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promise-you-doie · 5 months

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K. Doyoung | From Home

Feeling overwhelmed by leaving everything familiar behind, you find solace in meeting Doyoung, who exudes a comforting familiarity that reminds you of home. His presence ignites a passionate fire within you, drawing you closer and easing the transition into your new chapter of life.

Doyoung x Reader (Strangers to lovers)

12k words

Mainly fluffy, a little angsty, suggestive.

Playlist

Part 1 - Coming Home

No smut, but this is a bit more suggestive than any of the other things I've put out. (Don't make fun of me, please; I'll cry.) This was only supposed to be 6k words, but I didn't wanna make you guys wait for a part three. Feedback is much appreciated. Thank you. :)

It was just another Saturday night. Your window was cracked half open, and the breeze from outside allowed itself in, brushing past the skin of your arm while you reviewed the notes from Thursday's lecture. Your roommate was long gone, so you had the room to yourself. This meant you got to play your music as loudly as you wanted without her complaining that it was "trash" or "boring."

You hummed along to the song and tapped your pen against the thin paper while checking the time on your alarm clock. Then, you tap your phone to see if you've received any missed calls or messages in the past two minutes.

You hadn't.

With a long, deep sigh, you returned to your notes and continued studying—until you heard your phone ring and Jaehyun's name flash across your screen. You rushed to answer your phone, your grin wide, your eyes bright.

"Hey, beautiful." When you accepted the call, Jaehyun's smile was as big as yours. You watched him rest in his bed, and you went to do the same. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, Jae." You pout. "I really wish you were here."

"I wish you were here." His voice is clear through your phone speaker, causing butterflies to erupt in the pit of your stomach. If this wasn't love, you didn't know what it was. You had your whole life planned around Jaehyun, and so far, everything has been going exactly as planned.

"I can't wait 'til you come back," he added, wiping the smile right off your face.

"I'm not coming back." You whispered.

He asks, "Why not?" You watch him shift on his bed to look at you. He's obviously confused; it doesn't take a genius to see it. His smile of adoration is long gone, and his eyes aren't as gentle as they were when you first answered the call.

"There's nothing there for me. Everything I need is here in L.A." You explain.

"What about me?" His voice was soft, but not the kind of soft you were used to. It was different; it almost broke you.

"Well… I thought you could come here." You flashed your doe eyes into the camera and mustered up a sincere smile to hide your nervousness about his reaction. You never talked about life after college; you just kind of assumed that he loved you enough to come with you.

You were wrong.

"Why would I do that?" His eyebrows furrowed, his tone almost degrading.

"I just thought you would because then we could be together. I hate long-distance—you know that—and I just want to be with you." You began rambling and rubbing your hands against each other to distract yourself from crying.

"The city has never been my thing; I don't see why you won't just come back home. What does Los Angeles have that Connecticut doesn't?"

"Everything, Jae. Nobody knows me here. I can start over, pursue my career, and live the life I have dreamt of since I was a little girl." Your voice was shaky, and you hated it. It felt like the air was fighting against you as you began choking over your own words.

"This is stupid." He laughed and looked away from the camera, unintentionally flashing his dimple as he did so.

"Stupid?" You repeat

"We've always talked about finding an apartment here and moving in together. Now, suddenly, you're in L.A. and want to abandon me?"

"I'm not abandoning you, Jae; I just really, really don't wanna go back there." You stress. He missed when you dried the warm tears on your cheek with the balls of your wrists.

"It feels like you are."

"I'm not." You murmured, looking down and tugging at the ends of your shirt.

"Well, you don't want to come back, and I don't want to go to L.A. So now what?" he asked. He's almost three thousand miles away, but the way he looks at you through the camera makes you feel like he can see right through you.

You mumble, "I don't know." Before you hear a loud sigh come through the phone's speaker, Jaehyun presses his lips into a thin line and throws his hand over his head to wipe his face once.

You could tell that he was frustrated, and you hated that you were the reason why. You thought to apologize, but you knew that it wouldn't help anything. So you remained quiet and waited for him to say something to break the awkward silence.

"Maybe you should get some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay, I love yo-" Your boyfriend wastes no time hanging up the phone and leaving you to sit in your own quietude.

That was your first argument, and after that, everything just went downhill. Your phone calls got shorter and shorter. Some nights, he wouldn't even call, and when he did call, it always ended in an argument. You tried dragging out your relationship for as long as possible, and you knew he was doing the same.

But eventually, it grew to a point when you started to dread his calls. Eventually, you started questioning whether you were still in a relationship. Eventually, you began to wonder if you even wanted to be in a relationship anymore.

Another Saturday night, spent in your dorm room alone. This time, instead of studying, you chose to order in and watch Netflix. You're three episodes in when your phone begins to ring. You pause your show and pick up your cell to find Jaehyun's contact flashing across your screen.

Hesitantly, you swipe to answer and prop your phone up on the table so you don't have to hold it.

"Hey, baby." His baritone voice rings through your ears in a way that no other voice could. Things might've been rocky, but you loved him—you were sure of that.

"Hey, Jaehyun." You chipped, leaning back against the couch so he could see your complete frame.

"Jaehyun?" He repeats, obviously dissatisfied.

You ask, "What?" And look closer to see the displeased look on his face.

"What happened to Jae?" He queries.

You frown, "Could we not argue today?" Ending your sentence with a "Please."

"Okay, y/n." He's being sarcastic, and you can tell. You overlook it and move on to the next subject because you'd much rather end the call with "I love you" than another heated discussion that causes one of you to hang up abruptly.

"How was your day?" You ask, hoping to change the subject.

"Boring, but I've been thinking about you all day." You watch his frown grow into a smile, which makes you feel at ease.

"Oh yeah, What were you thinking about?"

"Remember when we used to sneak out at night?" He reminisces. "The things we used to do." His smile shines on your screen; you can see his dimples and crescent eyes.

"You know your mom started calling me her son-in-law?" He brings it up suddenly.

"She's annoying." You roll your eyes and feel a sense of peace—finally, you can have a normal conversation with him.

"So when you come back, I was thinking that we could try out this restaurant that just opened. Everyone's been talking about it, but I didn't wanna try it without you." You didn't know if he was doing this on purpose or if he really just ignored everything that ever left your mouth.

"We talked about this, Jaehyun. I'm not coming back."

"Listen, I know L.A. seems new and exciting, but this is your home, whether you like it or not."

"I'm not doing this with you tonight." You breathe, picking up your phone to get ready to hang up, when he sighs and says, "I don't understand why you're being so stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn. You just aren't listening to me."

"Okay, so now this is my fault?" He sits up and picks up the phone to see you better.

"I'm not blaming you. I just wished you cared enough about me to know that I'm happy here." He remains quiet, so you continue. "I don't wanna go back to Connecticut, and if you don't understand that, then maybe…" You pause, tears already beginning to form and your voice shaking just at the thought, "We should break up."

It falls quiet for about ten long seconds. Suddenly, you become hyper-aware of his background noises, his lack of facial expression, and the breath that you've been holding since you last spoke.

"Okay," he sighs, "If that's what you want." The call is dropped as soon as those words meet your ears. Once again, you're left to deal with your own silence and a fresh new set of warm tears that stroll easily down your cheeks.

"Hey girl, I—" Joy stops when she notices how puffy and red your eyes are. With that, she closes the door to console you. Nothing else is said when she wraps her slim arms around you to pull you into a hug, holding your head to her chest and patting it softly.

"I don't know about this." You look down at the dress Joy picks out for you. At first glance, it seems that the dress is two sizes too small for you, but that's the least of your worries. You were more concerned about coming up with an excuse to get you out of going out tonight.

"We have to get you out of this room. The energy you're harboring here is not healthy for your soul. And—" You hold your hand and nod to stop your roommate before she goes into another one of her lectures.

"I'll go. Just give me the dress."

The bar is small and intimate. You notice that everyone here knows each other. Everyone except you. Joy loosely holds your wrist in her hand as she drags you around to meet different people. You recognize a few of them, and most of them you don’t.

"Oh, there he is." She squeals, tightening her grip on your wrist and pulling you towards the tall, dark-haired stranger who already has his eyes on you.

"Doyoung, this is Y/n, and Y/n, this is Doyoung." Joy greets both of you and brings both of her hands to her cheeks when you both say "Hi" at the same time.

You don't notice when Joy slips away; you're too busy staring at the beautiful stranger in front of you. "I don't think I've seen you around before. Are you new?" He asks first

You nod your head, "Yeah, I'm a first-year."

Your eyes never leave him; there's some type of gravitational force pulling you closer to him. Something about him feels different, something no one has ever made you feel—not even Jaehyun.

Oh, Jaehyun.

"Sorry, I gotta go." You unintentionally stop him mid-sentence, unaware that he was even talking. And you run off faster than it took for him to say, "Okay." He blinks once, and you're gone.

Joy watches you leave the bar from afar, chasing after you before you can get too far. Nearly twisting her ankle in the high black heels she was wearing, she catches up to you but not without asking, "What happened?"

She doesn't get a verbal answer or any response at all, but she knows. She knows all too well.

Joy lets out a long sigh, "Let's go home." She holds her hand out, and you take it, allowing her to lead you back home.

You sat curled up in your bed with the prized bear that Jaehyun won you from the fair two years ago and his contact pulled up on your phone.

Your fingers dance around the phone, trying to find the right words. You want to tell him you miss him and you're sorry, but you're also afraid. What if he's mad at you? What if he had already found someone new? What if he never really loved you and was just waiting for you to break up with him?

All these questions swirl in your mind, and that should've been enough to stop you from texting him, but you let your heart take control. Mindlessly, you begin typing out, "I miss you; please call me." Just before you can hit send, you get a notification for a text message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey, this is Doyoung. Joy gave me your number.

Joy's already watching you from the corner of the room. When you look up, she's nervously gazing at you. Biting her bottom lip in anticipation.

"I know I should've asked you first, but he's a good guy. I think you should give him a chance." She defends herself, although she doesn't really have to. You could never be mad at her.

"Fine." You roll your eyes and pick up your phone to answer him.

Unsure of how to respond, you just typed "Hey," hoping that he would carry on the conversation.

"He's asking to hang out." You confessed to Joy when you held up your phone for her to see, even though you knew she couldn't see anything from where she was sitting.

"Tell him yes." She says urgently, jumping in her spot.

You obey her and use your thumbs to type out, "Sure, what time do you have in mind?"

He replies not even a second later with, "How about tonight?"

"He wants to hang out tonight," you shoot your head up.

"Oh, he's really interested in you.' Joy squeaks,

"What do I say?"

"Yes!" She squeals again, and you listen.

Jaehyun was long forgotten as you walked along the dark beach, listening to the sound of waves crashing in. The sky was pitch black; the only visible light was the moon, and the street lamps lined up a few yards away.

You can see Doyoung's face visibly; he's just as handsome as you remembered him from earlier in the evening, although you weren't expecting him to change in just a few hours.

"I love the beaches here," you admit.

He sounds, "Yeah?" While looking down at you and, you nod

"They're the reason I chose to come to California." The weather was warm on a Friday night, but the breeze coming in from the shore had you pulling down the sleeves of your turquoise blue sweater.

Doyoung noticed it and slipped his jacket off to drape it over your shoulders, asking, "Where are you from?"

You answer, "Connecticut." As you continue walking along the dark beach, taking in the warmth of his blue varsity jacket.

"Wow, you're far away from home, aren't you?"

"I guess." You agree. The waves come in just a little harder and leave your feet wet and sandy.

"Well, how do you like California?" He asked

"It's beautiful. Very different from Connecticut," you boasted, feeling a sense of achievement since you had lived out your childhood dream. A subtle smile fell upon your face.

"I'm glad you're here," Doyoung said.

"Me too." You reply, looking up at him.

You aren't thinking about your ex for the first time in two months, and it feels nice.

You hated the student library, its familiarity, its blandness, and the fact that the staff always kept the air conditioning so high. But you needed to study, and this was the best place you could think of since your roommate took over your dorm to have her boyfriend over.

The library was awful, but you got used to it after a while. All it took was some warm tea and a set of earphones for you to lose track of time. Two minutes turned into an hour, and an hour turned into three. So, what should have been a 30-minute study session became a five-hour study day.

Granted, you did get distracted a few times.

The library is relatively full, but Doyoung still easily picks you out. He slides into the empty chair behind you and taps your shoulder. "Have you been here all day?" He asks.

You lie and answer, "No." But the snack wrappers and coffee cups tell him otherwise.

Knowing you aren't telling the truth, he asks, "What time did you arrive?" Resting his cheek on the palm of his hand to look at you.

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks before your turn to avoid his gaze. "Um, probably around like… 2ish?" You mumble to where he can barely hear you.

"You ever been to Karaoke?" He asks suddenly, causing you to whip your head around at his odd question.

"No." You answer.

Doyoung doesn't ask any further questions before he reaches to clean up your notebooks, and you do the same. "What are you doing?" You ask, still packing up the rest of your stuff.

"There's a karaoke spot around here." He takes your bag and swings it around his shoulder.

Your eyes widen instinctively when you stand up beside him. "Doyoung, I can't sing." You whine, but he only laughs, flashing arguably the prettiest smile you've ever seen.

"You don't have to know how to sing; it's just supposed to be fun," he says, guiding you out of the library with your bag still hanging off his shoulder. No matter how much you protest and argue, you still end up in a karaoke booth.

"No," you shake your head and wave your hands around. "You don't want to hear me sing, I promise."

"I do." Doyoung insists, pushing the microphone in your direction. Despite his charming smile and persistence, you're still reluctant.

It takes him putting on one of your favorite songs for you to start humming along. He makes you comfortable by randomly singing along to the words on the screen and pressing the microphone to your lips so you can sing with him.

Which you do. Your anxiousness is long gone, and you begin to dance to the beat with him beside you. You're lost in the moment, but Doyoung is smiling at you as if you hung the sun, moon, and stars with your own two hands.

"Where were you?" Joy scolds before you fully walk into the dorm.

"I was studying." You shrugged and closed the door behind you.

"Libray closed an hour ago," Your best friend stands up to you and folds her arms over her chest. "And it only takes 15 minutes to walk back." She continues. "You can't lie to me, Y/n."

You mutter, "And then I went out to karaoke with Doyoung." As you plop down on your bed with a slight grin, you say, "Well, that, and we got something to eat afterward."

That's when you see her glare change, and her smile grows wider than yours. "Why didn't you just say that?" She sat down right next to you. "You should've stayed out longer."

Your best friend slips her arm around yours and rests her head on your shoulder. "How did it go? Did you kiss?"

Joy is fully dressed, hair and makeup done, and ready to head out the door. Meanwhile, you're still slouched on your bed, hair pushed up into a messy bun, and glasses hanging loosely above your nose. "I don't wanna go," you whine, arms crossed over your chest.

"Doyoung is going to be there," Joy sings, hoping that will be enough to get you out of bed.

It's not.

"You're terrible at lying," you mumble, unconvinced.

"Please, Y/n. He'll come if you're there," Joy pleads, her hands clasped together as she does her best to give you puppy eyes.

"I'm not going just because he's there," you attest, but you still push your glasses up against your nose and roll off the bed to get dressed.

The "party" isn't really a party. There's just a small selection of people gathered around Kun's place. Most of them are familiar, as in you can put a name to a face. But there are still a few that you have to be acquainted with.

You occupy yourself with the snack table, seeing that Joy is too concerned with her boyfriend to notice that you're gone. Occasionally, you scan the area to see if Doyoung has shown up yet.

"Hey." You hear a somewhat familiar voice come from behind you, and when you turn around, you're faced with a broad, pearly white smile and long black locks of hair.

"Oh hey, Yuta." You smile to match his.

"I didn't think I'd see you here," he comments as he passes you a bottle of water. "You're always so hung up on that imaginary boyfriend of yours."

You press your lips into a thin line. You could try to convince him for the hundredth time that Jaehyun actually existed, or you could protect your energy and peace tonight by simply ignoring him.

You choose to argue.

"I don't know how else to prove to you that he's real. I'm starting to think that you're choosing to stay in denial because it makes you feel better for trying to flirt with someone in a relationship." You say calmly before opening your water bottle to take a sip.

You can feel his smirk from the corner of your eye before he opens his mouth to say, "I'll believe it when I see it."

That's when you feel that sharp feeling in the pit of your stomach, "Actually, we broke up." You look down to close your water bottle to avoid eye contact. "So you probably won't ever see it."

Yuta only laughs, "That's a new one."

"Will you leave her alone?" Joy waltzes in, "She doesn't want you. Go find some other freshman girl to bother." Your best friend wraps her arm around yours to pull you away from him.

"We were just talking." He defends, but she doesn't stick around to listen, and neither do you with you tied to her arm.

"Doyoung's been looking for you." She gushes and gestures her head towards the tall brown-haired boy conversing with Kun. He looks up almost as if he can feel your eyes on him, and his hands wave around as a greeting.

"Hey." You say first, a little too happily for your own liking.

Doyoung opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out when he's interrupted by Taeyong.

"Alright, guys, we're playing truth or dare." He calls loudly by Doyoungs ear. You can't help but wonder if it was on purpose or not.

"Truth or dare?" Joy repeats, "Isn't that for kids?" She insults but moves towards the living room where everyone else is, her arm still hung around yours.

Everyone gathered around in a circle, Joy on one side of you and Doyoung on the other.

Taeyong starts the game off with "Y/n!" He yells suddenly, and you quickly learn that he likes to startle people. "Truth or dare?"

"um, dare." You murmur.

"I dare you to make out with Yuta." Taeyong grins. You don't have to look at Yuta to know that he's doing the same.

"She'll pass," Joy speaks up for you so you don't have to. Then she reaches for the cup in front of you to drink your penalty for not going through with the dare. "Next." She hisses when the cup is empty, and her eyes are squeezed shut.

You hear Yuta mumble "Boring" under his breath, but he's not looking in either of your directions.

Kun speaks next, "Doyoung truth or dare?" And Doyoung doesn't give him the opportunity to further the question before he's downing the cup in front of him.

"Wow." Kun presses his lips into a thin line while the rest of the group laughs at the interaction.

The game goes on smoothly. Doyoung dares Taeyong to eat a spoonful of crushed red pepper, and Kun gets asked about his "daddy kink." Eventually, it becomes your turn. You scan the room for possible candidates, but you only have one name on your mind: "Doyoung," you utter. "Truth or dare."

"Dare." He confidently answers.

"I dare you to make out with her right now," Joy yells as you devise a dare to give him. And before you could take back what she said, Doyoung leans in to kiss your cheek. It's not anything significant, but it's more than enough to leave you flustered.

"I said make out, as in tongue her down. But that's good enough, I guess." Joy rolled her eyes.

"I wonder how her boyfriend would feel about that." Yuta grimaces, his head cocked to the side. That's what breaks you out of your little love trance. You chose to ignore him, and thankfully, your best friend does too. Even though you see her glaring at him with her tongue poking through her cheek as she tries to hold her composure.

"Hey." Doyoung reaches beside you to help clean the floor once the party is over.

You stand up straight to face him, "Hey."

"Joy told me to take you home," he says, pulling the bottles out of your hand.

"You don't have to."

"I don't mind." He speaks faster than it takes for you to finish your sentence.

"Oh- okay." You nod, "Let me just get my stuff."

Your third time in Doyoung's car is more awkward than your first. The music fills the silence, but you still feel obligated to say something. The only issue is that you don't know what.

"Are you cold?" Doyoung asks, dragging his hand to adjust the heat while leaving his other hand on the steering wheel.

"Just a little." You say.

And then it falls quiet again, which only leads you to think. Twiddling your thumbs when you blurt, "I don't have a boyfriend. Well, I did, but we broke up. But that was a while ago. I haven't talked to him since."

"Joy already told me," He stops you.

"What all did she tell you?"

"Just that you were feeling down since your breakup, and to be patient with you." He answers casually and politely. His focus is on the road, but you're still watching him.

"I'm not feeling that down. I mean, it's been months. I'm sure he's not thinking about me anymore. So I should move on." You stop when you realize you've been rambling again. "Right?" you ask.

"What do you think?" Doyoung flips the question back around.

"I think that I'm young," The car's quieter than it was when you first got in, possibly because the music had magically stopped playing in the middle of your conversation. Doyoung glances at you, but only for a really quick second before his eyes go back to the road ahead of him. "and I deserve to be happy. It's always been a dream of mine to go to school in California and start a new life. And now I'm here in L.A." You finish with, "So I should be happy."

"I agree." Doyoung nods. He pulls into the parking lot of your dorm and turns to look at you with a subtle smile.

This is the part where you're supposed to confess. Tell him that you really like spending time with him and possibly even making out in the back of his car.

But you don't.

You simply match his smile and say, "Thank you." You add, "For giving me a ride home and for listening."

"Anytime."

Your dorm room is just big enough for Joy and you. Although sometimes it got a little stuffy, it was usually really fun. Living with your best friend meant that every night was girls' night.

The only thing between you and your roommate was two boxes of pizza because you couldn't decide on toppings.

"So~" Joy drags out as she sets the crust of her pizza down in front of you.

You sound, "Yeah?" before taking another bite.

"How are things going with Doyoung?"

"You keep asking me this." You laugh and roll your eyes. You're furthest from annoyed, but the question started to get a bit old. "We're just friends."

"Oh, 'just friends,' my ass. I see the way you look at eachother." She attests.

"It doesn't mean anything." You shrug

"It means everything. It's like Shakespeare said 'eyes are windows to the soul."

"Shakespeare wasn't talking about me and Doyoung," you retort. “Plus, he couldn't even spell, so why would I trust his judgment?"

"Okay, fine. Forget about Shakespeare. Even a blind baby could see that you and Doyoung are into each other, and it's not just as friends." Joy drags her index finger out to prove her point.

You feel your phone vibrate by your leg but ignore it while making your next point. "Even if we did like each other, I just got out of a relationship. It wouldn't be fair to him if I'm not emotionally available."

When you finish speaking, you reach out to pick up your phone and check your alerts.

"It's been six months. At this point, you're just wasting both of your time," Joy says while you continue reading your messages. "You can ignore me, but you know I'm right."

"You are," you reply, preoccupied with your phone, which has Doyoung's contact information pulled up on your screen.

"Exactly- wait, really?"

"No, I was just trying to shut you up." You laugh as you throw your phone down and rest back on your palms. "We're just friends, nothing more."

"We'll see how long that lasts." Joy counters.

Joy was right, although you can't really recall a time she was ever wrong. Your feelings for Doyoung were growing rapidly by the day, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Everything in L.A was new and different; sometimes, it got overwhelming. But Doyoung made it easier. His presence felt so familiar, almost like you had known him your whole life.

You began to spend more and more time around him, whether meeting him at the student library to study or going out for ice cream. Sometimes, you'd spend hours talking on the beach, and sometimes, you'd just sit in his apartment and watch movies.

Joy noticed that the more you guys hung out, the less you talked about your ex, but she tried not to bring it to your attention. She was too afraid that she might accidentally stir up some hidden emotions.

Unfortunately, you only needed alcohol to bring those emotions out of you.

It's Friday night, and you're sitting drunk in a bar that Joy dragged you to again, crying over the ex you hadn't thought about in over six months.

With your head tucked into the crease of your elbows, you cry, "I miss him." To your best friend, who's trying to say anything and everything she can to take your mind off of Jaehyun.

"Look, girl, they have those burger nachos you like." She points to the menu, but none of it catches your attention.

"What are you doing?" She snaps her head, even though she already knows what you're doing

"I'm gonna call him."

You struggle to enter your password and pull up his contact information, but when you finally do, a hand rests on your shoulder—a hand you're sure doesn't belong to your best friend. When you turn around, you see Doyoung and his ever-so-sweet smile.

"Doyoung?" You call out.

"Let's get you home," he says loud enough for you to hear. You don't fight when he tugs on your arm to get you to stand up, and within seconds, you're being lifted off your feet as he carries you out of the bar and into the car.

You slur, "I can walk," but you don't make any attempt to escape his arms. Instead, wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head against his chest, close enough to hear and feel his heartbeat.

He gently seats you in the passenger seat of his car and reaches over to put your seatbelt on. Suddenly, you're no longer thinking about your ex. The familiar scent of Doyoung's car puts your mind at ease as you curl up in your seat and gaze out of the window. Eventually, you close your eyes when you begin to feel motion sickness.

Doyoung carries you into his apartment when Joy texts him that it's probably best that you stay with him for the night. He asks, "Why?" But she never responds, and he doesn't ask again.

First, he lays you down on his couch. You're just half asleep when he does so. You're barely awake to know that it was Doyoung's arms you feel managing your body weight and his voice telling you to stay put while he goes to get a washcloth.

When he returns, he gently uses the warm cloth to scrub the makeup off your face and his thumb and index finger to turn your head to ensure he has everything.

"Okay, here, drink this." He almost whispers, sitting you up against the arm of the couch as he puts the bottle of water against your lips. You tilt your head back so the water can easily flow down your throat.

When the water is gone, Doyoung helps you lie back on the couch so he can slip your shoes off and lay the polyester blanket over you.

His eyes trailed over you, and seeing that your feet fell off the couch and your neck was propped on the arm of the sofa, he shook his head.

"This isn't going to work," he says mostly to himself. With that, he lifts you off the couch and carries you to his bedroom, where he lays you in the bed and tucks you under the covers.

"Is this comfortable?" He asks, and you nod with your thumb in the air.

"This is perfect; thank you, Doie."

He smiles at the nickname. "Alright, get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay." You sing and roll over in his bed.

The following day, you wake up to the smell of bacon and other breakfast foods. Turning in the bed, you realize that the room you're in and the bed you're lying in isn’t yours. You jump up with widened eyes, forgetting everything that happened last night.

When you remember who the room belongs to, Doyoung knocks on the door. "Are you awake yet?"

You shuffle more in the bed before you call out, "Yeah." He slowly opened the door. Doyoung was fully dressed, with a brown leather backpack hanging off his shoulder.

"I have to go to work, but there's food on the stove. You're welcome to stay here if you'd like."

"Okay." You nod, and so does he before he turns to close the door behind him. You go to lie back down on the bed when he nearly barges back into the room. "Oh, I left a set of clothes for you if you want to change. Towels are in the bathroom, and there's extra soap in the cabinet. I don't know if there's a specific brand that you prefer."

When he sees you smile, he smiles, "Thank you, Doie." You say.

That's all that needed to be said for Doyoung to nod "Of course" and softly close the door behind him.

You knew Doyoung's apartment like the back of your hand; that's how much time you spent there. His place was clean and beautifully decorated, so it looked bigger than it actually was. However, you liked it because it was cozy and warm. His apartment was much better than the little dorm you shared with Joy.

You tiptoed around his place in the oversized gray t-shirt he left out for you to wear, just searching for something to do. Peaks of sunshine snuck in through the cracks in his curtains as you walked from ‌room to room.

Seeing that there's nothing much to do. You heat up the food he left on the stove for you and sit on his sofa to watch television. Flicking through the channels for a good 20 minutes before you hear the door knob rattle.

"You're still here?" Doyoung speaks first, seeing you get up off the couch to greet him.

"Yeah, I just didn't wanna leave your apartment unlocked." You hesitate.

"I'm glad you're here." Doyoung's eyes trail over your figure. Specifically, the skin of your bare legs. He tried not to be too noticeable, but you caught it. "I brought dinner." He holds the bag up.

An hour passes, and you're still on his living room floor in front of him, talking about anything and everything. One minute, you're laughing about your childhood. The next minute, you're talking about your dream superpowers.

"So what's Connecticut like?" Doyoung asks.

"Umm." You go to push your hair out of your face, but Doyoung reaches to do it before you can. "It's boring. Well, to me, at least." You explain. "It doesn't have palm trees. There are beaches, but they aren't as pretty as the ones here." You conclude with, "I don't know everything is… just different."

"There wasn't anything you liked about it?"

"The food was good, I guess." You tilt your head back and forth. "I spent so much time thinking about getting away that I never really took the time to get to know and love it."

"Maybe we should visit sometime." Doyoung offers. He takes his eyes off of you for just a second, but in that small second, you feel cold and a little pathetic because of how sad you got just because you didn't have all of his attention on you.

You shouldn't feel this way about someone you consider a friend. You shouldn't be looking at him, hoping that he'd kiss you or just touch you or something. Anything other than just looking at you.

You utter, "Yeah, I'll probably like it more if I got to experience it with you." The words escape your lips in a soft murmur, barely audible. You quickly look down. Your eyes dart around, searching for anything to distract you from the moment's awkwardness. You notice a loose thread on your shirt and begin to fiddle with it, trying to calm your nerves. As you stand there in silence, you can't help but wonder if he heard what you said or, worse, if he knows what you're thinking. The tension between you two is palpable, and you feel a knot forming in your stomach.

"Are you okay?" Doyoung asks, dipping his head down to see your face.

You nod, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little hot."

"Why didn't you say so I can turn the air on." He wastes no time getting up and treading to the thermostat. You just sit there, watching the distance between you grow. You roll your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"I turned it on, but it's going to take a while to kick in," your friend informs you as he claims the spot in front of you. You're still avoiding eye contact, and he notices it almost immediately. "If it's too hot, I can get you some water."

"Doie?" You mutter instead of responding to his previous statement.

He responds, "Yes?" growing concerned at your sudden change of tone.

"Can you kiss me?" The way he looks at you makes your face feel warm; you're nervous, but you can't look away from him.

"Are you sure? I don't wa—" You kiss him before he can finish his sentence. Your lips are on his when you scoot the rest of your body closer to him—close enough to claim your spot on his lap. His hands immediately crawl under your shirt to wrap protectively around your waist, ensuring that you can't go anywhere.

Breathless, you roll over to lay your head on Doyoungs chest. That's when he wraps his arms around you and lets out a slow, exhausted laugh.

"What?" You smile, looking up at him.

"We did this all out of order." You wait for him to continue, "I like you, Y/n, and I want to be your boyfriend more than anything else."

You try to sneak into your dorm early the following day, assuming that Joy would've been in one of her classes or maybe out at her boyfriend's. But she's up, sitting on the edge of her bed with her laptop propped up on her lap.

"Oh… you're still here." You laugh to divert the attention away from you.

"Welcome back." Your best friend says. She doesn't spare you a look until you plop down on your bed. "Why are you so happy?"

"I'm not." You press your lips into a line, trying your best not to smile. Joy stands up and hovers over you to examine you. The first thing she notices is that you're wearing Doyoung's sweatshirt and a pair of his sweatpants, which means that you left your clothes at his place. She then grabs your face and turns your head from side to side.

"You're glowing." She says, almost like a question.

"I used some of Doyoungs skin care."

"Oh please, not even he glows like this." Joy debates, standing up straight to put her hands on her hip."You had sex, didn't you."

"No, of course not. We just sat around. We watched TV and stuff, you know, normal things." You look anywhere but at her as she squints her eyes to you. "We had sex." You murmur sheepishly.

"How was it?" She rushes to sit next to you.

Joy would always say that you and Doyoung were a very cheesy couple. "You guys are worse than me and my boyfriend." She'd say.

Whenever you were around him, you had to touch him. You couldn't help it, and he didn't make it any better. Doyoung had the habit of pulling you into his lap and leaving a trail of kisses on your shoulder, even in public.

If you weren't sitting on his lap, you were wrapped in each other's arms. Holding hands was too casual; you wanted to encase yourself in his skin.

It was another "party" at Kun's. You were seated in Doyoung's lap, and the rest of your friends were sitting in a circle around both of you.

"Okay, your turn." Taeyong turns to Doyoung.

"Y/n?" Doyoung calls, looking down at you. The entire circle lets out a collective groan of annoyance, but he still continues, "Truth or dare?"

You answer, "Dare."

"Just kiss and get it over with." Taeyong grunts, and you obey.

"I think we can skip her turn. She seems occupied." Kun comments. You don't agree or disagree with your lips getting tangled with your boyfriends.

"Alright, that's enough." Joy slaps the side of Doyoungs arm, but it takes for you to pull away for him to stop kissing you.

"Y/n, truth or dare," Yuta speaks up from beside you.

You answer "truth," and he asks, "What do You have Doyoung saved as in your phone."

You hesitated to answer the question, not because you were ashamed but because you were confused. "I have him saved as Kim Doyoung." You say it almost like a question.

"Really?" Doyoung darts down at you.

"Yeah, that's your name, isn't it?" You ask, "What do you have me saved as?"

Doyoung doesn't answer verbally; he only pulls out his phone and opens your contact information so you can see it for yourself. A small awkward smile grows on your face when you read "My Angel," with a picture of you on top and your number below it.

"When did you do that?" is all you can ask. Your friends continue playing the game around you, not caring about the world you and your boyfriend are in.

"As soon as we started dating." He answers, closing his phone and laying it down on the ground next to you.

Following his actions, you pull your phone out and begin typing something. Doyoung is curious to see what you're doing, but he patiently waits for you to reveal it to him on your own.

Soon, you're holding your phone right in front of him. For him to see his own contact pulled up on your screen. His name on top, his number below it, and "My love ❤️." Written right in between it.

"Is that better?" You ask

"Much better." He leans in to kiss you, pulling you closer to him than you already are.

"They're doing it again." Kun mumbles.

"Could you two please get a room?" Taeyong calls out after.

Even though Doyoung made life easier for you, things still got hard. Unfortunately, he couldn't stop the troubles of everyday life.

You had graduated, thankfully. But now you were struggling to find a job. You spent too many days on Joy's couch with your eyes glued to a computer screen, sending emails to various corporations, all of which seemed like they just didn't want to hire you.

With each passing day, you felt yourself getting more and more discouraged. You hadn't even noticed that you were unintentionally blowing your boyfriend off until he brought it to your attention.

The beach was the one place you could go to forget everything. Your mind is completely blank when you sit next to Doyoung in the sand, your head propped up on his arm as you listen to the waves crashing in.

The fact that it was pitch dark just made everything so much better. You wished you could give up everything and just make this your life.

"How have you been?" Doyoung asks randomly. Your heavy eyes force themselves open as you pull yourself off your boyfriend's arm.

A tired, breathless laugh leaves you when you say. "What do you mean?"

"I haven't been able to speak to you in almost a week." He answers, "I just wanna know how you've been."

"It hasn't been a week."

"It's been 9 days," Doyoung responds rather harshly, but you don't pick up on it at first.

"Well, you know I've been busy." You say in defense.

"I don't know that." He says, "You don't tell me anything. You just call me when you wanna hang out or have sex, then you leave me to worry about you for a few days."

"I didn't realize I was doing that, Doyoung. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, angel. Just at least update me sometimes. I still like talking to my girlfriend." Doyoung coos, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You agree, but it happens again. You go without talking to him for nearly two weeks, only to call one day in the middle of the night.

"Hello?" Doyoung shuffles in his bed to answer your call. You can hear in his voice that he's been sleeping.

"Doyoung…" You whine, "I need you."

"No." He states sternly.

your eyebrows furrow unknowingly when you mumble, "What?" You ask, taken back by his sudden sternness.

"You haven't spoken to me in two weeks. You don't call, text, or tell me anything, Y/n. I'm starting to feel more like a hookup than your boyfriend." He almost yells.

"I told you I was sorry." You reply.

He sighs. "You also told me you wouldn't do it again, but you did. I love you, angel. I love you a lot, but I'm not gonna run back to you whenever you finally decide to call me." He finished.

"I've been busy. What do you want me to do?" You plead

"I'd like for you to text me every once in a while. It's nice to know that you're still thinking about me even when we're not together. Or that you're still thinking about me during the day and not just in the middle of the night when you're needy."

"I don't wanna argue with you." You say after a long period of silence.

"Neither do I." He breaths. The next thing you hear are three beeps telling you that the call has been dropped.

In disbelief, you look at the phone and throw it on the opposite side of the bed. You roll over and try your best to sleep. But that doesn't come as easy tonight, no matter how many times you toss and turn.

Eventually, you reach for your cell to call your boyfriend again, but each time, you get, "You've reached my voicemail. I'm probably busy right now, but I'll call you back when I get the chance."

The following morning, you find yourself back on your best friend's couch, feeling restless and anxious. You try to distract yourself by scrolling through your emails and filling out job applications, but your mind keeps drifting off to Doyoung. You can't help but wonder if he's thinking about you too. You check your phone repeatedly, hoping to see a missed message from him, but every time you look, it's the same - nothing. The silence is deafening, and you can't shake off the feeling of unease that's been gnawing at you since the last time you spoke to him.

You weren't used to this from him. It was very rare for you to open your phone and see that he hadn't tried to call or text you. This only meant that he was really mad, and that made you feel uneasy.

Mindlessly, your thumbs hover over his contact, and you begin to call him.

The phone doesn't even ring once before Doyoung picks it up. "What do you want?" He spits.

You're more excited about the fact that he picked up to even care about the tone of his voice. "I missed you. and I just wanted to talk to you."

"So now you wanna talk?"

"What is your problem?" You mumble.

"I told you what my problem is. I don't like feeling neglected," he answers.

"I'm sorry, okay, I really am. I don't know what more you want from me?"

As you listen intently through the speaker of your phone, you can sense his reluctance. You can almost feel him holding back his true emotions as he takes a deep breath and responds, "There's nothing I want from you, Y/n."

"Then why are you acting like this? I just wanted to talk," you yell, despite his calm demeanor.

"I guess you're just too selfish and self-centered to understand," he insults. There's no point in me even wasting my breath," he says last before you hear that beeping again.

You don't know what irritates you more: the fact that he keeps hanging up before you can get your point across or the annoying beeping sound that comes right after. As if, to rub in the fact that your boyfriend is mad at you and you aren't making anything any better.

Neither.

It's the fact that he called you selfish and self-centered, as well as indirectly telling you that you lacked the brain capacity to even understand why he was mad in the first place.

Angrily, you click on his contact, but once again, you're met with "You've reached my voicemail. I'm probably busy right now, but I'll call you back when I get the chance."

You patiently wait for the beep to come in for your thoughts and insults to spew. Most of it you don't mean. You want to hurt his feelings like he hurt yours.

"You know you aren't such a saint yourself?"

"Selfish and self-centered, Really? Nice way to talk to your girlfriend."

" Fuck you, Doyoung. Fuck you."

"You don't have to talk to me, I know Yuta will."

"Doyoung, please, I'm sorry. I don't mean any of that. I just want you to talk to me."

"Whatever, I didn't really like you like that anyway. I was just bored."

"I've been cheating on you this entire time. I've been cheating on you, and that's why I haven't been texting you. Because I've been too busy having sex with other men."

"There aren't any other men, Doyoung. It's just you. I love you. Please call me."

By the end of the day, you had filled your boyfriend's voicemail until you couldn't send anything else. You went to sleep that night, thinking that he'd be over it by the morning, but the next morning rolled around, and he still wasn't talking to you.

Soon, a week had passed, and still, the same thing.

Things weren't working with Doyoung; your job search was getting nowhere, and you were losing weight from the amount of meals you skipped. Nothing seemed to be on your side.

"I think I'm going to have to stay in Connecticut for a little while." You cry into Joy's lap as she tries to comfort you.

"You know you don't have to do that." Joy stops you.

"I'm trying, but I really can't find a job, and I don't want to stay here and mooch off of you. Plus, I know you want to spend time with your boyfriend. I just don't want to get in your way," you explain.

"Please, y/n, you're not getting in my way, and my boyfriend doesn't mind having you around. If you feel like it's best for you to stay in Connecticut to get back on your feet, I understand that. But you're always, I mean always, welcome here." She smiles, smoothing the hair on your head. "But if you go, you need to fix things with Doyoung. He'd be heartbroken if you just up and left while you two were going through a rough patch."

She was right. She was always right. So that night, you ended up right in front of his apartment door. You didn't bother trying to call. You knew he wouldn't answer. The best approach was to face him in person, and that you did.

You knocked one, two, three times and waited patiently for him to answer, which he did in less than fifteen seconds. Your heart nearly jumps when you see his face, and you can tell that he was just as shocked to see you, too.

Neither of you says anything for a good long while. You're searching for the right words to say, and Doyoung's trying to stop himself from embracing you into a long-awaited kiss.

"Doyoung i-" He fails as soon as he hears your voice. Within seconds pulling you closer to him just to lay his lips on yours. Not caring what it is you have to say.

You end up in the shower together, and he's gazing at you lovingly. You're still just trying to figure out what to say to him.

"Do you really think I'm selfish and self-centered?" you mutter first, warm water spilling over your head when you look up at him.

"Of course not, Angel. I was just mad." He brings his hand up to caress your cheek and the outline of your lips. "I love you. Nothing could ever change that."

"I love you too, Doyoung." You murmur. "I don't like fighting."

"'Me neither." He says, more sincere this time.

"I don't like when you're mad at me." You continue.

"I don't like it either, angel." He whispers, closing in the space between with your hand still wrapped around your cheek. "and really don't like denying you." He says against your lips.

You can only close your eyes and whine, "Doyoung." Before he shushes you, connecting lips and tugging on your hips.

You can tell he loves you by the way he kisses you, the way he touches you, and the way he talks to you. You wish it weren't so evident. You wish he made it a little less obvious. Because then maybe you wouldn't have fallen for him as hard.

The thought of leaving him here in California pains you. Even if it's just for a few months. You don't know if you could bear long distance again, or if you could even look him in the eye when you tell him that you were breaking up with him.

You dry your tears before you leave a faint kiss on his lips. It takes a lot of strength for you to pull away from his sleeping body. You want nothing more than just to lay next to him, to stay there forever and for eternity after. But all good things must come to an end, and your flight was leaving in two hours.

You left with nothing but a note with tear stains that read,

I'm going back to Connecticut. I came over to tell you that, but I couldn't get it out. I hope that you can forgive me for leaving so suddenly, but I'll be back, I promise. For now, I think we should break up. I don't wanna hold you back, and I don't want you sitting around waiting for me. I want you to be happy. Even if it isn't with me.

If in the future we meet again, I hope we can work things out.

I love you, Doyoung. I'll love you forever.

-Y/n

and with that, you were gone.

Now, as you stand in your old room, the brown paper box at your feet, you can't help but feel a strong sense of nostalgia wash over you. You take in every detail: the way the sunlight filters through the window, casting a warm glow on everything in the room; the creaking sound of the wooden floorboards under your feet, each one carrying a memory of its own; and the scent of your old perfume that still lingers in the air, like a faint echo of a bygone era.

This time, as you prepare to leave, it feels different. It feels like you're saying goodbye for good, and the thought of leaving this place forever fills you with a deep sense of loss. When you first arrived in Connecticut, you couldn't wait to leave, but now you find yourself wishing you could stay just a little bit longer so you could relive the memories of your past, which you hold so dear.

However, you know that the real reason you're dreading going back is that you don't want to face your Doyoung. The thought of telling him that you're now in a relationship with the man you used to cry to him about fills you with anxiety. You're unsure of how he'll react, and the mere prospect of facing him makes your heart race with fear.

The more you think about it, the more you realize that things are not looking good for you. You're caught between your love for your new partner and your fear of the unknown.

Suddenly, your mom yells from downstairs, "Y/n, someone is here for you." You don't pay much attention to the hesitation in her voice, too lost in thought. You wish you had because when you reach the bottom of the stairs and look up, Doyoung is standing right across from you with a saddened smile and a black duffle bag. Your heart skips a beat as you see him. You hadn't expected him to be here, but now that he is, you don't know how to react. You mutter, "What are you doing here?" As you wrap your arms around yourself.

He doesn't give you a verbal answer; one second you hear the heaviness of his black bag when he drops it and the next he pulling you into a tight hug.

You immediately melt in his arms. There was no point in trying to build walls around Doyoung. He could always break them down with little to no effort.

"I missed you, Angel." He breathes, separating just enough for him to wrap his hands around each side of your face and bring you into a deep kiss. You kiss him back without much thinking; your body knows who Doyoung is. You can't deny him.

"Joy sent me." He finally answers when he breaks the kiss, but it doesn't take long for him to rush back to your lips.

"Are you still unpacking?" Doyoung asks when you show him your room. He eyes the brown boxes sprawled out around the floor.

"I'm packing up." You answer, "Joy found me a job, so I'm going back to L.A."

You don't have to face him to see him smile. The way his hand tightens around yours tells you all that you need to know. Soon, his other arm snakes around your waist to pull you back towards him. "We talked about visiting Connecticut together," he says next to your ear.

"We didn't know it would be under these circumstances though." You respond. Turning around in his arms.

"We're still here." He smiles. "What do you suggest we do first?"

"I don't know. I guess we can probably find a restaurant. But the food is way better in L.A."

It feels weird seeing Doyoung in your childhood room. It was like seeing two worlds collide, but it was nothing like seeing both of your exes in the same room.

"Baby! dinners ready." You didn't even hear when Jaehyun showed up, and nothing could've prepared you for this moment.

Doyoungs eyes divert from you to the man standing at your doorway, and Jaehyun eyes him back. Neither of them says anything, and thankfully so.

"Umm… Jaehyun, this is Doyoung, and Doyoung, this is Jaehyun." You gesture your arms to introduce them.

"Her ex," they both say at the same time. You glance between them, trying to figure out how to get yourself out of this situation.

"I-" "We're working things out." They interrupt you in sync.

"Huh?" You call out, walking past them. "Yeah, we're coming down now." You respond to nobody. Anything to get out of that stuffy room.

You take a seat at the end of the table, and your mom sits directly across from you while Doyoung and Jaehyun sit across from each other at opposite ends of the table.

They're both eyeing each other but as long as they're not bickering you do nothing to stop it. Although the air is quite thick, and you want nothing more than to just vanish into thin air.

"So, Doyoung, how was your flight?" Your mom asks to break the tension.

Your ex pulls his attention away from the man across from him to say, "It was long."

"Oh you must be so tired." You coo, reaching out to caress his cheek and the skin of small eye bags.

"I'm fine now that I got to see you." He wraps his larger hand over yours.

"I guess we should prepare for our flight," Jaehyun speaks up. He's talking to you, but his eyes are trained to Doyoung.

"You're coming to L.A.?" Doyoung asks, digging his spoon through the food.

"Yeah, I'm moving down there for Y/n," Jaehyun states.

"It's about time." Doyoung laughs mostly to himself.

"What was that?"

"It's about time," Doyoung repeats sternly.

"what's that supposed to mean?" Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows and throws his spoon.

"Nothing, he doesn't mean anything by it. Can we please just sit here and enjoy dinner without the two of you going at each other's necks?" That's all it takes to shut them up. "Thank you." You mutter as you breathe and go back to eating the food your mom worked so hard to cook.

"Drive safe." You stop at the door, and Jaehyun stops shortly after you do.

He turns around to ask, "You're not coming?"

You shake your head, "I don't wanna leave him alone."

Jaehyun purses his lips together, he couldn't lie, your answer disappointed him. But he didn't press, "Okay, I'll call you." He pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, Jaehyun," you murmur faintly. Watching as he turns to walk to his car. When he pulls off the driveway, you head into the house. Closing and locking the door before you trail upstairs to your bedroom.

You take a deep breath and push your hair back, thinking about how long and eventful your day has been.

Doyoung's seated on the edge of your bed, patiently waiting for you to get back when you walk into your room. Giving him a half smile as you make your way to your bed to sit next to him.

Although Doyoung just tugs on your wrist to pull you right into his lap. You don't fight it, his lap was warm and familiar. The perfect way to end your stressful day.

"How do you feel, Angel?" He asks above your head, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"Tired." You answer, breathing in the scent of him. The scent of home. You were crazy to ever think that you could live without him. Without this.

"I love you," Doyoung says in the crook of your neck. He starts to leave a trail of kisses from your neck and across your shoulder. His arms are still wrapped right around you. You couldn't leave even if you wanted to.

But both of you know that's not what you want.

"I love you." He shifts to your other shoulder, "So much." You can only moan his name. His touch leaves you speechless as he reaches to pull your shirt over your head.

"You're mine, right?" He whispers against the shell of your ear.

"All yours, Doie." You spur when his hands tread into your underwear.

"I know Angel." His open-mouth kisses subtly turn into soft bites that have you squirming against him. "I'm gonna make sure he knows that. Okay?"

"Yes, Doyoung." you cry.

"You gotta keep it down." He coos. "Can you do that for me, Angel?"

You simply nod and that brings a smile to your ex's face. Warranting him to lay a kiss on the back of your neck while his fingers continue working.

Jaehyun's name is flashing across your screen, but you're too busy to notice anyone calling.

"Goodmorning!" Your best friend chirps the second you answer your phone. "Oh- someone had a wild night." She giggles, referring to the love bruises you have planted on your neck.

"You just wait till I get back." You hiss into the speaker of your phone. Be careful not to wake your boyfriend up.

"You're gonna thank me? Kiss me and hold me and tell me I'm the bestest best friend in the whole wide world?" Joy smiles fondly into the camera.

"You have no idea." You poke your tongue through your cheek. Although you weren't mad at her, you couldn't be even if you wanted to. And you really wanted to.

"Oh please, girl. I saved you, and you know it." She smirks knowingly.

"You might have, but I'm still mad at you." You glare into the camera.

"And you're still really bad at lying. I'll see you when you get here." She grins, ending the call with "I love you. I knew you'd do the right thing."

Just as soon as she hangs up you're getting a text message from Jaehyun.

Jaehyun: I'm outside.

You rush to your window to see that, sure enough, he's standing right next to his parked car. You glance one more time at the man in your bed and remember the marks you have as evidence of last night's events.

"You're early." You say, when you open the door. One hand hanging from the back of your neck.

"You didn't answer my call last night, I couldn't sleep," Jaehyun explains, looking down at you.

"I was so tired, I just fell asleep. I'm sorry." You gulp, knowing that he could see right through you. You tried your best to keep a straight face, but that was the problem. Jaehyun could tell you were hiding something by how still you were.

You don't blink, breathe, or say anything until Jaehyun mutters, "It's okay. Baby. I know how tired you can get."

The nickname causes you to grimace, and he quickly notices it. He noticed everything, the way you avoided eye contact, the way you held your hand over your neck. How clingy you were with him just a few days ago, but distant with him now.

He's lost you, and he knows it. He's just not ready to accept it yet.

"Do you maybe wanna go out and get a bite to eat?" He asks.

"Jaehyun," You trail off, "I'm going back to L.A."

"I know, I've got everything packed. We-" "I'm going back with Doyoung." You blurt out nervously.

Jaehyun doesn't say anything, so you continue. "You knew this only temporary. I mean, you hate the city; this is your home, and I can't take you away from that." You continue rambling

"But I love you y/n, and I'm willing to make it work to be with you. I really, really don't wanna lose you. Again." He pleads, reaching for your hand.

"You'll find someone else. You'll find someone who loves you and makes you happy. Someone that won't ask you to leave everything behind." You subtly pull your hand away from him.

"What aren't you understanding? I don't want someone else. I was here first, and I think that should count for something." This time, when you don't say anything, he continues, "I thought you said you missed me? Just a few days ago, you asked me to come with you."

"That was a mistake." You finally look at him. "I was sad, and lonely and you were here. I was confused, and I wasn't thinking straight. I said a lot of things I didn't mean."

Each word that left your lips was a blow to his heart; all he could think was, "Mistake?"

"We both know it, Jaehyun. I loved you once, years ago. I don't feel the same way anymore."

He remains silent as he gets closer to you. Your breath gets stifled with each step he takes towards you. Without a word, he pulls your hand from your neck, revealing the bruises lined up along your skin. His stomach churns, seeing marks on you that aren't from him. His heart aches knowing that the person who left those marks is the person you're probably gonna end up with for the rest of your life.

"So you really do love him," Jaehyun utters.

"I do." You're certain this time. "I love him a lot."

"I guess that's all that matters then." Jaehyun's eyes dart from your neck up to your eyes. "I wish you the best of luck."

And with that you never saw him again. You never heard from him or about him. He just disappeared from your life, almost like he's never been there at all.

8 months later.

You prop your chin up on your palm as you review your emails. It's 3:45 a.m.; you should be sleeping. But sleep didn't come easy, and you always found that you were way more productive at night anyway.

You keep your eyes on the screen of your desktop when you hear Doyoung shuffle into the office. You can't see him, but you hear him pull a chair up beside you, and you can feel his gaze on you. After a few seconds, you go to remove the hair from your face, but Doyoung is faster as he pulls the strands behind your ear. Then, without a word, he goes back to watching you work.

"I can't focus if you're watching me," you say, finally, but your attention remains on the computer in front of you.

"I can't sleep if you're not next to me." He softly responds.

Finally, you divert your attention from the desktop to look at your boyfriend. "I'm sorry, it's just hard for me to sleep." you pout.

"It's okay, angel. Just keep working." He rubbed circles into your back while you continued answering the emails you couldn't finish the day before.

Not even five minutes pass, and you feel your eyelids grow heavy. "Fine, you win." You whine just loud enough for him to hear. "I'll come to bed."

You roll the chair around so your whole body is facing him. As soon as the words meet his ears, Doyoung grips the back of your thighs to carry you back to your shared bedroom. You wrap your thighs around his waist, with your arms around his neck.

"Would you like some tea, Angel?" he asks, and you can feel the vibrations through his chest when he does.

"no, thank you."

Doyoung smiles at your use of manners and carefully lays you down on the bed. Laying a kiss or two on your lips when you refuse to unwrap yourself from around him.

Taglist- @bluebeard67 @sofix-hc7 @jenmongiii

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badalivie · 11 months

Text

[10:20 PM]

“You’re smoking.”

“Yeah. I never quit.” Doyoung pulled out a box of Marlboro Red's from his coat pocket, picking up what seemed to be his 5th cigarette based on the ashtray. He placed the stick between his lips and reached for his zippo lighter. The one you gave him for your 2nd anniversary.

The sound of the end of the cigarette beginning to burn made you roll your eyes. “Why am I not surprised. You haven’t changed at all.”

“You say that like you’ve kept in touch with me these past 9 months” Doyoung's zippo lighter made a satisfying click as he swiped it shut and tossed it back into his pocket. He took a long drag of his cigarette, then exhaled in the opposite direction, remembering how you said you hated the smell of cigarettes.

“We broke up. I wasn’t exactly obliged to.”

“Fair point.” He admitted, taking another drag from his cigarette. He glanced at you for a moment, uneasy with your silence. “You're not gonna nag me? You hated when I smoked."

“Its not my business anymore, Doyoung.”

You were right, he knew that. So why did that sentence stab at his heart the way it did? He bit his lip, holding the smoke in his lungs for a little longer that time. When you were together, he found your nagging at him to quit smoking as probably one of your most annoying habits. Yet now he wanted to desperately to hear you nagging him again. He wanted to hear you care about him.

This meeting place had become bittersweet for the two of you. 2 years ago this is where Doyoung had asked you to be his girlfriend. Now, it's the place where you first met each other after one of the nastiest breakups either of you have ever faced. Doyoung had never felt you so close to him yet so far, but really he only had himself to blame.

“How have you been?” Doyoung's hand flicked the spent ashes into the tray as he spoke.

“Seriously?”

“Can’t I ask?”

Something about him pissed you off, maybe you hadn’t fully moved on. Seeing him still hurt and irritated you, but at least not as much as before. “I’m fine.”

“You seeing someone new?”

“No.” Saying this almost felt like an admission of defeat to you. Like saying "no, you had too much of an effect on me to meet other people". It made you feel weak. Especially when you'd been hearing rumors of Doyoung fucking a new girl practically every day since your breakup.

“I see…”

“You?”

“Nah…”

“Hm, that’s unexpected.”

“What?” Doyoung blinked and turned to face you, grinding his cigarette out on the ashtray in the process.

“You didn’t really seem to care about me all that much so I thought picking up another chick would be a piece of cake for you. Actually, my bad, you picked up multiple chicks. I guess none of them stuck, manwhore.”You hissed

Doyoung’s eyebrows crashed together and his mouth cracked slightly open in disbelief “Are you kidding me right now?” Doyoung raised his voice, heat rising to his head.

“Don’t raise your voice at me! Am I wrong?! You know damn well you've been seeing new girls every night!” You knew you had no right to be upset about that. But that didn't take away how worthless his actions made you feel.

“Y/n! I'm not upset about you calling me a manwhore, I'm upset you're denying the fact that I loved you.“ He wanted to say more. When you broke up he thought of all the things he’d say to you. He’d apologize, plead, explain, everything. But now you were actually infront of him he could barely get any words out. "I love you, Y/n."

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves “Well apparently not enough.”

Doyoung felt his heart sink down to his feet. It wasn’t the truth. He loved you more than himself, more than life itself, but he was still guilty. He was guilty of loving you more than he was willing to admit and lying to himself and you that he didn't. Maybe he was selfish for wanting you back, knowing how much he hurt you, but that didn’t make him want you any less. It shattered him when he lost you —the person who cared about him most in the world.

“Listen, Doyoung. I don’t want to fight you anymore, can we just put this past us?” Your expression softened, taking yet another deep breath. “Officially.”

Doyoung paused for a moment. “I don’t want to fight with you either…" He sighed "Deal.” He pursed his lips and nodded eventually, still unable to say anything. That made you smile. You always found the way he bit his lips cute. You used to tease him and say he looked like a bunny for it. Oh and how he loved it. How you’d cup his cheeks and kiss his nose. How you’d cuddle his head into your chest, how you’d talk to him. He loved everything you did. And he still did. Doyoung froze. God, when was the last time he had made you smile? He found himself mesmerized, unable to look away from your face. He missed your smile, he missed this, he missed you.

For you, that moment lasted only seconds, yet for Doyoung, an eternity had already passed before you pat his arm and turned to leave.

“Hey y/n!” He blurted out, making you stop in your tracks. You turned to face him, and in that moment he could have sworn time stopped. You were beautiful, it was just when he saw you for the first time. He had fallen in love all over again. “For what it's worth, I really did love you. You made me the happiest person I'd been in years. I would have crossed the ocean for you, and I still would. I'm sorry I never found a way to let you know that."

“Thank you for saying that, Doyoung.”

"I'm sorry I didn't say more. Please believe me."

Maybe it was something about the way his eyes turned glassy, or the way he had an expression on his face you've only seen once in your entire time knowing him. But for the first time in a long time, you saw the Doyoung you fell in love with. "I believe you."

"Goodbye, Doyoung."

"Goodbye, Y/n."

(this may or may be part of a draft im currently writing ok bye)

#nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct fic #nct au #nct scenarios #nct reactions #doyoung #doyoung imagines #doyoung fanfic #nct ff #nct aus #nct angst #doyoung ff #doyoung angst #doyoung imagine #doyoung scenario #nct oneshot #doyoung oneshot

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doiefy · 3 months

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dive // kim doyoung // preview

In the six or seven years that you’d considered Doyoung as more than just a friend, definitively describing your relationship with him had always been difficult. You were ‘lovers,’ essentially, but that sounded much too dreamy for either of your tastes; ‘significant others,’ perhaps, an all-encompassing and rather conservative term, but too harsh on the ears. ‘Girlfriend and boyfriend’ didn’t seem quite right to you, considering how private you’d kept it since the very beginning.

An entertainment agency with no fear of bankruptcy, scraping together a co-ed act despite its inherent unpopularity—the both of you involved—had made things awfully complicated.

pairing: kim doyoung x f. reader (she/her pronouns) tags: non-canon idolverse (NCT and other groups don’t necessarily exist in this, I just took a lot of inspiration from the Korean pop industry. it feels like realistic fiction but also not really), somewhat slow burn, slice of life at times, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, it’s also at least 10% crack word count: 6.8k preview, 40k+ full fic (fuck off, I’m not sorry) cw: preview includes mild language, alcohol. full fic includes smoking/vaping and drugs as poor coping mechanisms, anxiety and one instance of a panic attack, suggestive content

taglist available; reply or message me! I anticipate this will be out by end of August, I only have three more chapters to write!

additional notes: - kard is the blueprint!!! they induce so much bisexual panic in me and I love them so much, it’s probably pretty clear that I took inspiration from them and their artistry for this fic hehe. - I have a lot of thoughts on this realistic fiction genre I’m dabbling in but will hold off on sharing them here… just know that it’s written to feel realistic but god knows what actually happens behind the scenes in K-pop; none of this is meant to be speculative or mean, I’m just having a bit of fun. if you’re someone who actually gets deep into the industry drama and how the industry works, don’t get hung up on the details. please.

prologue: in the blur of the rain

For once, you were thankful for the rain.

It was a momentary relief from the heat of Seoul summers: a gust of coldness to push aside the heavy haze of pollution, and a steady stream of water to wash away the smell of cigarette smoke always lingering around your building. Sprawled out on a lawn chair with your legs stretched out, you watched mindlessly as the rainwater spilled into and accumulated in the balcony above yours. The rhythm of the water hitting the concrete was mesmerizing. Woosh, splat. Like glass, the drops shattered into a fine mist that sprayed your bare feet. Woosh, splat. Next to you, Doyoung mumbled something about the weather. Splat, splat.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked. He’d joined you shortly after you stepped outside, disappointed by the gloominess of the low-hanging clouds, but content to sit with you nonetheless. Pleasantries, a couple of laughs over the beers he’d brought over from your fridge, then you’d sat in silence. Until the wind picked up a great deal and begged the inevitable question.

You glanced over at him, quickly understanding what he really meant. Huddled in a hoodie with his hair damp from the shower and the circular lenses of his glasses starting to fog up, he was cold. A man of surprising patience and sympathy who was always willing to stay as long as you did, but you supposed his will was wearing thin in the rain.

“Not really,” you shrugged. “You?”

“A little,” came a rather impassive response through a stifled yawn. He stretched his arms above his head lazily, then curled back into himself. “Mostly just tired. The alcohol’s making me sleepy.”

You snorted, unimpressed. “Mina’s gonna be real unhappy when she finds her stuff missing from the fridge.”

Doyoung grunted. “She owes me money.”

“For what, drinks from McDonald’s? Don’t we all?” you joked, patting his arm in mock reassurance. “You can go inside if you want. I’ll probably stay awhile.”

“Mm, I’ll manage.”

It fell silent again. There was some hidden reminder in both his words and the rain: a constant backdrop, constant background noise that was bound to be brought up explicitly soon, as much as you wanted it to stay buried. It had been like this for a couple weeks, ever since Doyoung sat down with management and made the decision. You were all aware of his choice, certainly not thrilled by it in the slightest, but dutifully observing a countdown—only five days, presently. There would be another, after the first hit zero, but you’d already decided that you wouldn’t count the days until his return.

There were plenty of crying, heartbroken fans of his who would gladly do it for you, anyway.

As you reached into the pocket of your jacket for something, you suddenly felt a judgemental gaze following you. Doyoung watched with incredulous amusement as you pulled the vape pen from its hiding spot to take a long drag. It was a bad habit that your manager hated and Doyoung liked to make fun of, but neither of them made efforts to stop you. There were worse things you could’ve been doing.

“Oh, I see,” Doyoung laughed, reaching over to absentmindedly massage your shoulder, where he knew you always tensed up. Had the two of you been in public, that was one of the worse things you could’ve been doing: giving the people any reason to doubt the nature of your relationship. “Should’ve guessed this was why you came out here.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, then showed him the pen: newly-ordered with your last pay cheque, pale pink and sparkly. “Wanted to take the new girlie for a spin.”

Ever curious, or maybe just looking for another excuse to ridicule you, Doyoung plucked it from your hand and took a hit. “Gross,” was the final verdict along with an exaggerated face of disgust, as he handed it back to you. “I don’t know why you and Johnny do this shit willingly.”

You shrugged. “Stress.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

Doyoung stared at you like it was obvious, yet not impatiently—one of the many things you liked about him, especially when the industry had a mean little habit of making you feel dumb and oblivious. “What’s stressing you out?”

There it was, the onset of the conversation you’d been waiting to have. “You. What else?”

He raised a brow, grinning sarcastically. “You don’t think I can survive two years in the military and fulfill a responsibility that’s to be fulfilled by every good and able-bodied Korean son in the country?”

“Please. You can barely learn an entire choreography without bitching about back pain at least once.” You rolled your eyes and brought the vape back up to your lips.

“What about the good son part?”

You’d met his parents before: hard-working, upper-middle class folks from the suburbs who had undoubtedly wanted their kids to pursue law or medicine for sake of job security, only to get an actor and singer instead. Cackling at the promise of getting a rise out of him, you met his gaze with glee. “I think it’s really sweet that you buy your mama designer stuff all the time. But she probably wanted that money from a well-respected lawyer, not a K-pop idol who clowns around on national television for a living.”

Doyoung glared and flipped you off, but it was all in good fun. “Right back at you.” Then in a disbelieving murmur from behind his drink, “I’d be a pretty fucking hot lawyer though.”

You sighed in agreement, the notion making you feel more dreamy than you would care to admit—but for good reason other than the fact that he would make a very hot lawyer. “Oh, how life would be so much easier.”

“We probably think that because this is the only life we’ve ever known,” Doyoung smiled softly as a certain sense of contemplation settled over the balcony. You both knew it was true, and would eventually settle for some semblance of normalcy when given the opportunity. You could hardly despise your jobs, nor could you fully embrace it. Like any other employment, it was just that. Only yours seemed to define you as a person much more than any other 9 to 6 in the city would a typical person.

“Will you be okay?” he asked a little later, watching you blow lazy smoke rings. The concern was more genuine than usual, prodding at emotions you’d kept bottled up for the better half of the week. “It’s… Sunday.” You knew he was counting down the days too. “I’m going on Friday.”

“I don’t know if it’s quite registered yet. It’ll probably hit harder once you’re gone,” you said. “But I mean, two years isn’t the worst. We’re used to it.”

“We’re used to not being with each other. We’re not used to being without each other completely.”

Ah. Another conversation to be had, when he came back. Now just a bit more dejected by the mere mention, you joked, “There’s a difference?”

“There’s a difference.”

You knew the difference, of course. You could explain it in great detail if you wanted to, covering the years of history behind it and the gruelling effort you’d put into keeping a story alive. But it was a story that never made it further than Doyoung and yourself, echoing just slightly to reach Mina and Johnny in muted detail as well.

In the six or seven years that you’d considered yourselves as more than just friends, definitively describing your relationship had always been difficult. You were ‘lovers,’ essentially, but that sounded much too dreamy for either of your tastes; ‘significant other,’ perhaps, an all-encompassing and rather conservative term, but too harsh on the ears. ‘Girlfriend and boyfriend’ didn’t seem quite right to you, considering how private you’d kept it since the very beginning.

An entertainment agency with no fear of bankruptcy, scraping together a co-ed act despite its inherent unpopularity—the both of you involved—had made things awfully complicated.

But in all the ten or eleven years that you’d known each other just as people, you’d never been apart for so long. You’d never been without him as just a friend. Even the occasional modelling or acting gig on his end took no more than a few months, while your solo work only peppered your usual schedules with overnights at the studio. The fact that he was enlisting alone was possibly the saddest part, with you and Mina obviously exempted, and Johnny too by his American citizenship. From seeing him almost every day to only once or twice a year… it would be hard on you all, but on you in particular.

Sensing your low spirits, Doyoung still found it in himself to joke, “You’re gonna hate my hair.”

You groaned, refusing to imagine him with the dreaded buzz cut and green beret. “Fuck, don’t remind me. I’m not searching you up on Naver for the next two years.”

“You search me up on Naver?”

“Shut up.”

But he was unwilling to let it go that easily. “Aww, that’s cute. You know what? Between me and you…” Scooting closer with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes but hardly a waver in his voice, he whispered, “I search myself up too.”

“You’re so annoying,” you scoffed, blowing smoke in his face.

“You love that about me,” he grinned, then leaned in to kiss you.

For years, you’d always jolted away when he did it—purely out of paranoia, always worried that someone was watching. But Doyoung was unbelievably meticulous: restricting himself to the dorms, his car, and occasionally his family’s empty vacation home. Never in the company building. Never anywhere else. It wasn’t often either; for the most part, you abstained from any romantic gestures, lest you got used to it and went too far in public without even knowing it.

It became muscle memory after that, for you to startle away and for him to coax you back to him, for you to trust his judgement of your surroundings and safety. In the spur of the moment this time, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you gently into his lap. You knew he already missed you from the abruptness of his affection to the way he kissed you breathless. And while you thought about how he would be stolen away from you for the second time and reminisced all the times you had to hold back from going all the way, you were infinitely grateful for the stormy skies.

Because in the blur of the rain, the world was none the wiser to who you were, or who you were to each other.

i. never grow up

You met Kim Doyoung on your first day at the company, in a dingy storage closet.

You were eighteen at the time—fresh out of high school and your old entertainment company, where you had few prospects apart from amassing crippling debt and cameos on rigged survival shows. You couldn’t quite despise the shitty management though, or the hellish programs they offered. Because at the very least, they’d help you stick your foot in the door. Finding your next destination was hardly difficult, especially when a family friend of yours distributed the company’s business cards as a side hustle.

Taeyong responded almost instantly when you asked him for help, then sent you a blurry picture of a pink card drenched in someone’s beer. Vitamin Entertainment. A quick Naver search brought up a number of decently-successful acts, mostly soloists and actors. And a recently-disbanded idol group, which was most reassuring.

“Don’t I need to audition?” you asked meekly when he called to make sure you’d gotten his message.

He was tipsy at a party, slurring and tripping over his words. “Nooooo, sweetheart. You’re hot and experienced, don’t waste your time. Either email them a link to your old YouTube channel, or I’ll do it for you.”

“I’ll do it,” you grumbled. “Speak nothing of the YouTube channel or I’ll kidnap your dog.”

“Okay, whatever you say,” Taeyong chirped, obnoxiously sing-song as always. “Well then, my dear, the bubbles are bubbling and the wine is flowing! Love ya, see you later, make sure to send that email, okay byeeeeeeee—”

The line went dead, and you reluctantly powered on your laptop to do as he’d told you.

Imagine your surprise when someone got back to you two weeks later and asked you to come in. Either Taeyong had put in a word for you and your tape was impeccable (you knew it wasn’t, you’d filmed it at 2 AM), or they were desperate.

Your expectations plummeted when Google Maps took you to a rose-tinted glass building in the scrappiest part of the neighbourhood. And they hit rock bottom when you found yourself in a lobby modelled tactlessly after a container of children’s gummy vitamins.

The floors were a checkerboard pattern of blue and aquamarine tiles, while the uneven plaster walls were painted salmon pink. The furniture strewn about the foyer were made from cheap, hard plastic, resembling sheets of gelatin and brightly-coloured candy. Caricature drawings of Vitamin artists and CEOs stared at you from their glass frames while a manager took you on a tour. Your first response within twenty minutes of arrival was to check that your contact lenses hadn’t fallen out of your eyes; there was something very vague and blurry about the place, which seemed to bleed into the atmosphere and all the people you passed by.

“New here?” a few of them would ask you in passing, be it other trainees or instructors, and you always responded with a polite nod. They’d shrug nonchalantly and welcome you with a simple, “Cool,” before moving on. You didn’t doubt that they were busy, yet they seemed to float around aimlessly, like idle characters in a video game.

It didn’t help that the trainee floor felt like a game too: a game of interpreting awkwardly-placed signs and room numbers that more often than not took you to all the wrong places. The fated storage closet was just one of them, hidden behind a mirrored door you thought would lead to an empty practice room.

“What the hell?”

Upon entering, you were met with lopsided IKEA shelves filled to their maximum capacities with cleaning supplies and cardboard boxes. It was a back room not meant to be associated with the company’s poppy, pretty exterior: drab but organic, clearly deviating from the standard blue-pink candy colour scheme. Amidst the mess sat a boy around your age, pale faced, black haired, wearing round glasses. He was perched atop an old washing machine, his focus glued insistently to a mobile game, until you unceremoniously barged in. Then he looked up like a deer caught in headlights, instinctively shoving the phone into the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Hi.”

You stared at him, confused. “Sorry, uh… this isn’t practice room B, is it?”

“This is practice room D,” he said.

You stared at him. He stared back—completely deadpan for several seconds before breaking into a toothy smile. “I’m just messing with you. B’s around the corner, on your right.”

“Thanks.”

“New here?”

Like you already had several times that day, you nodded. But unlike previous occurrences, he didn’t welcome you halfheartedly and then float away—or rightfully kick you out of his hiding spot. Instead, he noted your attire and demeanour, both of which lacked the usual jitters and nervousness of a new recruit. “But not new to the scene, are we?”

“No, not really,” you said.

“How long?” It was a touchy question amongst trainees, strangers especially. Yet from him, it hardly seemed invasive, only curious.

“Two years now.”

Intrigued, he hopped down from the washing machine. Even back then, he hovered a few inches above you, just a little lanky, still in the process of growing into himself. “Me too. Debut is a scam.”

“A scam you and I keep falling for,” you reminded him with a chuckle.

To your relief, he cracked another smile. “You’re so right,” he laughed, sticking his hand out to shake. “Kim Doyoung. Welcome to Vitamin.”

You would soon learn that Doyoung took everything with good humour. And from that alone, you knew you would become good friends.

You saw each other quite frequently after that. For the sake of their finances, the companies had lumped all their trainees together regardless of gender and experience. You tripped over yourselves in cramped dance studios and listened to strained voices together in vocal rooms. On weekends, you slept for eighteen hours at a time and debated dropping out to pursue proper higher education, only answering calls from your fellow trainees if it involved free food. And on Monday mornings, you got right back to work.

It was less busy in the wintertime, thankfully. When the foreign trainees were granted long breaks to see their families and the high schoolers took time off to study for their finals, you and Doyoung had to keep each other company. Little got done those days, as you opted to play variations of “Fuck Marry Kill” or “Never Have I Ever” over soju from a plastic soda bottle.

“Johnny, Yuta and Airi,” Doyoung prompted with a snicker and took a lazy swig, as if it were anything but an easy decision.

“Oh, c’mon,” you retorted, stealing the bottle back from him. “Kill John, obviously.”

“Good choice.”

“I’d pay money to marry Airi. And then fuck Yuta.”

“Way to immediately ruin your marriage.”

It was pure reflex to hit him hard on the head, with the closest thing you could find. “Not in that order, smartass!”

Unfazed, Doyoung only glared at you. “Just for that attitude, we’re skipping your turn.”

“What type of fucking rules— Wait—”

“Airi, the nail tech who ruined your set last month, and…” He trailed off playfully, purposely making you wait in irritation—but your impatience quickly turned into shock. “Me.”

You damn well choked on your own spit.

You’d never seen Doyoung that way, much less had any time to entertain those kinds of thoughts. Maybe some quiet recognition and acknowledgement when you first met him, which was about a year ago now: just a respectful and very private nod to how well he would do as a celebrity. He was polite when he talked, pretty when he sang, confident when he danced… but were you appreciating those qualities because you needed them yourself? Or did they really make you see him in a different light?

“I’m still marrying Airi,” you started defensively. “Killing the nail tech. She literally scammed me. And did you see that neon pink she used? Absolutely foul.”

Doyoung raised a brow. “And…?”

“If you ask me nicely, you might just get what you want.”

Silence. You stared at each other for a long moment, but ultimately both decided you’d had enough fun.

“Meh, I wouldn’t fuck you.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

It had always been easy to be so brutally honest with each other.

The incident went completely forgotten until a year later—one evening when you found yourselves in a tight circle with the other trainees, drinking beer and spinning Doyoung’s empty soju/soda bottle for shits and giggles. It was cliche, certainly. But you were all missing out on drunken college parties in the real world, and this was as good as entertainment would get.

The bottle spun and spun, making rounds but always narrowly avoiding you, picking and choosing duos to go into the notorious storage closet for the allotted seven minutes. Within half an hour, Yuta and Airi had come back disheveled, while Ten had returned with pink marks on his neck—the latter of which lost you five thousand won to Doyoung in a stupid bet. Not all pairings were so frivolous, however, with Johnny and Mark deciding to awkwardly play tic tac toe seven times on the same crumpled napkin.

By your impeccable luck and the good graces of the saints, the last spin of the bottle matched you with Doyoung.

“He’s probably just gonna fall asleep,” you grunted, then dragged him out of the room.

“You know, all of these losers have been faking it,” Doyoung said once you’d shut the door and set a timer on your phone. He sent you a knowing look. “I mean, if you’re hung up over Airi and Yuta, they probably just jogged on the spot for seven minutes. They respect each other way too much.”

“In that case, give me my money back,” you said, already making a grab for the five thousand won.

“What?” His hand immediately flew up to guard the pocket of his track pants, where he was keeping your money. “Oh no, Ten’s was probably real. You think he just punched himself in the throat for seven minutes while Kun watched?”

“Damn, okay, I didn’t know I was friends with fucking Sherlock Holmes himself.”

Doyoung cackled, slapping your shoulder hard enough to send you into the wall. “C’mon, they’ve liked each other—well, pretended to hate each other—for years now.”

Then for whatever reason, your last game of ‘Fuck Marry Kill’ suddenly crossed your mind.

“Should we do them all one better?”

He was skeptical, but perhaps more so by the logistics than the notion of actually doing it. He checked the timer. “How, by actually making out? We’ve got, like, five minutes.”

“That seems like a good amount of time.”

He paused and looked down at the timer again. You were left anticipating his reply for just a few seconds, but there was little anxiety attached to it.

“Fuck it, why not.”

He set your phone down on the nearest shelf, turned you around to face him, and suddenly his lips were on yours.

That was the very first time you flinched away. It wasn’t bad, or even that weird considering your being friends, but there was a sudden confidence behind it that made you realize two things. One: there were multiple sides to this guy, as there were with all people, and one you had never taken seriously. Two: the side of him you were missing was his attractiveness.

You parted from him to catch your breath, completely caught off guard by the way he’d tucked a finger under your chin and lifted your head up to meet him halfway (where the hell did he learn that from, K-dramas?). His hands quickly found your shoulders instead, comforting despite the way his eyes widened and he rushed to apologize. “Too much?”

“No, I just—” You laughed. “Surprised, that’s all.”

He caught onto your train of thought quickly enough, and when you didn’t protest, gently crowded you against the wall. “Didn’t think I’d have some experience after twenty years of life? I’m not a stick in the mud.”

“Straight A’s in high school, perfect attendance, vice president of the student council, after school volunteering, part-time tutoring—”

“A surprising number of girls were into that,” Doyoung retorted, then grinned proudly. “Boys too.”

“Ugh, so you peaked in high school, we get it,” you grumbled.

“Ugh, so you’re jealous, we get it.”

“Shut up.”

“Got it.”

With that said, he pressed his lips back to yours and snaked an arm around your waist—with a surprising amount of care given the spontaneity of this entire ploy in the first place. Not one to be outdone, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. It didn’t take long for him to grab both your wrists after that, pinning them above you and fully caging you in. It was undoubtedly rushed and messy as you raced against time, the alcohol from earlier obviously playing some part too.

When the timer went off, Doyoung gently pushed off from the wall and reached for your phone. But his gaze never left yours—his eyes staying insistently dark and full of mischief even as he silenced the offensive ringtone. But eventually, he broke into laughter, at which point you realized he was messing with you again.

“That was fun,” he chirped as he fixed his hair in the reflection of a broken TV. Then jokingly, “I’d give it a 4 out of 5.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks Doyoung, your review helps small businesses like ours improve and get those five stars. Would you do it again?”

He swung around to look at you, surprised.

“Maybe.”

Funnily enough, “maybe” became something entirely different, as you began sneaking off with each other at every possible moment. Rarely to do something as scandalous as making out in a storage closet (although sometimes), but spending more time together nonetheless. You often forwent sleep entirely and wasted away the early hours with him, eating at random diners and burger joints, or watching the stars from an empty parking lot.

It became apparent pretty quickly: you’d been a little too studious in high school, and still tightly-wound two years after graduation. But now at twenty years of age, you felt some strange urge to develop a rebellious streak. Doyoung was no different despite always denying it, frequently taking his brother’s car out for joy rides and continuing to sneak alcohol into the practice rooms. Admittedly, he sometimes fell back into the old habitual role of goody-two-shoes, entertaining what-if scenarios and cover stories for use if the two of you ever got caught.

But you weren’t doing anything illegal, much less even wrong. Plenty of trainees spent their evenings doing much more questionable things. And no one at the company had formally banned you from dating as predebut, wannabe stars, although it was obviously frowned upon. And most importantly, neither you nor Doyoung had said anything about dating.

Surely it had crossed both your minds. On occasion, once he’d kissed you breathless and stared you down with some unfathomable emotion, you had to resist the urge to blurt out, “What are we, exactly?” It wasn’t just the present state of your relationship that mattered. It was all else that might follow.

If it was all for shits and giggles now, would it develop? With debut being the obvious goal after four years of gruelling work, what would you do if you both reached the goal and something had developed by then? Break up? Stay together secretly despite the obvious backlash that would ensue if people found out? After every sleepless night, every car ride, every midnight dinner, you caught yourself thinking about it.

Eight months later, things took an abrupt turn.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

The bathroom door slammed shut behind you as you stormed into the common area of your dorm—now empty, with Mina out shopping and the two younger trainees you lived with having gone home for the weekend. Something about their absence and the lack of activity sharpened the rest of your senses, perpetuating the sharp sound of static that filled your phone call. The place had felt incredibly deserted for weeks, growing gloomier and quieter with every departure of an ex-trainee.

The company was down in numbers again.

“They can’t just—” you let out a muffled noise of frustration, putting Doyoung on speaker so you could continue stomping around. “I mean, why?!”

“Yuta leaving was the last straw,” Doyoung replied, just as agitated by the news. His voice cut in and out of white noise. “If he hadn’t, they could make do with debuting us as a trio and delaying you and the girls by a year or two. Or if Airi and Jiwoo were still here, the other way around—”

“But why are they in such a rush?” you spat. “What’s five years without putting out a new group? Bankruptcy?”

Doyoung didn’t respond. But you could tell it was because he was preoccupied. The sounds of city traffic and wind were prevalent on his end, as he presumably made haste toward some place. Suddenly, it went silent. A door swung open, then clanged shut. “C’mon,” he said breathlessly. “I’m downstairs.”

You grabbed only your phone and keys before stumbling out to find him. Not knowing how he’d arrived so quickly, you could only be grateful that you weren’t all alone.

Upon seeing him, you practically launched yourself from the stairs and crashed into his arms. The anger and frustration hit all at once, as you buried your head into his chest—burning hot and relentless against all reason, far too overwhelming as it pushed down on you. Then came embarrassment and overwhelming discomfort for even feeling angry in the first place. Was it selfish to be this angry? Was it selfish to feel so much hatred?

They’d served you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity on a silver platter, yet you could only think of yourself. You could only blurt out one scathing hot truth that would have sent your younger trainee self into hysterics:

“I don’t want this.”

Doyoung was calm as ever, but you could hear the strain in his voice. “I know.”

“I— It’s stupid! No one asked for this. I didn’t sacrifice four years of my life to put up with this!”

There was no reply this time. Not for a long time. When you finally resurfaced from the warm fleece of his scarf for air, he was wiping the tears from your cheeks. A physical outburst from the overload of conflicting emotions, one you had hardly noticed.

At the core of the situation was just that: conflict. You were torn between relief and apprehension, joy and anger, so incredibly relieved that your efforts hadn’t gone to waste, but so disgusted by the company’s blatant reach for attention. So eager to take the offer, but terrified that it would prove to be the wrong decision.

You, Doyoung, Mina and Johnny. It was a lineup unlike anything anyone had seen in years, unconventional in the Korean pop scene for obvious reasons. All you had to do was sign the documents. Then debut was all yours—likely alongside criticism and skepticism from everyone watching.

“I know I’m being ungrateful,” you said, barely louder than a whisper. “But I didn’t sign up to deal with ridicule and rumours the moment we’re announced. Why do we have to deal with that bullshit when the consequences are their fault?”

When it came to consolation, people failed to acknowledge the necessity of a listening ear over advice. And in that moment, you were grateful that Doyoung listened. No unsolicited comments pointing out your tendency to blow things out of proportion, no attempt to calm you with reason. It was in Doyoung’s nature to analyze, to stay logical, to stay grounded in reality at every sharp turn of the road. But he did nothing of the sort, knowing it wasn’t in yours. There was only a warm embrace to cling onto—then a simple reassurance that would’ve broken you, had it not come from someone who really meant it.

“We’ll be okay.”

He let you settle back against him. For several minutes after that, you rocked back and forth in his arms, thinking to yourself, Will we though? It had finally dawned on you, what awaited you in the coming days, months, years, even.

“What about us?” What… are we?”

He mustered a wry grimace at the question, slowly pulling apart to hold you at arm’s length. The weariness of his expression didn’t look right on the face of a 22-year-old. You wondered if you looked the same: tired and worn out years before the average person begins to wear. “Regardless of what we are now, regardless of what we become if we sign contracts, we were friends first. Right?”

You nodded, but suddenly found it difficult to look him in the eye.

“And at the end of the day—of any day, good or bad—we’ll always be friends, yeah?”

You’d seen him at his ugliest, and he’d seen you at yours: from his episodes of black-out drunkenness, to the insults you used to hurl at your parents over the phone. You’d fought on occasion too, exchanging backhanded comments and getting into full-blown arguments before reconciling later. There was nothing to hide from each other, and no one you trusted more with your secrets. No one knew both you and the industry you worked in quite like him. It went both ways.

So you nodded again.

He gave you a wry smile. “Then let’s be friends while we deal with all the other shit. If we want to be something else some other time, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” There was a long, nervous breath, as his hands found yours to steady himself. “Is that okay with you?”

Insinuating that you could be something else in the future. Insinuating that his mind had wandered in the same direction as yours, at some point in time.

“Okay,” you murmured softly, resting your head against his shoulder. “That’s okay.”

As friends, you found momentarily solace in each other, while the wind howled outside.

“The way I see it? The company doesn’t give two flying fucks.”

Johnny’s voice rang out across the room, ever loud and thunderous like the titan himself—despite a mouthful of McDonald’s fries and ice cream. A chorus of hushed and panicked voices followed immediately.

“Seo, you better shut your fucking mouth.”

“Ew, John you got spit on me!”

“Dispatch would have a field day with this one.”

“Can’t take this man anywhere, I swear,” Doyoung rolled his eyes, leaning over to snatch a chicken nugget from your tray. Just as quickly, you wrestled it out of his hand and shoved it into your mouth, your idol etiquette class be damned.

“Can’t take you anywhere either,” you scoffed, then pointed at Johnny with greased-up fingers. “As much as you need to learn how to shut the hell up when we’re in public, continue.”

He gave an indifferent shrug and kept shoveling vanilla soft serve into his mouth. Away from formal settings and the prying eyes of company seniors who expected utmost discipline, Johnny Seo was nothing short of an American frat boy pulled straight from a cliche American movie: most commonly seen in joggers and leisure wear, stumbling lazily over his words, eyes constantly half-closed like he was stoned out of his mind.

“I said, the company wouldn’t give two flying fucks if we, hypothetically, dated each other. Well, ideally they don’t want us to at all, but if it’s gonna be a dating scandal, best keep it between two people from the same agency,” he said, admittedly quieter now, but with a definitive thud of his empty sundae cup against the table as if to make a groundbreaking point.

“Yes, love, we’ve established that already, we can all read and already noticed that dating rules weren’t outlined in the contract,” Mina sighed from next to him, deadpan and feigning boredom. “Got anything more interesting to share?”

“Well obviously, I wasn’t finished talking,” Johnny huffed, but quickly continued when everyone jeered in annoyance. “Just think about the publicity. Fans love couples that make music together, they eat that shit up. So let’s say someone starts dating. Good for the company. Say nothing happens at all, for the entire length of our contracts. Also good for the company.”

“What if they break up?” Doyoung asked, skeptical. “Still good for the company?”

“Yes, because they’d say it was an amicable breakup in favour of both parties’ careers, get free publicity, get praised for being professional, and life goes on,” Johnny snorted. “We’re dealing with execs who will try to make money off anything you throw at them. They’re all capitalist pigs.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “You’re literally American.”

Johnny glared. “You have tea and crumpets for breakfast.”

“What if the couple’s gay?” you broke in before the two could start another squabble over their nationalities and British colonialism. If you were exploring hypotheticals, why not explore them all?

“I’m not gay,” Johnny said immediately.

“I never said you were,” you snapped. “I said what if.”

“Then they’ll never disclose it, the public is left to speculate, and fans make one hell of a tag on AO3. At the end of the day, nothing particularly bad for the company.”

Doyoung frowned, confused. “What’s aye-oh-three?”

“John reads gay fanfiction.”

“I don’t!”

Then the table descended into another war, and in the midst of the chaos, Doyoung ate your remaining chicken nuggets.

Still just a group of nameless, faceless kids at the corner McDonald’s, the four of you let your profanities and threats flow free. You all knew: things would change drastically in the coming weeks, and you wanted to hold onto this for just a little longer. Regardless of pending fame, regardless of possible successes or failures, it wouldn’t be every day that you ate fast food and caused mayhem in public this spontaneously. Nor insulted Johnny this freely, nor copied Mina’s British vulgarities in a near-insulting accent, nor curled up over Doyoung’s shoulders when you inevitably got tired.

How ironic it was, bringing yet another youthful, chipper idol group into the industry, when you’d sacrificed all your teenage years for this moment. While Doyoung carried you across the parking lot on his back, you thought back to when you’d put your pen to the paper and signed neatly in the little box they’d provided. It was hard to believe that it had happened only a few hours ago. Even your exit from the restaurant, barely five minutes ago, felt so far away. You were incredibly wired, overwhelmed, always overthinking.

You trekked back to the dorm by bus, Doyoung having relinquished access to his brother’s car, and your new manager not yet responsible for your every move and location, much less driving you places. You’d met him earlier in the day—a handsome, charismatic, 30-something-year-old who could easily debut himself if not for his age—hardly spoke, and quickly exchanged goodbyes. You could only hope that he would turn out about as easy-going as he looked.

It was past midnight when you arrived home: a modest building not too far from the company building, two small units split between the boys and girls. Soon after, Mina went out to the convenience store for ice cream, while Johnny went up to the roof to puff on his vape. You found yourself sprawled out on Doyoung’s bed, watching him browse internet deals on Coupang. It didn’t take long for you to make it to his side and slouch against him with your arms around his neck. It took only minutes for him to put his laptop aside and hold you properly. Barely a few moments for him to throw caution to the wind and kiss you.

Something about it felt more like a parting gesture than anything else. Like a silent and mutual agreement that this—whatever this was—would have to stop soon. Like you both acknowledged the lack of clear definition for your relationship, and that it was okay. Some part of you was envisioning everything that could go wrong from here. The other part of you fully trusted his judgement, and your own.

“Won’t be able to do this once Kibum moves in tomorrow,” he gave a breathless laugh several minutes later. But he sobered quickly enough, brushing aside a stray strand of your hair and whispering, “Probably shouldn’t, anyways.”

“Probably won’t have time,” you joked lightly. “Only four hours of free time a day? I’d rather be sleeping in those four hours, not sucking your face, thanks.”

“Not sure how we’ll survive that.”

“What, not sucking face?”

He looked at you, clearly unimpressed. “No, only getting four hours of sleep every night.”

“Maybe even less than four.”

“Double stuff me in the ass.”

“Christ, Doyoung.”

Ever true to himself, he hurried to undo his vulgarities. He smoothed your hair down again, laughing quietly and murmuring in your ear, “Joking. I think we’ll be okay.”

Then he closed the distance between your lips one last time, gently taking your face in his hands to give you a proper goodbye.

We’ll be okay.

Those words carried more weight than he even knew, following you long after you parted. It was there when you finally retired to bed, still echoing when the lights went out—lulling you to sleep where you would have been tossing and turning in any other circumstance.

We’ll be okay.

IMG_4749.MOV from Mina’s iPhone

“Observe: Kim Doyoung reading his first fanfiction on AO3. It’s, um. A Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy ABO male pregnancy mafia kidnapping AU that ____ found—”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Read it out loud!”

“What the fuck am I reading?! ‘His fifteen-inch-long co—‘ JOHN YOUNGHO SEO, YOU DERANGED SON OF A BITCH!! IS THIS WHAT YOU READ IN YOUR FREE TIME—”

“We’re so getting fired if this video gets out.”

“Oh, definitely.”

Some more tomfoolery for this fic here! (I said this was 10% crack this is what I meant)

#nct #nct 127 #nct dojaejung #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #nct angst #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #doyoung #kim doyoung #nct doyoung #doyoung fanfic #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung drabbles

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honeymark · 1 year

Text

〔 𝟎𝟏:𝟎𝟐𝐚𝐦 〕 the truth hits you harder than you could’ve ever prepared yourself for, so much so that you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself when your husband reveals his dirty little secret.

now that everything has been exposed, it’s wild to think that you’d missed all of the red flags. it’d been weeks since he had stopped coming home in time for dinner, since he had stopped answering your calls after 6pm, since he had stopped touching you altogether.

it’s like the love had just...

disappeared.

“honey, say something. anything,” doyoung desperately pleads, his hands finding yours. suspense lingers heavily in the living room, almost as if all hell were to break loose if either of you were to let out a single sound.

you silently resign yourself to the chaos that’s bound to ensue, and you finally release the breath you had been holding in for what had felt likes hours. you can feel the weight of it roll from your shoulders when you finally muster up the courage to speak.

“what is there to say?” you ask, your voice just a feather above a whisper.

he lifts his head slowly, his eyes daring to match yours. “curse at me, scream at me, just do something.” there’s something about his gaze that sends your heart into panicked overdrive, and with one smooth motion, you rip your hands from his grip.

“what’s the point, doyoung? nothing will change the fact that you broke this marriage,” you snap, the bite of your voice cutting through the tension like a freshly honed blade. tears blur your vision as you finally allow yourself to give into the heartache. “nothing i say will change anything.”

he visibly winces, and he drops to his knees and bows his head in what seems like remorse. “y/n, i’m sorry. i’m sorry, baby. i love you so much, and i’m so, so sorry,” he repeats in a litany of pitiful contrition.

as much as you want to believe in his performance, doubt starts pooling in the pit of your stomach. “doyoung, stop it.” you swallow a sob that’s creeping its way up the back of your throat, and you cross your arms over your chest, almost as if it would be enough to keep you from completely falling apart. “don’t you fucking dare say that you love me. you wouldn’t have done this if you loved me. you wouldn’t have kept fucking her if you loved me.”

the silence that follows is thick and stagnant. he presses his lips together into a straight line. something moist plops against the back of his hand, then again, and again, and it isn’t until he sniffles that he realizes he’s crying. he clutches the thin fabric of his slacks, and he ducks his head in an even lower bow. “i’m sorry, y/n. i don’t deserve your forgiveness or your love or another second of your time, but i truly am so, so fucking sorry. i’m sorry, y/n,” he whispers in a hushed sob, his voice breaking as his lips form your name.

a deep ache thrums through your chest, and you unthinkingly slide off the couch to the floor in front of him. you wipe his tears with shaky fingers, and he immediately crashes into you, his arms enveloping you in a tight embrace as he chokes out a deep sob.

the sound that escapes past his lips sends a chill down your spine. kim doyoung has always been composed, intentional with every breath he takes. this is the most unbalanced you’ve ever seen him, and it cuts through your heart like a dagger. you don’t think you’ve ever felt a pain as devastating as this before. but if you’re sure about anything, it’s that you’ve never been this broken.

#doyoung imagines #doyoung reactions #doyoung angst #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct angst

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chocojae · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐒 — kim doyoung

summary ▸ seven signs you are in love according to not so love expert, kim doyoung ft. a tired and frustrated kun

genre ▸ doyoung x female reader | pure fluff | university au

word count ▸ 3.2k

warnings ▸ none!

luna’s note ▸ hello @beautifulchris ! I am your author for the exchange event held by @kflixnet! i enjoyed writing this piece and really hope you will like this ♡ since the event’s main motive was to be friends, i hope we can get to know each other!

ONE: YOUR DAY STARTS AND ENDS WITH YOU THINKING ABOUT THEM.

Doyoung’s eyes widen as he notices the words he just scribbled on his notebook. He was spacing out in the lecture hall, and guess what he wrote? Your name, once again.

It astonished Doyoung when he realised just how much he has been thinking about you these past few days.

When he got to learn that you have a (secret) crush on him, all he did was think about you and notice your likes and dislikes. From him eating his breakfast and getting reminded (out of nowhere) that you love cats to him putting on an outfit of your favourite shade because you like that colour, his life was suddenly revolving around you.

It bugged him that it was you who occupied his mind 24/7 when it should have been his studies. Lately, he gets on his bus every day thinking if you would attend today or not and can’t help but get a little disappointed when he notices your absence.

Something is wrong with him, but what? It’s the question that messes his mind the most. Doyoung angrily stabs the paper with frustration, his mind running a thousand miles per second, trying to figure out what could be the possible cause of his sudden curiosity and then his face suddenly drops. A tiny voice in his head whispers: You couldn’t like her back, could you?

Doyoung shakes his head violently, trying to shush the tiny voice. Through the corner of his eye, he looks at you for a split second. Right, there was no freaking way he possibly could.

Fine, Doyoung takes back whatever he said a few hours prior. There might be a possible, tiny, tiny chance that he might like you, romantically.

He stares at your laughing figure for a little longer than he would before tearing his eyes off you, gulping soon after. God, why wasn’t he able to look away? Sure, you are attractive and kind but does he really like like you? Like as in a boy liking a girl? That type of like?

He presses his lips into a thin line and steals another glance, soon feeling his cheeks burn up. Shit, have you always been that pretty?

“I don’t think this tragic piece of literature is supposed to be making you blush, Doyoung.” Kun squints his eyes at the younger male sitting beside him, noticing how Doyoung looked completely taken aback by his comment.

Wait, Doyoung was blushing? BLUSHING? Now, that was unexpected. Doyoung cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. It’s just the weather. You know how hot it can get in summers here.”

Kun squinted his eyes, not satisfied with the so called answer. There was no way he was buying the “reason” Doyoung was beetroot red. It was a white lie. Sure, he agrees that summers are hot in here but with all the fans and air conditioners present and just a simple black t-shirt thrown over him, Doyoung couldn’t possibly be reddening because of it.

“Are you sure you were not checking out someone and blushing?” Kun asks with suspense laced through his words, crossing his arms and giving a look that indicated he was ready to hear the tea.

“Jesus, no!” Doyoung responds immediately. Hey, it was the truth. He wasn’t checking you out or something, he was just glancing at you. Glancing. There’s a difference, okay?

“Sure.” Kun shrugged, not convinced and continued his explanation, hoping Doyoung would get whatever he was trying to make him understand. Doyoung slumped down on the table, Kun’s words becoming white noise to him. With his head resting on his arm, he dragged his eyes towards you. Hell, you look absolutely breathtaking—

Here he goes thinking about you once again, not like he could help it.

TWO: YOUR EYES ALWAYS SEEM TO SEARCH FOR THEM.

Considering that he thinks about you most time of the day, it should have been natural for Doyoung to accept that he likes stealing glances at you. It would have been easy if that was the case. But it’s not.

Every single time he is reminded about you or glances at you, Doyoung tries to convince himself that he does not like you. It is tiring, very tiring since he thinks about you so much that it makes him frustrated.

If he would tell someone about this train of thoughts running through his head, he is one hundred one per cent sure that it would conclude he likes you.

The thought that he might have harboured feelings for you, for unacceptable for him.

He chose to ignore those confusing feelings, shoving them aside. But what he couldn’t control was the way his eyes always gravitated towards you, taking his time to adore you like you were his love interest in some cheesy romance novel.

You looked so ethereal in his eyes, so beautiful that he believed you were the most beautiful person to exist.

He sneaked glances at you now and then and most of the time, you were already looking at him. So when he looked back to admire you out of nowhere, you both were caught off guard and turned away in a beat at being caught.

Kun, who observed this quite often, found it pretty cute and enjoyed teasing Doyoung about this. Doyoung would shake his head, saying he was just spacing out and it was not what Kun thinks. But Kun could see how just two seconds after calling him out, Doyoung’s gaze was fixated on you once again.

THREE: YOU RANDOMLY START PICKING UP THEIR HOBBIES.

Seriously, painting and Doyoung?

Doyoung looks around helplessly in the room filled with what seemed like skilled and passionate students. They all seemed so focused and determined, unlike him who stood there awkwardly, face laced with confusion.

Doyoung should have been studying in the library for the upcoming exam, or doing his laundry that has stacked up for about two weeks now. He should have been anywhere but here, occupied with the set of brushes he has no idea how to use.

Painting never once intrigued Doyoung, so why was he here? Answer: For you.

Through his secret source obviously Kun, he found out you liked to paint in your free time.

To Doyoung, painting was something uninteresting but since you liked it, he was adamant to try it out as this would mean him finally having a common topic to start a conversation with you.

In the past two months, Doyoung got so frustrated with himself that he accepted he liked you, and yes, romantically. He disclosed this to Kun, who didn’t waste a single second to tease Doyoung by revealing he already figured out his “secret” long ago by the way he gawked at you.

And the more Kun teased him, the more Doyoung’s feelings grew and so did his desire to get to know you.

He wanted to start a conversation multiple times but the blush on his cheeks whenever he was with you prevented him from doing so. Doyoung did draft the convo scenes with you in his head, preparing different things to say based on your supposed replies in his imagination.

But to actually start a conversation with you was hard. His mind just goes blank whenever he decides to start a small talk with you, and the script he had prepared for weeks in his head, gets blurry. He stammers, and he blushes.

You too, wanted to talk to him and spend some time together but you didn’t have the courage to. He made you feel so euphoric, it was hard to focus on anything else, including your words.

FOUR: YOU GET FLUSTERED AROUND THEM.

Doyoung’s standing behind you. You are standing in front of him. The proximity is so close that Doyoung could catch the faint smell of your perfume lingering over him.

Kun nudges Doyoung from behind, leaning in and whispering. “You are red like a tomato. Don’t be this obvious.” Doyoung nods. He could feel the loud thumping of his stupid heart and is doing everything in his power to avoid looking at you, not because he doesn’t want to glance at you, but because he knows his heart will beat louder the more he will look at you.

What Doyoung didn’t notice was the way you were being a mess too. Eyes roaming everywhere in nervousness, cheeks painted pink and your friends passing you a teasing look.

You are so sure that Doyoung knows you have a little crush on him, and that didn’t bother you— until now. Because he is behind you, just behind you. The prettiest and kindest man (with utterly attractive hands and a honey like voice) you have ever known is behind you. Your freaking crush is behind you.

It feels awkward, nervous and exciting all at the same time and the adrenaline rushing through your system makes you go numb. Do you look good? Is your hair alright? What about you back? Oh, you should have taken your roommate’s advice and done some back exercises so you weren’t regretting right now. And what about your perfume? Is it still there? What if Doyoung doesn’t like scents?

The train of thought was never ending, and Doyoung could relate too. He should’ve worn something more presentable. The tray in his hands was shaking. Why the hell did Kun pushed him to stand next to you?

“I hate you, Kun.” Kun raised an eyebrow at his words, a small smirk adoring his face as he answered back. “But you also love me for this.”

Doyoung bit back a smile. Kun just knows him too well.

FIVE: YOU GET (UNNECESSARILY) WORRIED ABOUT THEM.

Doyoung has no right to worry about you but it’s the third day he hasn’t seen your pretty face and it’s making him nervous. What if something happened to you? Or what if you left the university?

Millions of baseless thoughts ran through his head, his body stiffening. You couldn’t have gotten sick, right?

But what if you did? Cold sweat broke out on his forehead at the mere thought. Doyoung’s ears perked up hearing the giggles of your friends and he looked at them curiously.

Maybe he should ask them, but wait, wouldn’t it seem extremely suspicious when he would randomly ask about you? Screw it, he says to himself and marches towards your friends.

“Hi.” The sudden appearance of Doyoung made their giggles come to a halt and they were visibly confused. “So, I was saying that..” Shit, he can’t do it.

“Do you have the notes from the previous lesson? I forgot to jot down mine!” He passes them an awkward smile, hoping they won’t catch his unusual behaviour.

“Sure” One of the girls, which he vividly remembers seeing by your side the most, takes out a notebook from her bag, handing it to Doyoung with the same expression as earlier. “Here,” Doyoung mumbles a quiet thank you before completely disappearing.

The girls, confused, shrugged their shoulders and decided to not think much, later joking about how you should have been there.

Doyoug gave Kun his best puppy eyes. “Please.” Kun sighed and asked, “Why can’t you do this?”

“Because it would seem weird.” Kun raised an eyebrow at the reply. “And it wouldn’t when I will?

“No, because even if it will do seem that way, you are not me. That’s why.”

“Your logic is so…….baseless.”

Doyoung clung onto his arm, swinging it in an attempt to persuade him. “Oh come one, please, please.”

Kun closed his eyes. “I am deaf, I can’t hear anything.”

“Please, only you could save me from this misery.”

“Misery? Misery? You not being able to find out why Y/N has not been coming for three days has driven you into misery?” Kun’s voice was laced with sarcasm followed by an eye roll. “And FYI, I don’t even talk to Y/N that much.”

“Well, you can ask just out of curiosity. I am sure they would understand.”

“Then why can’t you do it?”

“Because it feels weird!”

“Just say you are shy.”

“I am not!”

“You are.”

“I am not, okay!?”

“Liar.”

“So?” Doyoung asks in anticipation, eyes full of hope darting at the tired Kun. “She is at her grandma’s. No big deal.”

“That means she is okay, right?” Kun slumps down beside him. “Yeah, I guess.”

Doyoung glares at him. “What do you mean you guess? You didn’t ask?”

“Obviously dude, I am not her boyfriend or something!”

“You had one job. One.”

“Not again.”

SIX: YOU PICK UP THEIR HUMOUR.

caution ▸ cringy dad joke ahead

Doyoung has been observing you every single time so it wasn’t long before he picked up your humour. You were the dad jokes type and while Doyoung wasn’t interested a bit in them, the humour grew on him and now he has made Kun’s life a little harder than it was before.

“Wanna hear a knock joke?” Doyoung grins at the annoyed Kun.

“It’s not like I have a choice.” He mumbled. Doyoung cleared his throat, “Knock Knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Nobel.” There was still that grin on his face when Doyoung waited for Kun to respond. “Ask Nobel who?”

Kun rolled his eyes. “Nobel, who?”

“No bell so I just knocked.” Doyoung bursts into fists of laughter and smacks Kun’s shoulder. “Be real, isn’t it funny?”

“It’s not—” Kun pauses sensing a glare thrown at him “It’s so hilarious, I can’t even laugh!” Kun sends Doyoung a small, scared smile and releases a sigh of relief when Doyoung takes the comment as a positive one.

If Kun is going to stick around Doyoung who will find humour in dad jokes because of you, you both better get married for his unthinkable sacrifice.

SEVEN: YOU IMAGINE A FUTURE WITH THEM.

Doyoung grasps the bouquet of flowers tight in his hands. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and calming his nerves down.

You can do this, Doyoung! He says to himself, glancing at the flowers in his sweaty palms. He is finally doing this, Kim Doyoung is finally asking you out. Seems unreal, right? For Doyoung too.

He had never imagined he would ask you out, but here he is.

He was smitten over you, everyone knew. You were referred to as his crush but that label soon was ripped away when Doyoung started seeing you in a new light. When everything about you seemed more lovely than it could ever be. When your flaws, which he had previously ignored seemed so perfect to him. When instead of getting all nervous and excited, he felt warmth and comfort from your presence.

The tag of a crush got removed and replaced by the one called love.

He imagined doing everything with you, going out on dates, meeting your family, late night celebrations, unexpected calls and what not. It become clear Kim Doyoung was in love with you.

He had finally mustered up the courage to ask you out, for real. His heart was beating a thousand miles per second. He doesn’t know if you were ready for this, or even if you still had feelings for him but he was going to do it. It’s now or never.

Doyoung had called you in a cafe near by, and as much as you were puzzled, you were internally screaming. You were attracted to him, no doubt. He was kind, he was cute. He was everything you looked for in a man. So when you met Doyoung with a bouquet of flowers in his hands and cheeks flushed red, your heart beat synced with his, uncontrollable and messy. Your palms become sweaty as you sat down opposite him.

“Hi, how have you been?” You asked, a smile spread across your lips. The talk started off great. It seemed so pleasant and comfortable with Doyoung and you wished you could stop time. The moment felt surreal.

Doyoung cleared his throat before scratching the back of his nape. “I don’t know how to say this, but I um….I…..like you.” Wait, he what??? “What?”

“I like you.” Your eyes were about to pop off. Are you dreaming? Doyoung noticed your reaction and was quick to say, “We will pretend this never happened if you are not comfortable.”

“No—. Well, I— oh, god. I like you too.” Dooung blinked a few times. Okay, what should he respond with now?

“Here,” He handles the bouquet with utmost gentleness and care. His cheeks you red, and so were yours.

“What I was saying is…..how about we get to know each other first? This would help us to decide if we want to become official or not.”

“Like, get to know each other on ‘dates’?” You asked with a broad smile.

“Yeah, small dates.” he smiled back and finally made eye contact and was washed over with the warmth that spread through his entire body. His shoulders relaxed and leaned in, ready to hear all about you. “So tell me about yourself, Y/N L/N.” You chuckled, the smile never leaving your lips.

You both were over the moon, and the memory easily become your and his favourite.

Doyoung smiled as he closed his diary. Reading his old entries, he felt nostalgic and happy. He glanced at your sleeping figure beside him. One thing that he had never ever regretted was loving you. He was grateful to have you by his side.

You were his first love, and now, his wife.

The diamond ring on your finger sparkled every so slightly in the dim light of your shared bedroom. Doyoung lay down on the bed beside you, staring at your sleeping face with a silly grin on his face.

It was your third wedding anniversary today and you being all excited and proud drank a little too much than you could handle, knocking out soon after. Doyoung, being a smitten man for you found it hilarious, and adorable.

He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear and continued to look at you with fond eyes over flowing with love. He kissed your forehead. He loves you so much, and nothing can ever change that.

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luna’s note ▸ congrats for making it to the end of the story, i hope you enjoyed reading! thank you for taking out your time and giving a chance to this work ♡ as always, feeback is much appreciated! please share your thoughts as a a small feedback can change my day for the better and give me motivation to bring more of such stories to you.

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