his sentiment, picking at your lips on the way inside the house; his hand holding yours tightly. 

The four inside turned to the creak of the door, desperate hunger slapped on their faces. “There was a long line, sorry.” Your husband excused, handing them the still warm tortillas and soda bottle. 

“Sit. Eat Before you all leave.” Magui offers; a warm smile on her face while serving her son first. The three of you didn’t want to burden the family any longer but they insisted until you all agreed. 

While conversation was made and you all enjoyed the meal after extensive hours of unwilling starvation, you all finally bid your goodbyes and thanked them again for their hospitality. In a matter of seconds that brief encounter was gone but the experience will always stay.

The remaining two hours were spent in complete silence considering you knocked out as soon as you got in the car and Mark held resentment for you not answering and crossing that threshold with swollen lips letting him know what you two were truly doing. Donghyuck himself was tired and didn’t have it in him to throw jabs at the older male in the passenger’s seat (both of them convincing you to just sleep in the back until you arrived).

Around midnight you all had arrived. The scenery was familiar to Mark, enough that he sat up straight to analyze every architectural detail of the house. From the geometrical protruding walls, huge clear windows, and the creaking play set that had given him many burns going down the slide as a child. 

This was Mark’s— his father’s beach house. The same house his father banned him from years ago after one of their petty arguments. One neither could recall anymore but till this day they still remained angry.

He wanted to be glad that he was staying here as a way to stick it to his dad but knowing the man gave Hyuck access when he never gave it to anyone, not even his favorite child, made his blood boil. What had he done for his friend to gain his father’s trust till this day?

“Can you get some of the bags while I take her in?” Donghyuck interrupts his thoughts. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he gets to have you and his father’s admiration. Hyuck didn’t have a bad relationship with his own father. Why was he so adamant on taking his dad too? He was already brainwashing you by the way you’ve been acting so what else could he take from him?

Mark bitterly took in the items, throwing them all against the well kept couch. While your husband tucked you in (occasionally hearing your sleepy complaints about wanting to sleep), Hyuck returned quickly to help Mark unload. Stepping foot in the living room, he watched his friend’s actions.

The older looked vexed, gripping tightly to old framed family pictures. He appeared in some, miserable as one could be and the ones he ever smiled in he was a toddler with no recollection of ever loving his father. 

“Neat, huh?” Haechan interrupted, extending his arms to signal at the house. Mark hummed, not lifting his gaze taking his own bag. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this house? That the family friend was my dad?” He questions minimizing the distance between the two. 

The younger shrugs giving no importance, “Thought we’d spend the last few days where we always had fun.” He smiles almost sincerely. It’s true that Hyuck wanted to spend the end of the year at a place full of fond memories but after what Mark has done, tormenting him a little won’t hurt. 

Mark sighs, pressing his lips tightly together while nodding; leaving his friend alone in the living room as he makes his way to his old bedroom. The only unkempt and dirty one in the entire house. 

Early morning Donghyuck had woken up with a cold spot beside him that belonged to you. His mind raced with ill thoughts and fury was consuming him. He called out for you but gained no response. That began to elicit scenarios in which if he stood and went to Mark’s room you’d be there.

Shaking his head to not get ahead of himself, he calls out your name again, putting on his sandals to roam around the house and search for you. He searched upstairs, in the kitchen, the living room, extra bedrooms, and even considered barging into Mark’s. But he didn’t want to see it with his own eyes. He didn’t want to see you two in anything compromising and ruin his sanity. 

Instead he went downstairs to continue his search, aiding his thumping heart from the ache of the ‘what if’. If there’s something Hyuck keeps in mind from all the things you’ve said it’s: ‘Who seeks, finds.’ And he didn’t want to find, at least not yet. He was glad that when stepping foot in the warm lower layer, he found you floating about in the grand indoors pool.

His heart relaxed as his face muscles did, sighing in relief to know his suspicions were wrong. How glad he was to be wrong for once. Making his way to the edge of the pool, he rolls up his sleeping pants, removing the sandals and dipping his feet in the warm water.

It took you a few seconds to realize he had arrived but seeing his face unconsciously made a smile appear on your face. “Morning,” You coo, swimming his way. He returns the smile basking in the sweetness of the moment. 

If this had happened months ago you’d glare at him before deciding to get out of his presence. You would’ve never spoken to him in this way months ago but now you were acting like everything was behind you. Whether it’s your own guilt or being tired of the cycle, he was going to appreciate the small things.

“Morning, princess.” He lets out with a groggy voice, caressing your cheek the instant you get close. “Slept well? I didn’t want to wake you, you looked really tired yesterday.” He musters a nod, yawning away his remaining sleep.

“Is it cold out? Why aren’t you at the beach instead?” You shrug, swiping away droplets from your face. “I’ll get ready and we can go if you want. There’s this secluded area Mark and I would always go. I think you’ll like it, this time it’ll be just us.” He winks, standing to shake off the water that clung to his legs. You nodded, watching him make his way out to leave you in solitude again. 

You two hadn’t been this close in the longest time and it was concerning how sweet he was. Even when you two ‘made’ peace and started to act like nothing was ever wrong he didn’t go out of his way to be this loving. The most came to occasional kisses on the cheek and holding hands but he had taken a drastic turn that night he announced his long break.

That night had shifted things for everyone and you couldn’t get past your uneasiness. You knew it was because of Mark, it was obvious in the way he spoke to his friend that Hyuck saw something and he didn’t like it. You weren’t stupid, you can see the way they look at each other compared to earlier in his stay. 

For the most part they always tried to defy or avoid each other and the times they acted like best friends, the moment would be ruined when either made a sly remark regarding you. You wanted to believe Hyuck did it for the kindness of his heart and not to brag but that doubt won’t leave your mind anytime soon, not until Mark’s final day and you decide if you’ll join him.

But in the meantime you’ll enjoy the affection Hyuck’s giving you. Despite spending the most intimate time with Mark he had dialed down on his sweetness and allowed his libido to take over. Sure occasionally he’d act like the sweet boy from earlier but he was a man nonetheless and your cute walks around the countryside turned to him taking you in the back of the car because he couldn’t hold off much longer until getting home. 

You liked Mark. You held him dear to you, he was still that sweet boy you met half a year into your relationship with Donghyuck but he barely acted like him anymore. He was animalistic and possessive, wanting to keep you near him at all times and you didn’t know how to process that. You understood his love for you to an extent but the man you first slept with that afternoon wasn’t the same one that held you roughly against a sink just two days ago.

Not to mention that aside from his libido he became a clingy cheese ball that if you spent too much time with him, you’d scream how much of a bore he became inside your head.

Minutes later, Hyuck had come out with the remaining items you needed, taking your hand in his and dragging you out the dock that led directly to the beach. With the exception that he took a detour between large boulders until you both ended up by the beach completely isolated from anyone else. 

The view was beautiful; for miles on end all you could see was the swaying dull cyan waves, clashing against the sand and whatever boulders were closest. Walking a little further up to the sand, you set the blanket as Hyuck the remaining items. Both settled beside each other waiting for the chilliness to calm down before dipping in the sea.

As the minutes of silence passed it was to be noted how estranged you two became to one another. What in past years would have been multiple conversations in by now had become subtle glances and shy giggles when caught. Almost like the beginning of your courtship. To anyone seeing you two; they ought to think it was a cute occurrence, but to you both— it was eating you alive seeing how dull things became.

“Are you cold?”

He breaks the ice, opening a container of strawberries, taking a bite of the red fruit. “A little.” You confess, looking from him to the tides that purposely spray you. He took the opportunity and came closer, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you to him; enveloping you in an embrace that in fact was warming you.

He hums, resting his head on your shoulder basking in your scent. Glad that for once in a long time he couldn’t smell his friend on you. “Are we staying here the three months?” You question, hoping that initiated a type of conversation.

“You don’t like it here?” “I do. I just want to know what plans you have.”

He lets out a sigh through his nose, fingers dancing across your arms.

“You know I don’t like saying my plans out loud. Your grandma scared me off.” He chuckles, allowing his lips to grace your skin as if it was an accident, creating goosebumps; Donghyuck can’t help but grin.

The most you could do was bring his hand up to your lips, placing a tender kiss on his soft skin. Feeling your lips on his flesh made his heart flutter, becoming warm until he saw a familiar accessory wrapped around your wrist. That beauty he felt had dwindled in a matter of seconds.

Donghyuck recalled seeing a similar one on Mark’s wrist just last month. That same shade of blue that faded with the pass of water and beads began wearing out. For someone that’s spent weeks analyzing you two, he was beginning to beat himself up over this small object.

“You’ve been getting closer to Mark, haven't you?” He takes your hand, bracelet in view. You tensed until he showed the key element. A hum ended up leaving your lips, nodding whilst nervously teasing him.

“I stole your best friend.”

“But he’s my best friend.”

His voice may be playful but his heart ached. 

“Maybe come home early and you can have him back.” You smile mockingly, turning so he could see it. His hand drops from your wrist, landing on your thigh. “I don’t think that’s a problem anymore.” 

You knew what he insinuated but you weren’t going to let that ruin this small peace you are feeling now. “You know we miss you, right?” Lies. You and him knew it was a lie but if it wasn’t for the tone that delivered such words, it would’ve consumed him.

Instead he found himself biting his lower lip, your sultry eyes scanning his face and feeling his hand inch further up the exposed skin of your thigh. “How much?” He asks, face getting closer to yours, enough to smell the pool’s bleach in your hair and the coconut lip balm.

“Hyuckie, we can’t here…” His fingers went beneath the fabric of your bikini bottoms, intruding your walls carefully just like last night. This time there was no reason for them to be interrupted. “You said we could when we got home,” He kisses the shell of your earlobe, words falling hot against your flesh.

His lips began a trail from there onto the crook of your neck, nipping lightly and leaving a warm sting. “I haven’t been able to feel you fully for so long, I’m surprised you’re not dry.” You felt yourself gulp at his words, beginning to pant from the adrenaline of both this rendezvous and the possible meaning of his words.  

He fully separated himself from you, laying you on the blanket before hovering over your body like a few nights ago. The exception being that this time he delved into a deep and animalistic kiss. His lips felt desperate against yours, both your tongues immediately waltzing with each other. Holding onto his neck and torso to keep some control.

“Won’t someone see?” “It’s private property, princess.”

Donghyuck was drunk with pent up arousal from months of no contact and the irritation of what you and his best friend have done behind his back. You were his and Mark was his best friend. Two separate things and he was not going to allow either of you to merge into one and leave him behind. 

Your nails softly clawed his skin, leaving red trails to indicate how much he was pushing. You didn’t dislike this, in fact his lascivious side has always been what you enjoy. He groans against your mouth from the sting of your actions, biting your lower lip to elicit a cry of your own.

Both your pained moans turned to pleasure giggles; he licked your lower lip before both your tongues connected and his hands untied your bikini top. Sliding from your skin and letting him feel your perked nipples against his own.

You felt sensitive under him, it wasn’t helping that his hand traveled between the both of you to undo the knots of your bottoms as well. Pushing off the fabric to let him rub circles on your clit without any restraints. Your eyelids fluttered at the contact, pulling him even closer to what he already was. 

“Not so shy now, huh?”  He laughs against your mouth, nipping your bottom lip before leaving a trail of kisses from them to your neck. The instant he penetrated you with his fingers, he bit your neck causing a pleasured yelp to leave your lips. “Oh, you dick.” You moan, moving your head to give him more access.

Haechan laughed at your words, continuing his abuse on your flesh and making sure those juvenile markings were dark and visible. He could do this to you and proudly. Only him. 

Delving in the pleasure of his long fingers moving at a gratifying pace, you urge him to add another one in which he complied, scissoring and stretching them within you to continue hearing your moans. You loved his fingers. He was the right amount of rough that made your legs shake with even the least amount of effort. 

Curling his digits; the deeper they were within you, the louder your moans became. It didn’t help that his aggressive praises made your head spin. The likes of: 

“Your cunt was made for me.” 

“No one will ever know how to fuck you this good with just their fingers.” 

and “If you’re shaking like this with my fingers, I can’t wait until you’re full of my cock and cum.” 

All of which made your eyes roll to the back of your head with the imagery of what that was like.

But you weren’t one to let him just talk without action. “Then fill me right now. Bruise me with no end.” Your eyes met his, a thin amount of tears threatening to slip. The same sultry eyes and voice defied and taunted him waiting for consequences. 

He didn’t grant you the satisfaction of a primary orgasm, instead he pulled his fingers out to leave you aching and whining from emptiness. His body separated from yours and that breeze he protected you from earlier attacks while he removed his swimming trunks. 

Sitting up to look at him, your chest felt warm seeing his hardened dick spring in fervor almost as if it had a mind of its own when in your presence. You too were glad to see it; after so long and in this state, the one thing you wanted was to have it in you no matter what entrance. 

And like a famished species, you crawl your way towards him. Holding onto the back of his thighs to pull him closer to you. The action made him stumble but he laughed at your desperation. Hand going to your hair, threading his fingers through it and holding your head firmly to look at him. 

“Want a taste?” He takes a hold of his heavy sex, taunting you by slapping it against your cheeks and watching your agape mouth chase after it. You nodded hurriedly, leaving behind any shame and pride just to taste him once more. 

Pulling your head closer and watching your mouth open more, Haechan lets his tip grace your lips before pushing your head away. Eliciting a pained whine; he crouched down to your level, his tight hold on your head not leaving and making you look directly in his eyes. 

“No. You don’t deserve this much.” His words were low and full of hatred, his eyes boring holes onto your own. If hell was real, you had just seen it through them. 

Dropping his grip from your hair, he helped you get on all fours. You could feel both of you sinking further into the sand and the blanket doing its best to not allow it to get near you two but his rugged actions weren’t helping the poor thing. 

Instead once you were positioned before him, he pushed your top half further down, enough for your head to lay on your arms and your lower half lifted to his crotch. As much as he didn’t want to grant you any more pleasure, Hyuck couldn’t hold himself back when he saw your glistening cunt under the sun, begging him to taste you. 

Your legs spread enough for him to see every crevice full of the arousal he caused. Fuck it. This was for him, not for you and he wanted to grant himself the pleasure of tasting you again.

Just when you were going to whine and beg for him to fuck you, you felt his lips attach to your cunt making you moan louder than you have in a while. He grunted at your reaction; it was music to his ears, hot enough to travel to his angry cock and twitch with precum spurting out. 

He felt your legs shake, not even his tight hold on them could make you stop. Haechan’s tongue swiped from your entrance to your clit, collecting your juices there and sucking on the bud to take them into his mouth. Proudly swallowing what you made for him. He hummed directly against your cunt, the warm vibration sending you overboard. 

“Hyuckie…” You moaned that sweet name again, his cock twitching at your cracking voice. He didn’t want to succumb to you, after all you’ve put him through the last thing he wanted to do was please you but damn that would happen regardless when fingering and eating you out was his favorite thing to do.

His nails dug into the skin of your ass cheeks, harsh grip eliciting a yelp as he continued to delve into the taste of your arousal. A delicacy if you ask him. Tongue teasing your entrance to the point just enough of the tip penetrated you.

You tried your best in touching yourself or at least rubbing him off with your feet but he always pushed you away, grunting at your disturbance. Feeling his tongue lap at your folds, circling around your clit, and sucking on it harshly then softly. Becoming a pattern that throws you into a frenzy.

Feeling your stomach coil and your legs start to give up on you, you begged him to just finish you off. To let you cum since he hadn’t done so when he was fingering you but he didn’t budge. Instead he continued his assaults on your sex; his face had pushed further in and you could feel how his soft rosy cheeks collected your cum on them. 

You wanted to see his face badly. To see how you’ve stained it and glisten in the sunlight. If he already looks beautiful, you believe your essence will make him even more so.  

“I didn't want to treat you and look where you have me. You’re so lucky I love you.” He grunts, laying his tongue flat on your cunt. You laugh at his statement but hear it become a moan at that. His warm, soft, velvety tongue licking away your own mockery. 

You feel his hand come flat on your ass, whipping your head to look at him but his cold glare didn’t allow for any words to leave your mouth, not even the moan that was product of his harsh treatment. “Are you close?” He grins, separating himself from between your legs. Fingers collecting your arousal and pushing it into his mouth.

Nodding feverishly, you bite your lower lip. Watching him thoroughly suck on his nimble fingers, not leaving a drop behind. Your breathing was labored and you could feel sweat accumulate where his hands had been holding you; you were no longer cold. Donghyuck’s actions alone elicited shaky moan after moan but what caused them to come with no end was how beautiful he looked behind you.

His caramel locks stuck to his forehead, perspiration threatening while his honey skin glowed under the sun’s rays. The same rays that made the lower half of his face glisten with the layer of your cum he was graciously licking at. The longer you looked at him, the longer you noticed how his lips were swollen red and his fingers pruning up.

He didn’t lie when he said he loved your taste.

What you intended to let out as a moan came out as a cry. Feeling your heart heavy and needy but most of all your stomach felt sick. Twisting and turning in hopes that he was to finally fill you up like you had asked. 

You were also needy and the image behind you made that worse; you felt desperate. The kind where you could throw a tantrum for not getting what you want and what you want is his cock to your hilt. Letting his frustrations out on you.

“Is my baby needy? Are you that needy?” He mocked. Pouting his lips to grip your hair again, lifting your head slightly before leaning in and pulling you to him. You nodded with a whine, chasing his lips but even that he denied until you sighed in frustration.

“Tell me how much you want it.” He pecked your lips, taunting you every time he pulled away. “Tell me how much you need and want my cock…” His grip tightened on your hair, a cry leaving your lips against his own. He swallowed it, tongues connecting instantly in a sloppy kiss. 

“Only mine.”

He growls in a low voice against your lips. Glaring directly into your eyes with the tightest grip on your hip and hair. And though he searched for any guilt from you, he was met with your own angry glares, getting fed up with his elongated foreplay.

“I do want it. I’ve wanted it for so long but I was not going to give you the satisfaction of touching me just yet. Call this your actual Christmas present.” 

Your voice filled with its own pent-up irritation, glaring at him the longer he kept you from feeling good just because of his jealousy fits. Here he could see you hadn’t put it all past you but instead ignoring it until he fucked your brains out. He didn’t know whether to laugh or continue his bitterness but what he did know was that his dick was hard and hurting from his own restraint. 

“And I beg that you release all your frustrations out right now because my abstinence better be worth it.” You let out through gritted teeth, eliciting a bitter and angry chuckle from him. “Because one of us has to be loyal.” Your pupils shake, enlarging the second he releases his grip and harshly pushes your head away. 

Your labored breath became louder every second he shuffled behind you. His tight grip on your hip pulling you towards him whilst his tip rubbed against your delicate cunt. For a moment he halted any of his actions, the background noises becoming overwhelming and your throat betraying you by releasing silent cries. At least only you could hear them.

But he took that silence away, letting strings of spit slide from his tongue to your entrance and using it as extra lubricant before penetrating you. He was different from Mark. While Mark was long, Haechan was girthy and with just the first few centimeters in, you could feel the stretch his fingers hadn’t granted you.

Those earlier cries became louder, struggling to cover your mouth the longer he pushed himself in you. It wasn’t painful but it felt foreign . It had been months since he’s been in you that your body was beginning to forget how he felt. While he hadn’t moved just yet, his pretty groans became the source of your satisfaction. 

It didn’t take him long to start moving. His strokes were slow but long, rugged if you will but they knocked pretty disgruntled noises out of you and that was enough for you both. 

While he thrusted into you, his hands moved from your hips to your waist all the way to your breast. His warm hands enveloping them, massaging and squeezing softly.

His hands were soft in comparison to Mark’s that became calloused the longer he continued with harsher techniques in his projects. They’re also warmer, was it because of the sun coming out or his body temperature; you found yourself to rejoice in his touch.

In that instance his thrust became harder, fingers toying and twisting your nipples before pinching them. First softly then hard enough to elicit a masochistic cry. “Hyuckie!” You yelp in pleasure, hair covering your pretty face. He lets one of his hands fall from your tit, reaching for your hair and pushing it away just to see how your features contorted for him.

Just like you enjoyed seeing his soiled face, he liked seeing your expressions from pleasure.

“Scream my name all you want. No one’s here but you and I!” Donghyuck laughs, kissing your sweaty skin with each of his thrusts. But it wasn’t just you two, there will always be Mark.

Having woken up minutes prior; Mark’s habit of searching for you early in the morning led him to tip-toe around the house searching for any sign of you — and your husband to avoid problems — but when he had no luck even in the pits of the basement, he knew there was only two options at hand.

One: Hyuck and you abandoned him for the grocery shopping you both had mentioned in the car ride. Or two: his dear best friend had taken you to the beach. And given the car and keys were where they had been placed last night, the clear choice was the latter. 

Not giving it much thought and only pulling the sweater he tossed on the couch the night prior, Mark groggily made his way behind the house. Dragging his feet and blocking the incoming sun rays with his hand. Struggling through branches and pesky rocks; Mark knew he’d be disappointed the second he saw you two but he didn’t expect to be heart broken.

At most Mark expected to see you two hold tightly like you had been when arriving to Magi’s house or holding hands while walking along the shoreline but here he was hiding behind a boulder, freezing from the shade and breeze, and witnessing his best friend fucking you. 

Donghyuck no longer held you from behind, instead he had helped you onto your back. With one leg up on his shoulder and another around his waist, the position made him go deeper than before. All Mark could focus on was your moans. They were so genuine and raw that it broke him when he heard you utter: “Fuck, I missed you...”

He didn’t notice when his mouth had gone agape or when his chest began feeling heavy but Mark felt sick and no one could fix that. It didn’t help that Hyuck took your lips with his, ensuing in a passionate kiss that held both of your anger and desire whilst spewing vile on how you were his and his alone. The only thing holding him up is that you didn’t confirm his statement.

Mark wanted nothing more than to stomp where you two laid and tear Hyuck apart from you. To feel his clenched fist come in contact with his perfect cheeks and not stop until that crimson liquid he’s always been scared of told him to stop. He wanted to keep his best friend away from you and tell him to never come near you again. Scream how you were his and his alone— just like Hyuck was claiming for himself.

But he couldn’t move. His feet had sunk in the wet sand and his legs felt weak. He only had the willpower to move a few more steps and it was either his impulses or head back home and slump in the comfort of his room. Yes, Mark has decided to wallow his sorrows privately.

With a knot in his throat, Mark dared not look behind and instead walked as quickly as his wobbly legs allowed him. His hope hadn’t dwindled but it had been hurt.

While Mark tried maintaining his composure, not allowing his world to come crashing around him for the second time this year, both you and your husband remained clueless. Too enthralled with the pleasure and satisfaction you both granted each other.

Holding off for months was beginning to catch up with Donghyuck and it showed with the pained cries he’d spill whenever he felt himself close. Each thrust he gave, you could feel spurts of precum shoot into you and slide against your walls, just for them to coat his cock and push it further in. 

You had lied about your abstinence but sex was sex and you had been craving his touch for a while. You just had to settle for Mark for the time being. Whimpers and moans escaped your lips, begging him to swallow them every time you’d pull him by the hair, connecting your lips in sloppy kisses. 

Amused by your reaction, Haechan laughed into the kiss, teeth nipping your lips and occasionally tongue before caressing it with his own to soothe the sting. He wouldn’t let the kiss last for too long, opting to see you whine from the separation. It’s the least suffering he could cause you in the meantime. 

“Close?” He questions, his palm holding your upper thigh close to his waist. By this angle his pelvic bone began creating friction against your clit. Fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, mouth leaving a trail of kisses from your lips to neck and chest. 

His teeth teased your nipples, scraping them along the warm flesh to deliver a sharp bite that resulted in you crying masochistically, pushing his head further to have him do it again. Your free hand scratched his back, digging into his flesh and moaning along his pained groans. 

Even in sex you two had to hurt each other.

“Finish me off, Hyuckie. I can’t last longer and I know neither can you…” You mewl, tugging his hair to let him know you wanted his attention. He looked up at you through lashes, moisture clinging to them, perhaps in the process his eyes watered. 

Words wouldn’t leave his pretty plump lips though. Instead he nodded, leaning in to capture your lips between his, rushing his thrusts and making them rougher. You liked feeling him stretch you out more, feeling him squeeze in as the perfect fit and feel his tip kiss your walls. Coating them with his cum was your favorite part out of it all. 

A few more thrusts and heavily passionate kisses, your walls began clamping around him. Causing poor Donghyuck to feel sensitive at the pressure. It wasn’t long until he came; thus when he felt your legs shake around him and your grasp tightened, he knew his ecstasy was near. 

Crying and whimpering against his lips; your eyes shutting harshly at that tight knot in your lower stomach. Hyuck’s thrusts were getting sloppy, within seconds you felt him at your hilt and you couldn’t hold off much longer. That knot had loosened completely and sent you overboard, gushing around him with a loud moan, holding him for dear life against you; small praises and cooing leaving your lips.

“You know my body so well, I could have you like this forever…”

Your voice was the catalyst. With your heavy panting against his lips, Hyuck didn’t hold off anymore and allowed himself to come. You along with him whimpered at the feeling of being filled up with his load; a wave of pleasure washing through you both until it faded and all that was left was a tingling sensation that didn’t leave your bodies.

Opting to stay in that position for a bit longer, both your breathing had calmed down. Your nails didn’t rake harshly against him and his teeth no longer nipped at your skin sadistically. Now the kisses were soft to avoid speaking. Both knew if any words spilled, they’d leave an ache.

The minutes passed, all that was heard were waves crashing against each other and the boulders. It was warmer now and perhaps much later, enough for your friend back in the house to be awake. Hyuck was the one to take the initiative in getting off of you and cleaning you off with some of the water he packed. 

He didn’t speak and neither did you, the most you could muster was to look at him in silence, his soft touches creating a complex feeling in your heart. At that moment you too wanted to just leave and go back inside. 

“Did you eat breakfast?” “No. I went straight to the pool.”

He hums, putting his trunks back on and stuffing the towels in the beach bag. “Mark is probably awake. We can get something on the way to the market if he hasn’t made anything yet.” His voice was hoarse, with some laced pain on it. You gave him a side smile, tying back the swim suit and placing a beach dress over. 

“He’d smoke a pack before eating breakfast. Sometimes I have to force him to have a proper meal.” You giggle, shaking off the sand from the blanket you two laid upon minutes prior. Haechan forces out a laugh, his smile quickly fades.

 Right. You took care of Mark. 

Donghyuck had expected this experience to make him feel better about his marriage. He wanted to think this was meant to settle the peace between you both but instead he felt worse. His chest felt warm and heavy and his eyes threatened to spill tears. Some had during the act but he did his best to not weep. 

He fully understood the marriage turning this way was his fault, you had told him so many times even insinuated it way before he met the catering girl but that didn’t hurt as much. He was comfortable enough with how things went on between you two before Mark arrived. At least if it meant that it was him the one you’d think about. The only one you’d both love and hate.

What did make him feel this way was hearing you come into the room after 3 AM and smell like his best friend. How often you spend time with Mark and enjoy his company. And worst of all is that you hadn’t put anything behind.

 The reason you had been civil with Donghyuck was simply because Mark was there to satiate your needs. It had only gotten to this point of accepting his touch because you were starting to get bored of Mark just like you had with him not too early into the marriage. Or so he thinks, that is was your actions are making both believe at least.

There were only a few steps left to reach the top. While Hyuck was contemplating this bond, you seemed the most aloof. There was some brightness to you and a careless attitude. On one of those steps you turned to look at him, his face was getting red and you knew it wasn’t from the sun. Something was bothering him.

It’s not like you cared to know but that gloominess was interfering with your relaxation. Stopping on your tracks and pulling him along, Hyuck throws you a confused look. You didn’t say anything yet, you simply smiled at him softly and caressed his warm cheek. He eased into your touch, feeling your soft fingers dance across his taut skin.

“I love you, Donghyuck.” 

As much as he’s yearned hearing those words, this time he doesn’t know how much to believe them anymore. 

“I love you too.”

They came out in a whisper, one you swallowed upon connecting your lips one last time that moment. He didn’t want to think much about it. There was a chance you were lying or that like him, you loved him in a baneful way. 

Yes, that is most plausible.

He wasn’t the only one to hear your profession of love. Poor Mark had lounged around the back porch with a pack of cigarettes to his side. Like said before it wasn’t too long until you two reached the top and though you didn’t intend for Mark to hear or see everything he has this morning— it just happened.

Reaching the top by the time Mark let out a puff of smoke in desperation; a sigh at most. Smelling that familiar stench, you both turned to see him lying upon the white outdoors couch his father had decorated with. 

“Morning.” Hyuck breaks the ice, giving his friend a tender smile that you mimic. Mark didn’t dare look at you both for too long, nodding in return while taking a sip of his drink. “Morning; Where were you guys?” He questions with a little pep in his words, trying his best to hide any negative emotion.

“Wanted to swim for a bit but the water was cold. Hey, did you have breakfast already? We can catch something to eat on the road before we get everything.” Mark lifts his cigarette with a smile before taking another drag, both you and Hyuck looking at each other remembering your conversation.

Hyuck chuckles with a nod. “Alright, gonna shower and we can leave after everyone’s ready, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” “Sounds good.”

He let go of your hand that second, not waiting for you to follow behind as he rushed to the bedroom’s bathroom. Despite the interaction, his feelings were still a painful turmoil and if he looked at either of you for too long in the moment, he’d end up breaking in front of both. 

Locking the door, Hyuck looks into the mirror before him. The bags beneath his eyes looked darker than before and his face had started to sink in. He didn’t look ill but he did look tired and sad. His cheeks weren’t as beautifully round in the time being and he knew that wasn’t good. After all, his round jumpy cheeks are your favorite thing about him. Maybe if he gained them back your ‘i love you’s’ would have real meaning to them.

He couldn’t contain it anymore. In the instance his thin fingers touched his equally thin face and let out that cry he’s been holding in this entire time. His tears felt boiling hot against his skin, the rivers of salt water wounding his face but that ache in chest was worse.

Donghyuck knew he still loved you. Hell, if he loved you through all the times you had called him useless, the times you avoided him during periods he felt like hell, and witnessed the times you made your own father cry by the way you treated him; then why wouldn’t he love you now that he accepted you yourself had an affair with his best friend? His brother. 

He wondered how much he loved Mark too. Mark the boy he spent years of childhood with all up to college when both parted ways. The boy he’d let stay at his house every time his father reprimanded him for the smallest things even if they weren’t a mistake. 

Mark was his wedding witness, the boy who approved of you when you two started dating and told him you were the perfect match. The boy who helped him find the perfect ring and arrangements. Mark and him have experienced many things together but sharing a lover is not one he thought they ever would. Especially not one he’s tied to by law and heart. As painful as it is.

Donghyuck bit into his fist before doing so into a towel, his silent sobs absorbed by the cloth. This was the best he could do without having you two hear him.

And while your husband is breaking to pieces in the shared bathroom, you make your way to the kitchen. Upon getting a water bottle, you felt the touch of two warm hands on your hips pulling you close to his body and turning you around to face him.

Mark didn’t show much expression, instead he pressed you against the cold steel doors. Looking at each other for a few seconds, he took initiative in connecting your lips. It shouldn’t have taken you by surprise the way it did but slowly you began to ease into his touch. You could taste the mixture of his cigarette and the orange juice he had been drinking.

Holding onto his shoulders, Mark’s own hands began to caress your body. One hand rested on your waist and the other went underneath your dress. He felt the warmth between your thighs. His fingers begin to caress the skin and make a silent gasp leave your lips. He took that opportunity to snake his tongue in your mouth. 

By the time he pushed the fabric of your bikini bottoms to the side, his fingers prodded your entrance making your gasp become audible this time. When you were to moan his name, the man before you halted his movement. He separated from the kiss as well, looking at you directly the second he felt the globs of cum cling to his fingers. 

Scooping it, Mark pulled his fingers out looking at them before you. He noticed the dark marks your husband sealed onto your skin. You were panting but there was no sign of regret on your face. Instead he was received with:

“What do you expect? He’s my husband.” 

A threatening smile on your end tried to form but Mark couldn’t produce any words. He felt speechless and too hurt to even say anything. His face held a mixture of disgust, anger, and sadness. 

With the simplest of words, you always manage to hurt them.

“Mark come on,” You call out, trying to get a hold of him but he avoids your touch. You softly scoff at the action but kept trying to at least ease the tension. “Come on, don’t be like that.” 

He didn’t know what to say. Mark knew you were right, Hyuck was your husband but that didn’t stop his heart from breaking any less. All this time he hadn’t mind since you two openly hated each other but the quick change up was affecting him.

“Honey— Oh? What are you guys doing?” 

Hyuck had come out of the restroom once his eyes had depuffed and he looked fine again. By the time he reached the kitchen he saw you two stand close to each other, a tense ambiance surrounding.

Mark threw you one last glance, “Nothing. I’m going to shower.” His voice sounded deeper and with that he walked away and to his own bathroom, leaving you alone with your husband again. Rather than tense, this one was awkward.

“The shower is ready, let’s go.” Haechan’s voice was laced with irritation.

The day you had been looking forward to this entire trip had come: New Year's Eve. The weather was finally thinking about the beach resident’s and decided it would be good to have the last day of the century be sunny all throughout. It may be December but a new millennium deserves a beautiful welcome. 

Despite Mark’s gloomy demeanor, the both of you had been trying all morning to get him out of his room. Every attempt had been a failure and though neither of you showed it, Hyuck was beginning to get annoyed about the ordeal. Specifically your attention getting directed towards the older male. You may have been trying to balance your attention to both men but their selfish demands were making things harder.

“I’ll go try again and if not then I guess we can just go.” You give your husband a side smile, handing him the dishes to dry from your late lunch. He turned the instant they were in his hands, rolling his eyes at your insistence. “Just give him space, it’s the house that’s putting him in that mood. Makes him think too much about his old man.” But he knew his dad wasn’t the only reason he was this temperamental.

A low sigh escapes your lips, walking towards him and enveloping him in a back hug. “I don’t want him to end the year like this.”  Your lips fell onto his neck, warm and soft on the flesh. He hated how much he enjoyed it. He doesn’t say anything, he simply shrugs with a low groan.

Donghyuck himself hadn’t been pleasant after the beach rendezvous, if anything he had gotten distant and silent. He always did this after sex but the worst part is that it drew you towards him in hopes to get more than a few words out of him. To get more affection. His affection.

While in the past he did it out of his selfish ways of obtaining gratification, this time he did it to avoid seeing how worried you had been for Mark. After the shower, you all had lunch in town and even browsed around the area, getting groceries for tonight. But while at it, he didn’t miss your subtle glances towards his friend who trudged behind the two of you. 

If he left you two alone for just a second, he’d come back to the image of you whispering something to Mark who in return said nothing or hummed. It was no different for the remainder of the day whenever he was around but when it was just you two, it seemed like you remembered he was the one you married. 

It’s not that you wanted to comfort them. You just wanted the reassurance that they were still eating from the palm of your hand and their little hissy fits were annoying you. At least for Donghyuck, he didn’t leave your side often and even now he was doing what you wanted him to— just reluctantly. As always. 

As for Mark, he was being a nuisance. He was brooding like a teenager that didn’t get the car he wanted and was taking it out on all of you. Didn’t he understand that you were still married? You have to fill your role once in a while and if he hadn’t been so clingy for the past few months, you probably wouldn’t feel the need to try and get a breath of fresh air with Haechan.

Your worried facade fell the second you got out of Hyuck’s view and walked towards Mark’s bedroom. You didn’t knock, you had gotten used to walking in his room unannounced that he didn’t think about it either when he heard the creaky hinges. 

“Move.” His sprawled limbs unconsciously responded to your words, scooting to one side of the bed and relaxing the second your weight dipped the mattress. All this time you hadn’t crossed the threshold of his bedroom. Compared to the one you and Donghyuck slept in; Mark’s was smaller with a horrid brown carpet and green walls.

His night stands were small of a bright yellow wood that did nothing to look good in the dark room. As ugly as the layout was, there were many trinkets of his childhood. From the multiple baseball lamps, cowboys, toy soldiers, and comics stacked on a desk that complimented the nightstands. 

You’d say the most exciting part were the glowing stars stuck to the ceiling but by now they probably didn’t work anymore. His Poison Girl Friend, Depeche Mode, and Soda Stereo posters were wrinkled and on the brink of falling from the walls. 

In every corner there were noticeable traces of all the years he was able to stay up until the last time his father told him he wasn’t allowed anymore. The most notable was the CD he was listening to now; the soft melody of Sade’s voice unconsciously making him stare intently at you.

‘I gave you all my love, I gave you all that I have inside and you took my love. I keep crying, I keep trying for you. There’ s nothing like you and I, baby…’

“I thought you didn’t like sports.” You smile up at him, scooting closer and closer but he doesn’t budge. His lips don’t move and his eyes tear away from you, glancing quickly at his lamps before looking up at the ceiling. 

With no response and your patience beginning to run out, you turn to him. In a few quick moves your hands encased his face and brought your lips to his, landing a soft kiss against them. As angry as he was, he would never deny you a kiss. His mind, soul, and body took over allowing him to return it, shifting to where it was comfortable. 

His hands took a hold of your waist, holding to you for dear life. His body missed you and it showed with the way he caressed you. His large hands slowly make their way under your shirt, squeezing your sides while his teeth softly nip your lower lip eliciting a gasp granting him access to your mouth and slipping his tongue. 

“You can’t keep doing this…” He moans against your lips, deepening the kiss and bringing your body closer to him. You wanted to ask what he meant but it was quite obvious. Mark didn’t follow up, rather basking in the comfort of your body and mouth. Enjoying the sweet taste of the blueberry parfait you had for lunch, on your tongue. 

He missed this. He missed having you all for himself, having you near him. Today’s kiss felt nothing like that day and as much as the memory pains him, he’s going to enjoy these few minutes. 

His tongue caressed yours one last time before both your lungs decided they needed some relief. Panting when separating, Mark kisses the side of your mouth before admiring your features. “You’re forgetting about me now that he wants to touch you?” His voice was much harsher than he intended but that deep rooted anger seemed to be winning. 

Your smile falters, “Are you still mad at me?” The mixture of annoyance and worry interlacing in your voice. “He’s still my husband, Ma—” He cut you off with a scoff, throwing his head back and opting to lay on his back once again. “So what? Suddenly you care that he is? What about all these months you’ve been with me?” He didn’t dare look at you, he was afraid you’d have that pout that always made him cave.

“Why are you even acting this way all of a sudden? Out of nowhere you two like each other again? Do you want me to remind you how I saw you two the day I arrived at the apartment?” He tried to shut his mouth but it had a brain of its own. Mark was beyond annoyed with your actions and neglect. 

“I guess we just made peace for now.” Your meek response brewed a scowl on his face, shaking his head in response. “What about our plans, y/n? I already told you to go with me. You were so miserable before I got here, do you really want that again? I leave tomorrow. I thought you didn’t want me to leave. Isn’t that why this all started? I’m the only one here for you.”

Mark didn’t seem to hold back any longer. Envy and rage were consuming him the longer he held everything in. He was right, without him, you and Hyuck would probably live like strangers til now with only arguments as communication. 

With a heavy heart and gloom look on your face — hiding your frustration — you come closer to him. Returning that chaste kiss on the corner of his lip and wrapping your arm around him as you lay your head on his chest. “Don’t be that way, Mark. I don’t want to end the year and start a new one with you like this. I’m here now aren’t I?”

Truly you wanted to let out a scoff but your words seemed to do it for him. He was convinced worry had washed upon you. 

“I need you. You know that, right?” “You need me?”

“More than anything.”

You wanted to tell him he was an idiot but you were glad needed you. Yeah, he was now going to use that.

What made it better for him was that Hyuck had just passed by and saw the way you clung to Mark’s body. He was able to see the life drain out of his best friend’s being. His color became dull and his face dropped. You couldn’t hear it but Mark fully heard Haechan’s heart break and stomach drop at the image. 

It was his turn to rub it in his face. 

“What’s going on?” His shaky voice made you separate from Mark, sitting up in panic and a thumping heart. But God were you good at hiding your emotions. When your eyes had met with Hyuck’s you threw him a quick smile, stretching your hand out for him to take. He was hesitant, not wanting you to see how shaky he had become but he took it nonetheless. 

Mark hadn’t sat up to see what you two were doing but he could feel the movement on the side of the bed and the dip on the large mattress when you had pulled your husband onto it. Your attention was again taken away from him, as was your touch. 

How quickly his spell died within you.

“Telling Mark he should enjoy the last day. It’s either that or welcome the century a loser. His choice.” You joked. Hyuck released an airy laugh, shaking his head. “You want to get out of the house, dude? Some of the locals just dropped off an invite for a beach New Year’s party.” His soft hands reached to envelope you the way you had Mark.

“If you guys are cool with it.” It’s all he musters. “Then it’s settled. Now, I need all of you to finish cleaning around and get ready for dinner.” You playfully glare at both, in return Haechan smiles, kissing you tenderly as a response; Mark a spectator to his demise. 

While cleaning around his bedroom and the rooms you had told him to, worked to distract him in the meantime. Those same ill thoughts gushed through his brain the minute he was done getting ready. Looking at himself through the mirror. Glancing at his every detail, Mark sighs in hopes that tomorrow his plans flourish.

From times Hyuck stayed home during the weekends it was never this bad. You always avoided him and opted to spend time with Mark but things had taken a turn this time. Your husband stuck to your hip and you didn’t seem to mind. Especially not after telling him you loved him. 

Regardless if there was something Mark had, it was hope and he hoped that tomorrow by this hour you two will be putting away your items into a moving truck to place in his new apartment. This millennium is going to be a new start for you both. Together.

In the process of making his way to the living room, Mark saw no sign of either of you. Smoothening his dress shirt while picking at the side dishes. All these hours of malnourishment were finally getting to him. He just hoped you didn’t scold him for not eating or for messing up the presentation of your dish.

This was something else that seemed to make him realize how much Donghyuck was impeding what you two had. Never in the past months have you let Mark skip meals but these few days, you barely checked up on him. How can things go south so quickly? While Mark internally complained about the changes, your husband calmly sat on the same couch Mark had lounged on that awful afternoon.

Donghyuck sat pensive, a cigarette in hand and a six pack on the glass table. Worry and sadness were visible but Mark didn’t pry. His mind only cared for his problems and feelings about you. He couldn’t care less that Hyuck legally had you.

Mark’s only solace were your passionate kisses and tender words from earlier letting him know you were there for him. How you didn’t make excuses on why you held him earlier the second Haechan saw you two. Or how before this trip, you’d always run to him rather than Hyuck when in need of company. 

You wanted him, not Donghyuck. He’s sure of it.

“Invite next time.” Mark laughs, playfully slapping off his friend’s feet from the table so he can pass by. Sitting besides the younger of the two, Mark glances at him, an awkward smile following behind. Donghyuck returns it while handing him a bottle and the box of cigarettes he found on your night stand. You didn’t smoke but it seemed like you kept some for Mark.

“It’s been a long run, dude.” Mark continues. Despite holding resentment, Donghyuck will always be his savior and best friend. “It has, hasn't it? Almost thirty years together.” The honey brunette laughs, blowing smoke out and taking a swig of his drink. “It kind of sucks we didn’t get to spend the time you were with us together. Sorry about that.”

Donghyuck’s head hangs low, the cigarette between his lips dropping ashes on the floor. In a sense Mark shared that sentiment. Deep down behind the rancor and hate, he loved Donghyuck. Even if Donghyuck himself wondered how much he loved Mark.

“You leave tomorrow and all I can take away from your stay is this trip.” Despondency held tight onto his words. What he truly took away was his betrayal but sometimes he was a coward and opted to stay silent. “Really wish we did more.” He sighs, Mark’s gaze floods with apologies. 

Mark didn’t understand why his guilt was manifesting itself now. Maybe because it was just them two and your presence didn’t cloud his judgment. The possibilities are endless but when it’s just them two— Mark is aware that Donghyuck has always been there to take care of him. Kinda like you take care of him.

While in the past he was aware he slept with his best friend’s wife and was wrong in a sense. Now it was punching his chest while screaming that he was an asshole. He didn’t know whether to take responsibility or blame his father’s home for cursing his existence. Maybe if you three didn’t stay here things would’ve been different and he’d gone back to not feeling as much remorse.

“We have an entire lifetime to do things together, Hyuck.” Mark finally gets a word in, exhaling through his nose while his fingers thread through his hair. A smile tugged at his lips, turning to his friend to deliver. The other returns it, a contagious chuckle plaguing both.

“Remember when your dad bought the play set and placed it by the beach between the boulders?” The image of younger Mark and Donghyuck around the ages of seven running around the slippery sand painted itself on Donghyuck’s brain. He closes his eyes, those warm hues of the summer’s sky were memorable.

Mark laughs, taking large gulps of his now warm drink. Sticking his tongue out from the disgusting taste. “And we turned it to face the beach because we thought the slide was long enough for us to slide all the way into the water. Just for you to slip on the steps and I slid straight into a boulder—”

“And we both broke our arms!” 

The two said in unison, laughing at the memory. This is one of the things they could share. “Some stupid seaweed stuck to my foot and it made me slip. I just remember screaming on the way down and waking up in the room with the cast already on.” Donghyuck speaks through laughs.

Mark mimics the action, the smoke of both their cigarettes getting to him. “Dad was so mad when Taeyong ran screaming about what happened but he was more concerned with the fact that he dropped his bucket of crabs inside the house than us.” Mr. Lee has always cared more about the materialistic aspect than his own family, even at such an early age. Regardless, that was the only time he’s seen Mark’s father care for his friend. 

“It’s kind of surreal I’m not gonna see you guys anymore until who knows when. I’ve gotten so used to you; it’s a little different from when I used to see you all the time as kids and growing up but living with you has changed everything.” 

“How so?” Donghyuck was curious what he meant. Yes, things have changed but he wanted to hear his friend’s reasons. “For starters, I got closer to y/n.” Mark had no malice in his words but Hyuck didn’t see it that way. He was already on edge for the way he saw you two earlier and all the occurrences in the past month so the mere mention of you was throwing away that sweet moment they just shared. 

Haechan’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, shoulders tensing while glaring at Mark. The older one doesn't notice just yet. As his eyes rake Mark’s figure, they spot a familiar piece wrapped tightly onto his wrist. Compared to your bracelet, Mark’s was worn out and a few threads from ripping off. The beads had lost their color and the once bright blue was now faint, almost gray. 

“I can tell.” There no longer was warmth to Hyuck’s voice. It was hoarse and deep, clogging Mark’s eardrums and forcing him to look at his younger friend. That intense and angry glare confusing him but when it comes to you, even he can’t help but get defensive. 

Mark squints, taking the last sip of his drink and tossing the bottle to the side. “I’d say she probably took your spot as best friend.” He jokes but it doesn’t translate well with Donghyuck who bitterly chuckles. “She said the same before she gave me these.” Pulling down the collar of his shirt, Hyuck points at the slowly fading markings on his neck. 

That’s when things came crashing upon Mark. His comfort and happy bubble had burst and reality flooded around him. Why would Donghyuck just blatantly hurt him like this? Rub in that he could show off your love publicly while he had to hide it.

“Looks like I have a new best friend.” Mark ignores the action, inhaling harshly against the cigarette butt not caring about the stinging warmth against his fingers. “But you’re my best friend.” Hyuck whines, his voice playfully pitched but his eyes dark and sharp.

“And if I replace you?” Mark taunts the younger, raising an eyebrow in defiance. When Hyuck was to answer, the clicking of heels distracted them. Turning to the interruption, the two gawked at your figure. The glare of your sparkling dress was brighter than the lightbulb outside. If anyone saw, they looked like moths attracted to a light source.

While fixing your hair delicately, the two admired how the fabric hugged your every crevice. How it wasn’t long enough to cover your legs, the legs they loved so much. And when looking up directly at your face, makeup only enhanced how beautiful they already found you.

“Can one of you zip up my dress? I just did my nails.” You explain walking closer to them. Naturally Hyuck was going to stand up to do so however Mark had beaten him to it. Smiling at you who in return ignored it while blowing at your hands, fanning them to quicken the process.

You didn’t care who had taken the responsibility but they did. While Mark basked in the joy of doing these small things for you, Donghyuck glared at what happened before him. He couldn’t directly see how Mark slowly pulled at the small zipper. His fingers traced patterns on your back to have a feel of you just one more time. Even if it was this simple. And when he found the metal to reach its end, disappointment wasn't too grand as he was able to enjoy your body again.

 “There.” Mark says with a smile pulling away. He hadn’t fully forgotten about the younger male but he would much rather enjoy your presence. “Thank you.” You return the gesture, throwing him a soft toothy smile. 

How he loved your smile.

“You look beautiful, honey.” An aggravating voice cut through the moment. Pulling you towards him, Donghyuck takes you into his arms after spinning you around. You giggle at his comment, patting his chest to calm the giddiness. 

“You think so?” Your eyelashes flutter trying to avoid his gaze, glad the blush from makeup could disguise the warmth rising onto your face. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know, y/n.” He confirms in a husky voice, his lips slotting with yours in a quick tender kiss to not ruin your lipstick. Not that it matters, in minutes it’ll be gone with the final dinner.

Reluctantly separating, Donghyuck chuckles when your eyes meet. Satisfied with the shy smile slapped across your face. “Right, Mark?” He looks at his friend, head lifting slightly just to see how his body will react.

It was to say that Mark had been taken aback. Worst yet, when you turned to look at him, a sheer blank expression was there in comparison to how you looked at Donghyuck just seconds prior. 

It’s fine. It’s fine, you have to put up a front — like you have with Hyuck — before you two leave tomorrow and leave this smug asshole behind.

“Yeah. Truth be told you are, y/n.” His voice had dropped an octave. Taking the box of cigarettes from the table, Mark turns on his heel towards the house. “I’ll get the wine from the basement.” Leaving you two behind and the clanking of his dress shoes following him.

The interaction had soured the mood. When minutes prior you two happily kissed, right now Donghyuck was battling with his tongue to keep itself shut. But not even biting it was going to make him avoid the following conversation. 

Once inside and placing the plates for dinner; Hyuck’s tongue had won the battle against his teeth and the brewing venom slowly slips. “Y/n?” He calls out, smoothening the cloth napkins. You don’t spare him a glance, humming in response with a scowl when noticing Mark’s traces in one of the side dishes.  

“I know you and Mark have gotten close but could the affection dial down?” Your attention was now fully on his words. While you enjoy knowing he’s growing weary, a part of you feels annoyed at his request. “What do you mean?” Your actions stopped, attentive to whatever he has to say towards the subject. 

He looks at you momentarily before placing the cutlery. His shoes try their best to distract with their squeaky sound. “There’s hugging him as a greeting and then there’s hugging him while laying in bed. Or him zipping you up. There's a limit to things y/n.” 

The cascade of silent meek words had instead furthered your irritation. Turning to fully face him, indignation smothered your face. “Why? Do you not trust me?” He refuses to look at you, resting his weight on his extended arms against the table.

“I didn’t say that.” “Sounds like it.”

He feels your persistent glare, the radiating heat burning holes into his flesh. Hell, he could see the smoke wafting towards his eyes to keep him blind. However Donghyuck musters a deep sigh, rubbing at said organs with defeat.

“I just want you to care for my concerns.” 

Mark’s presence didn’t allow for your vexatious response. For the most part you were glad; this was bound to go south with you throwing in his face what he’s done. The cycle will never end. At least for now you’ll rest assured that he’s aching like you’ve wanted him to.

Subsequently the dinner was tough to go through. While small talk made itself present, it was never long enough unlike the clinking of glasses, cutlery, and the background noise of the TV informing you all of how in hours the transition to the new year will be made. Things followed that way until you all got ready again and made your way to the beach.

While it wasn’t crossing the line to Mr. Lee’s property, it wasn’t far enough for you all to drive there. With around three glasses of wine down, two shots, and the beer bottle in each one of your hands; claiming you two were being boring, Mark had managed to tranquilize the ambiance and get you two to relax.

Through giggles or full on cackling, both men argued while recalling yet again another one of their anecdotes in this same beach. Most of them being of the torment they made Mark’s older brother Taeyong endure. 

“You guys suck. I know what it feels to see their pet be made into a meal.” You pout at the story they had just finished telling. A butterfly effect had taken place that summer when the boys broke their arms. To tease the older of the three; Mark and Donghyuck had tossed his pet crabs around the beach. Through tears and whining from Taeyong, Mr. Lee had forced them to chase after the few they could salvage. 

But their chances were slim and given the play set was already in their search area, the faith of the youngest two had been told. Mark’s and Donghyuck’s malicious actions led to a temporarily long painful period. Sadly to say that even Taeyong suffered from the happenings. Mr. Lee had already been angry at the boy’s actions regarding the crabs and when his eldest son had rushed in exasperatedly to the point he dropped the bucket of said pets inside the home— their faith had been sealed the instant Lee senior blamed them for everything. 

That afternoon arriving from the hospital, Taeyong’s pets had become a delicious meal for the Lee family. Much to Taeyong’s disapproval and hunger strike that week.

“Come on pretty girl. We were like, what? Seven?” Hyuck defends in between laughs, his arm wraps around your shoulders to leave a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You scowl at the action, a smile following suit when he leaves another one to tease you. 

While Mark wasn’t enjoying the view, he didn’t want to sour the mood. You all had finally been able to go back to what you’ve all known and he knew how much it meant to you to end and start the year well. If he has to cut off his tongue and gouge his eyes out to keep the peace, then so be it.

“I would’ve cared but those little shits always pinched me any chance they had.” Mark spews jokingly, pinching Hyuck softly to emulate the pets. Comically exclaiming his pain, Donghyuck adds a quick jump to his step. Alcohol was getting to them but you won’t complain. Behind the remorse, you wanted to see your boys happy too. At least for now.

“Yeah, well it’s not fun being excited for your meal and suddenly while you’re almost done your family drops the fact that you’re eating your pet made into a pot roast.” The memory of Lola, your cow will always live in your heart. Even if she was a cunt.

“Pot roast sounds so good right now.” Donghyuck’s jesting insensitivity made Mark almost choke on his beer, coughing through laughter while you shove Hyuck off you. “Oh come on!” He laughs, trailing behind you until he grasps your waist and pulls you close to him.

He tries to contain his laughter but it escapes regardless. You weren’t mad to say the least, you just enjoyed teasing him in a different way. Resting his chin on your exposed shoulder, the honey brunette turns to kiss the crook of your neck. The smell of alcohol embedding itself on your skin.

 “Isn’t Lola the one who kicked you? That you fell into the mud?” But no one could win against his mockery. “Well…” This time you couldn’t help but laugh along, the melody from your throat letting the other two know it was fine to laugh too. “It was a really good pot roast.” 

Through laughter, jokes, teasing, and more drinking; within minutes the three of you found yourselves by the shoreline viewing the ebullience of every partygoer. String lights amongst every pole, clumps of people drinking and dancing amongst themselves. For miles all you could see were masses with glasses reading ‘2000’ or mardi gras beads.

Greeted with sparklers and beaded necklaces around your necks, the three of you swished the wands around. The yellow sparks fly off and dwindle quickly. “In case our bank accounts get drained or locked in a few hours… Cheers!” 

It hasn’t been the easiest year or for that matter the best last years of the decade but if for just this night you’d all ignore your wrong doings then you’ll be assured that there’s something out for you. Seeing Donghyuck prance around with his best friend, the happiest smiles on their faces would have made you feel as giddy in the past but alcohol is treacherous.

While it treats them well, it’s tossing you around. Playing with your heart and brain, mocking you for what the universe will do to this friendship. You won’t deny that having Mark stay with you had brought back peace and happiness initially. But after a while of giving yourself to him, he became a bore, almost like you had drained him of any fun. 

Donghyuck had turned out that way long before his friend arrived. Maybe it was because of work and the exhaustion it piled on him. But he was more silent and avoided you, especially whenever he knew an argument would happen. It may have bothered you but you failed to see that your constant berating had made his light dwindle.

Seeing them act so freely amongst themselves, laughing as if nothing has happened stabbed your chest over and over. It wasn’t guilt or sadness. On one hand you hated seeing them this happy while you weren’t but on the other, you’re glad that at least they can enjoy their company until the older one leaves. And after so long this is the first time you’ve seen them cling to each other lovingly. Like the brothers they were before all this. 

But life will never grant you the gift of happiness. You’ve made too many mistakes to have that now.

While the hours passed in which you’d all laugh, danced, and sang about the bliss of life; Donghyuck parted momentarily from you two to get more drinks leaving you alone with Mark. The latter took this opportunity to close the gap Donghyuck had been occupying. Sliding his way to you and pressing himself against your back.

The sensation caught you off guard, exasperatedly looking around to make sure your husband wasn’t witnessing this. “Not here, he’ll get back soon.” You swallow the lump in your throat as your hands battled on whether to push him off or let the drunken lust win over.

A breathy sigh expelled from his lips, softly nipping where Donghyuck had kissed you upon arrival. “One last dance of the year, baby. You’ll kiss that asshole when the clock hits midnight let me have this at least.” The coarseness of his voice made your eyelashes flutter, the sensation of his chapped lips drawing you further into temptation. 

Maybe falling victim to your needs one last time wouldn’t hurt.

Your hips began swaying against his own, pressing your back further into his chest whilst he held you tightly. Both dancing to the sensual melody without a care of the outside world. The trail of his fingers against your exposed skin left a boiling feeling. Your blood attracted to his touch like the first time. 

You looked up at him through lashes, giggling when his own stare was glued to you. Mark himself chuckled when your eyes met, smiling while biting his inferior lip and leaning down to capture yours with his. Temptation had won against your restraints, forgetting that your husband wasn’t far away.

But a harsh tug made you stumble and the painful crack of Donghyuck’s knuckles against Mark’s cheek brought the two of you back to reality. Shock filled your body and your breathing felt short. It was all crashing down on you at the worst time. Twenty minutes till midnight, this will be your end.

“What’s your fucking deal, asshole?!” Mark angrily reproaches at his friend, holding his cheek, wincing with every touch. “What do you mean what’s my fucking deal? You’re kissing my wife, you dick.” Haechan pushes against Mark’s chest, making the latter stumble. He might be angry but a taunting chuckle leaves his lips.

“One of many times.”

“What did you say?!” Earning himself another push, this time nearly tripping over his feet. When he stabilized himself, he returned the gesture to the one assaulting him. “One of many times, dickhead! On your bed, couch, bathroom, kitchen, car, hours ago!” Definitely, Mark extends his arms in an open invitation to continue. 

“If you weren’t such an asshole she wouldn’t have looked for someone else that could treat her better.” He gnaws the inside of his mouth, wincing again when accidentally gracing his cheek. Alcohol had proven to betray Mark. Hours earlier it was his best friend and aided him in loosening up but now it was spewing all his wrong doings and rubbing it in his brother’s face.

“Hyuck, it was just a kiss. Please, don’t make a big deal.” Your attempts at calming the situation had failed, instead making him grow angrier. How can it be just a kiss when Mark just confessed about your affair? “One fucking kiss? You stink of him almost every night. But no only I’ve fucked up!”

Donghyuck clicks his tongue, shaking his head with irritation. “If anything she’s only doing it to piss me off. She only fucks you to get it out of her system. This whole time she hasn’t run to you now that she has me. Her husband.” His venom clung to Mark, etching down every single one of his words onto his mind. 

No. No, Mark knows you love him and you wouldn’t just use him. You love him. That word: husband. Husband can only mean so much when the people in the party are happy and not miserable like you all are. But why does it hurt every time it’s said without correlation to himself?

“You guys are fucking unbelievable. The year is about to end and you’re ruining it for me. You just had to be men, claiming and possessing as if we don’t have our own say. Useless as always!” Your angry words cut through their direct dialogue; turning to your figure walking away from the scene. People had started to pay attention however you’ll be damned before you’re the joke of any town.

They weren’t of any help, the two argued as they followed behind. Not too far to lose or not be associated with you. Regardless they’ll drag you down with them even if they don’t intend to.

“I’m tired of you throwing that word around as if it had any meaning to you. The same person that forgot his anniversary and left her crying and came back smelling like whores with cheap lipstick stains? Do I have to remind you how you threw the shirt away instead?” 

You had reached your wits ends. In the instance Mark’s words left regarding your husband’s second plausible affair, you stopped in your tracks to look at both. The fiery pits of hell decorating your pupils and rivers of agony pooling at your waterline. 

“But you reproach me about hugging mark? Are you fucking serious, Hyuck? Again?” A sob tried sneaking into your words, clutching onto your mouth to not let your voice betray you. You didn’t look back at them, if you knew anything about either is that Mark would smugly turn to Haechan and mock him while the latter tries to beg for more time.

Again. Donghyuck had been unfaithful to you in the past and just this night Mark was first hearing about it. Any guilt from earlier into the affair was now gone. If he could, so could you. The news might have killed him earlier but now he rejoices in knowing that no morality will stand between you and him anymore.

Donghyuck takes your hand into his. As much as you tug to get away from him, his grasp shows to have gotten stronger. “I haven't done anything! At most they threw themselves at me, you know the meetings are always at clubs, y/n. Please… I said I wouldn’t do this to you again, I promised.” The sob you failed to expel, he did instead. 

You tried avoiding his sad puppy dog eyes but his touch will always be a weakness of yours. Regardless, you won’t let him see your vulnerability. Mark had witnessed it and instead he was using it against his friend’s neglect. They were all the same.

“You haven’t done anything?” Your voice slips between your gritted teeth. He shakes his head exasperatedly trudging behind while you continue until you’re finally by the sliding doors of the porch. “Just like you didn’t do anything with your catering girl?!” 

The increase in tone of your voice catches both off guard. Confused but intrigued, Mark watches as you pull your arm from Haechan’s grasp while he’s left with trembling eyes. “I wish the cheek kisses were more than just that…” Hearing you recite the words, Donghyuck knew it was back to square one.

“Y/n, stop.” He begs, walking to reach you but you back away. “I want to hold you again and again. To wake by your side like last night. To feel your warmth and kisses until we both die.’ I want to hold you… feel your warmth until we die. You’re so full of shit.” The lump in your throat wouldn’t pass, it suffocated you with every passing second but it hurt more reminiscing the contents of those letters than dying from asphyxiation. 

While he may be part of this, Mark was out of place in this instance. He was just another spectator now like all those masses outside. 

“You can recite them all you want but I never lied to you about what happened.” His voice was apologetic with a lingering sadness after every word. “Right.” You roll your eyes, finally reaching for a glass of wine to sedate your anger. 

“Yes! I never lied to you about what went on unlike you! You said it was purely platonic between you two. Indignation all over your face when I brought it up then and today and you still want to act like I’m the only liar.” Even now you couldn’t find it in yourself to admit you were wrong. At least not anytime soon in this lifetime. 

Raising your glass with a shrug, “Okay, I fucked him. So what? You fucked her too. We’r–” “I never fucked her for fuck’s sake! Listen to me for once! I never fucked her! Kissed from time to time and slept in the same bed but we never fucked! You didn’t want to console me, so she did.” 

Mark had been the shoulder you cried on when Donghyuck’s actions broke your heart but now you’re leaving the stubbornness behind to understand he had his own shoulder to cry on. 

“You're supposed to be my best friend, my ride or die and instead you’re fucking my wife! You’re supposed to be my fucking brother!” Donghyuck screams out in a sob, turning on his heel to see a stunted Mark. The older of the three needed a long time to process what he was hearing. 

Time has run out for you all. It was too late to forgive and forget. The fireworks illuminating the dark outside and screams of glee embedding itself into all of your minds. January 1st, 2000: The end of the world to many but for you three in particular. 

All there left was disappointment and sadness. This isn’t how you wanted to start or end your year but consequences will always come to those with malicious intent. Even if it refers to revenge. 

“Always have to ruin everything.” You spit out, glaring at your husband and directing it to Mark. The words stung in Donghyuck’s fragile heart. Enduring years of your vicious words was making it harder for him.

Things went for worse when you took Mark’s wrist into your hand, dragging him towards his room. The younger’s heart began beating achingly at the image before him. His ears went hot and he felt light headed seeing his friend comply with you.

“Wh- where are you going?” His question went unanswered.

“Y/n! Where the fuck are you two going?!” Panic constrained his mind. Many scenarios played in his head and they all ended the same way. With you and Mark intertwined on the smooth sheets of the bed. Caresses and kisses over nude flesh while he could do nothing about it.

All through the transcript of dragging Mark to his bedroom and locking the both of you inside, Donghyuck hadn’t stopped his whining and crying. Begging you to not do anything stupid and for you to stop this torment. 

Truth be told, you believed that your husband hadn’t slept with the catering girl but it did hurt to know he went to someone else for comfort. While it is your fault he caused those extremities, you couldn’t help that rage within you. Bringing up the subject made you feel like that sixteen year old when your father’s way of coping with your mother’s death was by remarrying another woman. 

Why couldn’t any of them just cope your way? Why did they always have to resort to other women? If they couldn’t deal with how you wanted them to, you had to make sure they felt your pain, one way or another. 

The banging on Mark’s door kept getting louder by the minute. Donghyuck’s grueling cries begging you to get out of there brought a sense of peace while Mark felt terrified. He’s never heard Haechan beg like this for anything, not even as a child when he threw tantrums. 

Moreover, Mark’s senses began to calm down as Donghyuck’s banging did too. All that’s left was hearing the younger sob through the wall begging you to not do something stupid and to think about the marriage. Under the impression that you had dragged his friend to fuck under his nose, Donghyuck was distraught and broken. 

Once and for all, Mark felt triumph. He was the one you dragged inside with you. The one you’re laying next to even if it’s just to stare at the old glow in the dark stars stuck to his cieling. It was him you’ve chosen and that’s enough for him to know you loved him. Him, not your husband.

At what point did he go wrong? He’s always loved you even through insults and arguments that made his self esteem die. All he needed was someone to care for him in his lowest point and the person he needed most left for a three month work period. Leaving him to rot and wallow in the pain of mourning. 

While he may not have loved the seaweed girl, he liked that she was there for him. But maybe that’s where he went wrong. Using her and giving her hope led to his bad karma and here he was, begging his vengeful wife to not fuck his best friend, his brother for who knows how many times. To spare him of any more pain but it was hopeless. Hope is a dangerous thing for a man like him to have.

Haechan had lost a brother that year and now he’s lost another. 

The seasons had come to an agreement and decided to stick to what they’re known for. It was the coldest and gloomiest time to begin a millennium. In contrast to yesterday’s heat, today the prickling wind wouldn’t stop torturing your cheeks. 

Streets were empty and stores had at least a handful of people. Everyone was either rejoicing the world didn’t end or hung over from all the alcohol that coursed their bodies. You only hoped many didn’t start it the way you three did. 

“Welcome in! Order when you’re ready!” 

The diner at the train station was the most packed compared to any other store you’ve passed by. While the elderly waitresses greeted everyone that went in, Donghyuck and Mark found each other sitting silently in one of the booths. You had decided to order some coffees but the line was longer than expected.

Nothing went past subtle glances and sighs. If it wasn’t for the no smoking inside policy, Mark would’ve pulled one out by now to aid his restlessness. As the seconds passed and you didn’t come back, the older of the two sighed one last time and finally decided to open his mouth.

“We didn’t do anything last night.” Hyuck doesn’t question or care to continue. Unlike him, Mark’s conscience was corroding. If you were to leave with him in minutes, he wanted to make peace with his oldest friend. There’s a chance his father will keep him around and whenever he sees the two of you at functions, he doesn’t want things to be awkward. 

He shifts in his seat, leaning over the table. “I’m sorry things turned out this way. She’s just– I don’t know, she’s great.” He fondly chuckles yet Donghyuck’s chuckle was anything but that. If you were to follow Mark's plan, then Haechan hopes Mark can endure the hell you’ve put him through.

“I don’t care, Mark.” The eldest stops to look at his defeated friend. Hyuck had been playing with his wedding band while Mark talked and though it may cause a twinge of jealousy, it shouldn’t be long until he himself has one. RIght?

“I don’t care how things went. All I know is that you’re a fucking traitor. I could’ve expected this from anyone but not you.” Mark tries to apologize but Hyuck’s dark glare shuts him up. With all the pain he’s caused him, why is he acting like everything should be alright between the two? Maybe Mark and you did deserve each other. 

“You know you’ll always be my best friend right? My brother.” Mark’s words weren’t malicious but after everything, Hyuck can only stare at him before letting out a scoff that comes out as a chuckle, granting Mark a grin of disbelief. “Yeah. I believe you.”

Mark responds with a smile but the sour taste in his tongue can’t be scraped away. He’s aware Donghyuck is being sarcastic, he just hopes in the future that he’ll forgive him. As much as this unknown feeling pains him.

“Here, I didn’t want to prepare them and have you two annoy me if it was too sweet.” 

Nonchalantly you included yourself in their conversation as if last night’s scenario was nothing but a nightmare. Early in the morning you had woken them up, sweet talking both of them with a bright smile on your face. Things might have gone south but after a long restless night you weren’t going to let your year go to waste because of them. This is about you and you alone.

Consequently this is what Donghyuck was thinking about. How soon you were going to ignore any of your wrong doings and sweep them under the rug. You were going to force him to forget any ill word you’ve thrown at him for the sake of your peace without regard for his own.

He may be selfish now since the period of you finding out about his affair but he had learned from the best.

Regardless he couldn’t take it anymore and sought his way out towards the restroom where he could have some time alone. If he didn’t have at least five minutes he’d burst your bubble and it was best to not awaken that hurtful beast within.

Neither of you spared him a glance; raising your cup to be polite towards Mark, you take a sip of your coffee, biting your tongue after the liquid burnt it. “Do you want me to go get your ticket while he’s gone?” Mark breaks the ice again, his spoon swirling the mixture of liquids. 

“Hm?” Your confusion catches him off guard, mirroring your knitted eyebrows as you take another sip of the coffee. “Train ticket, y/n.” He nervously chuckles, the spoon in his hand clanking against the table. His words didn’t ring a bell in your mind and all it caused was for an anxious whirlwind in his chest to form.

“For what?”

“You’re leaving with me aren’t you? I mean, you stayed with me last night while he cried his heart out. That should mean something, right? It was your answer, right?”

His voice pitched increasingly the longer you gave him a blank stare. “That’s just a normal argument. Why? Did you get scared?” You giggle, throwing him a smile, acting like you didn’t just burn your tongue for a second time now. 

He tried his best to avoid the feeling of hate and sadness. In his brain you were just joking around with him. A part of him reassured him that at the last minute you’d tell Hyuck he could go to hell and you’d accompany Mark’s journey for eternity after. He was so sure of it after all he’s witnessed. But worry and doubt would never failed to fuck with him. 

“Y/n… Last night you– I love you, y/n.”

“How low can one get to sleep with his brother’s wife? I don't see that as love.”

The sentence had cut deep in him, enough that no type of medication could cure the ache in his heart.

“We had plans, y/n for fucks sake.” His voice cracked, lips trembling ready to cry. “No, you had plans.“ It slips through gritted teeth, his eyes sharp like your tongue that spewed venom into his heart. 

“If you took a second to listen to those plans, you’d realize how selfish and self centered they are.” You were beginning to get angry. Mostly for the fact that he’s bursting the bubble Hyuck was avoiding. The facade was over, Hyuck knew about you two, and Mark wasn’t being mindful of your own feelings. 

“How?” 

“How? I move out with you and start a new life in which I’ll be staying at home and you’ll work. How familiar does that sound?” The wind gushed outside, slapping the windows in order to make Mark put some effort. 

“It’ll be different…” he cleared his voice, it was meek and silent, an obvious restraint in wanting to admit it wasn’t too different from what you have right now. “How is it going to be different, Mark? Tell me how.” The whirlwind in your own chest contradicted his. While he felt anxious you grew annoyed.

“So are you leaving with me today or not?” Mark raised his head, finally looking you in the eye. There should be a part of you that preferred him regardless, no? After everything you two have experienced and the way he’s made you feel, why wouldn’t you choose him? He needs you for fuck’s sake.

Placing your cup down to look back at him, a grimace of annoyance decorated your lips. “You haven’t learnt anything have you?” You leaned over the table, feeling the lifting wood poking your ribcage. “My grandma always used to say: If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.“

“God can laugh but I still have my plans. Now it’s up to you if you slip out of his grasp and move in with me. I’ll figure out how to make it different eventually. I’ll be waiting for you.” His eyes betrayed the harsh tone in his voice but Mark wanted it to be clear that he’d do anything to cater to you. Even if it meant that you’d break his heart from time to time.

Mark looked outside the window, sand from the beach danced across the platform entrance. Like Donghyuck, he couldn’t bear being in your presence now. Accidentally bumping into the table while he stands, Mark makes way towards the door, not before throwing you one last glance. 

However you weren’t too keen on putting others over yourself.

“Donghyuck is my husband.” You spat, back angrily hitting the cold plastic booth backrest. In his desperate agony, he fumbled out the door with those same words ringing as loudly as the entrance bell. 

The mentioned man had gotten out not long after Mark had left, questioning his whereabouts but dismissed by you asking him to walk along the shoreline while you all waited for Mark’s train to arrive.

After speaking with Mark in which he took refuge in the platform benches, it allowed for both you and Hyuck to take the opportunity to bask in the presence of each other. 

What was there to say? Any argument and reproach had been screamed last night, enough to hurt everyone involved but mainly him. 

For someone that wanted to avoid a horrible start of a new age, you had failed and all that was left was the mixture of resentment and anger towards the two men in your current life. 

Hyuck similar to you, shared those sentiments with the exception he wasn’t too angry. Rather than so he was sad. Sad at the fact that his best friend, his brother, could've done that to him. To smile and laugh under his roof while fucking his wife and not feeling guilt whatsoever. In fact the bastard gloated as if you had chosen him instead.

While he had no room to judge, he still had the right to feel horrible about this now confirmed betrayal. He wondered if you felt this pain when you found out. You had expressed your anger through destroying the house and becoming cold towards him until Mark showed up but that was about it. He never had the chance to see you cry about what he had done and he believes he never will. 

You did cry of course. Despite the way you treated him and tossed him around, ignoring his cries for help, you still loved him. You loved how attentive and kind he was. You loved that he stuck by your side after your lashings and the nostalgia of how sweet he was when pursuing you. So to realize that there was a possibility of him doing all that for someone else broke you. 

Why would he confess profound love until his final breath just to go on and have a fling with the next girl that gave him attention while you’re gone? Well it was easy and while he started telling you last night, you needed more.

Stopping in your tracks, feet away from the platform and people; you turn to the ocean, watching the increased height of the crashing waves. Their splashing kisses your skin and the wind makes your hair dance across your face. 

When noticing, Hyuck turns his body to you, tucking away the strands behind your ear. His warm hand lingered for a few seconds on your cold damp cheek, staring with sorrow embedded into his pupils. It’s fascinating how often your bodies contradict each other. He didn’t say anything, all he did was look at you, eyes flickering across your stoic face. Many things crossed your mind but your face never showed it. 

Up until he dropped his hand and stood beside you to be consumed in the whirlwinds of today’s weather; your voice interrupted his silence. No thoughts in his head but now the melody of your voice swirled around in his cranium. 

“Do you think in another universe we could’ve been happy together?”

You didn’t turn but he does, the confusion on his face easing when the question washes over him. 

“Perhaps when we learn to fix our mistakes and flaws.” “What flaws? Yours?” “Right.”

He laughs exhaustedly. In this universe or any other, he didn’t believe you’ll ever be able to accept that you’ve also fucked up. It was notable that you were able to admit you and Mark had been fucking but even that you blamed on him. He wouldn’t complain, there’s no doubt that you did it out of spite but regardless he knew what he was talking about. 

You couldn’t wrap your head around last night’s information. Maybe because your affair consisted of pure carnal desire but you couldn’t understand how Donghyuck didn’t take that approach with the catering girl. 

“W-why her?..”

There was no intention for your words to come out shaky. What you feared was your walls starting to crack at this information. On his part, Hyuck didn���t want to speak much anymore. He knew if he told you more, you’d be upset and he feared you’d throw a fit again but your insistence by holding onto his arms and hesitating to pull him close was enough. 

Glancing at you with worry, he sighs. His head drops and turns to the sea hoping it could swallow him. “My brother died a week before and you left, y/n. You left me for three months when I needed you most and you barely answered any of my calls. And I know you didn’t just leave for work, I know you didn’t want to deal with me but she did.” 

Your world came crashing down on you. He was right, you did leave to not deal with his emotions to get away from him and to avoid the feeling of grief all over again. When his parents had come over to tell him the news it reminded you too much of your mother’s death. Sad part is that when you came back he too had replaced you with another woman the same way your father did with your mom. 

At the end of the day your plan had backfired on you. You didn’t know how to comfort him nor wanted to, dealing with the strong emotions of others was never your thing. But till this day you’re paying the consequences as he is. 

“She listened and comforted me. I guess I confused it with love because the second you came back all that flooded my mind was you regardless that you left me or all the times you called me useless for not doing things your way. You could add that to the reasons. She was nice, if I made a mistake she wouldn’t berate me and instead helped me with it. Why did you change, y/n? You were so sweet and suddenly you just… dropped the act.”

To hear it come from his mouth crushed your heart. To an extent you knew your actions would have led to this outcome but you always put the blame on him. 

You shrug, throwing him a quick glance. “I’ve always been like this, Hyuck.”

“No, the girl I fell in love with was sweet and playful. You became mean and cold after we got married.”

“You changed so much too. Once you started getting promotions you became such a pompous ass. Constantly staying out for meetings till 2 AM, always smelling like alcohol, and lessening the help at home. Then after the affair you gave up so fast in trying to amend anything that you became worse and that’s when the constant fighting began.”

He couldn’t forget of course. He still recalls you shredding to pieces the book of poems he wrote to you and binded. He felt his heart go when you had done that; watching his hard work and feelings just thrown away over a petty argument of who would walk the dog next. Sad to say when those poems were destroyed the dog went out next. Every fruit of your love withered little by little. 

Donghyuck took refuge in his job to stay away from you. Despite how in pain he was, he still had hope things would get better, that maybe you’d forget and try to work it out again. By the time Mark had arrived, that hope had died out and he was tired of the cycle that he just mimicked your way of treating him.

Nevertheless in the past months that you changed how you treated him, it blossomed again. Of course, good things never last and when his suspicions kept being thrown at his face, he understood what life had brought upon him. 

He hums as a response, sighing loudly in the process. “I don’t think we can be happy any time soon but at least this is making us actually talk about it now.” His deep voice adds, turning to you to get a sweet answer but he was simply met with a cheeky smile and: “So we’re even now?”

He laughs finding it unbelievable. No apology or anything of the sort. Some things won't change too fast but regardless his sentiment was similar. “Yeah. We’re even.”

A relieved smile spreads on your face, nodding in agreement. “Till death do us apart.” No matter how much you two confess your disdain for each other, you’ll always be together. Call it sadomasochism or exhausting familiarity but you and your husband are sticking together. 

All these years you were waiting for Donghyuck’s downfall and having him confess it has been happening all along had alleviated that weight on your shoulders. You had done it and he was paying for hurting you. Some sentiments never change but even with that information, you aren’t satisfied. What you two had was ruined and everyone involved ended up losing.

The locomotive was louder than expected. In addition the conductors and ticketing people were heard even from where you two stood. This was it, Mark’s time was over with you two.

Cocking his head for you to follow him; with hooked arms, the both of you make way to the bench where Mark sits nervously. His legs shake from either the cold or wondering if you’ll still leave with him. Even now that he sees how close and happy you and Hyuck look together, he’s willing to convince himself it’s another front.

“Got everything ready?” Hyuck calls out for his friend. Mark stands from his spot, nodding as he releases the smoke of his millionth cigarette. “Yeah, yeah. Just–” He lifts the stick between his fingers. “Can’t have one in there.” Mark chuckles, his vision removing itself from you two. 

“I’ll call you guys when I get to the apartment. Taeyong and mom are going to help me get the paintings out. Do you want me to do anything before I leave the key?” It was mostly directed at Donghyuck, that sliver of hope clinging tightly. You were the one to speak instead. 

“Maybe water the plants if they’re not dead yet.”

In recollection of what you two did together, Mark had remembered the plant you two helped sprout. The last time he paid attention to it, it was bright and green. Now he imagines it dull and dead. 

He nods with a tight lipped smile, inhaling from the warm cigarette butt. Silences lingered momentarily but Hyuck was the one to cut through it. “We’ll see you for your housewarming, alright?” Mark nods, standing when you two stopped clinging to each other.

“Take care, okay?” “Okay.” 

The hoarseness in his voice threatened him the longer he clung to Donghyuck. This was it for the two of them and he had thrown it out for lust. His only rock was leaving him. When it came to you, the hug wasn’t tight enough, something in his heart told him that you’ll be joining him soon.

But little by little as you and Donghyuck make way down the steps and out the platform, he wonders how much longer till you run back inside to get your ticket.

His hope had dwindled slowly back at the diner when you had cruelly crushed his expectations. Up until now that flame was left but not seeing even your locks had turned it off. All that is left is the delusional idea that you’d actually fall through with the plans he made for the both of you. Chances fell slim the closer last call came around. 

There was no trace of you or Hyuck outside the station, all there left was the cold winter with the addition of families or couples enjoying themselves oblivious to his pain dispersing through his entire body. 

His teeth shattered while he shivered, the cigarette in between his lips doing nothing for comfort or warmth; Mark was alone and cold. The only source of physicality came from the ticket staff to let him know this was the last call before the train left. He nodded, giving one last look around, feeling his face scrunch up after ridding of his cigarette. 

The cold bit him harshly, tears smeared his face holding back his sobs now that reality had settled. His cold hands wiped away the boiling streams that burnt his cheeks but it only made his skin ache more. He didn’t care if people could see his sorrow painted on his face. All he has now are memories, paintings, and pictures. 

He will never see you two again. 

taglist: @haknyeonsju @bbymatz @seungjiseyo @theskzvibe @wonyofanclub @lovingvoidgoatee

[neoaevis]

K.DY | A Vow of Convenience (TEASER)

☞ Pairings: reader x husband doyoung 

☞ Genre: smut, angst, fluff, arranged marriage au

✩ Word Count: 1,007 (Teaser) I’m currently at 4k with the fic.

✩ Warnings: family problems ishh, semi-cheating, arranged marriage

✩ Summary: Arranged weddings were still common practice in the glittering world of the privileged. It was a mechanism for affluent families to retain their social standing and financial security while ensuring that their children married into the "proper" family. Despite various justifications, there were still some aristocratic people who were against arranged marriages. They believed that forcing someone to marry someone they did not know or love was unjust. Even worse, some of them believed it violated the principles of individualism and personal freedom that were so important to their way of life. The vast majority, who valued arranged weddings as an integral part of their culture and way of life, frequently drowned out these opposition voices. Arranged weddings continued to be a common practice in the world of the wealthy despite the evolution of time. You and Doyoung are one of the best examples, both of you had been raised in households that placed a premium on keeping money and status and maintaining financial stability. Unbeknownst to everyone, including you both, both of your families had chosen to arrange your marriage when you were still very young with the understanding that it would benefit both clans.

✿ A/N: Prequel of Boy Toy with a lot of awkward moments (Send me a ask to tag you, once it is released)

According to some, getting married is every woman's fantasy, from the wedding gown to the jewelry she would wear on her body. Most young girls would dress up in their mother's wedding gown and pretend to go down the aisle as they fantasize about their prince charming and the wonderful moment when they said "I do."

Weddings are also bittersweet celebrations for parents; they are thrilled for the new milestone in their daughter's life and the eternal joy she will enjoy, but grief is unavoidable as they must finally let go of the child they raised with pride and glory.

Arranged weddings were still common practice in the glittering world of the privileged. It was a mechanism for affluent families to retain their social standing and financial security while ensuring that their children married into the "proper" family.

The concept of an arranged marriage was not novel. You'd grown up going to galas and social functions, where you were frequently presented to suitable bachelors from other rich families. Yet you'd always wanted to fall in love on your own terms, without the pressures and expectations that come with an arranged marriage.

Your wedding is without a doubt the most lavish and anticipated wedding of the century; it's a celebration that will not only bind you two together with your spouse, but a union between two extremely wealthy and powerful business empires; the entire marriage is solely due to your parents' greed; it's not a wedding out of love.

Every item in your body right now makes you appear to be a flawless princess who is overjoyed to marry, especially with the obvious effort that has gone into how you look, but what no one knows is the agony this wedding has brought upon you, the sacrificial lamb of those who are greedy for power, forever you shall be cuffed in a loveless marriage and be the bride who just opens her legs and obeys her husband and in laws.

You've always been a loyal daughter, and you knew you had to do what was required of you. You knew your parents had your best interests at heart and wanted you to have a nice life. Yet you couldn't help but feel lonely and alone.

You're sitting in your room, lost in contemplation, staring at the wall. You are going to marry a man you have never met. The parents, whom you had grown up with and loved, had arranged and pushed you to accept this marriage.

A knock on your door reveals that someone hopes to enter, and you can't help but cry when you see your closest friend Mina show up; "What's wrong, my dear?" she muttered, worry written on her face as she held you in a tight embrace.

You shook your head, unable to put your feelings into words. You had accepted fate, but the reality of it all was too much for you to handle. 

Mina had always been your best friend. You'd grown up together, sharing everything from secrets to clothing. When your parents informed you that they had planned a marriage for you, Mina was the only person you could confide in.

"I...I can't do it, Mina," you muttered, hardly audible above a whisper. "I can't marry him since I don't love him and don't want to spend my life with him."

"Shhh, dear, I understand; if only fate wasn't so harsh to those of us who live in this type of world." she said as she grabs your hand "We must make sacrifices for those who brought us to this planet and the power they still want; it hurts, but who knows? Maybe things will work out between you and Doyoung." she says it in her best attempt to console you.

Your tears streamed down your cheeks as you sighed. "But what about my dreams, Mina? What about all I've always wanted to do with my life?"

Mina wrapped her arm over your shoulders. "It's not over, Y/N. You have an entire lifetime in front of you, and no matter what happens, you can make it beautiful, and I'll be there to support you each step of the way." 

You heard a loud knock on the door, and your parents stormed in before the attendant could even respond. They were dressed to the nines and grinning with delight.

"Are you ready, darling?" your mother inquired, her eyes welling up.

"She's ready, Mrs. Y/L/N," Mina replies quietly as she wipes her tears from the recent occurrences. 

You forced a smile as you nod to your mother, your father handed you a lovely bouquet of tulips and grabbed your arm as he led you out of the chamber and down the corridor.

The wedding bells rang, and the sound resonated throughout the banquet hall. It was a lovely sound, one that signaled the beginning of a new life, the beginning of eternity. The ringing of the bells just added to your anxiety. 

You put on a fake smile to attempt to appear joyful, but your heart wasn't in it. All your hopes of falling in love, of meeting someone who would love you for who you are, rather than because of an arranged marriage, have been dashed.

The wedding bells kept ringing, and you couldn't help but be jealous of the couples who had decided to marry for love. They were fortunate to have a voice over their own life.

You attempted to find consolation in the concept that perhaps you can find happiness in your wretched circumstances as you saw your fiancé standing at the altar. But as you approached the altar, you realized it was all a lie. You were strangers compelled to marry by your own families, and there will be no love between you. 

[jungwnies]

syn - she fell but he fell harder (fluff) pair - fem!reader x boyfriend!mark

in the beginning it was a bit awkward. you couldn’t tell whether or not he really did like you. and you were scared he was going to leave you.

not because he didn’t like like you but because the amount of interest you showed him was different from what he showed you.

you thought, maybe this is just the person he is. and you were going to either have to deal with it or find someone better.

and after a while you gave mark the ultimatum.

“mark if you want to be with me you’re going to have to prove it, otherwise i’m not sure i can do this with you anymore.”

and from there everything changed.

—

at night he would hold you close, afraid to let you go. he wasn’t someone who really needed someone to sleep besides but he needed you. he craved you.

don’t forget to take a picture of the golden hour for me. is something he asked of you every time you left town to go sight-seeing.

he admired the sky, because you were looking at the same one he was. "no matter what, we're always together." he told you holding your hand under the stars.

you didn't think mark was going to change, but he did. he loved you harder, he fell for you harder, you might've fell first, but he would do anything to you.

he was the one for you in a million different universes, there was no else like you for him.

so he got on one knee, just the two of you, the sound of a soft current from the wind passing your ears, under a clear dark sky with the same stars shining.

He held your hand and asked, "y/n, will you marry me?"

2022 © jungwnies

[xiaojunsmintchoco]

Love Note — Johnny Suh

pairing: best friend johnny x reader

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, roommates au

synopsis: despite having been best friends for the longest time, both you and Johnny pick up a new habit of leaving little notes for each other when you move in together. How does that blur the lines between best friends and lover for you both?

wc: 6k of (poorly-written) fluff

a/n: this is a gift for @sehunniepotwrites! Nikki, I hope you enjoy this fic (though it was wasn’t very well written imo :”) and that it brightens your Christmas for you! thank you so much for being such a cool mutual to talk to, though we’ve only known each other for a short while, I’ve really enjoyed our conversations! Stay safe and have a wonderful holiday!

⋆*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥

“Dude, you good?” Johnny looks over to you with a concerned expression as he hears the sigh coming from you. 

“No,” you groan, scrolling through your phone as you look at the rental prices for apartments near university. “Looking at how rental prices are all sky-high, there’s no way I’ll be able to rent an apartment”. 

“I would normally suggest staying at home, but if I were you I wouldn’t wanna make a one hour commute to school every day, especially with the amount of work we’re gonna have too,” Johnny muses. 

You shoot your best friend a playful glare. “Gee, thanks for reminding me of that, John”. 

He merely chuckles as he watches you continue looking for reasonably-priced apartments, but all of them seem like they’d drain more of your budget than you’d like. “Say, what if we both rent an apartment together? Then we can both split rent, and it should be more affordable for us, right?” Johnny suggests. “I mean, I’d like an apartment near university too. Like you, I wouldn’t wanna waste two hours travelling to and from school in total”. 

Your eyes light up at your best friend’s suggestion. “You’re a genius!” you exclaim, his idea already appealing to you. With anyone else you didn’t know too well you would’ve been hesitant, but hey, this was your best friend you were talking about, which would be easier than having to move in with a complete stranger. In that moment, you thank the heavens that Johnny had decided to apply to the same university as you and gotten accepted as well. 

“Of course I am”. Johnny scoffs in return, earning him an eye roll and a light smack across the shoulder.

“Whatever, Mr Self Proclaimed Genius. I’ll send you the apartment listings, you can look through them, and then we can make a decision together”.

Johnny hums as his phone dings with the text notification from you. “Yep, that’s good,” he agrees, opening the link you sent and skimming through the list of possible apartments you both could rent. Before you know it, you’ve both settled on a decent apartment. 

⋆*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥ ⋆

“YES! I can’t believe we actually got the apartment!” you cheer as you take the key and waltz into the new apartment. Johnny laughs at your antics, but lets himself into the apartment as well. It was quite a homey one, with a brown wooden floor and white walls. A comfy-looking sofa sat in front of a round coffee table and a television, and in the dining hall, you were greeted by a rectangular dining table, decorated with a glass vase of artificial flowers, as well as the fridge next to it. Talk about value for money. 

“Let’s go check out the rooms, shall we? Then we can pick the rooms that we want,” Johnny suggests. You agree, and both of you hurtle up the stairs, eager to look at the bedrooms. Turns out, both of the rooms have the same basic design — single size bed, a bedside table with three drawers and a lamp, plus a large enough wardrobe for you both to use. How you both still manage to argue (jokingly) over which room you both want — no one will ever know, but you both attributed it to your “best friend chemistry”. 

“Why are you so insistent on taking the room on the left? They’re both the same!” Johnny argues.

“Nah man, the one on the left has a nicer view from the window, so I want that one!” you declare. “Then why do you want the one on the left so badly, since in your words, ‘they’re both the same’?”

“The colour of the wardrobe in that room is nicer! The brown is warmer,” Johnny. claims, not backing down. 

“Psh, over that?” you snicker. This argument wasn’t going anywhere. 

You both decide the rooms based on a game of “scissors, paper, stone”, which resulted in you winning and getting the room on the left, and Johnny crumpled on the floor in defeat, being the dramatic best friend you’d known for all this while.

After moving into your desired rooms and unpacking, you both discuss roommate duties over an Indian takeout lunch. “I think that the cleanliness of our own rooms as well as laundry should be our own individual responsibilities,” Johnny begins. 

You nod, agreeing with your friend. “For the other stuff, what about a weekly rotation? This week I can do cooking, while you do dishes. But for the other stuff…”

“We’ll split it,” Johnny decides. “So this week maybe you can sweep the floor and empty the trash, and I’ll clean the bathroom and do mopping? Maybe I should do groceries too, since you’re cooking already. So what do you think, Your Highness?” he finishes with a mock bow to you, waiting for your approval. 

You laugh at the title he gave to you at the end, but approve of his suggestions. “Sure! I’ll write them all down on a piece of paper, then we can use one of those fridge magnets to put this on the fridge”.

And that commenced your experience of living with one of your all-time best friends. 

⋆*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥ ⋆

“Yo bro, I just got a sick idea”.

You look up from your breakfast of toast with butter and coconut jam (Johnny had gotten lazy that morning and just made plain toast), and raise an eyebrow at the boy in front of you. He’s currently scrolling through his phone, seemingly engrossed in something. “And that is…?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow up while trying to hide the suspicion creeping into your voice. 

Unfortunately, Johnny knew you too well, and knew you had your reservations already. “Don’t worry man! I was just thinking, we could get Ikea desks for our rooms and assemble them together, since our rooms don’t have desks,” he mumbles through a mouthful of his own toast — topped with honey and butter. 

Alarm bells go off in your head immediately, alerting you that your friend’s “sick idea” probably might not be that great. “I don���t know, man…we’re like bulls in a china shop. What makes you think we can assemble a desk, let alone two desks?” you question.

“C’mon, it’s just like, Ikea DIY. How hard could it be?” Johnny argues. 

“Why not just get desks that have already been assembled?” you suggest. 

“Nah, if we were to get DIY desks that’d be cheaper, because we’re assembling it ourselves instead of the people in the factory,” Johnny reasons. 

“I’m not sure about this…” 

And so begins another round of the playful arguments you’ve both gotten used to since the beginning of your friendship, which Johnny won — partly because you gave in, since you knew he wouldn’t let up and you’d both be late for your first classes if the argument didn’t end somewhere. 

Now both of you are left squinting at the instruction manual of the first Ikea desk, while blindly screwing parts together. 

“Dude, watch it, it’s gonna — agh!” Johnny’s panicked yell makes you jump and drop the instruction manual, which you were previously poring over for the umpteenth time before the desk collapsed, missing you by a hair’s breadth. 

“What the heck, bro!” you exclaim, jaw still seemingly glued to the floor from shock.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny apologises, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “Gosh, I didn’t know Ikea furniture was this hard to put together”.

“Yeah, who was the one who said ‘C’mon, it’s just like, Ikea DIY?’” you snort, reminding him of his words over breakfast earlier in the week.

“Shut up,” he groans. “I’m starting to wish I could eat my words. Nevermind, let’s do this again. What do the instructions say again?”

“So first, we’ve gotta find this wooden board. Then, we put four screws into it…” 

It takes about two more hours, and multiple glasses of ice-cold coke zero, but you both finally finish putting together the first desk. “Now that’s what I call a true masterpiece!” Johnny declares, stepping back from the completed desk and dramatically dusting off his hands. “Dude, we’re basically ready for marriage now that we can assemble Ikea furniture without killing each other in the process,” he jokes, swirling the ice cubes in his glass.

Having been his friend for years, you’re used to him making such jokes, so you don’t expect the wave of butterflies that sweeps over you when those words reach your ears. However, you brush it off and lightly smack his shoulder. “Don’t speak so fast — you almost let the desk collapse on me! Besides, we’ve got one more desk to assemble,” you remind, pointing at the second heap of wooden boards and metal frames laid on the floor in front of you.

“Oh, dammit”.

⋆*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥ ⋆

One thing that sets you and Johnny aside from other roommates could be your habit of leaving little notes for each other on the fridge. Be it to update the other on location, remind the other about undone chores, or ask the other to pick something up from the store, every day, without fail, the fridge would be filled with these little notes — it had become a personal bulletin board of sorts for the two of you.

How it started? After this one day, when you came home in a state of awful stress due to the sheer amount of work your professors had loaded on you, and your dead phone wasn’t helping your situation. Thus, you decide to simply rip a piece of paper off a notepad, and scribble out a note for Johnny to let him know where to find you, before sticking it to the fridge with a magnet. 

I’m at home, just in my room. Very busy today. As soon as Johnny gets home, your note on the fridge catches his attention when he walks into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of milk, and he decides to check on you.

No sooner than two seconds after he knocked the door came your tiny reply of “come in”. “Dude, what’s that awful smell-“ Johnny begins as soon as he enters. The sight that greets him is you seated at your desk with your hoodie up, staring at your computer with your palms cupping your face. Beside you is an unfinished venti cup of iced coffee, and your favourite cinnamon scented candle — the culprit behind that “awful smell”. He knew the scented candle was something you used in order to destress, so all of those things signalled to him that you were having a less-than-ideal time. “Hey, you good?” Johnny asks, making his way over and plopping in the chair beside you, noting the way your eyebrows were furrowed and your eyes were glazed over with a downcast expression. 

“Yes, all is fine and dandy. Totally don’t have an eight-page essay due tomorrow and biology and math tests the whole of next week that I haven’t studied for”. With sarcasm dripping from your tone, you make your predicament known to Johnny. 

“Ouch. That’s rough,” Johnny hums, looking over at your computer screen as he racks his brain for ways to help you. That’s when he realises that the essay topic you’re on is very similar to one he’s done before. “Hey, I actually did this essay last semester. Would you like to read mine? Maybe you can refer to it to help you with your own,” he suggests. “I mean, you could even use it and just change a few sentences. Doubt the professor would notice”.

You turn to properly face him this time. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem. I can just email you the document,” Johnny adds. "After this, I can study math with you and help you. Sorry I can't help with biology, since I don't take it". 

“Oh my goodness, LIFESAVER! Thank you so much John!” you exclaim, the relief visible on your face as your features relaxed into a grateful smile. You really were thankful to your friend — if not for him, you’d still be stuck on the third page of your essay, not knowing how to go on. 

“No problem, y/n. Just helping you out,” he answers with a grin. “What about after all your tests finish next week, we do something to relax?” he suggests. “My own tests finish then too”.

“Sounds good!” you reply.

Which is how both of you end up on the couch with Johnny, legs tangled up in a pile of blankets, savouring the delicious pizza you both ordered and laughing over what could well be your hundredth episode of Brooklyn-99, glad that the hectic semester was going to end before you knew it. 

It was in times like these, your best friend’s presence brought you a warm sense of comfort, like warm peppermint tea in stormy weather. Somehow, with him, the world seemed much less overwhelming and easier to take on.

What you didn’t know was, Johnny felt the exact same way about you. 

⋆*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥ ⋆

Rain poured and lightning flashed angrily in the gloomy skies outside the window — but even that could not compare to the storm in your heart. To say you were frantic with worry would be an understatement. Walking over to the fridge, you re-read the note that he’d left on the fridge for you.

I’ve got basketball practice today, so I’ll be home at about 4 pm today. 

It’s now 5: 30 pm — one and a half hours past the time stated on the note. The fact that he wasn’t picking up your calls too wasn’t helping. 

Just as you think you’re about to lose your mind, the jangling of keys in the lock forces you to snap your head in the direction of the door, which opens to reveal none other than Johnny. He’s soaked to the bone, clothes uncomfortably clinging to every inch of him, bag slung over his shoulder. “Johnny! What happened, why were you not picking up my calls?” a flurry of questions tumbles out of your mouth as you hurry to take his bag from him and pass him a towel to dry himself with.

“Sorry, y/n. Practice was extended by more than an hour, and I forgot my umbrella,” he sighs as he gratefully accepts the towel from you and begins drying his hair. 

“My goodness, John. To think that was the first thing I reminded you to bring today,” you reply, facepalming at your friend’s absentmindedness. “Quick, go take a bath — I don’t want you to fall sick,” you add, and he complies.

Unfortunately, the damage had been done. The next morning, you wake up to this note on the fridge: Now sicko, so I’m stuck in my room. Don’t worry about me though, lel.

Johnny was now curled up under the covers, running a temperature and nose running like a tap. As his roommate and best friend, you took it upon yourself to take care of him. 

That afternoon as soon as you get home, you prepare some soup and rice for Johnny, and portion them into bowls. Setting both bowls onto a tray, you carry the tray to Johnny’s room before knocking on the door, entering when you hear a weak “come in”.

“Johnny, wake up and have something to eat before taking your medicine,” you say as you set the tray down on his bedside table. 

“Mmph, wanna sleep,” he mumbles, laying his head back down on the pillow and shutting his eyes again. 

“Eat lunch first, then you can sleep all you want,” you assert, gentle but firm. “It’s lotus root and pork rib soup with pumpkin rice, so you should be able to get it down with no problem”. He obliges, and you prop a pillow up against his headboard so that he can sit comfortably. 

“Mm, delicious,” Johnny comments, slurping up a spoonful of soup and taking a mouthful of the rice. “Thanks, y/n”.

“Anytime, Johnny. I know you’d do the same for me”. His voice, though now coarse and raspy due to sickness, still carried the same familiar warmth you’d grown so fond of throughout friendship. Your heart fluttered and pounded at his words — which you realised was now becoming a far too common occurrence. 

You sit beside him as he eats, silence being the only thing audible apart from Johnny’s slurping and chewing sounds. “You know, y/n,” he suddenly says, breaking the silence. 

“What?”

“The way you’ve been taking care of me the past few days…it gives me ‘wife vibes’,” he remarks as you give him his medicine. 

“Elaborate, please,” you request, hiding your surprise at his comment.

"I mean…look, cooking for me, making sure I take my medicine, checking on me whenever you can…is that not what a wife does?" he reasons, gulping down some water. “Also, the way you blew up my phone with calls when I was late from basketball practice, that’s something a worried wife would do”. 

“Psh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “I’m just looking out for you as any good roommate would do. Besides, funny you say that — none of my friends think I give off wife vibes or mum vibes, even”.

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, to them I give off joker vibes and clown vibes,” you explain with a laugh. 

“I didn’t know”. Johnny says, surprise evident on his face. His expression quickly morphs into a smirk, though. “Then I should count myself lucky, since I’m the only one among our friends that have seen this ‘wife’ side of you. Trust me, your future spouse is gonna be very very lucky”. 

You simply chuckle, picking up his dishes and scurrying into the kitchen to put them away in the sink in an attempt to hide the blush on your cheeks that had darkened one or two shades. He thinks I’d make a good wife! Inside, you’re screaming with joy as you walk back to his room with a fresh glass of water, and put it on his bedside table. “I’d light you one of my favourite scented candles, but I know you hate it,” you remark, and both of you share a laugh as you remember how he nearly gagged the first time he came in and smelt the cinnamon scented candle. “Rest well, Johnny”. You exit his room and quietly shut the door.

As you’re leaving his room, something clicks inside of you: maybe, just maybe, you were developing a crush on your roommate and best friend.

And maybe it had started way earlier than you thought. But you felt it was best to keep your feelings under wraps, lest you jeopardize your precious friendship.

⋆*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥ ⋆

Johnny finds himself startled by your shrill scream one fine afternoon, and worried that you got hurt, he rushes out of his room and into the kitchen to check on you. "Y/n, what happened? Are you hurt?"

His eyes follow the direction your trembling finger is pointing at, and his gaze lands on a brown, oval-shaped object, with two antennae and six hairy, formidable-looking legs. "C-cockroach!" you stammer, shivering like a winter leaf. Cockroaches were one of your worst fears, and Johnny knew that well. 

Sighing, Johnny puts his hands on your shoulders and leads you out of the kitchen. "Stay outside, I'll deal with this piece of shit," he instructs, walking off to grab the can of insecticide in the storeroom. You watch from behind the kitchen door as he sprays relentlessly at the creepy-crawly, until it turns turtle and breathes its last. "Get me a tissue," he requests, and you comply. Picking the cockroach up with the tissue, he flings it into the bin and then cleans up the areas where he sprayed the insecticide. "This-is-J-S-95. Enemy-has-been-neutralized," he says in a robotic voice, releasing the fear in your heart and replacing it with amusement as you guffaw at his robot impression.

"Thank you so much, John. I thought I'd never be able to get my glass of water in peace," you let out a relieved chuckle. "Sorry to scare you with my screaming".

"No problem. I was more worried that you got hurt," he answers. 

"Tell you what, as a thank you I'll cook your favourite dish for dinner next week, as soon as our groceries are restocked," you suggest. 

"Sure thing. It's the least you can do after nearly giving me a heart attack," he jokes. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever John,” you chuckle, rolling your eyes and moving to pour yourself a glass of water. 

Funny I said that, everytime I’m around her, my heart pounds so fast I feel like I’m having cardiac arrest, Johnny thinks to himself as he strolls out of the kitchen. 

⋆*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥ ⋆

Perhaps, deciding to sing in the shower is far from a wise choice — even if you think you’re alone at home.

But that’s exactly what you decided to do. After coming home from a stressful day at school, all you wanted to do was take a warm shower, use your favourite shampoo, and then get to tackling whatever assignments you had. And because Johnny wasn’t home, you thought it would be a safe bet to relieve some of that stress by belting your heart out to songs. 

You finish your private shower concert with your own rendition of Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You”, and exit the bathroom to find a new note on the fridge. Bro, great voice, you should’ve sang louder. I would’ve had a much better recording :)

He was home? I didn’t know! A mildly panicked thought zooms through your mind. You unpin the note from the fridge, and go off in search of your roommate. “Johnny Suh, if you really recorded me singing earlier, I’m gonna freaking kill you!” you exclaim, heading in the direction of his room. Sure enough, your own voice comes blasting through the door, eliciting a sigh from you. Still, you knock his door and wait for him to consent to your entry before opening the door and lunging towards him, pretending to strangle him. “You! Delete the recording, now!” you demand, making a finger gun and holding it to his head. 

“Not in a million years,” he replies, smirking as he holds his phone to his chest. “C’mon man, you sounded glorious, why would I not want a memento of your fantastic voice? Besides…” his voice trails off. “It would make great blackmail material!” he finishes, lips curving into a triumphant grin.

“You piece of-“ you attempt to snatch the phone from him, but he stands up and holds the phone up high. Though you’re not that short, Johnny has a height that can match Goliath’s, and you’re not able to reach his phone. “Fine. If you don’t delete that recording, I’ll retract my promise of cooking your favourite dish for tomorrow,” you huff. 

“Okay, fine, fine!” Johnny concedes, holding up his hands in surrender. Lowering his phone in front of your face, he unlocks it, opens his files and then makes a show of deleting the audio clip. “There. Happy now, milady?” he asks, waving his phone in front of your face. 

“Yes, very good,” you approve. “Congratulations then, you saved yourself,” you declare, striding out of the room. 

Little did you know, that night Johnny retrieved the audio clips from his phone’s recycling bin and listened to them, smiling to himself at how goofy and adorable he found you. He realised how idiotic he would have looked if you or anyone else were there, but hey — he was alone in the privacy of his room, with only the moonlight streaming through the window to accompany him.

Gosh, since when was I so down bad for her? He asks himself as he sets his phone on the bedside table and drifts off to sleep. 

⋆*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥ ⋆

“So this is what your apartment looks like? That’s nice!” Taeyong compliments his friend on his apartment as he steps in, taking a look at the place. The last semester had rolled around really quickly, and Johnny had invited his close friends and group mates, Taeyong and Yuta, over to the apartment to work on a year-end group project. 

“Yeah, y/n and I decorated it together, is it nice?” Johnny asks, heart swelling with some amount of pride.

“Yeah, the ‘married couple’ vibes are immaculate,” Yuta says, eyeing the pictures on the wall, most of which were pictures you and Johnny took when you hung out together. 

Johnny doesn’t miss the teasing lilt in Yuta’s voice, and rolls his eyes at him. “We’re not married or in any form of relationship, we’re just roommates,” he reminds Yuta while leading his friends into the kitchen. “You guys want anything to drink?” he asks kindly. While Taeyong simply opts for water, Yuta doesn’t answer, instead focusing on reading the note you’d left for Johnny on the fridge. “I’m at Wendy’s house with Seulgi to work on our year-end project. By the way thanks for killing the cockroach for me last week, I’ll cook your favourite dish for dinner tonight when I get home! Aww,” Yuta remarks, turning to smirk at Johnny. “So, you kill the bugs while y/n cooks as a thank you? If that doesn’t sound married, I don’t know what does”.

“Yuta, I already said, we’re not married or in a relationship. I mean, I do like her, but neither of us plan to-“ Johnny is cut off by Taeyong literally spitting out his water. It’s in that moment that Johnny realises that he let that detail slip, and his hands instinctively fly to his mouth. 

“Wait, sorry, what? Say that again?” Taeyong prods. 

Johnny huffs and shakes his head. “Nevermind. Pretend I said nothing. Let’s just go get our project done”.

“Y’know, if you really like her, I think you should tell her,” Taeyong comments later as they’re wrapping up their project. 

“Nah bro. I’m sure she doesn’t like me back that way”. Johnny shakes his head. 

“How would you know?” Yuta questions.

“C’mon man, we’ve both been nothing more than best friends for a good chunk of our lives. No way she sees me as more than that,” Johnny argues, but both his friends are not convinced. 

“You’re not her, you wouldn’t really know,” Taeyong points out.

“That’s true. But I’d rather keep quiet than jeopardize our friendship by telling her,” Johnny replies. 

“Jeez, the signs are so obvious. I can’t believe you literally live under the same roof as her, yet you’re oblivious to all of them,” Yuta groans. 

“There are signs?” Johnny questions, raising an eyebrow. 

“Bro, I’ve caught her staring at you multiple times in Chemistry class. I sit beside you, and I can literally feel her gaze on you,” Taeyong says.  

“And even if she’s tired thanks to a lack of morning coffee, the moment you walk in — boom, her mood changes. Suddenly, she’s a can of beans and I can hear her even from the farthest end of the room. How do you not pick up on these things?” Yuta asks, not sure whether to be amazed or unimpressed by his friend’s oblivion. 

“She really does those things?” Johnny asks. He tries to hide his surprise, but his furrowed brows and agape mouth give it away.

Yuta facepalms. “Oh my gosh, you’re unbelievable”.

But it didn’t matter. Now that that information was in Johnny’s hands, he was now planning out his next move. 

⋆*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥ ⋆

“And…we’re done for today! Great work y’all!” As three of you wrap up your work for the day, Wendy affirms the whole group.

“So how’s it been living with Johnny?” Wendy asks you as the three of you sit down at her table with the packet drinks she offered.

“It’s been going well so far,” you answer, taking a sip of your drink. “It’s really great to have him around the house so far”. 

“Why? So you both can get more couple time together?” Seulgi looks up from her drink with a grin on her face.

“Oh please, Johnny and I aren’t married,” you scoff. “We’ve been nothing but best friends for so long”. 

“That could change,” Wendy pipes up, and you shoot her a joking glare. Maybe you should never have told them you were beginning to crush on your best friend. “Okay but seriously, y/n, when are you going to tell him you like him?” 

“Never ever,” you reply, hoping your monotone could convey the finality of that decision to your friends. “We’re just friends, always will be, because he doesn’t like me back that way”.

“Ah ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” Seulgi argues. “You don’t happen to be a mind-reader, do you, y/n?”

“No, but-“

“Then how would you know Johnny doesn’t feel the same way? The only way to know for sure is to tell him how you feel first, and then see how he responds,” Seulgi cuts you off and offers her advice.

“But if he doesn’t feel the same way it’ll make things awkward between both of us,” you object, voicing your concerns.

“And if he does? y/n, if none of you make the first move, Johnny could well end up with someone else. I’ve seen Minjeong ogling at him already, you know,” Wendy adds. The last bit of information wasn’t true, but knowing that three of you shared a common dislike towards said girl, Wendy spun the tale in a bid to jolt you into action faster. 

“Wait, are you serious?” You stare at Wendy and Seulgi with wide eyes, and feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach as they nod. 

“So, unless you want that bitch to get to your Prince Charming first, I suggest you quicken things and confess,” Seulgi advises.

That piece of information fills you with a new kind of determination, and you decide to take your chances. “Okay, that does it. I’m telling him how I feel, and if he doesn’t like me back that way, I guess I’ll see if he wants to remain friends or drift apart,” you decide. 

“Atta girl. How do you plan to do it?” Seulgi inquires. 

You pause in your tracks. “I don’t know, actually,” you admit. “I don’t really have any plan in mind”.

Three of you sit in silence, trying to formulate a plan for your confession. “Hmm, Christmas is coming soon, right? You could write him a note and attach it to his Christmas gift,” Wendy suggests. 

“Ooh, or you could just attach the note to the fridge on Christmas morning, when Johnny’s still sleeping,” Seulgi offers an alternative. “Then you park yourself in a spot you both like, maybe the cafe that you both frequent, and tell him to come find you there after he reads the note if he wants to talk”.

You process the suggestions that they just gave you, but eventually decide to go with Seulgi’s idea. “Thanks guys! Guess I have a plan now,” you smile.

“No problem. Girls help girls,” Wendy answers with a laugh. “Let us know how it goes”.

⋆*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥ ⋆

On Christmas eve, you learn one thing — the person who coined the saying “easier said than done” was absolutely right. 

You had been so confident the days leading up to Christmas — writing and re-writing your note to him, asking Wendy and Seulgi for advice, and rehearsing what you would say to him after he reads the note. 

But now, at 8 am in the morning, you’re standing in front of your fridge, clad in your favourite winter coat and beanie, hand moving to place the note on the fridge door before removing it again. 

Is this really a good idea? What if he rejects me? Will I be able to handle the pain that comes after? A million questions race through your head as you contemplate your decision. Screw it, let’s just do this, you decide, and reach for a magnet on the fridge.

A hand comes out of nowhere and reaches out for the same magnet. “Oh, I’m sorry, you can use that,” a familiar voice sounds next to your ear, making you jump. 

“Johnny! Why are you up so early?” you ask, genuinely surprised. Johnny’s not a morning person — he’ll take any opportunity to sleep in. To see him up so early in the morning on a holiday was probably an event that should be recorded in history books.

“Oh, erm, I just — have somewhere to be later,” Johnny garbles out a reply somewhat hesitantly as he fiddles with the earmuffs around his neck. “I wanted to leave you a note before I left, but I suppose I can just pass it to you now?”

“Sure thing,” you answer, taking the piece of paper from him. You assumed it would be something simple, such as asking you to pick up something from the store or to let you know where he’d be. 

“Do you mind passing me yours as well? I can just read it now,” Johnny suggests before you can properly register the first word on his note. 

You hesitate, thinking your options over. If you told him no and just left the note on the fridge before scurrying off, he would still read it anyway. If you told him yes and complied — same result. Oh well. “Here you go,” you say, praying that he doesn’t see how your hands are trembling ever so slightly. Your heart thuds like a galloping horse as you watch him scan your note — the moment of truth was near. In a bid to distract yourself, you read his note to you.

Y/n:

I’ve kept this secret to myself for way too long, and I need to get it off my chest, so I’ll say it here now — I love you, as more than just my best friend. 

There’s so many things about you that made me fall for you. For one, we share the same sense of humour — you’re the only person I know who will talk about weird shit with me the whole night until we’re in stitches from laughing, wondering if we need mental help. I really appreciate the things you do for me, be it taking care of me when I’m sick, cooking my favourite dishes, or remembering even small details that I mention to you. Another reason is that you’ve been my best friend for so long, there’s this level of comfort and understanding that’s exclusive to the both of us. I don’t know — there’s something about being in your presence that brings me this warm sense of comfort and joy, and it’s more than words can describe. Of course there’s more reasons, but if I went on this note will never end. 

I know that this is very sudden, and I understand that you may need time to think it over, so take as long as you need, and meet me at the cafe beside school when you’re ready to talk. Merry Christmas, y/n.

You read and re-read the note multiple times with what you’re sure is a visible gawk on your face. Johnny likes me too? Is this a dream? You pinch yourself hard, and soon realise you’re really not dreaming. 

“Dude, you like me too?” Johnny’s voice disrupts your train of thought, and you shyly nod as you look up from the piece of paper, now slightly crumpled due to the tightness of your grip on it. Disbelief, surprise and then joy make their way onto his face in quick succession, before he lunges for you like a golden retriever and pulls you into a big hug. “Oh my gosh, I was so afraid you didn’t feel the same way, and that I’d ruin our friendship,” he mumbles. 

“Honestly, same here John,” you reply, head resting on his shoulder. “But I’m glad now I know, because I can finally confidently say that I love you — as more than just my best friend”. Your next move surprises Johnny — before you both break the hug, you press a chaste kiss to his lips. His stunned expression amuses you to no end, and you end up chortling at how he raises his fingers to his lips in disbelief. 

But when he overcomes the surprise, he pulls you in once more for another kiss, this time one that’s longer and a bit deeper. You savour everything about the kiss, from the feel of his lips on yours to the taste of his chocolate lip balm. 

“Wow, what a way to start our Christmas,” Johnny chuckles as you both pull away for oxygen. “Merry Christmas, y/n. I love you”.

You smile at your friend, heart bursting with more joy, love and warmth than you’d ever felt in your whole life. “Merry Christmas, Johnny. I love you”. 

taglist: @moonsclover @bangchan-fairy

[kdyism]

THE BOYFRIEND EXPERIENCE.

pairing. renjun x reader

genre + themes. fluff, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, fake dating!kind of, college!au kind of, suggestive.

wc. 8.398k / warn. mention of food/cooking, mild cussing, making out, tiktok ref (im sorry)

synopsis. enlisting you as his "someone i'm seeing" excuse, renjun tries to get his mom to stop asking him about his date for his cousin's wedding and in turn, it puts your already tired feelings for him in a loop.

yunn's text. when this happened so fast, it took a day and a half. reblog + comments are appreciated! hope you enjoy it, happy reading! (not proofread yet)

suggested music to listen along! hello, sunset by red velvet. 247 by stayc. it's yours by nct dream. prada by fr:eden. kiss kiss by shinee.

Your eyes following Renjun as he argued with his mother regarding the same topic every time had become routine by the time a month was left for his cousin's wedding, you always hear the excuse, "I am seeing someone, I swear! but it's still not serious enough to bring them to a wedding!" he grumbles, kicking your poor carpet but you know there wasn't any mal intent because he was the one who painstaking went through all the reasonable options at Ikea to get you an aesthetically pleasing carpet without breaking your bank's back.

Renjun paces across your living room angsty with a deep frown on his face, nodding frustrated and you almost were curious about what his mother was saying for him to suddenly shut up and listen to her despite the begrudging expression he wore. He would often tell you about how much he loves his mother and how fighting with her always made him feel like he had to be showered in holy water to feel forgiven but when it came to his love life, no one is excused, not even the first love of his life.

"I know, I know, but come on you know I don't want to bring just anyone to this. If I introduce someone to you guys and break up before—like the fifth anniversary, I won't ever come back home," he sounds exasperated, locking his eyes with yours and you smile because you think he might stick to his words if he ever did, he had always been a stickler to what he did in front of his family's eyes.

The Renjun his family sees is a precious son, he drunkenly said one time and destroying that image of him would kill the innocent, law-abiding son in him forever and he would try to take over the world if that happens.

"I feel like taking that backpacking trip you were going on about now..." Renjun throws himself beside you on the sofa and you laugh at him, pushing yourself to the side to make space for him and he screams into your shoulder, quietly of course.

"When's the wedding?" you pass the flier you had bought from the tourist agency, pulling out your phone and opening up your gcal.

Pouting subtly at the flier, Renjun narrows his eyes at the cost of the trip and gasps, "Can you afford this trip? This is absurd—I retract my statement, I am not taking this trip," he crumbles the flier tossing it away and you inhale, stopping yourself from screaming and glare at him.

"That's my flier, you asshat!"

"I know you can't afford that, stop killing your savings!" he shouts back, holding his hands in front of him and pushing your clawing hands away, "I can take you to my hometown for cheaper than that," Renjun rolls his eyes, cleverly tossing out a suggestion that had been brewing in his mind for some time now.

It was maybe two weeks ago when he was on a call with his mother at home that he thought it up. What if he just took you to the wedding since his mother already suspected that something was up between the two of you. Lying to his dear mother does break his heart but his mother thinking he doesn't attract anyone breaks his own heart, for god's sake, she should know that all her good looks went to him.

Flitting your lashes at him, your lips apart and churning your entire face to express your disbelief, you added a scoff. "Um... would you mind, I don't know, speaking up,"

"I was only thinking," he quickly says, "You want a trip away from here and I need a person to show up with me in a place away from here," shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly, he takes your phone from your hand and scrolls down to December.

"You're going to visit your parents' house the last week of this month and I am leaving the first week of the next— You could just join me," he explains, pressing the 3rd of December and passing the phone back to you. "Our schedules line up—just the way you like it,"

Dropping your jaws at his insolence, your heart races at a speed you hate. His gorgeous face was already a challenge for you and now him asking this of you makes your heart's love cloud heavier. Renjun is skilled at adding more, and more, actions for you to misunderstand and your naïve heart just keeps taking them all, unable to commit to whether you should give up on him or just let your feelings rain on him, just the way he drowns you with his thoughtless actions.

"I will only pay for my food..."

"Wait up... you're going on a trip...Alone with Huang Renjun, the Subject of your affections, Causer of your tantrums, Disturber of my peace?" despite being on call with Jisung, you sigh seeing him roll his eyes wearing a disgusted look on his face in your eyes.

Humming in response, you aren't sure why you even tell him about what's up in your life when all he does is rub your bad decisions on your face—he has a point because you always end up in his apartment, eating your emotions away by downing two buckets of vanilla and strawberry ice cream followed by Jisung's signature strawberry milkshake that he specifically bought a blender for; it never sees the light of day when he doesn't make the strawberry milkshake that you very often crave.

"He gave a compelling reason why this works for the two of us," or maybe you are easily convinced, something that only happens when it involves the said person.

Groaning into the speaker, Jisung begins his usual lecture. "I don't know who is the stupid one here, me or you—But, didn't you say you were going to get over him? What happened to putting some distance between Renjun and you? What happened to going to the cinema with me today? Didn't you see me rush through my assignments to spend time with you?" pausing for dramatic purposes, you bite your lips inhaling heavily. "...Are you saying I did all that for nothing?" Jisung always had your back, when your back was against Renjun.

"Jisung," you said sternly, rolling on your side when you heard your name faintly through your slightly open window.

"You need to shut up,"

Smiling softly, you shake your head getting off your bed. "Chenle told me you were going over to watch the Halloween reruns on his subscription," and as if it were magic, Jisung hangs up on you and you can see him fuming at Chenle already.

For as long as you have carried your feelings for Renjun, Jisung has been on the receiving end of it.

Peeking through your window, you study Renjun's outfit to match with him and you note how cool he looks standing without a care in front of your apartment, scrolling on his phone and the sun looks so good on him, it makes you somewhat jealous how even the environment around him makes your heart go ba-thump when all he did was breathe and the sound of your heart gets louder when you recognize the sweater he wore; he had gotten you matching sweaters when he went on a trip to the Disneyland in Japan with his friends, you were a good minute from melting at his feet when he gave it to you and ran off to his next class.

Quickly grabbing the same sweater from your cupboard, you decide it looks okay with your current outfit and swung your side bag on, rushing out to meet Renjun at the front. Today, you and Renjung were going shopping for something decent to wear for his cousin's wedding. You thought you already had something that would work but Renjun said you should match with his suit which in turn matches with the rest of his family because they decided for each of the families to match colours for the wedding—you wanted to laugh at how committed Renjun must've been to go as far as make you match with his family when you were a pretend date.

"Renjun!" you slap your hand on his side, announcing your arrival and he nods, "My mom said I should buy it for you because I am bringing you," he said, glancing at your face to gauge your reaction and much to his expectation, you vigorously shake your head.

"No way,"

Ignoring you, Renjun leads the way to the mall you decided earlier on and you groan, knowing that once Renjun says okay, he rarely ever changes his mind. Yes he buys you a lot of stuff without asking you but when he does it in front of you, you always end up fighting about how you can pay for your stuff while he says, he invited you so it's only reasonable that he pays. You think that if you ever do date him (in your dreams at least) you'd probably always have petty fights about it.

Following him around the store, you try on many clothes to which he shakes his head for different reasons, "This one looks too tacky," "Ehh, don't you think this makes you look off?" "The shade is wrong," and by the time you tried on your twentieth one, Renjun groans sprawling on the sofa in the dressing lounge and you sigh, taking a seat beside him.

"This is the right shade now Renjun," you shake his side, trying to get his attention and he flails around, "Just...Just do this yourself—shopping for formal wear is too hard,"

Slapping his forearm, you flinch away when he springs up with a glare. "That hurts!" he rubs his side, eyes drinking you in, slowly widening. "This is it!" he jumps, quickly making you stand and he claps his hands in victory, not noticing your flushing cheeks when he pushes your hair up and closing the distance between your faces, his breathe on your side as he checks out your dress closely with a thoughtful expression.

"You look amazing in this," he concludes, nodding while checking the price, and Renjun holds his shock at how expensive it is but the way the dress hugged you made him think this was made just for you, he had to buy it for you—wedding or no wedding. Looking up to face you, Renjun felt the first pang in his heart that would slowly be the undoing of his heart, he thought he felt the last of it a long time ago.

A momentary crush that faded away when he got comfortable around you, Renjun absolutely hated how clammy his hands got when he was around you at the beginning and he also hated the way a single smile from you could render him goo in a single second.

Renjun pushes himself away, his ears burning and the characteristic sweat forming on his palms. "Do you l-like this dress?" unable to face you in fear of a blushing expression, he turns away to call the salesman.

"Yeah... you seem like it a lot," you offhanded said, confused at his awkwardness as he rubs his hand on his jeans; something you thought he got out of a long time ago, and you watch him, getting the salesman to scan the code of your dress and going up to the front to make the payment leaving you to change into your normal clothes.

To be honest, before deciding to get over Renjun, a part of you thought he was interested in you too. From the way he has been sticking with you since your first year in university, despite how he has always been cramming with assignments to the way he has always been buying things for you as if to say he thinks of you all the time even when you are apart. 

"Should we head out?" you stand beside him, your shoulder brushing against him as you take the bag with your new dress in it from the counter.

Seeing over your head, Renjun thinks for a minute. His eyes go back and forth from you to behind you until he says, "Go ahead, I need to get something," leaving you rattled. 

Renjun doesn't feel bad towards Jisung most of the time when you choose to hang out with him over your friend it made him feel more special even if it meant you were constantly changing your plans with Jisung. According to you, Jisung always leaves you unconfirmed until the last minute because he has grown used to you changing your mind whenever you decided your assignments are more important than watching ep 8 Brooklyn 99 just because Jisung wants to understand what all the memes are about. 

However, this time, Renjun did feel bad for Jisung. 

"I was waiting at the train stop... for almost two hours!" the younger boy had tears rolling down his side, his face threading the line between anger and frustration. 

"It's my fault..." Renjun sheepishly says, scraping his original idea of just getting Jisung back to his apartment. "My mom bought an early ticket and came over while she was at my place. You know how my mom is," 

Rolling his eyes, "Are you saying me that you left her alone with your mom?" Jisung scoffs, throwing his hands to his mouth, letting the seat belt he pulled sling back and hit his shoulder.

Jisung hurriedly plugs in the belt, turning his torso to face Renjun who begins driving and repeats his question. Raising his brows in disbelief, "How...no, why would you let that happen?" 

Renjun too honestly regrets having you meet his mom before talking about the whole plan with you, being in a pretend relationship that works would need the story to match on both sides. Renjun has no idea what his mom would ask and how you would reply, he trusts you completely yes, but he also knows how nosy his mother is when it came to his love life because he never tells her anything (because there is always nothing to say) and you, oh god, he knew you were nervous enough meeting his entire family at the wedding but this, you didn't even have time to dress properly when you opened the front door to his mom wearing his faded Ravenclaw sweatshirt and basketball shorts that Chenle left in his apartment a while back.

"Do you plan on ever telling her the truth?" Jisung asks out of the left field as the car drives into the curb near his neighbourhood, a shiver runs down Renjun's spine at the thought.

"No way,"

"Heh, Chenle was right about the two of you being idiots—You're meant to be," 

Careful not to chop your fingers as you slice the onions for Renjun's mother, you couldn't help being on guard as she floats around you. Nothing could've prepared you for this. Renjun for one wasn't lying when he said he inherited his mother's good looks because as soon as you opened the front door and let your eyes fall on the grace of her face, you blew a fuse. 

"Darling, where is the cream sauce?" she asks, sweetness laced in her tone, scanning through the refrigerator.

"It must be in the drawer—Renjun might’ve stuffed in there last time," 

"Ahah, here it is. Does Renjun eat homecooked often?" she leaves the sauce out to cool, standing beside you on the kitchen counter and begins to work on the chicken. 

Nodding in response, you slide the sliced onions onto a plate and grab the mushrooms next, smiling fondly as you remember the first time Renjun had cooked for you and added mushrooms sliced too thin. "Renjun and I take turns cooking during the weekends. That's more homecooked meals than what most of our friends have,"

Smiling gently at you, "That's nice to know, I am always worried he isn't eating properly," goosebumps run down your back as she says that while she pulls out the bones from the chicken. You never wanted to cross her, hearing stories from Renjun about how scary she gets and the sight of her sweet smile combined with the deboning has solidified your fear. 

But as nervous as you are, you are quick to realize how sweet his mother is. Lathering him in affection as soon as her eyes set on him, Renjun flushed so deeply that you felt your heart swoon with adoration due to how docile he had turned in front of his mother, his ears turning red and whining at her to stop rubbing his head. She immediately asked you how you were and if Renjun was ever mean to you, you could've yes but you didn't. You said he's always very blunt, instead. 

Though, despite how unnerving it is that you eased around her, you remembered that you had plans with Jisung and Renjun left to get him. The nerves shot up again, you did not want to mess up for the sake of Renjun and you think his mother caught onto how tense you had become because she started talking more than she had earlier, asking you questions about Renjun and how he's been doing far from home—what you've been fearing for though had yet to appear until she finally let the stove do the cooking and the two of you settled on the stools at the kitchen. 

"You're the one coming to the wedding right?" she trails, her eyes blinking at you and studying your features, you nod apprehensively, unsure what she would ask next. "Is my son lying to me or are you two actually seeing each other?" 

Ahah, that question. 

You didn't know how to reply. Yes, your son is lying to you but no, I might also be the reason he isn't seeing someone because he spends all his time seeing me instead—you awkwardly nod though, "We are still at the talking stage... I don't know whether that qualifies," you said, your thumbs fiddling and you pray, Renjun please come home already.

As if on cue, you hear the jingle of his key chain and you spring up from your chair to go greet him, "You're back!" you smile in relief, clinging onto him and poor Jisung, getting left behind. "What are you doing here?" jutting your lips out when you see the other boy, you glance from him to Renjun for an answer. 

"I felt bad..." Renjun pushes you aside, removing his coat and you take it from him naturally, Jisung watching you act so routinely with his friend as if you live in his house. You put away his coat and hang up the keys, following him into the kitchen and Jisung follows you without a word, only opening up to greet Renjun's mother who he has met before. "This is Jisung, you know him," Renjun says anyway.

You grab two cups of water for the boys and walk to them, finding them in a conversation with his mom. "Ah! Yes, yes I remember now—Didn't you have a partner or something for that?" his mother laughs at the memory Jisung had recalled, the topic: Cross-dressing Renjun. 

"I was his partner for that," you giggle, loving the blush that overtook Renjun's face as you add, "He wore my clothes and I did his make-up, I was so sure he'd win," you said frowning. 

"Well, that senior Jungwoo looked very pretty," chugging down the water you brought, Renjun leans into your side when you sit, sending your heated blood upwards. Before you had become close to him, he always gave you incessant headaches from blushing, you had enjoyed the dizzying feeling he created and the conundrum your stomach would get up to, suddenly, you think, what if this wasn't a lie?

"Your mother asked me if you were lying," you whispered to him, your eyes plastered on Jisung and his mother reminiscing all of Renjun's embarrassing first-year stories. 

His jaw slackened, "What did you say?" he asks, eyes as wide as saucers and his breath brushing on your side, "Did she ask anything weird?"

Shaking your head, you tilt to face him. Your lips so close yet so far, you pull away and reply, "I said her we are still in the talking stage, I have no idea if that's even a thing for us—"

"—We've been in the talking stage for four years then," Renjun smiles, nudging your side and getting up to follow his mother into the kitchen when she announced she was going to check on the stove.

Letting out a ragged sigh, you groan quietly and roll to Jisung's side who looked at you disgusted, "You traitor, you liar, you asshat, I am never making plans with you again—"

"I didn't mean to ditch you." you cuddle into his side, comforting him by patting his side and he pouts, "I was there for two hours, you don't know how scared I was,"

"Yes, I know... I am sorry, I'll make up to you for sure," you try to put on your best puppy eyes, sure that Jisung would try to take revenge on you and he nods, "I hope you are ready to stick to your words this time," he says, dropping octaves to scare you.

"You have my word, sir,"

Before Jisung pointed out, you never noticed that you've been having the boyfriend experience during the recent two years in your relationship with Renjun. 

Currently 3 am, you shudder as the cold night air chips away at you while you wait for Renjun to pick you up at the nearest fast food chain for an early breakfast and head off. Jisung said, how many people do you think have a meet-up spot at the unholy hour? Not many, mainly people who are dating or flirting—people don't go see people at 3 am unless they have something going on. You had never really thought of it like that, you thought that Renjun was a night owl like you. It made sense to call up the other person you were sure would also be awake. 

"You are stupid—you should know better than everyone else, Renjun wakes up early—"  it then clicked in your head, "Because he goes to bed early, what the hell," you blush. 

The sound of your name pulls you from your mind and you grin, waving slightly as his car stops in front of you. Waddling over to the passengers and getting in, you pull your phone from your pocket and thrash it into the holder, getting comfortable to wear the seat belt. "Hey," you finally said, pushing your hair away. 

"Did you place the order?" Renjun drives, his eyes glancing at you to see you nod and you open your phone, "It says it’s ready—Whose going to get it?" your brows immediately furrow, groaning at the idea of having to get off the car and you say, "I got it last time, you should do it this time,"

"Uhuh, no way," 

"Come on, that's fair! Plus I paid because I called you out!" you whine, wriggling into the seat, you hear Renjun chuckle and your eyes catch his eyes in the rearview mirror when he suggests, "Let's just do rock, paper, scissors,"

A grin flashes on your face, Renjun always loses rock, paper, scissors with you—the only he won was at a club when he was drunk off his ass for the first time in your friendship and you let him win because he has begun to tear up at his losing streak. 

Fisting your hand, Renjun imitates you after setting the car in park at the traffic light and you chant, "Rock, paper, scissors—Shoot!" Scissors and your eyes move to Renjun's hand but his groan reaches your ears first, earning a laugh from you. He had thrown out rock and you felt a zap through your body in excitement—now this is what you call a serotonin boost. 

"Ugh, you are such a cheat," he grumbles, the traffic light turns green and you scoff, " Jealousy is not a good colour on you,"

Rolling his eyes, Renjun contradicts, "Shut up. I am pretty sure you said green was made for me,"

"I only said that because it compliments yellow and yellow looks great on you—" "Same difference," Renjun says indignantly and you pout, rolling your eyes. You won, he has to go get the take-out whether he likes it or not because as you know, Renjun is a man of his word. 

The rest of the ride was quiet, it wasn't an awkward or uncomfortable one but it was one where you could hear your heart's pacing sound and Renjun's soft humming, you especially loved going on a drive at these wee hours because while the whole world was asleep, the sound of Renjun's voice is the only thing you could hear aside from your own heart that always sounds to the beat of him. 

Looking outside of the window, Jisung's words keep replaying in your mind. You couldn't disagree that you are indeed having the boyfriend experience. 

Whenever someone hits on you, you get to say you are with someone and it's Renjun. Whenever you wear something nice, you get to say it’s from Renjun. Whenever you are apart, people ask if you fought with Renjun. Everything nice reminds you of him. Your every day revolves around matching with him, like he said, you just like it when your schedules line up—even your beloved gcal has an assigned colour just for him. 

He knows about your bank details, and your class schedules, he knows your mom and now you know his, you know how he feels about his family and he knows everything there is to know about you daily—hell, you even have a spare key to his apartment that even his mom doesn't have as you found out recently.

If this wasn't the boyfriend experience, you don't know what having a boyfriend is supposed to be; aside from the obvious making out and such, which to be frank, you're open to if he is too.

Right now, as Renjun parks outside the fast food place and grabs your phone like it’s his and goes off to get your take-away, you realize he even knows your phone password and you want to sling Jisung outside a window for making you think about this.

You want to kiss Renjun now—that's what's missing. 

That's something you could ask for if he was your boyfriend but he's not, and this is all just pretend. In the two years, you've grown closer than before and the few days leading up to your trip to his cousin's wedding as well. This is all a lie because, for one, a kiss is something that isn't meant for you, who is just a friend.

Your eyes can't help burning, tears flooding and your nose heating up at well. This isn't a thing to cry about—you already decided to give up on him, you remind yourself, feeling utterly stupid at how easy it is for you to make yourself cry.

"Oh my god! Why are you crying?" you hear the panic laced in his tone, shoving the take-out bag carefully to the back and shutting the door behind him.

Renjun leans in, pushing your hair away from your moist face now that you began sweating from all the heat that rushed up to your face and seeing his worried face, you can't help crying harder. "I hate you! you are so baaaad!" you complain, slapping your hands on his chest and he shushes you, patting your sides calmly, "Why am I bad? Is this because of the rock, paper, scissors—I know you won fair and square," he rambles, his hands delicately wiping away the tears on your face.

"You're bad because you are like this! You are so confusing!" you sob, putting your hands up between himself and you. 

If it wasn't enough that you made yourself cry, your heart almost caught up to your neck. The usual ba-thump louder than ever and racing at the speed you didn't think was possible, if your chest breaks and your heart gets out, you wouldn't be surprised.

On the other hand, Renjun barely had any idea why you were suddenly crying and he does what he knows calms you down. Unplugging the seat belt you had on, he snakes his arms around your neck and pulls you into him, of course, he hopes you can't hear his loud heart beating like crazy but right now, he shushes into your ears and says all the nice words you like to hear. "It's okay, I am right here if you need to cry—take your time," he says like a chant, a mantra that he knows works on you because you taught him these words when he really needed to cry.

"Renjun..." you call, sobbing more gently now after a few minutes has passed. Craning your neck up to face him, you ask, "Hic—Why is your h‐ick—eart bearing so fast?"

Making gibberish noises, you try to make out what he says and he shrugs, "Um because you scared me... by suddenly... crying?" he sounds unsure and you narrow your eyes, leaning over to which he pulls away in response. "Why do you—hic—sound unsure?" you ask through your hiccuping. 

"I don't know, I don't know—don't ask me this," Renjun feels the back of his burning up and the clammy hands return, he pushes you off and turns to get the food from the back. "Let's just finish this before it becomes even colder than it already is," he says trying to distract you, your glare though keeps following him as he hands you your meal.

If you ever ask him this again, Renjun thinks he might just run away from you then come out with the truth now that he has (if he is assuming correctly) become the reason you had a mental breakdown at almost 5 am with the sunrise as the backdrop on his car.

Whatever it might be, he hopes it has to do with the rock, paper, scissors and not something more serious.

While you were away at your parent's house for a week, you became sure that it was Jisung's revenge to have you think about the nature of your relationship with Renjun.

You hate him, you cut him off for three days now and suddenly, you are at his apartment unable to keep to yourself. 

"You cried in his car?" Chenle repeats, munching on spicy chips and intently listening to your retelling of the most embarrassing thing you have ever done. "YES!" you nod exasperatedly.

"I was god awful—I think I might have got his shirt snotty and also, Jisung is so evil like why would you tell something so crucial at a time like this?" dropping your head on the pillow placed on your lap, you scream into it.

"Um. What's the crucial time?" Jisung tilts his head confusedly, looking like an adorable puppy but his actions have made him look like the most annoying creature on earth in your eyes, a scoff escapes you before you could stop it which in turn earns you a gasp followed by a resentful scoff. "Leave, just leave my house if you are going to behave like this," Jisung stretches out his hands towards the door and you cry, "I am sorry! You know I love you!" 

"Anyways," Chenle pops up, "What's this crucial time? Even I want to know,"

"Guys, do you ever listen to me?" you weakly accuse them, and Chenle shrugs, "We are right now, aren't we?" to which Jisung nods. 

"I am going on a trip with Renjun today—like in a few hours... My suitcase is already in his trunk and he is just getting things in order with his landlord since he won't be here for three weeks—and you know what? he says if the room isn't aired out at least twice a week, he'll die," 

Dropping his jaws, "Ah, the crucial time," Jisung laughs sheepishly, apologising for his awful timing and you nod, "Yeah, yeah you asshat. Be sorry for me,"

"What are you doing here if you are leaving today?" Chenle as always, always asks ‘the important questions’. 

"This is why you're my favourite," you giggle at him, throwing a chip in his mouth as a reward and Jisung rolls his eyes, because if Chenle was your favourite, why are you always calling him in distress and disturbing his peace?

"I didn't wanna leave with bad blood." closing your eyes for dramatic purposes, you place your hand on Jisung's shoulders and say, "You know I love you right? You are such an important, irreplaceable person to me. Chenle, you need to keep him safe while I am away," 

Rolling his eyes, "I am glad to know you feel guilty for ghosting me for two days," Jisung grins, even if he doesn't say it, you know deep down he appreciates how much you put into words your affection for him. 

Though he wishes you just do it with Renjun and get over this whole unrequited love situation.

Laughing at the exchange, Chenle says, "I take care of him all the time, don't worry," and you sigh, to show that you now feel at peace, you place a hand on your chest and look afar. "I can finally rest in peace,"

"Why are you acting like this, just go home,"

"You're gonna miss me when I am gone," 

It was just a two-hour ride on a single train that makes about three stops along the way, the only thing you is that your time of arrival would be late at night and you felt awkward enough pretending to be asleep, cuddling into the side of your seat and bringing your knees closer to your chest—you had a reason, your knees keep brushing with his and your heart couldn't handle any sense of contact thanks to your cry fest, though Renjun fails to bring it up whenever you think he might, you know it must he bothering him just by knowing is personality.

To say the least, Renjun's hometown isn't too far.

"Can you please stop pretending?" Renjun pokes your arms, his eyes staring daggers into your head and your body clatters, you didn't think you could face Renjun.

Fluttering your eyes open, your breath hitches. "Give me some space," you choke out, putting your hand up and Renjun hums, "You've been so quiet—are you worried about that breakdown?"

"If you know, you shouldn't ask me about it," you hiss, sitting up straight and sinking into the seat to make sure he sees your annoyance. You aren't actually annoyed, you didn't know how else to be normal though.

Renjun is probably familiar with your bouts of "Leave me alone," over the time you've been friends and each other’s confidants. He has never been the cause of your tantrum but he knows you'll come around. "You can keep pretending like you hate me. But right now, I need to know if you'd like to stay at my family home or a hotel?" crossing his arms causally, Renjun glances at you and you quirk your lips downwards.

"Shouldn't you have asked this earlier?"

"I was discussing with my mom," you were starting to grow suspicious of how much of his decisions are his and how much of it was his mother—"My mom says I should bring you home,"

"Will you be comfortable with me walking around your family home?" you pursue your lips trying to imagine what he would be like with family around, no matter how awkward you get, he'd probably be even more so. Thinking a second, "I'd rather not pay for lodging, so yeah, stay over," he shrugs.

"Even if it means I have to stay in your room?" you lean into his side, locking your eyes and tying your pinky with his.

Playing along with you, Renjun grabs your hand and asks, "Didn't you hate me a second ago?" earning a subtle smile from you.

"I can't be mad at you for so long. And I swear, I didn't cry because of you, you did nothing wrong, you didn't make me cry," you softly said, your fingers rubbing circles on his hand as you bring it over your lap. "Jisung is the one to blame,"

"Huh? At 3 am, Jisung made you cry?" Renjun furrows his brows at you, watching you firmly nod, "Yes, Jisung makes me cry no matter the time of day—he just like onions,"

"I am sure he'd love to know you're comparing him to onions too now,"

Giggling weakly, you roll your eyes. "Don't you dare tell him," you glare playfully, you surprise yourself with how fast Renjun lifts your mood. With your previous embarrassment behind you, you somehow end up lifting the armrest between you and Renjun, snuggling into his shoulder, and snoozing away for the two hours to his hometown.

Much to your dismay, his mother had prepared you the guestroom.

Apparently, she had cleaned out the guestroom a few months ahead in case family comes over because of the wedding being nearby and you didn't get to force Renjun into proximity, not that you don't do that either way but something about going to bed together makes your heart flutter, you know Renjun must look pretty lying down, resting his eyes and lulling into sleep.

"Knock, knock," Renjun's voice entices your skin, goosebumps rising across your arms while you stretch.

"Ugh... Good morning," you beam at him, your hair looking like a bird’s nest and Renjun hides a smile, pulling you up from the bed. "It's just me and you today, there's no food," he informs you, guiding you by your shoulders into the bathroom to let you freshen up.

"Are we getting take-out?" you sputter, trying to stretch the coldness away from your body. "Umm... wash up and come down, let's decide later," he shrugs, leaving you to yourself.

The kitchen he grew up around isn't the same anymore, the cabinet he had always opened to find cereal boxes and ramen packs now housed many types of tea and biscuits, clearly, his mother made the house her own once there wasn't a kid around anymore. Knowing his father, he probably just goes along with whatever his mom does.

Scanning through the options, Renjun flicks the kettle on to heat the water and grabs the packet of black tea, moving swiftly to the fridge to take out the milk carton. "Nothing better than milk tea for breakfast," he says to himself, prepping for it.

You always had milk tea in the morning when you woke up, you said it clears your bowels before you had to leave your house. Something you picked up from your family routine and he finds it endearing, you still did many things that you'd attribute to being childhood habits such as greeting him at the door and always leaving folded clothes at whoever bedrooms instead of just putting them away in the cupboard.

You also always waddle into the kitchen with your pyjamas on, not ready to change and begin your day just yet. "It's already 10 in the morning, why are you still being lazy?" Renjun nags, sliding your cup of tea towards you.

Rolling your rolls, you pout your lips out. "We are staying in today,"

"So?"

"I don't need to look presentable in front of you, you don't even care what I look like," your tone had changed from normal to whinny, catching him off guard. "What do you mean? Of course, I care how you look," he threw out defensively.

"Yeah? I don't see you checking me out whenever I come over," you point, sipping the tea he made you and humming in appreciation, he makes it just the way you like it and you only had to tell him one time. "No one checks anyone out obviously, that's just... that's like telling the world you think someone's hot," nodding curiosity at his audacity, you ask.

"So you're saying I am hot and you check me out secretly?"

Renjun gapes, blinking at you indignantly. "P O V, you are delusion. Why are you putting words in my mouth,"

"I think I remember what you just quite clearly," you spit out, peering over at him with a look of victory. "You can admit that you think I am hot,"

"As if—I know you think I am hot, I can see you checking me out all the time. I also see you trying to match with me through the window. You think I don't see you?" Renjun coughs, leaning against the kitchen island and you kick his leg, washing your now empty tea cup and you hear a grumble from him.

"At least I am not denying it,"

Narrowing his eyes, the fresh sunlight dazzling through the kitchen windows shines on your face. Extenuating your features and making your face look gentler than it probably was, Renjun cages you to the sink and scoffs, "Oookay," he drags, his eyes dropping to your lips, the sound of his heart clouding his reasoning and he asks, "If I agree that you're hot, can I kiss you?"

As if time could stop, your eyes widened, even the dust in the air becoming visible suddenly and Renjun's breath on your nose makes your chest tighten, heat spreading through your face and head, "What...?" you echo your mind, Renjun doesn't like you.

"If you don't say no, I'll take it as a yes," Renjun says, his head leaning towards your lips and your fingers betray you, curling around his collar, you grab him first and peck his lips. It felt like this dream would shatter if you kissed him any harder, a peck was enough, that alone was a dream come through and it felt so real, your body shudders under his grip. 

But this is real, you say to yourself. Renjun needs an answer too, "Yes, yes, you can kiss me," you quickly said, eyes burning up due to the flame on your face, you feel the dizzying feeling back with the throbbing pain that always accompanies it. "Hurry and kiss me," Renjun chuckles, nodding sweetly at your words.

His hands cup your cheeks, brushing his lips against yours and your lips are as soft as he thought they'd be, you were always fussy about moisturising them. Not as patient as him, you lean forward and kiss him, his lips smiling into the kiss and his hands move back to cradle your neck, to hold you in a more comfortable position. Your lips taste like your favourite strawberry toothpaste and the scent of your cheap lavender soap bar intoxicated his movement, his fingers running through your face, feeling out your features and your lips keeps chasing his, the sound of your quiet sighs enticing him but he knows better.

"Stop," he says, his head digging into your neck. His lips brush against your collarbone, and he feels the shiver that runs down your back because he felt that too, the headache this heat gives him never felt this satisfying. "If you kiss me again, I'll take you straight to my room," he laughs, hearing your sharp gasp.

"That's not very filial son of you, you shouldn't do naughty stuff in your parent's house," you tease, your arms snaking around his torso, gripping him for dear life because if this was a dream, it feels as real as it could get and Renjun sighs, his breath tickling your neck.

"What are we now?" he asks, "Actually, did you even know I like you?"

"Huh, I would've never guessed." you bite back, pushing him off you and just now, you felt the back of your shirt moist from leaning on the sink and you release a groan, "Ugh! My shirt is wet,"

"My master plan." Renjun beams, sitting down on the kitchen stool. "Now you have to get changed into non-pyjamas."

"You asshat," you slap his head, running upstairs to change and your hand flies up to your lips, you cried last week about kissing him.

Your body felt like a fever, his body was just melting into yours and now, you've just been kissed and your brain might’ve melted, you think. You change out of your pyjamas, wearing what are "decent clothes" according to Renjun and hurry down, his side profile making your heart shake. Jisung was right, you couldn't think of anything you wanted to do with Renjun for a date that you haven't already done. Even meeting his family is a thing that should've come after he was your boyfriend—You've had all of the typical boyfriend experiences and yet, Renjun...

Biting your lisp, you just had to ask, "Are you, my boyfriend, now?"

"Huh?" he blinks, looking away from his phone and you ask again, "Are we a thing?"

Shrugging, this is the first time you've seen a blush on his face that you've caused. His ears glow, and it spreads to his cheeks. Lips quivering, you could tell he was trying to contain a smile. "If you'll have me, yeah," he nods, his eyes looking anywhere but at you.

"Heh," you giggle, skipping down the stairs to his side and you fling yourself at him, "I guess how you actually have a date for the wedding tomorrow,"

Crossing your arms and propping yourself on the table you've been assigned to, you understand now, why his mother was adamant about having a date.

Renjun has always been popular, even though he only attempts blind dates out of peer pressure and rejects everyone left and right, Renjun's popularity hadn't ever dwindled not even when he went missing doing his mid-term senior assignments. You should've known it was the same case back home, your eyes follow him as he greets people from his past with his mother and you can tell by the subtle blush on his face, the apologetic look as he points at you that they were asking about his relationship status again.

You even saw someone give him a gift when they should be gifting the people getting married instead.

"He's too popular, right?" Jisung huffs, stuffing his cheeks with the chocolate nuggets on your table. "I always knew," you shrug.

"Why didn't you tell me you were invited as well?" you glare at him, when you saw him as you entered with Renjun a while back, you wanted to cry in relief that there was someone you knew other than Renjun and his parents.

Forcing down the nuggets in his cheeks, he chokes out, "I didn't know if I was gonna make it—Renjun's cousin is kind of obsessed with me." He points at the groom and says, "I met him with Renjun a few years back and he clicked with me immediately, I don't even know why,"

"Damn, glad he didn't steal you from me," you nod, impressed by the reach of Jisung's charm.

"What happened with you and him though?" he asks, his eyes following Renjun now just as yours were and you grin, "We are now officially—I don't even know,"

"He acts just the same, I mean I guess we started dating yesterday but god, he is so awful, I didn't know how awful he was before," you complain, remembering how he woke you up last this morning when you would've taken more time than him to ready but he was sweet, he said he wanted to let you sleep in, though it still pissed you off that you had to rush getting ready.

"You were just enchanted by him before, now you'll see his true colours in their true form," Jisung concludes, sleeking back his hair as he stands. "I am gonna congratulate them and leave, see back you home," he pats your shoulder, Renjun appearing in front of you.

"Jisung's leaving?"

"Yeah," you stare up at his gorgeous face, his lips tinted with your lipstick but you didn't tell him that, you wanted everyone to know he was yours. The deep raspberry red that faintly stuck to him after you kissed him made your chest tremble, and you intertwin your hand with his. "You polish up nicely," you tell him again.

"You look nice too," he replies, a blush forming on his face and you grin, "You know, your mom was right,"

"There are way too many preying hands here, how did you manage to have only one girlfriend before me?"

Renjun thinks, humming at your question. "I was a bigger nerd back then,"

"But your cute even when you're nerding out," you blurt out, whether he was singing his favourite songs word to word or he was making fan art for a game he was obsessed with, he always looked cute when his focused expression; furrowing brows and a deep frown.

"You are the only one who thinks that,"

"You just don't know how many people think the same, you just don't know better," you shrug. You had already seen the Renjun fanclub at university to think otherwise. The only other time you cried about Renjun was the time they tried to make you stay away from him.

"I am just realising you'd be an awful boyfriend," you chuckle, you are ready to face whatever he might be behind the Renjun you know. "I am glad I didn't go on that backpacking trip,"

"Be grateful, I saved you so much money and you got a boyfriend."

"It's unfair though," you mumble, Renjun raising his brows at your statement. "What's unfair?"

"You've done all the boyfriend things with me, what else is left for you to do with me?" you ask, heat rising in your cheek because you can only think of one thing and Renjun giggles, it is an evil giggle.

"We both know what's left,"

"Shut up, I am just saying it's unfair that we've been on hundreds of dates already, we take pictures where ever we go, I met your parents, I have your apartment key, we cook for each other, we have matching stuff—"

"Wow, now that you're listing it, we've actually done a lot together,"

"Exactly! You stole my boyfriend experience—I've never even had one before you,"

"W for Renjun, L for you,"

©KDYISM, 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[lebrookestore]

oceans and engines | l.jn

Pairing: Lee Jeno x reader

Themes: strangers to lovers, highschool! au, coming of age, lovers to exes, heavy angst, light fluff,  teenage romance, first love au

Warnings: profanity, mentions of food, heavy angst, underage alcohol consumption, underage substance consumption

Wc : 3.7k

Summary: Standing where the water meets the sand, you reminisce over a love you recently lost, one that you couldn’t help but let slip through your fingers like the very sand beneath your feet. 

Playlist: oceans and engines by niki, another love by tom odell, atlantis by seafret, consequences by camila cabello, meant to be by ber and charlie oriain, exile by taylor swift, emily by jeremy zucker and chelsea cutler, favorite crime by olivia rodrigo, flowers by lauren spencer smith, i should hate you by gracie abrams, partners in crime by finneas

Notes from brooke: i wrote this in a day and it’s been almost 8 months since i’ve been able to write like that, but with this short story, the moment i started, i physically could not stop. everything came out so naturally, and that is because it’s all true. i’ve changed details here and there to support continuity and such, and due to the fact that there are some things i cannot bring myself to write right now, i have omited a lot of the story. maybe one day in the future i’ll be able to write it out in its entirety or maybe i’ll delete this as well, but i wrote this fic to process my emotions, and maybe it might help someone else do the same. i hope you, dear reader, enjoy reading it<3

You liked to think you were a patient lover.

The whispering of the waves cut through what would have been your reverie, jerking your mind back into its previous state of frantic overdrive. Seafoam swept over your bare feet as the ocean water washed off the sand stuck to your soles and carried it back out, only to bring it in again the next moment.

Patience is a virtue, people would say, along with other once-meaningless sayings such as Love is blind. Maybe sometime in the past, you would have laughed at the utterings of such phrases, sure of your sense of self-control and ability to see reality for what it was.

But you had been so very virtuous.

And when your moments of patience came back occasionally, you could still imagine his smile, the way the sides of his eyes crinkled and his lips pressed together to show off his unadulterated, infectious glee. Although fleeting, the thought of it still managed to bring a shallow smile to your mouth, before its sides fell back into forced indifference, an expression you had grown to master over the past few weeks.

Moments of peace, followed by those of absolute torment - a cruel cycle that you fell victim to countless times.

Jeno had been perfect in your eyes, at least at the beginning, and almost till the very end. From the very minute you set your eyes on him the first time, it was like you knew in your bones that he would be yours. A wordless connection developed between the two of you, born out of the stolen glances from across classrooms and jittery words falling from nervous tongues - it was indisputable that there was something there to anyone who spent even two minutes around the two of you.

You recalled the first time he kissed you, on a Friday evening such as this very one, but much later into the night. Six months ago, in a secluded corner of a terrace and away from the crowd of people that consisted of the party the two of you had found yourselves amidst. You were sixteen, just as you were now, but a much more wide-eyed version of the supposedly sweet age. 

You were tipsy from your first real taste of alcohol, for the previous times you had consumed it, it had been your parents who had let you have a few sips from their glasses while joking about how you were growing up now. This was different though, this was unsupervised and unrestricted access to it, and when he told you he liked you back, you thought it was the result of the liquor in the red solo cup you had somehow misplaced.

Sobriety rushed back to you when he pressed his lips to yours though, chaste and out of the blue. You remember your eyelids fluttering shut, but shock overtaking your every muscle as you froze, only registering what had happened seconds later, when you were staring right at him in disbelief. 

A soft smile played on his lips, a soft word slipping through them and just barely reaching your buzzing ears.

“Good?”

You swallowed, wondering if it had been real with how quickly it took place. Maybe it had been a figment of your imagination.

“Yeah.”

It was the most perfect first kiss you could have asked for.

A best friend and a lover, somehow the two of you were both for each other, being able to talk and laugh about every topic that was brought about. The nerves faded with time, comfort replacing them as you got to know him better. You memorized the sound of his laughter, his stupid jokes that somehow always made you crack a smile even when you tried your hardest not to.

He once told you he loved the pissed-off look that overtook your features when you tried to get him to shut up, or if he cracked a particularly lame joke that day. You told him he was lucky you liked him with the very same look. He agreed wholeheartedly, causing a wave of heat to curl around your neck and up to your cheeks, leaving you to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning too hard.

Jeno made you the happiest person in the world.

Which is why you let go of all the times he managed to make you the saddest.

Love truly did make you blind, and it was so bitterly ironic that you could only see that now. Every red flag seemed white when you looked through the rose-tinted glasses that had been bestowed upon you when he asked you to be his girlfriend.

Everything seemed so perfect, and you had wanted to keep it that way so badly.

He told you he loved you for the first time on this very beach, a little deeper into the ocean than where you currently stood where the water was up to your knees. Your blue dress stuck to your skin, hair matted down against your forehead due to the number of times he had splashed you, and yet you had the biggest grin plastered onto your face. 

The sun beat down on the two of you, and it flitted through the strands of his hair like a halo of sorts, framing his face in such a manner that he seemed like an angel. Three little words flashed through your mind, a startling revelation when it really shouldn’t have been. You had thought about it before, of course, but not so literally and not so forwardly - definitely not right when he was in front of you. 

His shirt was drenched, and he stopped, looking at your face with that soft simper of his. “You okay?”

You were perfect, and you caught your bottom lip between your teeth, wondering if it was the right time. Your parents would have laughed at you for even suggesting the notion of being in love, because you were so young and so very naive, whatever would a sixteen-year-old know about the big scary concept of love? Not that you could ever ask them such questions, since technically you weren’t supposed to be dating anyone, you weren’t allowed to be in a relationship.

And you had risked it anyway for Jeno, so surely this was worth the risk too, right?

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, averting your gaze from his for a moment, the words travelling from the safe confines of your mind to the tip of your tongue. The water suddenly felt too cold on the expanse of your skin, but scathing at the very same time as the sun dried it up. “Jeno, I…I um-”

And they got stuck right there, refusing to be pronounced out into the world as a single shred of fear made itself known. What if he didn’t feel the same way yet? What if you were moving too fast for him?”

“Y/n?”

“I…” And now you wracked your brains for something that would seem passable for the moment, to cover this up. The silence seemed much too loud, weighing down on you with every word left unsaid.

And somehow, he understood, the pause conveying what you wanted to say. He took steps towards you through the water, until he was right in front of you, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I love you too.”

A sigh barely managed to escape you as he kissed you, hands on your waist as yours gently cradled his face. To be loved was the most beautiful thing you had ever experienced, and more so was the act of actively falling in love with Jeno Lee. It felt as if you were walking on clouds, the world resting at your fingertips.

You were so high from it all that you didn’t realize it when he was hurting you, at least not the first few times. 

Jeno had the habit of thinking too much and sometimes would isolate himself from everything - his family, his friends and even you. He’d be physically present when he had to be, like when classes were in session, but mentally he wouldn’t be there at all. He’d barely look at you sometimes, ignoring your existence almost wholly. 

He was going through something, you told yourself, and it was what his friends said as well. Apparently, it was something he did often. You didn’t mind, everyone had personal problems and you didn’t mind being the one to wait around for him, to be the one to comfort and help him through whatever he was struggling with. 

But when you asked if something was wrong, with hesitant eyes and pursed lips, he lied to your face and denied it. You could tell he was lying, it was so undeniable, but you understood. Some people had a harder time opening up than others did.

The next day it was like nothing had happened, he was talking like he normally did and kissing you like you were so used to, so you pushed the incident aside and decided not to think so much about something that may have not even been that important. You were just glad to have him talking to you again. 

When it continued to happen, it was as if you were desensitized, used to it. He’d walk away and not say a word to you, and you’d shrug and feign a smile, turning to humour to cover up the neglect that you had begun starting to feel. Three months of your relationship slipped by without you even noticing, and these happenings continued to grow, while you continued to suppress the resentment that came with them.

You didn’t want any drama, nor did you want to fight. Everything was perfect and you didn’t dare try to disrupt that perfection.

Another party and another moment of drunken bliss led to the two of you sitting on a couch, lip-locked as music blared on in the background, drowned out to you as all your focus lay upon your boyfriend, acutely aware of the smoky aftertaste that he left on your lips. Later, you found yourself barely comprehensible, but with your head in Jeno’s lap in the backseat of a cab, his fingers playing with your hair as he dropped you home.

“You think you’ll be okay? Manage to get back into your house without your parents realizing?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, or at least tried to as you looked up at him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Intoxication is a funny thing, and there are so many ways one can be intoxicated. The most obvious sources are substances - alcohol, cigarettes and drugs - things that shouldn’t have been nearly as accessible as they were for teenagers. The other source was that of comfort and bliss, something that people used substances to achieve.

But you had your very own drug in the form of Jeno, and he was so very intoxicating.

And then it happened again, with him barely saying a word to you for two complete days, even forgetting to say goodbye. Usually, the two of you travelled together, but this time, he simply walked off without you, leaving you to watch his figure grow smaller the farther he travelled. 

High school shouldn’t have been this hard, you realized, and hurt began to settle in the pit of your stomach. The next day, he continued to ignore you, leaving you confused and visibly upset, something your friends noticed, and it was only when they brought it to his attention did he realize what he was doing. 

The next thing you knew, you were in his arms, wrapped in a tight hug as he whispered apologies into your hair. It felt genuine and real, contrition lacing his voice as he held you.

So you said it was okay. You said it was okay because you couldn’t bare to see the conflict in his eyes. You hugged him back and let it go, once again putting yourself on the back burner for his sake, because it was just as painful to see him looking so confused and regretful, struggling to come up with the words to explain why he had acted as he had. 

You forgave.

And it kept happening, but you loved Jeno so much that you trusted that in time, he would tell you what was bothering him. You told him time and time again that he could tell you anything and you’d always be there, waiting and ready to listen when he was ready. 

All your friends were in awe of the two of you, seemingly such an impeccable couple with no problems. Some thought the two of you would end up together with how evident the love there was. Envious of how healthy the relationship was, when in reality it was falling apart and straying away from being healthy with every damn day.

The way just talking to him could brighten up your entire day and make you forget about whatever you were previously upset about. The apparent glee that everyone could make out when he had his arm around you and the affectionate glances you took at him that went unnoticed by only him.

Jeno’s eyes had always been your weakness, expressive and almost always locked on your figure. More often than not, you would have to look away, flustered out of your mind and wishing you could hold his gaze for longer because you adored having it on you.

It was probably why it hurt even more when he would push you away and barely look at you when he did so, then return a day or two later with those pretty little apologies of his, saying he’d be better. Saying he couldn’t talk about what he went through, but then lying through those perfect teeth of his when he said if there was anyone he would tell, it would be you.

Because he never did. 

Over time, you realized you just knew facts about him - his favourite colour, the fact he was born with a good tolerance to alcohol (something you had quickly discovered at parties), common subjects he’d revert to while making jokes - but you didn’t really know him. He had pushed you away so much that he had become the one thing you had feared the most.

A stranger.

And the thing was you had let him in, given so much of yourself to him while he kept you at a distance. 

You were lonely in love.

“Jeno,” you mumbled, reaching out and intertwining your fingers with his. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” The way he lied to you so easily baffled you and you pursed your lips, stopping yourself from saying anything further and swallowing the lump in your throat, one that seemed to constantly be growing as of late. You watched while he focused his eyes on the screen of his phone, scrolling through his Instagram feed without paying much attention to a single thing on it. 

It felt as if he was using it to avoid having to interact with you, and avoid it he did, because he spoke to every single person but you that day, leaving you feeling like an absolute idiot. 

You received another apology a few days later, soft-spoken and as repentant as the last, with the very same promise of bettering himself for your sake, and it was then you started feeling a little stupid, even as you forgave him again. It felt as if you were losing little pieces of yourself now, whatever you hadn’t already given to him. 

Putting him first was something that had been ingrained in you by now, something that had come so naturally from the moment the two of you had begun dating. You welcomed him back with open arms every time he fucked up, whereas he kept his arms crossed, guarded as ever. 

The guise of perfection began to show cracks in its surface, and as hard as you tried to keep intact, it was only a matter of time before it shattered. 

You told him that it was getting too much the next time he did it, that you just wanted him to tell you what was going on in his head so you could be there for him. It was the first time he had seen you express how it hurt you, and for the first time in the four months that you had been with him, he opened up the tiniest bit.

It would be the only time. 

The last time he did it, it completely shattered you, your patience finally running out. Finally, you had managed to break through the armour he always seemed to be wearing and he had gone ahead and put it right back on. Desperation crept through, and it bled into what it truly was in the first place - an emotion you had long been suppressing for his sake.

Unadulterated anger.

The moment you let yourself feel it, it took over every fibre of your being so intensely that you could barely think straight because you were so tired of being constantly alienated from the one person you loved the most in the world. 

This time though, his apologies meant nothing to you, for they had been reduced to simply empty shells constituted of letters strung together that you had heard innumerable times in the past. After all, there were only so many times you could believe what someone says before the words turned meaningless with the sheer number of times you had heard them before. 

When the anger faded, it was replaced by sorrow, the realization that you no longer believed in him. You loved him, of course you did, but not in the same, innocent way you once did. Now, your love was tainted and burned with how much he had hurt you- months upon months of damage that you had tried your best to put aside for him. 

And he had never ever considered how you felt.

Inherently you knew he was trying, but nothing had ever changed and you knew that you couldn’t keep doing this to yourself. You had given far too much of yourself and had lost a lot of who you were along the way and with how much he had pushed you away, you just couldn’t let him in again. 

And as agonizing as it was to see the tortured look in his glasses when you told him the same, no matter how many times he begged you to try to let him fix it, you knew what you had to do.

“I love you Y/n,” he said, voice breaking, as he reached out to try and touch you, only for you to take a step away from him, unable to meet his eyes but for an entirely different reason this time. You couldn’t look at him without second-guessing your decision about what you had to go through for your own sake.

You couldn’t say it back, but not because you were scared. The lump in your throat had expanded so much that it prevented you from even whispering the words. 

The conversation ended with you walking away from him, asking for time and space. You had fought for almost six months to keep your relationship alive, doing everything in your limited power as just a teenager hopelessly in love with a boy who couldn’t give her what she needed no matter how much he tried. 

You decided to put yourself first and be selfish this time and let him go, letting a piece of your heart leave with him in the process. Those sad eyes of his would forever be imprinted in your memory, haunting you for the days that followed with all the things left unknown about the boy you were so completely lovesick for.

Having to keep it together in front of your family bore fruit to sleepless nights filled with tears and staring at your ceiling, thinking back to when you’d have his arms around you in your bed as you cuddled into him when your parents weren’t around and missing him.

It all led you to where you were right now, standing in between the sky and the sand, breathing in the salt air. Now, you were almost seventeen, staring out into the limitless and unpredictable ocean and taking comfort in its constant ebb and flow. 

You were still so young, with so many more loves to experience waiting for you. Just as the ocean recovered from its tides, you too would make it past the crash that followed the initial fall for you. You knew that some would probably think it ridiculous of you to hold on so tightly to a boy you loved when you were just sixteen.

But you would know. You would know of the boy that made you laugh on your darkest days and held your hand underneath the desks, how he kissed you and took care of you, and how he told you he loved you in the very waters that you stood and took comfort in now. You would know what loving Jeno Lee felt like, even if it had been for just six months, and you would choose to remember the good.

Six months of fragmented and yet unsullied bliss, a love so fierce that it would always leave a mark. A love you had fought for and had perhaps lost the war, but you would walk out of the battlefield knowing you tried.

And you’d never know if you had made the right decision or if you’d regret it down the line but as you peered into the horizon, memories of your first magnificent love dancing about, you knew you didn’t regret even a moment spent with him, for they had constituted for some of the happiest moments of your life. Uncertainties crept into your thoughts, but you were sure of one thing as you whispered your last profession of affection to the wind- that you’d be alright.

“I love you too.”

fin.