#ego act ii | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingsfromhome · 3 months ago

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That’s so True II

A/N: pure angst; egos are still up, feelings are still confused, guards are up and down and even though it seems like I hate them as the writer I do root for them but navigating one-sided vulnerability is a rideee. Mentions of alcohol and drugs—thanks for reading xx

Word Count: 18k+

Part 1 / 2

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I made it out alive but I think I lost it.

When Harry approached me after school when I was working on yearbook, I was surprised. He came just as himself and even though he tried to act like a dick, that personality was chucked out as soon as I told him I wasn’t putting up with it.

And he listened. And he looked surprised, but most surprising for me was when he apologized back. It obviously surprised him too because that’s also when his mask came back down; I saw it happening—backtracking so he could put a leash on his vulnerability.

There was no denying though as he was apologizing, the look in his eyes and the way his gaze lingered on my face…I knew he was holding back. That night and our time together left just as much of an imprint on him than it did me.

The thing is I wanted to punish him, make him hurt, because how dare he do that to me. If he wanted to deny what really happened between us and move on, continue being the jock everyone knew him to be, I’d let it sting.

I know he expected me to be upset, maybe even argue. But as soon as I realized what he was doing I put my own mask on; I was good at it these days. And there was a satisfaction with how shocked he looked as he walked out without the upper hand.

That’s his price, I had thought.

But now here I was on the other side of my Harry Experience and my heart still kicked a little extra when I caught sight of him. When I pass him in the halls, in the lunchroom, in the parking lot, and I could feel his eyes on me.

I could just get a boyfriend if it was a physical need. But it wasn’t that simple.

Sometimes before I fall asleep I think of that night, of the pain he felt on my behalf. And it hits deeper.

Past:

Harry had caught up to me as I was leaving the school building today. He had asked if I was busy tonight and my heart had sputtered like a dying car because we had been hooking up for a couple weeks and every time we did I expected it to be the last time yet he always found ways to be at the same place I was or catch me wherever I was.

He had been a distraction for me from everything at home and I never expected us to have longevity.

He told me he would pick me up around 7 for a surprise. I’d gone home in a cloud of rainbows and butterflies but home itself was an antidote to daydreaming.

Mum was home early from work so I head to my bedroom. I didn’t care for forced conversation. All she wanted to talk about these days was my future.

By the time I come down the sun is starting to set and I can hear her on the phone with Nan. She’s telling Nan she doesn’t know if she can help her clean out the house and that my dad didn’t want anything to do with it.

Nan was actually my paternal grandma and her and Grandpa had raised me while my dad lived in a new city every few months for work and mum followed. They’d be sure to be in town for Christmas most years and during off-seasons but when I thought of the people who raised me it wasn’t mum and dad.

Dad always had a complicated relationship with his own father so even though they happily took me in and it looked okay from the outside, every family reunion or dinner was tense and passive.

When grandpa passed a few weeks ago it was Nan and I who held each other up. Mum had tried to be there but she never knew what to say to me. Dad had gotten stony and silent. So now I just walked the few streets over to visit Nan every time I missed him too much.

“What’s going on?” I whisper to mum as she continues on the phone. Were they cleaning grandpa’s stuff out already? It hadn’t been long.

Suddenly I start to worry about all of his valuables, everything he held dear all in the bin. Of Nan trying to sort it all by herself and being overwhelmed—I could help.

Mum waves me off, “Well we’ll see. We can always hire someone. I’m sure Phil will pay for it.”

“I called asking for help with this not to have money I don’t need thrown my way.” Her voice is distant on the receiver but mum’s volume is always so loud I can make it out. Nan only ever took dad’s money if it had to do with me. “I need to do this myself not hire somebody. I-this is making me upset. I’m hanging up now.”

She hangs up without a goodbye and mum rolls her eyes.

“Somehow I’m always between the two of them.”

I watch her move back to her cutting board and stare as she chops. If there was any humour here I would laugh but it always got to me when she’d say things like that. Because it was always me between the two—my actual family and my family that raised me. My loyalty to my grandparents for all the love and time they raised me with and my loyalty to my parents because…well, they were my parents.

“What did she want?” I ask eventually.

“Someone to help her pack up the house. And she’s asking us to hold some of her things as storage I mean-“ she throws her hands up.

“Why?” Nan had plenty of space at home, why did she need ours?

“Well whoever rents that place probably doesn’t want all her rubbish everywhere.”

Rents.

“Who’s renting? What do you mean?”

Mum looks up sharply and sighs when she sees my face. “Oh dear. Did Nan or your dad not tell you yet?”

“Tell me what!?” I demand, my heart racing and my knees feeling like they were made of straw.

“Sit down-“ she points to a stool. I do so grudgingly. “Your Nan…she’s going to be moving-“

“No. She can’t be she would have said-“

“Well she just made the final decision the other day-“

I’m snatching my jacket and racing out the front door, down the street, pumping my arms until I’m in front of the familiar door. The place that my memories went to when I thought of home.

My breath is having a hard time coming out and my hands shake so I knock until Nan opens the door. One look at me and the sadness pools in her eyes.

“Oh my love I’m sorry.”

“No Nan,” I burst into tears. “Tell me it’s not true! Mum’s lying!”

“C’mon,” she mumbles as she urges me into the house. My feet shuffle to the cozy wooden kitchen and I collapse in the closest chair because her non-answer was already an answer. I knew it in my bones.

“Why?” I ask when I see her again.

She sits beside me, her eyes full of tears. “I didn’t want you finding out like this. I-I’m making your favourite, we were going to have dinner and I was going to-“

Her breath catches and suddenly I feel awful for making her feel bad.

“Nan,” I hold her hand and she clasps it with her other.

“I’m sorry my love. It’s…this house is filled with his ghost. I don’t know how to…”

I find I’m crying too. But what about me, I want to ask. But even I know that’s selfish.

“Before he…when he was in hospital he made a plan for me. He talked to my sister—you’ve met her a few times I think. She lives alone, been a widow for…6 years now? He made all these plans so I can live with her. And she’s made it happen. For as long as I need, she tells me.”

“So you’re just-“ I use my other hand to wipe my tears. “So you’re just going to pick up your life and move? So far away? I-“

What about me?

“I can’t live here-“

“Move in with us!” I urge. Why didn’t grandpa make plans for her to move a few streets over. Why did he do this.

“YN, my dear…” she pats my hand. I know she couldn’t. I knew.

“I’ll never see you again?” I cry.

“Don’t be silly,” she stands and tugs me to her. I wrap my arms around her aging torso, my head on her chest, and it’s so overwhelmingly home that I begin to cry. And with the patience she’s had her whole life she rubs my back and soothes me with promises.

“You’re moving for uni this year—everything’s going to be different. And Phil’s already bought tickets for you to come visit me in the summer. We’ll always be in each other’s lives.”

But not physically. And suddenly I’m angry—what was dad’s issue that he couldn’t stand his parents. That his own mother couldn’t move in with us at a time like this. Why would Nan do this to me.

I let go of Nan and stand up.

“Where are you going?” She calls out as I head for the door. “YN where-“

“I have to go.” I sniffle.

“But I’m making dinner-“

“I have plans.” I say and it hurts just to say it and hurts more to see her face fall.

“Oh…well maybe tomorrow. Come by tomorrow and we can talk okay?”

I shrug and this time I don’t look at her face; a coward who couldn’t see what it does to her. “Maybe.”

“I love you,” she says as I near the door. “No matter what.”

I mumble something in response and leave. But I don’t want to go home. Luckily my phone pings then. Harry.

Outside yours, are you ready?

Crap. I’d forgotten.

At my Nan’s few streets away gimme 2 mins

I feel like my feet are made of steel as I walk over. I try to wipe my face and take deep breaths, anything to prevent him from seeing the mess tonight has made me.

“Aren’t you cold?” Is the first thing he asks me when I knock on his passenger door.

I forgot I was only wearing a jumper.

“A bit. M I must have forgotten my coat at Nan’s.” I sit inside where it is considerably warmer.

“You didn’t have to rush,” he watches me tuck myself in. “I texted you that.”

“Oh,” I check my phone. He had said that, I just missed it. “That’s alright. Where to?”

His eyes light up, now distracted from what he was just worried about. “You’ll have to see.”

“Patience is not my virtue,” I warn him and that earns a grin. His whole face was quite animated when he smiled like that and my stomach flips. Tonight still heavy on my mind, could be eclipsed by a smile like that. A smile for me.

He turns off my street and even though I was curious I’m not watching where we’re going. Instead I’m watching him.

I really was surprised he kept turning up. That he hadn’t grown tired of me.

That first night I approached him in desperate need of a distraction—of a boy and some booze, I could tell he was surprised but he’d risen to the occasion and made himself a perfect distraction.

And then a few nights later we’d made out in his car after school in the parking lot. We did that a few times actually. And the weekend after he’d been at a party I was at and we’d found an empty room. He was obviously more experienced and it made it both new and fun.

He catches me watching him and responds by sliding his hand over my thigh. I was wearing tights but the warmth of his delicious hands go straight through the fabric. His thumb strokes absentmindedly as he drives and I feel like more than a hook-up and he feels like more than a distraction but I discard the thoughts from my mind.

I didn’t want to make things messy. Messier than what my life already was.

“So you’re really giving me no clues?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“I’m surprised you’ve actually planned something. I thought you wouldn’t be a planner.”

He squeezes my thigh and laughs. “I like it when people think they figured me out and then they’re surprised.”

“Yeah?” I ask. I wondered if that happened often with him being the stereotype of a player.

“Yeah. It’s fun. Seeing people surprised. Like when our biology teacher last year congratulated me for getting the highest grade in one of the exams—I’d studied for a week straight so I earned that shit, but the looks on everyone’s faces was crazy.”

I laugh. It’s cute hearing him explain this. Ironically it was also surprising.

“Okay look,” he turns into a lot and I suddenly know where we were. But I’m confused.

“A beach?” I ask. “Harry you know it’s still February and it’s cold as bollocks.”

That makes him laugh. “Yeah? But I’ve got blankets and some wine I stole from my parents and we can keep each other warm.”

He brushes my cheek with his thumb as he says so. It’s gentle and inviting—I never thought someone like him would have these sides to him. I assumed wrongfully that players like him just seduce but Harry’s seducing had a finer art.

Suddenly I remember, “I forgot my coat.”

“Yeah you can wear mine!”

“No then you’ll be cold.”

He tried to reassure me it would be fine but in that moment all the feelings that had just been distracted come forth. If I had just gotten my coat I wouldn’t have to borrow his. Now all this Harry planned for us would go to shit.

“Here,” he starts stripping his coat off when I don’t respond and drapes it around me. “I’ve got a hoodie on and a couple blankets back there it can work.”

“I…” the coat is big and warm, trapped with the smell of him and it makes me lose my train of thought for a moment. I want to grow smaller and just live in this coat and forget all my problems like my thoughts.

“Let’s just see how bad it is out there.” He says with his easygoing smile.

“Okay,” I didn’t want to be a spoil sport. “Let’s see if you brought me out here to freeze to death or not.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he says as we exit the car. “We’re going to keep each other warm.”

“Harry this is quite romantic,” I tease as he walks around to get to me. “Honestly didn’t know you had this side to you.”

He leans me into the car, his cold hands curling around my neck. “Stop underestimating me YN. Plus I could say the same about you.”

Before I can ask what he means he leans down to kiss me with his soft lips and stubbly chin. It tickles and I pull away.

When I rub my hand over it he laughs, a low and dangerous thing that makes my stomach churn like the waves. “Sorry. I didn’t get time…”

“It just tickles.” I smile. Then remember, “What did you mean just now? About me?”

He ignores me again, ducking into the backseat for a literal basket. I wonder how many girls had seen the same basket before, been on this very same date. It wasn’t my right to feel this grip of possessiveness and I try to shake it off.

“C’mon,” he holds his hand out and when I take it he shoves both into the pocket of his hoodie. He was cold.

“Are you sure-“

“When I-“

We both stop, laugh.

“You first,” I say.

“Uh, I was just saying I’ve known you for years and you’re always the smart no-nonsense one. Never thought you’d spare me a second glance unless it was to judge me-“

“Hey I’m not judgy“

“You’ve never judged me?” He raises a brow.

“Well maybe once or twice. Usually because you were being very obnoxious-“

“Exactly,” he laughs. “I didn’t expect you to come up to me and be interested.”

“Well…” I try to come up with something to say but that wave of emotions threatens to overtake me again. Push, push it away.

“Well?”

We pause some feet away from the waves. At this point even I’m starting to feel a chill and I worry Harry’s freezing.

“Well I was intrigued.”

“Intrigued,” he repeats with humour. “Wanted to know what the fuss was about?”

“I wanted to know,” I turn to him and extract my hand from his so I can wrap them behind him. “If the rumours were true. And I can say they made you out to be more of a fuckboy than you are.”

“What?” His body stiffens slightly.

“Yeah you’re kinda sweet.”

He shakes his head, “YN I thought you were smart!”

“What!” I laugh. “I can’t help but point out what I see-“

“Ah but,” he lays a finger on my lips to shush me and they’re frozen. I try to say something about how cold he must be but he stops me. “Ah ah. No. What you observe is an act YN. I thought you would see I’m just trying to get into your-“

“But,” I shush him this time by putting my finger to his lips and an excuse to draw closer to him to lend my warmth.

“No I-“

“Ah ah!” I pinch his lips closed with my hand accidentally giving him duck lips and it takes him by surprise; he jerks back and neatly topples over. Which of course gets me laughing.

“Jesus YN!” He laughs on the floor.

“Why did you fall over!” I try to pull him up but he yanks me down as I expected. “Shit it’s chilly. Aren’t you cold?!”

“Not anymore,” he wraps a hand around my waist and I can’t deny laying on top of him like this makes me forget the cold.

“See,” I tsk. “I see right through you.”

That sobers his smile and mine fades with it. Did I say something wrong.

“It really is chilly though,” I quickly change the subject. It’s not graceful but I manage to stand up on my own and so does Harry, a shiver going through him. “See!”

“No that’s just,” he wraps his arms around himself. “Being around you.”

I groan. “Cheesy. I’m sorry here-“ I try to take the jacket off to hand him but he refuses, picking up the basket that he’d dropped to the ground.

“Keep it on. Let’s have a car picnic.”

“Yes!” The guilt lessens a bit. “Okay! Let’s do that.”

He smiles at me and extends a hand, I grip it and try to heat it up by shoving it up his larger sleeves.

“That works,” he laughs.

He opens the backseat so I slide in without a second thought. When it’s a bit cramped he moves the driver and passenger seats forward and it gives us a comfortable amount of space.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize again. “I wish I brought my jacket this really was all very nice-“

“Stop,” he says. He begins pulling out wine and perfectly wrapped sandwiches. It’s adorable but I say nothing lest it bruise his masculinity again. “It was lame I knew how cold it was.”

“Are we drinking from the bottle?” I point out.

“Ah damn,” he swears. “I forgot glasses.”

“That’s alright!” I take it from his hand and begin opening it. “Free wine I’ll take it! My parents are really anal so I could never steal liquor and have them not notice.”

“So that’s where you get it from,” he teases.

“Get what?!”

“The,” he waves his hand around me. I take a swig now that I’ve gotten it open and raise my brows. “Y’know! You’re very particular. I imagine you’d be like that as a parent.”

My heart does a weird stuttering thing hearing his opinion of me as a parent.

“Nevermind,” he takes my silence as offence and accepts the bottle. He makes a face once he takes a swig. “This is disgusting. I can’t drink this.”

“Not more disgusting than that beer you drank at last weekend’s party.”

“It was the best thing there.”

“It was the only thing,” I say. “But you should be careful since you’re driving. Wine gets you drunk a lot faster.”

“See,” he hands the bottle back to me. “This sort of thing.”

“Being responsible?”

I feel a small leak of self-consciousness drip in. And with it the leak expands with other emotions I’d shoved down tonight. I blink it back with another swig—the plan would be to get drunk and forget the evening happened.

“Kinda. Like just being sharp.”

It soothes a little. Sharp was better than being called responsible at age 17. Jeez.

I take another swig before we split sandwiches and talk about school. We talk music and movies, about graduation. I try not to look surprised at his grad plans while he’a not surprised at all by mine.

But talking about it all plus the wine, it sinks me deeper into my feelings. How the home I would leave would be something I could never come back to. Nan would never be a few streets away ever again.

“Is it just me or is it getting cold in here now too?” He asks. By now I’d given him his jacket back and I was wrapped in a blanket with half a bottle of wine in me. But even that didn’t hold the cold at bay.

“Yeah, I was trying to ignore it.”

“Soo you can stay here with me?”

“I-“ I go to flirt back. But staying here meant I wouldn’t have to go back home and remembering home reminds me of the reality of my life.

“YN?” He asks with a scrunch to his brows.

“Hm?” I don’t look at him. “Sorry. Yeah?”

“Uh I was just saying…” he deposits the half empty bottle that I’d basically drunk alone into the front console. This whole time we’d gotten closer to the other, his hand resting on my thigh as we talked. But now with nothing between us he inches to close the gap. “We could keep each other warm.”

He tucks my hair behind my ear and I smile into his face. It’s an open book telling his desires for tonight. I cup his cheek, he was sweet.

He kisses me and the gnawing feelings in my chest snaps. In seconds I’m climbing over him, straddling his lap as he responds, his fingers dig into my thighs and the sounds coming from his throat only urges me to get closer.

“Woah,” he chuckles when we break for air. And a part of me flushes but I’m too drunk to care.

I lean in again, my lips on his neck. His breath hitches and I smile against his skin.

His hands travel everywhere. My thighs, hips, and stomach. They slide up the front of my shirt and I gasp at the cold.

“We really need to warm those up,” I whisper.

He looks like he wants to make a joke but I press our lips together before he can. His fingers continue inching up, brushing under the band of my bra. I want him to go faster, I want him to lay me bare and make me forget. Get this fucking noise out of my head and these feelings out of my body.

I can tell he’s turned on but he’s not moving fast enough for me. I roll my hips into him and just like I needed him to he reacts, a short gasp and his eyes shut as he swears.

I do it again and he leans forward, pulling the neckline of my sweater over my head. His lips find the crook of my neck and shoulder, doing the thing that always unravels me.

He worships whatever part of me his lips can reach with one hand firmly on my neck keeping me close.

“You’re insane,” he mumbles against me. “Sometimes I-“

He shakes himself out of his monologue because his hands are trying to unbuckle his jeans. And in the split moment we’re apart the chill in the car settles against my bare shoulders and it’s like reality settles with it. Like a blanket I kept trying to shed.

Suddenly I’m overwhelmed. When he pulls me back to him to lay me down I push against his shoulders, dismounting.

“YN?” I don’t look at him but I know he’s got his brows scrunched together in confusion. I myself was confused. Claustrophobic and confused.

The only option is to rush outside trying to escape the feeling. It was fucking crazy—me in a bra and jeans but I have to get away from him before he sees me unravel. Before everything I’ve been pushing down surfaces.

“YN!” He shouts as I leave his car. Then a third time. I can hear the panic creep into his voice.

My head swims, the world spins around me. I want to lay here and let the cold creep in, let the waves lap over me until they’ve drowned me. Or maybe the waves inside of me make me feel like I’m drowning.

The first sob breaks through. Oh god, what was I doing.

I press my hands into my face and cry with a force so strong it feels like my chest has cracked in half. I cry for my Nan leaving, for grandpa and everything he suffered, for those he left behind, for my father and the relationship he’s never kept. I cry for me. I want to give it all to the water but it keeps coming out of me.

“Fucking hell YN!” Harry’s finally caught up to me. “What-what’s going on? Are you-“

As soon as his hand touches my shoulder I crash into his chest, maybe too hard, but he holds me up as he stays upright. And suddenly I’m cold as shit and I can’t stop shivering and crying and I feel fucking ridiculous.

Way to go, couldn’t have had a sexier moment.

He doesn’t say a word but wraps the jacket he brought with him around my shoulders. It’s heavy and smells like him, and surrounded in it again my system seems to slow down.

“I’m sorry,” I say into his chest.

“No I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out-“

“Wasn’t you.” I say but I can’t even look up at him. This was way too embarrassing. I know I looked a mess.

��Let’s just get back into the…”

I follow him. He tucks me back into the backseat and crawls in behind me.

“Talk to me,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Did I do something?”

“No.” I wipe my face. He somehow finds a kleenex and hands it to me. I wipe myself down before speaking again but he’s patient. “Sorry. I just have a lot going on at home and it all just…”

When I don’t finish he shifts closer. I look up at him and I’m surprised at what I see. His mouth is turned down and there’s a crease between his brows, but his eyes watch me like I was a fragile puzzle he wanted to figure out. I was expecting him to look at me with fear or disgust but there’s none of it.

Oh god, it hits me in the wrong place. I pitch forward and he catches me against his chest as I cry some more. Somehow there were always more tears.

He rubs my back. “Hey talk to me, I know we’re not…you can talk to me.”

I shake my head. “It-it’s too much. I can’t talk about it.”

“Why not?”

I sigh, lean back, try to discreetly wipe my nose but there’s nothing discreet in this intimate space Harry’s created. More intimate than when we were making out. His eyes are burning into me waiting for me to give him the key to help him unlock all of this.

But how do I tell him I didn’t have the key myself. That I was just sad and I didn’t know what to do with all of it.

“My family…there’s just a lot going on. My Nan’s moving away and just…a lot of changes. I can’t talk about it-“

“Then how do I make you feel better?”

I’ve got to stop being so surprised but I genuinely never thought those kinds of words would ever come out of Harry’s mouth. We were hooking up and yet he wanted to help me—he wanted me to talk.

“You can’t.”

“I believe I can,” he insists.

“I’m just…you don’t have to.”

“I know,” he lifts my chin and wipes the tears away. “Just tell me what you need. I’m here.”

“I just need…” I look at him. Study the soft curls sitting atop the angular cheeks and the steady curious eyes. His wonderful face on his intoxicating throat on his beautiful body. “You.”

He blinks. “Really?”

“Please?” I reach for him with tears in my eyes but he’s already there. This time he lays me down gently and even though it’s an awkward fit by the time he’s peeling layer after layer off of us the place doesn’t matter. Just that he’s here, he sees me hurting, and he’s doing whatever this was to help me feel better.

I close my eyes and make myself be present in my body, feel his taut arms and his shoulders, the softness of his lips and how it feels when he moves against me. When he caresses me and holds me like a flame against a draft, careful but cherishing.

And later, we maneuver ourselves so that we lay together. My body is mostly draped over his and the blanket he brought lays over both of us. And normally I would think of how many other girls this blanket has seen but I feel too serene. I feel tucked in and protected in his arms.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers. He kisses the top of my head. “And you never back down from a challenge. I’ve seen you be the smartest at our school, work your arse off every year. You’re gonna have such an amazing life after you head off to uni. You’re hurting right now but life will change for you.”

His words take mine away. I don’t know who this sensitive and sweet boy is who’s holding me together. As a few tears escape my eyes and down my cheeks he kisses them away.

“Salty,” he laughs.

“Probably good for all the sweetness right here,” I tap at his chest. He swallows and the look in his eyes tell me a story that scares me.

“My parents must have done something right—this is just being decent YN.”

“Mmm,” I kiss him. “You tell yourself that.”

“Is that a smile?” He asks. And it is, I’m smiling at him. “It’s a smile! Look at that. My car won’t even need the headlights on the drive home.”

“Stop,” I cover my mouth.

“No you stop,” he tugs my hand away and kisses my smile which ends in a clash of teeth but I don’t care.

And then suddenly I do. Because I feel something. Something endless and scary and exhilarating; the feeling of falling.

Don’t do this, I urge my heart. He’s not the kind of guy you fall for. That was the first rule in hooking up with him. This was just fun.

But I can’t deny this stopped being fun the moment he led me back to the car. The moment he tried to fix me.

“Maybe we should get home,” I say casually. “I sort of left everyone high and dry. I don’t want them to worry where I’m at.”

“Oh yeah I-shit! It’s already 10?”

“What!?” I look at his watch. I was surprised my parents hadn’t called wondering where I was. I’d missed dinner. Both dinners.

“Okay wait here.” He pulls on his clothes and leaves me some privacy as he begins adjusting the seats upfront from outside. The cold air gives me goosebumps but in that moment the only thing that was scaring me was this smile that wouldn’t leave my face and the inevitable heartbreak of falling for Harry.

But it felt so real. He felt so real.

But he’s not. He’s not even your boyfriend. He just felt bad and he was decent enough not to drive you straight home.

Suddenly my heart and my head clash and despite his reassuring hand on my thigh and his lingering kiss goodnight I walk to my door with a whole new problem on my plate. A problem that scares me more than I realized.

Present:

I guess Harry’s capacity for kindness also equalled in his cruelness because he had made sure his actions hurt me in the last few weeks. Until I took it into my own hands.

I can’t help but think though, whether either of us even won?

“Well have you thought how that arrangement’s gonna go?” Rhia asks.

Rhia was my bestest friend and we’d known each other since we were kids. She was there at my highest highs and lowest lows and today we sit at lunch and discuss uni. Now that her acceptance letter’s come in for her dream uni, for the first time in our lives we’d be so far apart it wouldn’t be a bike ride over. It would be a couple trains at least.

“Obviously we see each other during the holidays,” I count off on my hand. “And then we have to make summer plans-“

“Who’s making summer plans.” Our other friend Juni joins us. “I miss summer. I miss spring. I miss the sun.”

“It’s right around the corner.” I reassure her. It had been a particularly gloomy winter—especially for me.

“Well I’m mad about it now. Look, I even dressed in florals to feel something.”

“Florals? For spring?” Rhi and I say in unison. By the time we finish the quote from one of our favourite movies Juni’s joined in.

“Woah,” someone calls from the table beside us. “Are you lot auditioning for something?”

My friends roll their eyes. I look amused but the fact that it’s Harry asking trying to be friendly makes my stomach curdle.

“Jeez babe you’re actually gonna put a curse on him if you keep staring like that.” Juni lays a hand on me. “I thought things were civil.”

“They are,” I huff. “We had a civil talk. Nobody’s mad at each other.”

“Lie,” Juni says and I can feel her make eyes at Rhia.

“Shut up I’m not mad. I’m just…I dunno. Confused. Annoyed at myself?”

“I thought you set him straight. Played the player,” Juni whispers. Rhia kisses her teeth. “Sorry!”

“I did. It felt good. And now it doesn’t.”

“Was he that good…y’know?” Juni eyes Harry at the table beside us.

“Shut up!” I shove Juni. “He was just surprisingly nice. I thought he’d be a fuckboy about everything but aside from his past I didn’t get those vibes at all. And then he kept…” I sigh. I wasn’t going to get caught in this vicious cycle.

“From what I heard,” Rhia whispers. “He usually is like that though. Sleeps with a rotation of girls and never more than twice in a row. And he never hangs out with them inside school and he never makes things official and…”

She trails off as Juni and I stare at her. She flushes.

“Someone’s been keeping an ear for the goss,” Juni teases.

“What!?” She glares. “After YN I just tried to gather intel. To help. He broke his pattern with her. I was surprised myself every time he found her at a party and she ditched us-“

“Hey I thought you were cool with that.” I say.

“I am!” She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m glad you got your distraction. But now it just feels like he was more than he was worth.

“Like now you need a distraction from your distraction.” Juni nods.

“Tell me about it.” I grumble. I pop another carrot stick in my mouth and as I chew Harry turns his head and we catch eyes. He does a head nod and I flash a quick smile before moving my attention away.

I wonder if his heart races as much as mine. Probably not.

“Guys I think I do need a new distraction.” I announce.

“Ooh,” Rhia and Juni leans in.

“Someone who doesn’t go to this school though. I really want to keep it apart from my day to day life. And it’ll be a one-time thing. Like a cleanse.”

“Like a cleanse.” They echo.

“Well I can check with you-know-who for all the eligible guys at that other stinky school.” Juni says enthusiastically. She had a crush/situationship that went there. We called him YKW because she didn’t want anyone to hear about how often she talked about him despite talking to him 2.5 times.

“More like if he thinks you’re asking for yourself he might get jealous enough to ask you out.” Rhia laughs.

“Ooh.” I join in.

“Shush.” She blushes. “Maybe. It’s all in the tone. Sound innocent but aloof like you don’t know how the question might affect them. And you really are innocent because you’re seriously asking for a friend.”

I laugh loud at Juni. No wonder I managed to pull off my con with Harry in the computer room when I had friends like Juni feeding me these bits of advice.

I feel Harry’s eyes on me, my laughter likely ringing too loud.

“But who wants to be in a relationship at this point?” Rhia asks. “It’s like 3 months to grad and then we get to meet uni folks.”

“Yeah,” I risk a glance toward’s Harry’s table. He’s not looking. “Exactly.”

Harry POV:

Another Saturday night, another house party.

My mum had made a fuss about me never being home weekends so I’d been forced to have dinner with the family and make small talk while my sister smirked knowing I was itching to get out, and my parents barrelled me with question after question about unis and my future.

I feel like my head’s finally above water and I’m taking my first gulp of fresh air when I pull up to the party. I was late of course but that just meant everyone would be a little drunk.

My eyes scan the crowds as I walk through, greeting some friends. The person throwing it was our coach’s nephew who was a year younger than us but somehow cool enough to be in the fold. It also helped that getting along with him gave us more insight on coach during football season.

“You’re late,” Dana who I’ve known since preschool spots me first. “This is a first isn’t it?”

“Yeah yeah my parents were making a big deal about missing dinner.”

“My parents are in Manchester for drugs,” Akil grins. He was coach’s nephew and his parents both worked pharmaceuticals. They were away often enough on work trips so a lot of parties took place here.

“When aren’t they?” Someone asks.

“Surprised you’re not here with a pair of long lashes and boobs,” Dana smarts. Since we’d known each other so long she was just like Gemma always on my case about the way I “used” girls.

“Now c’mon Dana,” I give her my attention. “This shirt didn’t fit the boobs and I was running late for the lashes.”

She rolls her eyes, “Hardy har.”

“What about you?” I ask. “Anyone you’re seeing.”

“I wish,” she crosses her arms. “I feel like half the girls I could be seeing are still closeted.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know!” She says. “Like how do you know when a girl’s straight for you.”

“Touche.” I agree. “And the other half?”

She clears her throat but before she could say something Ray jumps in.

“The other half can’t stand her.”

“Piss off.” She flips him off. The rest of us laugh, used to seeing the two cousins insult each other most of our lives. “More like the other half’s already slept with Harry.”

“I’m getting a drink,” I call out as the accusations go flying.

I leave my friends and sniff out the drinks in its usual spot in the dining room. The house was nice, nicer than most of the homes we had parties at, and yet it wasn’t one of those places that were cold. It was lived-in despite the weird decor along the walls from all of the residents’ travels.

I’m filling up my cup from the keg someone procured when I notice who exactly is in the corner of the room. The seconds stretch as I hone in on her and the friend she’s always with. My blood pumps extra hard just to keep me upright and functioning.

I’d seen her a ton of times since that conversation. We’d even passed a few hellos when forced but I haven’t been the same since.

I had told myself it was one of those things that needed to fully leave my system. Like bad weed or a shitty flu. And I’d waited weeks but everything between, everything I felt, stuck stubbornly.

And now my body betrayed me every time I saw her. I wanted her to look at me and see her expression change. I wanted to ask her how things were, I was fucking curious. Curious. It was awful.

Her friend is using her hands to explain something to YN and I can’t see her face entirely but she looks unconvinced. I nudge a little closer.

“-says so. And! He’s 5’11.”

“So he couldn’t even make it to 6 feet?” YN asks. I hold back a smile.

“YN!” Her friend whines.

“I’m joking!” YN says. “That was a joke jeez I don’t body shame as long as they’re above 5’6.”

Her friend—I think her name was June rolls her eyes. “Ok that was funny but I don’t know why you have cold feet. Just go up to him! You don’t have to date him. Rhi made small talk with him for recon he thought you were cute! And plus…”

I stop listening when the pieces click together. I don’t know why I thought YN and I hooking up would get whatever it was out of her system. Maybe because she never hooked up. Yet here she was being set up with someone else?

YN begins to turn and I move fast, like I was on the field, to get out of there.

“Were you brewing your own beer?” Akil asks.

“Are you timing how long it takes for me to get a drink?” I snap. “Jeez.”

“Easy,” Akil eyes me.

“Someone needs something stronger.”

I ignore them and take a slow breath. That was unwarranted. I don’t know why I was being so irritable with my friends.

In a few seconds my watered down cup is empty and I’m following the crowd to another part of the house.

“Oh Harry!” A pretty voice calls as we settle in. “I didn’t see you tonight—thought you weren’t showing.”

“He was just late don’t worry,” Dana says sweetly as…I think her name was Britney, sashays into the room.

“Yeah I was late,” I glare back at Dana. She didn’t have to talk for me. Then I watch her give Brit the once over and I realize she could be jealous.

“Yeah well we haven’t talked since that night and I just wanted to say,” she stretches up to my ear. “It was really fun. You always know exactly what I need.”

She stands on her toes and sets herself back down, bouncing a few times before cocking her head. Meanwhile I’m trying to place her.

I had kept pretty to myself the last few weeks. I try to remember the last time I had slept with someone and then it comes to me: the night YN and I had that talk after school.

“I had fun myself,” I hold my hand out and she steps inside of it, her arms going around my waist immediately.

“I thought you forgot,” she laughs.

“How could I forget?” I murmur, waiting for that rush of endorphins but my heart’s just not in it. I don’t want to be here chatting her up. I didn’t want to have to listen to her most of the night while my mates hung out. I didn’t want to find a room with her or drop her home. Fuck…I didn’t want to be with her.

That’s never happened before. My body feels foreign, like it’s going into shutdown as the realization slithers through me.

“Have you met Dana before?” I change the subject. I wanted her off of me. Asap. I didn’t care to be around her.

“Dana?” She looks over at Dana, confused. “Uhm no?”

“She’s great.” I say as Dana shoots lasers at me. “I’ve known her since preschool. But she has a bite so be careful what you say around her.”

“Oh,” Britney puts some distance between us as she looks between Dana and I. Good. “Okay? Hi?”

“Hi. Don’t mind him. I think he got drunk off one drink.” Dana glares.

“Unless you’re into biting,” I continue. But I get cut off when Akil calls Brit’s name.

She whips her head at the sound of her name. Akil’s waving. “Does your brother still do those custom decals Brit?”

“Uh yeah?” Poor Brit, she’s confused as shit.

“Yeah? Uh come over here so we can talk. Don’t wanna yell…” Brit abandons us happily and walks over to Akil. I mouth thank you to him and he flashes me a grin that’s up to no good.

“You dick!” Dana swings her hand into my ribs and I fold. “Why would you do that?”

“Ouch! What!?” I rub the sore spot. “Is she not part of half those girls you were talking about?”

“No! Why would you—oh my god.”

I shrug, “I thought she was. I was trying to introduce you two.”

“Do me a favour?” She asks. “Never ever ever play cupid for me. Ever. Don’t pull that shit again.”

I hold my hands up and settle back. Brit was gone at least but the low thrum of anxiety is not. I needed to step away.

“Maybe I need another drink. You want something?” I ask her.

“Really? Didn’t you drive here?” I raise a brow at her. I knew my limits. She shrugs. “Fine I’ll just have whatever you get for yourself.”

I ruffle her hair just to annoy her more as I leave. In all this uncertainty and change at least I still had my friends to banter with. But even then, I was being a dick earlier.

I use the toilet and then grab drinks. On my way out I spot YN and it must be the bloke June was talking about because he looks 5’11 and interested in YN. He looks familiar from the back but before I can focus on who he is I catch her smiling up at him saying something. I feel a twinge in my chest, I made her laugh when we were together. Was it me or did she just laugh at any joke? Maybe what we had wasn’t as unique as I thought.

“Harry.” Someone materializes beside me. It startles me out of my trance and I nearly spill my drinks. “Sorry!”

“You’re light on your feet,” I try to regain composure. And much shorter too. “Hi…June.”

“Eee.”

“Huh?” I stare at YN’s friend. Was she okay?

“You said June.”

“Yeah?”

“My name’s Juni?” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Oh shit sorry. I…sorry.”

“That’s alright,” she shrugs and her cutting look is gone. “Why are you staring at my best friend so hard?”

I stare at her. It made sense suddenly, that this was YN’s best friend. She looks over my shoulder and her face brightens and suddenly somebody else joins our circle.

“Hey what’s going on?” Another one of YN’s friends.

“Just talking to Harry. About why he’s staring lasers at YN behind her back.”

My mouth opens in surprise; I feel cornered.

“Strange from a guy who plays girls like guitar and then moves on like a one-hit-wonder.” Her other friend says.

“Nice one.” Juni nods. “Spot on.”

“I don’t know what you two are on about,” I take a step away from them. It felt like an ambush. “I was just looking in that direction-“

“I’m not an idiot.” Juni rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen the way you watch her in Chem. I sit in front of YN and every time I turn to talk to her i just see you like a freak in the back.”

“Is it a crime to look jeez.”

“Obviously not but listen, we all know you’re a fuckboy. And you…fuck around. We don’t know if it’s cuz you’re not used to rejection or what? But leave her be. She’s going through enough-“

“I know.” My defences rise. I knew now after some digging what she was going through. I haven’t approached her or bothered her as much as I’ve wanted for the last few weeks. I’ve wanted to do more than just look at her like it was a demanding need and I had kept it to myself.

I had been selfish and I know she was going through stuff. Grief and all that. I had no plans to fuck with her.

“Do you?” Her other friend asks.

“Yeah. Her grandpa and stuff. I get it. I’m not trying to…fuck around. You guys are like her bodyguards or something?”

“No just friends,” Juni crosses her arms. “We care about her.”

So do I, I almost say with my defences so triggered. Luckily I have enough sense to keep my mouth shut. Or maybe not. I’ve finally placed the guy she’s talking to and I can’t help but play the upper hand.

“If you cared about her you wouldn’t be hooking her up with a pothead that’s slept with a teacher and been arrested at least once for carrying.

Juni’s mouth drops and her other friend is staring at her.

“You’re lying!” She says.

I turn to look at YN who looks like she’s relaxed and having fun. My stomach turns. “I’m not. But don’t interrupt her now—she looks like she’s having fun.”

“But—how—what!” Juni looks at her friend. “Did you know?”

“Well I know he smokes sometimes but I-“

“Oh my god.” Juni looks mortified.

“I should go.” I should be leaving with satisfaction but all I can think about is YN maybe sleeping with this guy and I just feel sick.

“No you can’t!” Juni says. “Tell me what you know!”

“I did.” I raise my glasses. “My friends are waiting though. Nice talking June.”

Her mouth drops open again as I turn to leave to her shouting, “Juni you prick!”

I can’t deny that that didn’t bring me a bit of satisfaction.

Your POV:

He was incredibly attractive and I might have even blushed when he smiled at me with his full attention but other than that…I’m a bit bored. The thing is he hasn’t detached from his group of friends for one minute and even though he includes me in the conversations—and they are a very lighthearted and funny group, a lot of their inside jokes go over my head and it’s not because of the shots I’d done to get over my nerves tonight. And I’m pretty sure a couple of them are already high.

“And then he blackflips off the pole and-“ the friend telling the story starts laughing too much to finish and I smile along as Drevan shakes his head at me.

“They like to tell this story to pretty girls so they all know I’ve had concussions.”

“Concussions?!” I ask. “Like, multiple?”

Drevan shrugs but his friend hears me.

“Yes! He lands in the bin on his head and knocks himself out-“

“It was actually scary at first,” someone else pipes in.

“I would be shit scared.” These were clearly the type of guys who thought edging death was hilarious. Doubts creep in about whether Drevan was even hook-up material. How did Juni find this guy appropriate?

“I would be too if I was conscious.” Drevan says and everyone laughs.

As they talk about something else, Drevan snakes his hand around my shoulder and I smile at him. He winks and goes back to listening. At least he smelled nice.

My eyes wander the room spotting classmates and familiar faces. Rhia’s in the far end of the room and she gives me a thumbs up, I throw a grimace back. Her brows tighten and I shake my head subtly to tell her not to worry.

I hadn’t seen Harry yet, as hard as I was trying not to look for him. I knew he was probably in some dark corner with a new girl and I shouldn’t care because I was here with someone else.

“Hey YN how come we don’t see you around a lot?” One of his friends ask. All the names were thrown at me so long ago I can’t remember any of them.

“Oh I uhm,” I hate being put in the spotlight like this. “I’m just not a regular at these things.”

“I heard you’re smart as shit,” one of them says.

“Yeah I heard that too,” Drevan nods, impressed.

“I guess yeah,” I shrug. “I work hard to get good grades.”

“Good for you,” Drevan says. “So do you…do any…extracurriculars?”

I just know his definition of extracurriculars is not mine.

“Like do parkour onto the unstable bins at the back of school?” I ask.

“Nah,” he grins. “That’s funny though. I mean do you smoke or…”

Once. Rhia, Juni, and I had begged Rhia’s brother to let us have some of his stash last summer. We’d worn him down with our whining and he agreed to it if we stayed inside until we were sober. And we did, it was one of the highlights of last summer us giggling at everything and watching our favourite romcom while ordering takeaway and eating like we were 13. It was one of those days my life’s worries were able to slide away and I could just enjoy being a teen with my friends.

“I’ve dabbled,” I stay vague. “But it’s been a while.”

His eyes light up. “Want to join?”

I look around the group and the idea of swapping something between their lips to me—I’m sure they were fine but I didn’t know them and it makes my stomach squirm.

“Ehh I’m not big on swapping with everyone—no offence I just-“

“Yeah yeah no worries—I’ve got an uncle who’s like a germaphobe.” Suddenly he’s reaching into his pockets and comes up with a contraption. There’s weed and papers and some other stuff and it makes me laugh. “What?”

“It’s like a lab in your pocket,” I laugh. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“There’s enough to go around.” He grins. “So this one’s really concentrated but maybe that’s a bit much ehm…usually my line is I’ve got one for lovers and one for dreamers.”

Like I’ve summoned the devil, Harry appears in the doorway. I glance back at the group quickly so he doesn’t notice me watching him. Shite.

“I’ll take the lovers,” I shrug. Whatever that meant I figured the one for dreamers would get me more stoned which I’d rather not do here. Not that the one drag I plan on doing could affect me much.

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” I smile. He starts to roll it up for me and it’s tighter than a Victorian woman in a corset. I’m sort of mesmerized at how adept his hands are at that. I fear I might have been led on by an actual stoner.

“What’s going on here?” Harry lazily makes his way beside me, hovering over where we sit just as Drevan holds it up to me.

“Heyy Styles c’mon over here!” They do a bro hug and I’m instantly irritated. Of course they know each other. “I was just letting her inspect my work before she takes it-“

“YN?” Harry looks at me and his eyes pierce me to the spot. “YN’s gonna smoke?”

“Yeah!” Drevan puts his arm around me again and unlike before I want him to take it back. “She chose the lovers special man—she’s into it!”

“Really?” Harry smiles. “YN I didn’t know you were into this stuff. I’ve really underestimated you.”

I give him a sarcastic smile. “I heard you’re good at that. I’m not into it but I do it occasionally…”

“Occasionally?” Harry raises a brow. Ugh I hated him.

Meanwhile Drevan’s lit it up and passes it to me. “First?”

I take it and just to prove a point I put it to my lips with my eyes on Harry and inhale exactly how Rhia’s brother taught us. It comes surprisingly easy.

“I’ll take a hit too.” Harry’s eyes don’t leave mine. We’re locked in a challenge.

“Go ahead,” I hand it to him and a small thrill passes through me when his hand brushes mine, when I think about his lips being where mine had just been. I was so screwed.

“I love this guy,” Drevan says beside me, oblivious. “On the field Style’s a legend—he’s somehow made the most goals as a defence. I mean who does that!”

I raise my brows as Harry releases, “Styles not where he’s supposed to be? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Drevan laughs and Harry’s mouth quirks. Drevan takes the spliff from Harry’s outstretched hand but not before being Harry’s number one fan.

“He’s actually a speed demon. Everytime I’m on the field with him I know my legs are done in.”

“That’s because you’re stoned at every game,” Harry says.

“True! I pass every piss test they make me do though don’t I?”

“I don’t want to know,” I put my hand up. “How that’s possible.”

“Yeah sorry sorry,” Drevan smiles. Unfortunately he’s really handsome but the more the picture of him comes together and the more he goes on about Harry the more I know I wore my best matching set for nothing. “Lady present. Did you want another before I pass it?”

“Yeah do you?” Harry eyes me and only because he said it and because I’m feeling nothing so far (my eventual downfall), I take another. I try not to inhale too much but I don’t know how to do a short puff. I hope I don’t regret it. The smell coming off was already a lot.

“Mate?” Drevan asks Harry. He shakes his head. What a snake!

Drevan passes it on and of course Harry decides to stay standing and talking with the group. Apparently a few of them are in a band and they’re trying to convince Harry to help them out. Pretty soon I’m zoning out and my stomach feels funny.

“I don’t know if I feel so great,” I tell Drevan quietly. So what if it looks like I’m whispering sweet nothings in his ear if someone like Harry was watching.

“Oh shit,” Drevan turns into me. “You should get some water. Lay down? D’you want me to help you find-“

“No,” I did not want to hang out with Drevan anymore. He was nice but a pothead. “I got it. It might just be cramps.”

He nods like he understand, “I’ve got two younger sisters. I get that. If you feel better or want some more just come back here okay?”

“Thanks,” I try to convey my appreciation with a smile but I might just look like I’m high.

I ignore Harry as I leave the small group but a hand on my arm stops me as I round the couch.

“Find me later if it gets weird.” He says in my ear.

I lean back so I can see his face but he’s entirely serious. His eyes search mine as I stare at him blankly.

“The weed. Find me later if you need anything.”

He lets go of me. What the fuck? What would I need from him? He wants me to find him later when he’ll have a girl draped all over him just so I can seem needy and he can feel needed. Ugh.

“Girly!” I hear Juni’s voice and nearly collapse into her arms when I crash into her right outside the room.

“Juni oh my god. I’m so glad you’re here where’s Rhia?”

“I dunno? She found some old friend she knew when she was like 6 or something and she’s disappeared to catchup or whatever.”

“Oooh,” I wiggle my brows.

“No it’s legit an old friend. She moved when they were kids or something.”

“Aw,” I sigh. “That was the weirdest-“

“I’m so sorry,” she holds my arms and takes me onto the steps. “I’m gonna kill that guy I swear to god.”

“What? Drevan? No! He was really sweet!”

“No! My guy. YKW. I was trying to make him jealous while he was taking the piss because he totally recommended the class stoner and I pushed you onto him without doing any research! I feel awful!”

“It’s alright! He was really respectful actually. Maybe my type if he wasn’t a pothead?”

“No. No YN do not go there. Apparently he slept with a teacher!”

“No!” I gasp. “Do you think he was their dealer?”

“Obviously! And they probably couldn’t pay so he set up a barter system.”

“How much do you think one round covers?”

We pause to think before cackling at the story we’d just created.

“We’re idiots. Class idiots.” Juni says as we wipe our tears.

“I love us.” I say and realize how true it is. “I love you Juni. Honestly I don’t know where’d I’d be without you. And Rhia. You guys have kept me so together this past year.”

“Aww,” Juni hugs me sideways. “What are forever friends for babe.”

“Like I feel like I’ve just been going through a shitstorm and everything is still changing so much! And I can’t figure anything out! And you and Rhia are like standing on either side of me just keeping me up. I seriously-“

“Jeez don’t cry!” Juni wipes my lashline. “I don’t want to cry if I’m going to tear YKW a new one.”

“You haven’t already?”

“No! I was busy being a creep in the corner watching you to make sure Sir Pothead didn’t do any funny business. I saw you smoke his weed though. You alright?”

“Yeah. Maybe I just need the toilet I’m feeling a bit nauseous.”

“Okay. Just call me if you need me alright?”

“I love you,” I tell her. I want to squish her against me but I start to feel really poorly. “I’m gonna go though.”

“Go!” She waves me off. “I’ve got some yelling to do.”

The walk to the toilet is a fog and I run the tap to splash my face. It feels extra cold so I dial it down but it gets too hot. Suddenly I want to cry.

“Breathe,” I tell myself. “Breathe breathe breathe breathe. Oh my god. Okay. Let’s go with cold water.”

I splash the tundra water on my neck and along my throat. It feels better-ish.

I realize I hadn’t turned on the light when I can’t even see my reflection.

“Stupid,” I laugh. I turn it on and immediately stop laughing. My face…it’s drooping. Am I having a stroke?

I pull my cheeks up with my palms and squish it into my face but every time I let go I look like I’ve lived another 30 years and gravity has taken’s it’s toll on my face.

“What the fuck?” I whisper to myself. I whisper it again because it sounds nice. It feels good to swear. I say it again, a little louder and I laugh because I have no idea what’s going on.

I squeeze my eyes closed, shake my face, and look back. I look somewhat normal. My neck looks splotchy though. I rummage through a drawer but other than a blowdryer there’s nothing to help me.

“You’re an attractive girl and you’re just feeling a little fucked.” I tell myself in the mirror. “You-“

“Hurry!” Bang. “Up!” Bang.

I jump out of my skin and turn to stare at the door. Did I imagine that?

“Hello!” Bang.

Another succession of banging and shouting to get me out of the bathroom. How dare they?

I fling the door open and the guy on the other side startles.

I lean in and poke his chest. “Rude. Fucking rude!”

“I need the toilet!”

“I am a lady using it that’s rude! You don’t bang on the door like a fuckass while I’m in there!”

“Okay!” He holds his hands up. “Sorry! I had to use it and you were in there for hours!”

“It was not hours!” I say but even I can’t tell. “You’re a liar too!”

“I can’t do this I’ve got to go, here look I’m sorry-“ he shoves something into my hand and scrambles away, locking the door behind him.

It’s a glass bottle and it feels deliciously cold.

I inspect the bottle but it looks like beer. A few swigs and I finally feel less flushed. Less agitated. This was nice. This was perfect. Maybe he was an angel in a miserable disguise.

“Mmmm,” I laugh. Maybe I needed to dance. I felt like dancing.

I pass a few crowds, some rooms; when I see dancing I slide in. I don’t know what’s playing but it feels like it’s coming from my heart and it’s spilling out from me. Like I was the speaker. I spin around a few times so everyone can hear it, so the whole room could have just as much fun as me.

“Oh fuck,” I swear as the spinning catches up to me. “Not a good idea.”

I crouch into a corner and try to be patient. Wait for it to pass. But every second feels like a fucking decade and I don’t have the time.

“Hey are you alright?” A nice girl with cartoon-like eyes asks me. I know her. I just can’t remember where.

“Are you?” I ask. “I’m grand.”

“You don’t look it,” she smiles awkwardly. “Can I help you up.”

“I can get up,” I say but my legs feel tangled and she helps me up without asking eventually.

“Can I take you somewhere? Your friends or?”

“No no relax, you’re so nice!” I pat her shoulder. “And you have amazing bangs. I wish I looked good in bangs. My Nan cut my bangs when I was 12, microbangs!? And I wished I was never born! My face looked like a fucking square like a piece of toast! Oh god I could use toast right now. With beans. Uhhhhhh-“

“Hey,” the nice girl leans me against the wall. “How about you stay here and I get you water?”

Suddenly I remember Drevan telling me to drink water. I’m sure I had water but I nod. Water wouldn’t kill me. Unless I was drowning. Which is funny because I used to swim competitively. Like if I was in a thriller my parents would know I was murdered because I would have died drowning. I smile to myself just as a water bottle is held out to me.

“You know plastic’s killing the earth,” I take the bottle. “Isn’t it funny we bottle water in plastic when it’s free flowing out there? Hey do you know how to swim? You look like you could-“

“Drink!” She urges but she blushes. “You really should drink the water. You might be drunk…or high. You’re too wordy for a drunk.”

“I don’t know what I am.” I say after drinking half the bottle. “Actually I’m alive.”

She smiles at me and she’s really really nice to look at. “You are alive.”

“Yeah! I love being alive. Do you want to dance?”

“I don’t dance,” she shakes her head. “Plus I have to get back…Um. It was nice talking to you.”

“Nooo!” I clutch her hand. Her hands feel incredibly soft.

“Ow!” She pulls her hand away laughing. “You’re really squishing my hand.”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry. You should call someone if you’re here. And you don’t feel good.”

“No I’m great!” I show her a dance move. “See? I can call my friend Juni. She’s great. You should find her you two could be friends! But I’ll call her first.”

“Okay,” she smiles again. “See ya around YN!”

I didn’t know her name. Oh no! I look for her but she’s disappeared into thin air.

I go back to dancing until my legs hurt and I’m thirsty all over again.

I wander to the front of the house in search of drink but I’m distracted by the chandelier that looks like it’s made of stars. I wonder how that’s possible. I stand at the foot of the staircase staring at it, the light was reflecting off of one, two, three, four, five, six, seven-

“What are we looking at?”

Harry. His head is level with mine and he’s staring at the ceiling.

“That? Duh.” I point to the stars. “It’s bloody beautiful.”

“It is,” he chuckles and the sound feels like it vibrates through me. Like those steel pans you hit with a mallet and it reverberates. “I can see you’re in the full throes of your high.”

“You’re high.” I retort as he stands back to full height. He really was high.

“Not really. But you,” he laughs, “you really inhaled that thing.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Barely. If I’m getting high I don’t like so much thc. Fucks with my head a little.”

“So then why’d you do it Styles?” I mock Drevan. I don’t know why. I just remember it had grated on me a little and it feels good to say. Like swearing. But staring up at him starts to make me feel dizzy as he sways around.

“Harry.”

“Huh?”

“It’s Harry.”

Weirdo. “Okay. Harry. Why’d you do it?”

“Because you were doing it.” He says with a flash of his dimple.

“So you’re a copycat? A follower?” I taunt. “Monkey see monkey do?”

“As long as we’re the pair of monkeys.” He leans in and the smell of him envelops me. “Then yeah. I am.”

His words, his smell, his presence. Whatever it is I lean away from the much-ness of it. I don’t know what to say to him.

“Well I dunno who you’re cal—woah.” I lean too far back and underestimate how far away the stair behind me is. I land on my bum with a thump.

“Hey,” Harry grabs my arm a second too late.

“Bad reflexes,” I point to his arm but it’s too late. My stomach dips and twirls like a fucking roller coaster and his hand on my arm feels more inappropriate than it is. But his touch. God, it’s warm and strong and stable. I needed that. Craved it.

A small voice screams at me in my head and I tell it to shut up. What did it know?

“That’s my bad,” he lets me go. I want to shout at him to bring it back.

“Your bad what?” I stare at his hand that’s no longer on my arm. I want it back.

“My bad reflexes.”

“I just said that.”

“I know! I’m saying you’re right.”

“Of course I’m fucking right!”

I finally drag my eyes up to his face. Goddamn. He looks just like I did in the mirror; his face slowly drooping like he’s aged 50. Still got a full head of hair though. It’s kind of nice.

Not you being attracted to a 50 year old.

“What? Have I got something on my face?” Harry asks but I can’t stop staring. How can he look good with a sagging face? And he’s got no wrinkles. I knew time was feeling really slow but had we aged that much tonight?

“YN?” His face disappears from view and then I feel it again—his hand on me. Oh god. His hand’s on my face to lower it until I’m looking at him. Eye-level.

He’s crouched down in front of me and his eyes are pools I want to drown in. Which would take a lot of effort because I am a really good swimmer. Maybe I could fake drown. I zip through the possibilities in a few seconds. There were so many of them.

He says my name again but it sounds far away. Slow. Like he’s pronouncing every letter. His brows further—there! A wrinkle! I laugh but his eyes just fill with something…something that reminds me of the night I cried in front of him. When he just looked at me like…

“Your face,” I slap my hands down on both his cheeks and he balances himself on the bannister, nearly falling back. “It’s drooping.”

“It’s what?” He laughs.

I smush his cheeks up and try to fix it, not that it needed to be fixed. He was stupidly attractive always.

“Drooping! Sagging! I just need to push it up! I’ve done it before don’t worry.”

“YN,” his fingers circle my wrist and I stop what I’m doing immediately. Surely he feels how erratic my pulse is. Like a machine gun releasing into his finger.

Don’t look into his eyes don’t look into his eyes don’t-

Damnit.

Green and never-ending, a question I’m afraid to answer, an emotion that I felt myself but denied, the beginning of something I could not step into. I could not step into. I could not step into this.

With a gentle tug he’s removed my hands off his face and now, even worse, they lay on top of his.

Maybe…I could step into this.

“Talk to me, what’s happening?” He asks but again it sounds like a Tiktok video I’ve put into 0.75.

I can’t talk. My hands are in his but it feels like my heart’s there instead and like my mouth has travelled to the back of my head. He wants me to talk. Like I did that night. He looks at me like he cares. Like that night. He’s not supposed to care.

Why didn’t I take the high road that afternoon—my brain scrambles as the joke writes itself: I was taking the high road today whether I liked it or not. But I chose to be petty when we talked. Why would I want to hurt him? He cared. He wasn’t supposed to though.

“I thought weed was s’posed to calm you down.” I finally manage to get it out.

“You chose the wrong one for calming down.” He laughs. The sound washes over me.

“Huh? I’m not calm. My mind is a factory for thoughts. The production is endless I feel like I’m going to explode and everyone’s going to know everything in here.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He squeezes my hands. I squeeze my legs. “Might be nice for top class YN YLN to join us mortals and share some regular thoughts.”

“Oh these are not regular. Fuck. Drevan should’ve given me a warning.”

He smiles fondly and I hate it and I love it. “He did.”

“What!?” I’m so confused right now. “Stop! I don’t like how I’m feeling!”

“Did you drink anything?”

“Yeah! Th-that miserable angel gave me…I dunno. He just gave it to me after being an asshat what was I s’posed to do!”

“I’m not even gonna ask,” he mutters and I feel the words through my hands. That are still touching mine.

“Why are you still holding my hands?”

“You don’t want me to?”

“No.”

He slips them away. But that wasn’t what I meant.

“No I want you to touch me,” I say. His eyebrows which looks one inch tall shoot up. I reach out to flatten them and they return to normal.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat. “Y-you do?”

I reach out to touch his face again because it just feels like it fits so perfectly in the palm of my hand. It’s warm and alive and a little prickly. But it feels so nice. He feels nice. I want him to touch me too. I nod.

“How?” He turns his face in my palm and it’s like bristles against my soft skin but then his lips press against my palm. I find it harder to breathe like all the air’s gone to my head.

He looks back at me and I want what his gaze has. I want every single thing they’re communicating. I felt like I could read his mind; we both took a hit of the same thing, maybe I can.

“Like that,” I whisper.

“Like this?” His fingers circle my wrist and he kisses it, exactly where my pulse continues on its kill streak. I don’t think I needed weed or anything because his kisses alone make me feel high. The kind of high I did with my friends. The fun high.

I can’t speak. I simply nod.

“Y’sure?” He kneels on the step below me and I unsqueeze my legs. His hands cage me against the step I’m on and he’s all around me, and even though he hasn’t touched me yet it’s like his essence vibrates out to touch mine. Like maybe they meet in the middle and create something delicate and bewitching.

“I’m sure,” I manage to say.

I feel perfectly overwhelmed as he leans into me and presses a kiss to my throat. But it’s too slow.

“You’re killing me,” I tell him when he kisses me again by my ear.

“That was your job,” he comes back to face me.

“It’ll be my job if you don’t touch me in the next five seconds.”

“Fucking hell,” Harry’s swear catches me off guard.

“What?”

“You say those types of things in my dreams. I never thought I’d hear them out of those lips of yours again.”

I don’t know what to say. My mind literally quiets. Finally. It feels sobering.

“I can’t give you what you want out here.”

Then he’s standing. He’s fucking standing and further away from me than before. How dare he! How-

Oh.

He extends a hand and I take it, I let him pull me up and with a hand to my back that feels like a pulse he leads me upstairs. And then up another flight. He walks like he knows the place and everything blurs until he closes a door behind him. My heart beats like an elephant stampede until he comes back to me and cups my face, looks at me in that exact Harry way, and kisses me.

I’m falling but I’m unafraid. There’s his strong and steady arms to catch me at the end.

We make our way to the bed and I feel it. That’s everything. I just feel the sounds and colours and emotions and touch, the air and the bedpost and the way he says my name against me. I feel it. I feel it grounding me.

“Wait,” when he pulls away I nearly launch myself at him but I feel too relaxed to even be mad. He’s perched on the bed with me between his legs. I keep my hands around his neck because I couldn’t bare to have them by my side. “Should we be doing this? You’re not really with it and-“

“I’m not bloody unconscious.”

“I know but you’re not in the right mindset.”

“I’m practically begging you to touch me Harry. You’re really slow for someone who’s meant to be a womanizer.”

“Hold on,” he puts his hands back on my waist and I relax marginally. “It’s a consent thing. I know my way around women perfectly.”

I knew.

“I consent. ‘Kay?”

“But you’re high and probably drunk? I don’t-“

“You’ve never slept with someone high?”

“Yeah! But you’re….you’re you!”

“What’s that mean?” I frown. I unclasp my hands and take a step back.

He runs a hand down his face and sighs. “Not like that. Come back. I mean you don’t normally do this sort of thing. It’s obviously the first time you’ve taken a hit from something this strong and…” all the words taper off as I cross my arms. “Okay! Nevermind! You’re alright with all this?”

“Yes. Yes a hundred bajillion million times. Do you want me to walk in a straight line with my finger on my nose?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No I’m sorry.”

It’s nice, him apologizing. It thaws me a little. When I’m close enough he tugs me back by the jeans and unbuttons them slowly. Everything was too slow.

“What were you saying about begging?” He grins up at me. I liked when he was looking up at me.

“I said practically.”

His hands roam freely up under my tee and I feel like I’m melting. Like a literal scoop of ice cream on a hot summer’s day.

He fingers my bra and his brows suddenly come together. It’s very animated I almost laugh.

“Take this off,” he removed his hands from my body and tugs at the tee. I do what he tells me to, just wanting his hands on me again. When it’s a pile on the ground he leans back, cocking his head to the side.

“What?” I throw my hands up. “You’re gonna ask me just t’stare?”

“No this,” he leans forward again and uses the band of my exposed knickers to pull me forward. When I’m close enough he eyes my bra. “This was for him?”

A flush erupts under my skin and it feels volcanic. Some of it pools in my belly and the rest creeps up my neck.

The this is my one and only 2 piece set I’d kept for special occasions. Well a singular one before my ex broke up with me last year. It had seen the light of day once in between and tonight I had worn it for luck. It’s lacy and black and makes me feel confident. In front of Harry it makes me feel powerful.

He was jealous. Of course the one guy that sleeps with whoever he wants would be the jealous type.

“Maybe,” I egg it. Even though I am desperate for this night to move on I can’t deny the thrill of having him be jealous. It affirms the needy part of me that wanted to believe we had something different—the part rational me wouldn’t ever pay attention to.

“So you planned it all out?” He removes his fingers from my waistband and leans back again. “You were going to come here, in that, and sleep with…him?”

“Why not him?” I bite my smile but I barely feel what my face is doing. “If it’s too much for your ego I wore this for someone el-“

“No.”

He says it as a complete sentence. I am gagged but I try my best not to show it.

“I just don’t like the idea of it.”

“Well,” I step in between his legs. His eyes are so dark I have to think just to remember the colour they usually were. “This isn’t the first time so better get used to the idea.”

“But you’re here with me tonight.”

“I am…lucky you.” I can’t help the chesire grin from creeping in. I climb atop the bed, one knee on either side of him. This was taking too long. I needed him all over me.

He leans all the way back into the bed with a noisy sigh.

I lean in, “jealous aren’t you?”

“Do you like that?”

I lean further until I could smell his pulse. “D’you want me to like that?”

“Yeah,” he gulps. “W-would you ever be? Jealous?”

I kiss his throat. I want to bite it. Like a vampire. I resist.

“You’re not mine to be jealous.”

“Do you want me to be?” He asks so earnestly I lean back to see his face.

“Mine?” I ask. He nods. I did. I didn’t. I did. But I didn’t. “Mmmm don’t think you’re ready for that.”

“Ouch,” he says softly. His hands settle on my hips.

“Don’t ouch me. You’ve never had a long-term relationship and you run.”

“You’re different. You make me feel different.”

Same. But instead I ask, “And in three months time when we’re…gone and in different cities?”

“I’ll never stop wanting you.”

We fix each other with a stare equal parts frustrated, curious, and cautious. It was getting too serious—I didn’t want to ruin my chances of getting my needs met tonight. I clear my head and ease the tension.

“You’re jus’ saying this to get into my pants aren’t you?”

He plays along, “Is it obvious?”

“Yes. Now be a good boy and help me out of them.”

His mouth opens a little, honestly I don’t know where that even came from. I blame it on the drugs. He helps me out and when I’m only in the 2 piece he stops me.

“I’m never forgetting this night. Ever.”

“Shut up and get over here.” I roll my eyes. He was full of it.

His lips on me are like no drug anybody could ever hand me. They’re confident and unafraid, exploring every inch of me like a pirate looking for lost treasure. They make me gasp and beg and feel the entire universe and every single thing ever creates.

It leaves me untethered but he wraps me in his arms and I’m safe. I’m here with him. And for tonight, we’re together. With every move we build a universe just us.

H’s POV:

For the first time in my life I pray for red lights.

Every time my car stops I get to look at her in my passenger seat and I want to pinch myself. I can’t believe tonight was real. That she’s real. That even after everything, we got to have tonight together.

She’s got lowered inhibitions you just got lucky, a part of me says. And I know that. I know tonight was a one-off. She was never going to be this YN with me again.

Where I used to be afraid of this, of committing to her. I want it. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. When she said I wasn’t ready she was right but I didn’t want her to be. Maybe I had to change.

“Hey you’re home,” I say after being parked outside her house for a few minutes and just soaking in the last moments. It was warm in the car and quiet except for the low hum of the radio because YN had said it was making her sleepy. When she first sat in the car she had looked up at me through her long lashes for so long I had forgotten to turn the ignition on. When we realized she had laughed and leaned over to kiss me. Sweetly on the cheek. Like a girlfriend might.

I’d never wanted a girlfriend before.

It hurt knowing she might not even remember tonight. Or if she would it would be overshadowed by her other feelings. The feelings that came with baggage.

It was different seeing her so carefree tonight. I wonder if that’s how she was before all the stuff with her grandparents. And suddenly I’m mad at myself for not paying attention sooner. At her ex for hogging her for all that time. I imagine I met her earlier and could help her through the storms of last year.

God, I was becoming a simp. I look at her again, I didn’t care. Not if it was for her.

I open my door and go around into the street to open hers. As afraid as I was that her parents would find me outside with their basically passed-out daughter I just knew she couldn’t make it to the front door alone.

“Hey sleepy monkey, we gotta get you inside.”

“Huh?” She squints, blinks a few times. It was adorable and it makes something squirm in my chest. “Whatimeist?”

“Uhhh,” I look at my phone and notice the texts from a few people. “Half past 2 or so.”

“Oh god,” YN groans and covers her face with her jacket.

While she orients herself I check my messages. Akil had asked where I disappeared, Gemma’s asking me if I’ll be home for breakfast, and Dana asking me if YN was alright.

I owed it to Dana, she had found YN in a right state as she told me and that had pushed me to go looking for her where I’d found her in a daze staring at the ceiling lights. Thank god I had.

YN removes her legs from the car with a thump and then slumps over. I catch her this time and pull her up, closing the door behind her.

“You’ll have to help me a little,” I grunt.

“Mmk,” she mumbles. She wraps her arm around me and tucks into me and I take her to her front door.

“Keys.”

She paws at her jacket and eventually finds a pair.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I whisper. “So I’m going to unlock the door and give you back your keys.”

“Why are you whispering?” She whispers back. “Huh?”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble!” I shout-whisper.

“Silly boy,” her eyes crinkle with a laugh. “My parents aren’t home.”

“Oh.” Suddenly the night stretches ahead.

“They’re travlingain.” She yawns. “You can sleepover?”

“No.” I couldn’t I realize with a wash of shame. Because waking up to her I don’t know what that meant. As much as I denied her claim about me not being ready deep down she was right.

She pouts and I busy myself with opening her door. She’s like a leech on me as I try to get her through and I end up inside with the door closing behind me.

“Drop me to bed?”

“You want to be tucked in?” I tease. She nods with a tired smile.

Who was I to deny such a cute face.

She leads me to her room, most of the house is too dark to see so I rely on her. Once in her room she turns on a lamp and sets about getting pjs.

“I’m gonna hate myself if I don’t,” she points to her face. “Ughhhh.”

“Glad I don’t relate.” I say but already I’m looking around her room. Every surface has something; I didn’t take YN as a collector but there’s piles of things everywhere. Seashells on her bookshelf, postcards on her wall, plushes on her bed, jewellery on her dresser next to miniature fruit figurines. I pick up a tiny pomegranate the size of my nail.

“I’m making them into earrings.” She says behind me. “My Nan likes that sort of thing.”

I didn’t expect her so fast. I turn and she sounds more sober and looks it too. Her face is freshly washed and she’s in an oversized shirt but only her legs peek out underneath. I recall the strength of them as they locked around my body just an hour ago, the sound of her and the feel of her—it was tattooed into a part of my brain.

But the YN presented before me is a lot like the one I see at school, and for a moment I get ready for her to kick me out. Accuse me of something. Go cold on me.

But she shuffles over and wraps her arms around me, lays her head on my chest. I slowly wrap my arms around her. The moment feels soft.

“Thanks for dropping me,” she says quietly. “I feel so fucked.”

“I know,” I chuckle. “You’ll be brand new in the morning. I made you drink a couple bottles of water before we left.”

“I don’t remember,” she mumbles tiredly.

“Let’s get you tucked into bed.” I say. She follows, and giggles the whole time I exaggeratedly tuck in every side of her. I love every second of it and I can’t believe it. If you told Harry of a month ago I would be doing this and having more fun than I’ve had with any girl I’d tell you to you were fucking with me.

“Stay? ‘Til I sleep?” She asks as soon as I finish.

I hesitate. I was so afraid a switch would go off any second, she would regret everything from tonight. I don’t realize how tense I am about it until a hand sneaks out from under the duvet and grips mine.

“Hey I just tucked you in!”

“Sorry!” She slips it back in with a shy smile.

“Fine,” I grumble and climb atop the blankets. At least this way I wouldn’t get too comfortable.

She turns to face me and we just watch each other in the warm glow of her lamp until her eyes flutter close. I wait until her breathing goes even and then I gently climb over her, kiss her goodnight, and leave. My heart chips further as I step over the threshold of her house. A little more as I drive away.

***YN:

I’m trying to remember which club I had tonight as I grab the textbooks I need from my locker for morning classes. My second period was so far away I just liked to get everything in at once.

The face that greets me as I close my locker door has my heart racing.

I wait for the familiar edginess but when I look at him I just feel confused. And a bit sad. Or that could be because he’s looking at me like I have the last Easter egg and I might share it with him for a prize.

“Harry,” I greet him.

“YN.” He says equally serious before cracking a smile.

He’s different. Friendlier? Or lighter?

“What?” I look around me. He raises his brows so I raise mine back. It feels silly.

The last time I saw him was at the party smoking weed laced with god knows what—I barely remembered the party after that which was entirely unlike me. All I could find was a text from Rhia asking if I’d made it home and when asked Juni had said she had left me looking fine and she couldn’t find me afterwards but she heard I might have been sick.

“Did you make it in alright?” He finally asks. “You got surprisingly fucked up Saturday night.”

I know he was there at the beginning. And I remember talking to him about something later, maybe the stars? It’s such a haze. But the way Harry’s looking at me makes my stomach turn; there was a possibility something could have happened.

It was weird waking up safely in my room with only a vague notion of how I got there. I remember someone waking me up and being in my room but I woke to an empty bed. An empty house.

Usually I slept at Nan’s when mum and dad travelled but I was still not talking to her much. The house felt emptier. My room felt different. My clothes from the night before had smelled like weed. It was not cute.

“Uh yeah I did?” Why was he talking to me so casually? I match his vibe in hopes of understanding the weekend better. “I didn’t have a hangover luckily. But I don’t think weed normally does that? I was incredibly hungry though. Like…I made a breakfast for five at least.”

Oh god and now I was blabbering. I was nervous! I don’t know if he had anything to do with Saturday night and I didn’t know how to act around him being so nice!

“Yeah well I think you had fun Saturday.”

I freeze. “What did I do? Please tell me I didn’t do anything embarrassing. I only remember bits.”

“Uh,” he falters. “Uh well I…I heard. That um, you were dancing and having the time of your life so.”

“Kill me,” I groan.

“That’s not my job.” He jokes but I don’t get it. His smile falls, his brows pinching together. It’s so unlike him.

“I don’t get it.”

“Nothing. Bad joke.”

“Right.” As the time ticks closer to first bell the hall we’re in crowds more with tired teens. “Is that why you stopped by? To ask about making it home?”

“Erm, not really. I guess…was just gonna ask if you were coming to football?”

“Today?”

“Yeah the game after school.”

“Isn’t it early in the season?”

“It is but we’re doing a scrimmage against our ‘favourite frenemies’. It’ll be good. You should come. Your dealer might even be there.”

I ignore the dealer comment. “Are you short a cheerleader Styles?”

The banter pauses as he stares at me and I nearly ask him if he’d hit his head over the weekend when he clears his throat, “Harry.”

“Huh?”

Another pause where he looks like he’s doing quantum physics in his head. “Nevermind.”

What the hell? My skin prickles as heat creeps in.

“So you’re in need of a cheerleader?” I say lamely, just to dial down the intensity. Something had to have happened right? Last thing I remember I had “walked away” with pride but a chipped heart and we’d been polite to each other in school. Suddenly he’s here being boyish and friendly, and I’m here like I skipped a chapter and I’ve got a pop quiz again.

“Are you volunteering?” He asks.

“I forgot my outfit at home. I’ll have to pass altogether.”

I sidestep him and start walking away.

“Wait,” he runs ahead to stop me and gets dirty looks as he intercepts the path of a few students heading to class. “What if I said….I’d like for you to come.”

I stare. Like perhaps he’s grown a second head. Because he sort of has. It was just as pretty but much nicer and it’s sort of terrifying.

Did I cry to him some more? Was he pitying me?

“Why would you say that?” I ask genuinely.

“Well uh, you heard about my playing, I’d like for you to see it.”

“So you need cheerleaders.” I echo.

He searches my face but he must not find what he’s looking for. Something slides across his features that I don’t catch fast enough but it makes my heart skip a beat nonetheless. This casual conversation felt precarious. I needed it to end until I had more context.

I raise my brows and it prompts him to actually respond.

“Nevermind uh that’s alright. I’m sure you’ve got books to read and clubs to conquer right?”

A speck of guilt lodges itself in my throat. “Something like that.”

“Well,” he shrugs. “I had to ask! I’ll just have to find someone who brought their pom poms to school today.”

“Good luck!” I call after him, kind of wishing he wasn’t walking away. But he was. And that’s when I realize why he was lighter. He’d been standing in front of me talking without that ego of his. And openly in front of anyone walking by and he didn’t care. Then I’d rejected him.

Ugh. Maybe I’d have to turn up to that game if I could. But before then I had to try as hard as possible to figure out what the hell happened the other night.

***

“You guys need to tell me what happened Saturday night. As much as you can remember. After that conversation Juni you and me. And I remember going to the loo. And then I remember talking to Harry maybe? Please tell me.”

“Shite.” Both my friends eye each other. “What’s led this on?”

“Harry! He was bring incredibly nice to me today. In public! I feel like something happened but I can’t bloody remember!”

“Well he did drop you home,” Rhia says so casually. I whip towards her and at the same time both Juni and I shout “What!?”

“What!” Rhia says defensively. “I didn’t realize you didn’t remember that part! You seemed pretty sober by then.”

“You totally missed telling that detail that night! How dare you let her go anywhere with that pig! Sober or not!” Juni breathes fire. I’m surprised because on Friday she didn’t hate him this much. What the hell happened Saturday?

“Well she seemed fine. I double checked—YN I doubled checked with you you were okay with that. You told me it was fine. He was just dropping you home and he wasn’t drunk!”

“Wait wait back up. Tell me everything.”

So Rhia tells me how I’d texted her I was leaving with Harry and he was dropping me. How she’d rushed to the front of the house to catch me—and she had. I was alone trying to get my arms through my jacket and failing. She had asked me if everything was okay, I’d told her I was still coming down from the high and Harry was taking me home. How I wanted him to.

Then apparently Harry had shown up with water for me. And Rhia thought that was helpful. She watched, shocked, as he helped me into my jacket one sleeve at a time like I was in preschool. Then she’d got up in his face and had him swear he’d take me right home. Even took down his number in case I stopped responding.

“So was I with him the whole night?” I ask.

Rhia and Juni shrug.

Juni contributes: “Well that girl that hangs out with them—bangs, really big brown eyes? She came up to me when I was alone and asked if I was Juni and she told me you were dancing in this room and you looked a bit sick.”

I groan. Harry had said something about dancing.

“I tried to find you but you disappeared. I was worried and tried to find Rhia but she disappeared!” Juni looks at her with an accusation.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to desert!”

“Yeah well then I got distracted and by the time I went looking for you again this one here told me you’d gone home. She failed to mention who with.”

Rhia rolls her eyes.

I hold my head in my hands. “Guys this is a nightmare. I am having massive regrets. Can regrets give you a hangover? I feel hungover!”

My friends try to reassure me as much as I can but it’s no use. I feel like my life is spinning out again.

As far as the pieces I could put together: after the loo I’d danced and Harry’s friend found me—I think I knew her from when I did swim, maybe her name started with an M? Now that I thought about it I do vaguely remember her asking me a question. Maybe that’s how Harry found me. Because of her. And then he took me home? I hope?

No that was the story I had to go with. Otherwise I would spiral. I repeat it to my friends and they confirm it sounded right-ish.

“But that was sweet of him right? To drop me off home and leave the party early?” I ask my friends.

“Yeah-“ Rhia starts to say but Juni holds her hand out.

“Don’t bloody go there. I forbid that.”

Me and Rhia look at each other. She shrugs and I tell Juni I wouldn’t.

I mull over everything the entire afternoon. Even during the club meeting after school, not really participating and getting asked if I was okay. Obviously I was not.

I do make it to the last half of the game and hope Juni doesn’t find out. It’s just something I feel like I had to do because he had asked so genuinely and I did owe him for taking care of me Saturday.

I find a spot somewhere where I can see and try to spot Harry. It’s not hard when he’s got the ball, legs pumping, headband pushing his curls back and a look of pure determination as he gets to the net and kicks directly….into the goalie’s mitts. The crowd groans.

“Isn’t he defence?” I ask someone beside me.

“It’s a scrimmage game,” they reply. “They play the opposite position for fun. He’s really good though he should be front all the time.”

He is. And it’s kind of…attractive? I understood Dreven’s fangirling. And why Harry was such a big name amongst the girls. I kind of got it now.

Speaking of Dreven I spot him on the sidelines. I shuffle behind someone so he doesn’t spot me.

As the minutes tick by Harry and his team score a few more goals that makes it even. With just a couple minutes left on the clock it’s a tie and everybody shuffles to the side of the field where our team get’s a penalty kick.

I stay with the stragglers on this side, bouncing up and down with adrenaline. I can’t believe I’ve never gone to one of these. I always had some test or club to be busy with. But this is clearly what brought the schools together.

Right before the final whistle Harry makes a perfect shot on goal and the crowd goes absolutely mad. People are shouting and jumping for joy, clutching each other and chanting his name.

Harry runs half the field and pumps his arms, clashing with a few of his teammates who jump around him. It’s funny and cute.

As his team huddles around him and they walk to the chants of our school to the sidelines a couple girls slide out of the edges. A couple go to some of the other boys, one in particular wraps herself around Harry and kisses him with quite the show. The crowd only gets rowdier while the ref blows her whistle.

I, on the other hand, feel emptied.

I watch his arm snake around her waist. Press her to him. Her hands clutching his face. It feels like it goes on for eons. Eons and a day.

When the horrid thing finally ends he lifts his hands to the crowd and they cheer him. Not just for being a winner but for being a womanizer too.

I was an idiot. He had been nice to me, sweetened me up this morning about coming here. That didn’t mean anything. That didn’t mean he actually cared that I was here.

And then the worst part of all. He shouts into the air and turns to his team but his eyes clash with mine as he does. He does a double take, and we stare at each other halfway across the fields. He looks like he’s broken into his mum’s makeup and made makeup soup and his mum’s just come home. I imagine I look like someone’s just turned all my makeup into makeup soup.

I had to get out of here.

Why did I come? Why didn’t i just stay after the meeting and finished up work. I could have gone my entire secondary school existence without ever coming to one of these stupid games.

I feel lower than I have in a long time. I feel homesick suddenly and I decide then it was time to go. Home. And maybe home wasn’t the empty house I was stubbornly staying in. Maybe I had to chuck my hurt and my ego out the window and go crawling back to Nan. She would help me sort this heart of mine out. This wretched thing that kept on going even after it took a beating.

H’s POV:

One moment I’m on top of the world; first game of the year and I’ve scored the winning goal. The next I feel like I’ve been caught red-handed.

I want to tear away from the boys. I want to go to her explain it away but I’m surrounded and I only catch a glimpse of her looking away and then leaving. Gone.

“Hey man where are you going!?” One of the guys asks as I break away. “We’re all going to eat!”

“I’ll meet you guys there! I forgot to do something!”

“Aw cmon!” They hurl words at me trying to get me to stay but I jog away. She’s disappeared.

I jog back to the building and my head swivels every hall I go down as I head towards her locker. I find her slamming it shut and hoisting her bag onto her back.

“Hey!” I finally reach her. “YN hey! I wasn’t expecting you at the game.”

Her mouth opens like she has something to say. I wait for the usual fieryness but she deflates.

“Yeah. Congrats. That was a great final goal. Very dramatic. And you found your cheerleader too. I can see why everyone loves you out there.”

Fuck. She was going back to the other YN, the one who acted like she didn’t care, the one who had stayed out of my league all throughout school.

I wanted the YN in the quiet moments in the dark. The one tucked into my arms with the look of curiosity as she looked into my eyes and right to my soul. Even the confused one from this morning who was hesitant but there was still a possibility I could win her over.

This YN had slammed the door shut.

“It was just for show.” I try to explain.

“The goal?” She squints.

“No. No the-I didn’t need a cheerleader. She wasn’t…it was just for show. After scoring the winning goal it didn’t mean anything-“

“It’s whatever.” She cuts me off. “God you don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“I feel like I do, I didn’t know you were coming. I didn’t invite you just to-“

“Oh my god!” She cuts me off again. “It’s fine! I’m…it’s whatever. It’s not like you’re mine or something. We hooked up like weeks ago, we already talked about all of this. You’re off the hook remember? No messy feelings to complicate our lives, especially mine?”

Yet her eyes water as she says it and she blinks until it’s gone. My heart feels like it’s drowning in those unshed tears. Her words are also the final confirmation; she didn’t remember the weekend. I would just be cursed to remember what we could have been by myself. I probably deserved it.

“I know.” I want to say more. But she shrugs and looks like she’s going to leave. “Look…”

She waits instead. It gives me enough time to rush through every single thing I wanted to say to her. Every promise I wish I could make her.

“I’m sorry.” I say instead. Sorry for kissing that girl, and for inviting her to see that. Sorry for not being able to tell her what I really want to say. Sorry that she was so true about what she said the other night: I don’t think you’re ready for that.

Her lips tighten. Without another words she turns to head out the door. This time I don’t try again. I just watch her and die a little inside.

***

It’s hard to find your flow again when you feel so irrevocably changed. The final 3 months of our final year fly by but as cheesy as it sounds sometimes it felt like one of those 2000s music videos where you’re standing still and everyone is rushing past you.

I still see YN around, and as weeks go by we go back to being in our own worlds. They no longer overlap like a venn diagram. She stops coming to parties and I try not to drive by her house any time I’m in her neighbourhood.

I hear she got asked to the school dance by someone. I carry forward my own stereotype of not committing and ask nobody.

On the outside my grades are still good and I continue to be a force on the field. I’m home more often for dinner and my family stops pestering me as much. When I go to parties I spend more time just hanging out with my mates than I do finding girls that lit a spark. It used to be that any girl could hold a candle to the last ones but now it felt like faking it when a girl whose name I barely remembered tried to seduce me into an empty room.

It’s like now that I’ve felt a true connection I couldn’t go back to just anything. Some days I hated it.

A part of me feels ridiculous because when I Google my symptoms most people just say it’s heartbreak. But how could I feel something like this when I never gave my heart away at all. When I’d kept it selfishly caged and insisted that I couldn’t part with it. Our English teacher had asked when teaching Romeo and Juliet is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

I think I would rather have never loved at all.

***

TAG: @peachedfruit @eversincehs1 @loverofhsandallthings1d (taglist still open lmk)

#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles series #high school!harry #ya harry styles #harry styles x you #lyrics #song requests #i am thinking about a pt3 just putting it out there #i think they deserve to grow up a little #i know this was pure angst but hope it was balanced w some sweeter moments #lol

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kanyerealdaughter · 23 days ago

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— ★ BLLK BOYS IN THE MOTHERLAND

characters - rin , isagi , ryusei , bachira , ryusei , reo , nagi , barou , chigiri , kunigami , gagamaru , zantetsu , hiroi , nanase. | pt II here! | all around the world event! |

—————————————————————————

RIN ITOSHI - acts aloof, but he’s low-key fascinated by the rawness of africa the landscapes, the survivalist mentality, the street football culture.

safari reaction - tries to act unimpressed until a cheetah sprints past the jeep. he flinches. “…fast.”

food experience - picks at things cautiously, he ends up liking bunny chow or piri-piri chicken. pretends it’s no big deal.

cultural experience - studies traditional football drills and techniques with silent interest. “ they play for survival. that’s real ego.” *cornball anywayss*

—————————————————————————

ISAGI YOICHI - is wide-eyed and deeply respectful. from the moment he steps foot in africa, he’s taking everything in the vibrant colors, the open landscapes, the rhythm of the cities.

safari reaction - “ this… this is like nothing i’ve ever seen.” he’s awestruck seeing elephants and lions up close, taking mental notes like he’s analyzing a match.

food experience - tries everything at once. surprised by how much he enjoys dishes like jollof rice or nyama choma. “ it’s spicy… but it works!” great now he’s on the toilet fighting for his life.!

cultural experience - joins in local soccer games and plays barefoot with village kids, totally immersed. “ they have insane spatial awareness.” *he gets cooked by them and gets embarrassed*

—————————————————————————

RYUSEI SHIDOU - is way too excited. africa’s wild energy feeds right into his chaos, it’s a miracle he’s not arrested for trying to fight a lion or hijack a rhino.

safari reaction - tries to jump off the jeep. “ yo, i’m gonna wrestle that zebra!!” *everyone yells at him.*

food experience - munches down chakalaka and hot peppers like it’s candy. “ SPICY = SEXY. GIVE ME MORE.” “ this is so sex.” he grumbles crumbs all over his face.

cultural experience - joins a tribal dance, shirtless and screaming. plays football like he’s in a warzone. “ this is where real strikers are born!” he never wants to leave.

—————————————————————————

BACHIRA MEGURU - is in his element. everything excites him the music, the wildlife, the art. he’s got a camera, a drum, and he’s trying to ride a zebra *which fails*

safari reaction - “ DO YOU SEE THAT GIRAFFE?! I’M NAMING HIM KEVIN!!”

food experience - tries everything, from mopane worms to grilled meat. “ my tongue’s dancing like i scored a goal!”

cultural experience - joins a drum circle, dances with locals, and plays pick-up street soccer barefoot with painted face. he even dance with the locals.

—————————————————————————

REO MIKAGE - treats the trip like a personal branding adventure. he’s vlogging, dressing chic even in the savanna, and soaking in cultural capital.

safari reaction - “ this is giving national geographic realness.” he wants pictures with every animal. every. animal.

food experience - “ i want to invest in this spice blend!” eats with elegance. might try to recreate african fusion dishes later.

cultural experience - genuinely intrigued by african football infrastructure. “ what if i funded a youth team here…?”

—————————————————————————

SEISHIRO NAGI - is jetlagged and overwhelmed. too hot. too much walking. but he warms up… slowly.

safari reaction - “ can’t we watch this on TV…?” but then he sees a lion roar and goes, “ okay… that was kinda cool.”

food experience - “ too much effort to chew.” ends up loving boerewors sausage. “ tastes better when you don’t have to make it.”

cultural experience - gets dragged into a dance circle by bachira. he doesn’t resist too hard. “ meh… not bad.”

—————————————————————————

BAROU SHOEI - barou shoei feels like he belongs in africa king of the wild, king of the field. he gets way too into it. barou lands in africa thinking he’s going to dominate street football and flex his muscles in lion territory. what he doesn’t expect? becoming ridiculously popular with the locals especially the aunties and girls who instantly clock his sculpted jawline, muscles, and long, dark hair.

safari reaction - “ if i was a lion, i’d be the one with the blackest mane.” he strikes power poses in front of lions.

food experience - devours grilled meat like a beast. “ this is food. not that weak stuff japan serves.”

one of the local chefs calls him “ lion king” and he may or may not blushed a little. “ tch whatever.”

cultural experience: during a community football event, barou absolutely dominates the fields. his physical presence make him the star attraction but then… the braiding begin.

a group of local women notices his long hair.

“ so beautiful!”

“ come here, handsome, let me braid it for you.”

“ he looks like a prince!”

“ i’m not some damn doll—!” but he’s already sitting on a chair while three women expertly work his hair into neat, traditional braids, humming and chatting.

the kids gather around to admire the “braided lion.” someone hands him a mirror cornrows going to the back. he stares at his reflection… and doesn’t hate it.

“…looks powerful.” he mutters.

*yes baoru is my favorite*

—————————————————————————

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE - feels like he’s on a hero’s pilgrimage. africa reminds him of survival, strength, and grit things he deeply respects.

safari reaction - introspective, arms crossed, staring out across the plains. “ these animals… they fight every day to live. kinda like us.”

food experience - respectfully asks what’s in everything before eating. like ugali and grilled meats.

cultural experience - volunteers to help with a kids’ soccer clinic. bonds with young players. “ they have real passion.. that’s what matters.”

—————————————————————————

CHIGIRI HYOMA - is moved by the natural beauty and the athleticism of local runners and footballers. he’s respectful, thoughtful, and graceful.

safari reaction - silently mesmerized by a herd of elephants. takes elegant pictures of everything well and him of course.

food experience - likes spicy food more than expected. “ it’s got a nice kick — like a good sprint.” might be a lil too spicy then he thought his face turned red almost like his hair color.

cultural experience - gets inspired watching young athletes sprint barefoot. “ i can learn something from this.” once he got mistaken for a young girl. ruined his mood for the whole day.

—————————————————————————

GAGAMARU GIN - dream vacation. he’s into animals, weird bugs, and eating food out of banana leaves. probably disappears into the jungle at one point.

safari reaction - leaps out of the jeep to track a meerkat. comes back with a snake around his neck. “ i named it steve.” *everyone freaks out* that he jumped out and came back with a snake.

food experience - will eat anything. “ is that antelope stew? cool.” he eats half the table’s food too.

cultural experience - gets into a deep conversation with a local shaman. plays barefoot and headbutts the ball like a wild man, but he’s living his dream life.

—————————————————————————

ZANTETSU TSURUGI - is constantly misunderstanding everything. he’s fascinated, but also lost 90% of the time.

safari reaction - “ that’s a jaguar, right?” *it’s a leopard* “ wha– they’re different animals??”

food experience - tries to act cultured but mixes up the dishes. “ this… uh… spicy pie thing? tastes like winning.” *it’s not a pie*

cultural experience - challenges local sprinters to a race. loses to a barefoot 10-year-old. “ i underestimated them…”

—————————————————————————

HIROI YO - is calm and introspective. africa’s warmth and nature connect with his thoughtful side. he’s journaling everything, taking photos of sunrises.

safari reaction - captures pictures of animals with quiet reverence. “ it’s so peaceful here.”

food experience - likes rich, warm dishes like peanut stew. “ it reminds me of comfort food, just different.”

cultural experience - helps organize a local youth match. watches the kids laugh and play. “ maybe football isn’t about ego all the time.”

—————————————————————————

NANASE NIJIRO - sunlight catches in his hair, and when he sees you looking, he grins like you hung the sky yourself. he is careful with this place, but he can’t help being curious and wide-eyed.

safari experience - gasps loudly, when a giraffe gets close and nearly drops his camera, asks you a thousand questions about every animal. *like you know everything*

“ the sunset feels like a dream.. and i don’t want to wake up.”

food experience - he literally tried everything once and goes back for more. declares grilled meat his favorite but steals your mango anyway. his eyes light up at every new flavor like it’s a goal scored.

cultural experience - he claps along to the drums, before he even knows the rhythm, he tries dancing and laughs at himself when he trips. listens to local stories, with quiet awe and calls them beautiful.

𖣂 KANYEREALDAUGHTER SPEAKS - if you see soccer no you don’t … it’s soccer to me💔💔 the caribbean is next!

words - 1.3k

» , ᴀ ᴋᴀɴʏᴇʀᴇᴀʟᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

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jedisupernova · 13 days ago

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compress, repress (part ii) — kwon jiyong & choi seunghyun

summary you have jiyong convinced you're the love of his life—he’s got the stuttering heartbeat to prove it. whilst he’s riding the high of having the upper hand, its not long until you see what else is at play. seunghyun, however, doesn't like being told no—let alone have his morals challenged—so what happens when he looks into the mirror, and the reflection is you? better yet, what does he do when he likes it?

notes minors dni contains challengers au, fem reader, unabashedly plus size reader as i am myself but anyone can read, takes place in the mid 2000s (hence mentions of certain music, technology, media, etc.), everyone is a college senior, tennisplayer!jiyong and tennisplayer!seunghyun; reader is head of debate team, smut (oral f and m receiving, p in v, in the car, dirty talk, finishing early, a scene that took me one full day to write, either are subs, suffocating sexual tension) angst (all three are at times depicted as not the greatest of people, love triangle, inferiority complex, infidelity, keeping things from each other, arguments, yearning, deception, greed, seunghyun is a fckn asshole but is about to be humbled big time bc he's down BAD, jealousy, possessiveness, insecurity; this is just straight up messy), confessions, religious imagery, i don't know anything about tennis i tried my best to write about a game pls don't laugh at me, if you went to stanford and are reading this not you're not, and inevitable typos though some are purposeful.

author's note welcome to part ii of my challengers au!!!! this part is Tea . . . a brief disclaimer: these are only characters; in no way do i claim either would act this way in real life. please read part i or else you will be very confused! this is longer than part i, so i suggest you get comfy. please lmk what you think!! i always want to hear your thoughts! my ask box is always open 🩷 see you next friday for part iii 🎾

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

you looked up at the sound of a backpack landing unceremoniously in the seat diagonal to you. you glanced at the hand holding the iced coffee set down next to yours, eyes tracing up the arm, unamused by who it belonged to. “oh. it's you.” you said, monotone, going right back to editing your midterm essay due in two hours—right before your next class—scrolling through the word document on your laptop. the draft introduction for your senior thesis, along with a half-finished outlined agenda for tonight’s debate team meeting were open in other tabs, too. thursdays are your busiest, after all. needless to say, you didn’t have time for whatever the fuck bullshit seunghyun needed to get off his chest, as elucidated by the smug grin on his face: “does your phone not work or what?” “it works perfectly fine, thank you.” you answered without looking up, pressing the chunky keys to fix a fragmented sentence in your conclusion paragraph. seunghyun sat down across from you, taking a swig of his coffee as if this was normal. you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction, so here you both were—co-existing. he ran his fingers through his messy hair, his lifted arm giving you an unsolicited whiff of post-workout body odor.

your expression soured slightly, waving your hand in front of your face. you leaned back at little, the brief squeak of your chair catching his attention. “listen, i know your ego’s bruised or whatever,” you said, pulling your laptop and coffee closer to you—but more importantly farther from him. “but that doesn’t mean you get to inflict biological warfare on me. that’s just unfair.” even jiyong doesn’t smell this bad post practice, you thought to yourself. seunghyun’s eyebrows furrowed, sniffing his shirt. he hid his brewing embarrassment behind another sip of his coffee, “i don’t smell that bad.” he muttered. “and who said my ego was bruised?” “speak for yourself.” you retorted. he began feeling exposed, turning to self-inflicted overcompensation: “the—the shower i usually use at the locker room was taken, and i was running late.” he explained, but to no avail, seeing you zeroed back in on your laptop. not to worry, though, he knew just what would get your attention: “don’t smell as bad as jiyong, though. right?” he smirked. you looked at him, expression unreadable. “on the contrary, actually. took you long enough, too.” you commented, sarcasm identifiable in your blunt tone. “i know you were pissing yourself to mention him first thing.”

seunghyun didn’t say anything. you ceased typing, gradual realization washing over you. you looked at him, crossing your arms over your chest, an amused smile stretching your lips. he didn’t like the feeling it stirred in his chest. “that’s why you called when you did.” you thought aloud, eyebrows raising. “you knew jiyong and i went out.” “of course i knew.” seunghyun tried to play it cool, shrugging his shoulders. he subconsciously mimicked your movements, crossing his arms over his chest. “we’re best friends. we tell each other everything.” “right, right.” you scoffed, taking a sip of your coffee. “that’s why you gave him my number at the hotel.” you recited his obvious lie with a dramatic nod, effectively annoying him. he licked his lips, awkwardly adjusting his posture in his seat. “you didn’t, like,” his gaze became finicky, glancing down at his lap. the fuck is my problem? why can’t i look at her? she’s just a person, his inner monologue rambled. he knew his question was juvenile, but it wasn’t enough to stop himself. “do anything, did you?” some part of him was doubtful about jiyong’s bravado. perhaps it was a reflection of insecurity rather than simply refusing to believe his best friend could land someone so you when jiyong’s so . . . him . . . but good luck to anyone whom tried to get seunghyun to tell the difference. or admit to it.

you didn’t help. “why?” you questioned, tearing the remainder of your toasted croissant in half, chewing on one piece. “afraid i’m damaged goods now?” seunghyun was appalled—genuinely offended. he was unsure whether it was more of how casually the accusation rolled off your tongue, or that you thought of him like that at all. either way, his face scrunched up akin to yours when his armpit took a breather. “what?” his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head. “no. that’s not—that’s not at all what i meant. listen, i may be shitty, but i’m not downright fucking awful—” “—i’ll be the judge of that.” you cut him off, finishing your croissant, wiping your fingers with a napkin—all without sparing him a glance. “fine, whatever.” he scoffed, wanting to move the conversation elsewhere. but his pride stuck out like a sore thumb: “i’m not some villain of a guy. i don’t slut shame.” he continued against his better judgment, digging himself into a metaphorical hole. “i mean, i really don’t have a place to. if you knew half the things i’ve done—”

you shut him right up with the look on your face, seeing him adjust in his chair, hearing him clear his throat. “i don’t have time for this.” you told him bluntly, shaking your head dismissively. “i have deadlines to meet.” seunghyun didn’t appreciate your tone, “i do, too. you’re not special.” he said curtly. “we go to the same school.” he reminded you, frustrated when you didn’t look up from your laptop. seunghyun took a hefty gulp of his coffee, his gaze fluttering around his immediate surroundings—the campus shuttle driving by, ears perking up at the sound of the bell ringing atop the door, followed by the flurry of conversations throughout the bustling café as a whole. his eyes inevitably returned to you, seeing you biting your inner cheek, concentrated on your screen—you finally figured out how to better word your thesis statement in your introductory paragraph; its been bothering you for days—trailing past your chin, to your neck.

seunghyun knows what he’s looking at. he’s smart enough to not think its a shadow, though your hickey looked mostly healed. his foot tapped underneath the table, picking at his nails, his mind jumping to its own brash conclusions: probably gave it to her when he was—he kissed his teeth. he raked his fingernails against his eyebrow—anything to get that god awful image out of his head, damn near clawing at it to do so. you were unbothered and blissfully unaware of seunghyun’s inner turmoil, pressing save on your essay, moving on to tonight’s meeting agenda. “what’s this?” you looked up, seeing him gesturing to his neck. he got himself together enough to display his characteristic shit-eating grin. “a mosquito bite?” “oh,” you finished your coffee. “you’re still here.” that touched a nerve, much to your satisfaction: “yes i’m still fucking!—” his voice descended into a whisper before cutting himself off completely, suddenly remembering you two were very much in public.

seunghyun leaned in, “look,” his voice was much quieter, “is you going out with jiyong your way of getting back at me? for not calling?” you can’t remember the last time you were face-to-face with someone so deeply enveloped in their own world, wholeheartedly convinced everyone else simply existed to revolve around them. even your old team captain had his moments of humility, albeit fleetingly. seunghyun was just point blank unapologetic, and completely serious, with the way he waited patiently for your answer. “is that why you’re acting this—this way?” “go ahead.” you sat back in your seat, arms returning to your chest. “i know there’s another word you’d prefer to use.” you challenged. he dismissed you, shaking his head. “i’m not calling you a bitch.” “that rolled suspiciously smooth off your tongue.” you tutted, feigning surprise. “i thought you were a card-carrying feminist.” “if you say so.” his arms returned to his chest, too. “if you’re actually curious,” he tilted his head condescendingly, playing this game of semantics eye-to-eye. “i’d prefer to use the term ‘unhinged.’”

you let out a laugh, unabashedly mocking him, going as far as to clap a few times—undeterred by the couple of fellow students who turned around at the noise. you liked this sparring, as aggravating as he could be. “there it is. a classic.” your smile turned him into the smallest man in the world. it was similar to how he felt when jiyong switched his service motion: like looking into a mirror, except this was worse. it was as if he was staring at a carbon copy of himself: someone who knows who they are, and knows that self-assurance intimidates the fuck out of everyone else. your willingness to challenge him didn’t make seunghyun second-guess his motives. he’s sure enough in his murky understanding and grip on his masculinity to preserve his self-esteem in the midst of adverse conversation, or people who may skirt his moral compass. it was the realization there’s no such thing as having the upper hand with you—he has to learn to share that glory. it wasn’t a question of if you were up to the challenge of him—that was a no-brainer. if anything, he needed to figure out if he was up for you. its apparent in her fucking aura, seunghyun’s mind raced; terrified, yet enthralled you communicated so much through a mere look. or maybe he’s trying to come to terms with something, though his pride won’t let him.

“let’s settle this over lunch sometime.” there it was: his attempt at getting the reins back. “where do you live? roble?” he referred to one of the upperclassmen residential halls nearby. you didn’t hide your smirk, shaking your head with an amused chuckle. it’s like the jokes write themselves . . . “what exactly is there to settle, seunghyun?” you asked. though it was a rhetorical question, you answered it anyway: “might i remind you, you came up to me. i was just minding my own.” you put your hands up, cutting seunghyun off before he could interject. “he drove me around in his land rover,” you gestured out the window, but in your head, it was jiyong. “and you’re offering me spare meal credits before the semester ends?” it's true: thanksgiving break was around the corner, and winter break wasn’t too far off afterward with final exams in between. seunghyun opened his mouth again, but you weren’t having it: “you wanna know why i’m with jiyong? okay, i’ll tell you.” you nodded, “its because he keeps his fucking word, and doesn’t act like he’s in a perpetual dick-swinging contest.”

“but you two aren’t like, official, right?” “it's like you’ve never been told 'no’ before in your entire life.” you waved him off, turning your head to look out the window. “no, i have.” he corrected. “it's just interesting when the person telling you 'no’ is clearly lying.” “you’re starting to sound like the guy every girl is warned about before she goes to college—no, since goddamn sentience.” you corrected yourself, giving him a look. “my bad. let me clarify.” seunghyun licked his lips, unable to wipe the smile off his face, clearly having something up his sleeve. “are you not the girl who still put her number in my phone, even after i said i wouldn’t give it to jiyong?” you didn’t have anything to say to that. he took the win, albeit not so humbly. “right. i thought so.” he nodded, satisfied. “don’t act so innocent. lying doesn’t look good on you.” “what makes you think i care about what looks good on me? you’re no better.”

seunghyun felt he was inching closer to the crux of this, illustrated in your now stern expression and resolute tone: “really? enlighten me.” you caught his drift, leaning forward, speaking only for him to hear. “you looked like a lost puppy at that elevator,” his face dropped. “so desperate to find me, you didn’t have fucking shoes on. latched onto every look you could get until those doors closed. just to play in my face, thinking it's my first day on earth. only come up to me today, wanting to have your cake and eat it, too.” you shook your head, gaze unwavering—piercing. “i’m not your fucking mommy, seunghyun. i am not the one. you don’t get to swing your dick in my face when i don’t tell you where i’ve been, or where i’m going.”

well, fuck. seunghyun poked his tongue against his cheek, looking down at his lap, masking his embarrassment from your eviscerating humbling with a grin. “who said i want you to be my fucking mommy?” he asked, tone unaffected. “sounds like you’re trying to tell me something.” “you know what,” you tapped out. there was no point: “you can continue talking in circles by yourself. i’m done here, anyway.” you closed your laptop, tugging the zipper of your backpack open. “he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” seunghyun tried to talk with some fucking conviction, to offer some sort of warning, but the sight of you getting up—completely unbothered—fucked with him more than he was willing to admit. “i don’t know what it is with men and using cryptic ass language,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. you lifted your head, setting your backpack on the table. you looked down at him, “just say what you fucking mean.” “okay,” seunghyun looked up at you, body language preserving the last shred of dignity he had—stretching his legs, feet underneath where you sat moments ago. “did jiyong tell you about our match against pepperdine next week?”

it was inexplicit, but tauntingly clear: you weren’t entirely let in on jiyong’s life. it was your turn to jump to conclusions, albeit internally: he probably has a reason for not mentioning it, but why wouldn’t he? it's such a basic, no, fundamental aspect of his life. it should be a given. is he using it to play in my face, cherry-picking shit for me? and for what? to let me in whenever it's convenient?—“i thought so.” seunghyun’s voice cut your internal conflict off. “and he’s not going to.” “he will.” to your fortune, your voice kept its conviction, but it's lessened volume didn’t evade seunghyun’s trained ear. “yeah, keep telling yourself that.” he got up from his chair. his work here was done: he got to the point and under your skin. when you went to open your mouth, as if on cue, your phone rang in your pocket. a gut feeling, and a swift glance at one another, communicated you both knew who it was. seunghyun turned around, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. that’s right, he thought to himself, grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. they have class together today. he saw your hesitancy, “nah, go ahead. answer him.” seunghyun took the last definitive sip of his coffee, leaving his empty cup next to yours, walking out of the café. “don’t wanna intrude.”

you fucking hated to admit it, so you didn’t. but your pensive glance at jiyong, who was sitting on your bed, going on about his plans for the upcoming thanksgiving holiday, said everything your mind pestered over for the last near week. you found the date and time of the game from the sports section in the stanford daily’s printed edition—this saturday at 1:30 pm—no mention of it from jiyong. you returned your gaze to your laundry basket lodged atop your desk, folded clothes at the end of your bed, whereas jiyong was sitting directly diagonal, his fingers tapping idly on your nightside table. “jiyong?” “yeah, baby?” you tried to be casual about it. keyword being tried: “do you—do you have anything coming up this weekend?” you kept your focus on folding your last few shirts, nose briefly scrunching up in internal defeat. not my smoothest, your inner monologue tutted. jiyong looked at you, “no. why?”

so he just lied. everything’s on the table now—you turned to look at him, “so no game on saturday?” his posture stiffened. “how did you know about that?” “seunghyun told me.” you said without thinking, irritation preceding rationale. jiyong’s eyebrows furrowed, “seunghyun told you?” he repeated, confused. “when? did he text you or something?” his nerves didn’t take long to surface, insecurity attempting to fill the gaps. “i—no, he didn’t.” you tried to patch things up. again, tried. “we ran into each other the other day when i was getting coffee—” “—you did?” that didn’t help the nagging voice in his head. “where do you even go?” “that’s not the point, jiyong.” you dismissed. “why didn’t you tell me? and why did you lie just now?” “because i'm—” he licked his lips, scrambling. “because i’m more than just tennis.”

the sound of your scoff ticked him off. where is this attitude coming from?? he wondered. it reminded him of the worst parts of seunghyun—or maybe he’s misplacing his bitterness. “'more than just tennis.’” you repeated to yourself, tsking. “i don’t like liars, jiyong. you know this.” your eyes met his from your spot across your dorm, the look on your face harnessing the ability to send an atheist to confessional. “if you’re stringing me along, might as well just say it.” “i’m not!” jiyong exclaimed desperately, shaking his head. “i’m not. i swear. i'm—i’m just—” he let out a breath. “i’m not good at these things. relationships,” he clarified. “sometimes i don’t know what to tell you and what to not.” “but this is, like, the most basic thing about you, jiyong. it's written on all the clothing you wear.” you countered. “i mean, do you not want me to come?” “i do. its just that—” he kissed his teeth, losing his words. “its … it's hard to explain.”

you watched his head sink into his palms, the top of his stanford tennis baseball cap visible to you. it was a pitiful sight, though you couldn’t help the percolating sympathy tugging at your chest. you walked over, sound of your footsteps approaching making jiyong lift his head, looking up at you stood between his knees. “would i make you nervous?” “y-yeah,” he broke out into a sheepish smile. isn’t it obvious?—“i mean, who wouldn’t be?” you didn’t say anything at first, only bringing your hand up, holding his cheek in your palm, watching his eyes close to the touch of your thumb tracing his cheekbone. “i’m just a person, jiyong.” you told him. he shook his head, as if it was a personal insult: “no. you are not just a person.” his sentiment affected you harder than anticipated. his hands traced your bountiful waist, fingers feeling the denim of your jeans, palms resting on the back of your thick thighs. his forehead landed on your stomach, “don’t ever say that again.” he murmured into your shirt.

your hand traced the collar of his shirt, tenderly rubbing between his shoulder blades. the image was saintly: a disciple begging for forgiveness, the deity having mercy. your wrist accidentally collided with his cap’s visor, disorienting its backwards position on his head. “you shouldn’t wear this as often as you do.” your voice was noticeably softer. “i like seeing your hair.” “you . . . you do?” he raised his head, eyes having grown twice their size through his brief stint in purgatory. “mhm.” you hummed, taking the cap off his head. you adjusted the closure, fixing it to aptly fit your head. you looked over your shoulder, spotting your reflection in the mounted mirror above your dresser. “how do i look?” his smile was big and stupid, “really cute.” he chuckled. he pressed a kiss onto your clothed stomach, wishing for your attention. “really, really cute.” “ready to cheer you on, hm?” “yeah, you do.” he was flustered at an atomic level, unable to meet your eyes upon your gaze returning to him below you.

“matter of fact,” he giggled, teeth finding his bottom lip. “keep it on.” his finger curled into the hem of your jeans, tugging at the button. you tsked disapprovingly, “i should’ve known.” you walked away, returning to your laundry basket. “why?” he playfully drew out the last syllable, watching you with a soft look of admiration. “i have things to do.” you said, unable to deter the sheepish grin tugging at your mouth. “i can’t get distracted. plus, you have practice in, like, a half hour.” “last time it took only ten minutes,” jiyong relaxed his posture, propping himself up with his hands behind him, resting on the bed. “today it might only take five.” “the last thing i need is to be rushed.” you spoke with an air of finality, matching the remaining socks in your basket. jiyong stood on his feet, tip of his nose meeting your temple before his lips did. “i can always be late.” he suggested, tone smooth. “could come up with an excuse.” “and what would that be? drunk on pussy?”

jiyong’s cheeks burned from trying to hide his smile, momentarily turning his head away. “you said it. not me, baby.” he chuckled, putting his hands up in a playful admission of defeat. his arms found your waist, lips pecking the corner of your mouth—beckoning you wordlessly. you obliged, turning your head. he re-connected the kiss, his small breath of satisfaction tickling your cheeks. “y'know how much i love eating it,” he spoke gently. “right?” “you make it known.” “yeah, i do.” his cheeks bunched up with his proud grin, laughter ringing out of him at the sound of your light scoff, nudging his shoulder with your knuckle. his hands reached up, re-orienting his cap to sit backwards on your head. “for, y'know,” he nodded. “historical accuracy.” your expression turned to one of surprise, shocked at yourself: “how did i forget such an important detail?”

it was relatively easy to find the athletic center, having walked by it a handful of times throughout the last near four years. the only issue was finding the tennis courts, which resolved itself after a run-in at the front desk—you being directed to the elevator to head down a couple floors. you took your seat in the stands, the only one there besides a handful of other students and two apparent reporters for the school newspaper, both deep in conversation as the athletes filed out, small notepad and pen in hand. you waved to jiyong, able to see him and seunghyun without issue, protected from the california sun underneath his stanford tennis cap clad on your head. jiyong waved back with a smile, adjusting his sunglasses to sit at the top of his nose bridge. seunghyun adjusted his, too, cleaning his pair with the hem cardinal red polo before getting into position.

your knowledge of tennis teetered into subpar territory, but it didn’t take an expert to know something was off. the pacing was fast considering it was a doubles match—jiyong behind the net, seunghyun at the baseline. both showcased strength, however, it was seunghyun who held more resolve: hitting the ball after it hurled past jiyong, launching it back to their opponents before it even bounced on his side of the court; pacing after jiyong hit the net with the ball enough times to hand pepperdine the first set of the game, walking wordlessly when switching their end of the court; jiyong nearly dropping his racket, but hitting the ball in time to win them the second set—churning a sharp “shit!” from seunghyun’s diaphragm, swinging his racket at nothing after the chair umpire issued a conduct warning for his use of profanity.

three sets later, stanford clutched a comfortable win—but jiyong wasn’t the one to thank. he felt it in his bones, leaving the locker room with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder: she had my hat on, his inner monologue reminded him, probably saw every time i fucked up. he went to you in the stands, quickly wiping the sweat off his face and neck with his microfiber towel, initially greeting you with a chaste kiss. he let his duffel bag fall to the ground, kissing you more properly, hoping it would deter his swirling frustration. to his misfortune, his quick, dependent movements swiftly gave it away. “hi,” he spoke softly, looking at you behind the polarized lens of his sunglasses. “how’d you like it, hm?” “it was interesting,” you chose your words carefully, aware enough to sense the game didn’t unfold ideally. “i wish i knew more about the rules.” “they’re complicated.” he brushed off with a subtle shake of his head—another sign he wanted to move past this. he licked his lips in thought, glancing at the court before returning to you. “you up for a late lunch? my car’s not far. we could go off campus.” “that sounds fine—” “—great.” he took your hand, turning around. “wait—hold on.” your fingers found his wrist. jiyong glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. “what?” “you don’t wanna talk about this?” you offered. “i mean, i may not know much about the mechanics. but i can listen.”

jiyong turned to face you fully. “i promise m'fine, baby.” he leaned in, aligning his nose beside yours, kissing your lips. you re-connected them, hand coming up to hold his cheek, feeling a small gust of wind float by—a silent plea. jiyong kissed you again, slowly separating your lips, taking a breath. “we good?” “if you are, yeah.” he wasn’t, though. his flubs percolated at the back of his mind on repeat, tainting his sight akin to summertime gnats and deepening the burden in his chest like a poorly grilled hot dog at the cookout. he was quiet at panera bread—a popular bakery-café and frequent off campus meeting spot for fellow students—eating his sandwich, sat across the booth from you, mute. it wasn’t a comfortable silence in which you two organically co-existed. the unresolved tension weighed on you enough to upkeep your pretended interest on the cars driving by outside, keeping you and your sandwich so close to yourself. it would’ve been better if i just came alone, your inner monologue pestered.

sitting in his car prolonged the silence, the only difference now being the white noise of the air conditioning. you looked to your left, seeing jiyong looking out his driver’s seat window—elbow propped against the door, fingers holding his chin; in his own world. you couldn’t take it anymore: “you know,” you began. “you could’ve just told me you weren’t feeling okay.” “i’m fine.” he muttered. “you’re obviously not.” you countered, growing annoyed with the back of his head. “there’s no need to lie, jiyong.” his eyes closed, frustration tugging at his senses. “i don’t wanna talk about this.” “fine,” you huffed. you crossed your arms over your chest, “then the least you could do is drive me home.” you said, looking out of your window at the surrounding panera parking lot. jiyong turned his head, “where does your attitude come from?” he was unabashed, shaking his head in disbelief. “like, am i not allowed to show emotion or something?” “i could ask you the same thing.” you met him where he was at—since he wanted to go there. “this could’ve been resolved if you just talked to me about the game. instead, you just sat there with that—” you gestured to him over the center console, trying to find your words. “with that face on your face.”

“sorry i’m such an eye sore.” jiyong’s tone was riddled with bitter sarcasm. insecurity turned him into a puppet: “i know i’m not the hottest arm candy to have, or whatever.” “what the actual fuck are you talking about right now, jiyong?” you were bewildered, eyes widening at him. you shook your head, “don’t turn this into something else. that’s not what this is about.” a breath left your lips, “look, you’re obviously upset that it didn’t go as well as you—” “—stop.” jiyong cut you off sternly, tight-lipped. “just stop.” he repeated, seeing your offended expression in his periphery. he turned his body, facing you. “one thing you need to know is not everything that comes out of my mouth is some sort of—some sort of big lie trying to trick you. no one is out to get you,” the way he shook his head patronized the fuck out of you—as if his big words couldn’t dare be comprehended in your subordinate head. “if i wanna keep that shit to myself, i’ll keep it to myself. is that okay with you? or do i need permission for that, too? written consent?” “and i’m the one with the attitude?” you raised your eyebrows, fingers pressing against your chest for emphasis. you scoffed in disbelief, “you got me beat, jiyong. i don’t know how we got here. i don’t know what to say.” “then don’t say anything at all.”

oh! “right,” you chuckled with purposeful malice, thinking it was about time you wielded your own arsenal bent on belittlement. “my apologies, big guy. my apologies.” your sarcasm rivaled his, putting your hands up in faux-defeat before letting your palms fall to your thighs. jiyong began to tap his foot, knee periodically bumping into the bottom of the steering wheel. “the least you can do is drive me home.” you repeated, tone unwavering. he didn’t say anything, only staring ahead and out the windshield, fingers tugging at his lips. how fucking overdramatic, your inner monologue grumbled. “i don’t see us moving.” you said aloud. “hello?” jiyong ran his hand over his face, “you don’t understand.” “then make me!” you exclaimed. “you’re not even letting me try! how far do you think you’d get talking to a brick wall?” “i’m not an open book.” “i’m not asking you to be, jiyong.” “yes, you are.”

“no i’m not!—” you cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose. it's like pulling teeth—you exhaled through your nostrils: “i’m going to be so for real with you, jiyong.” you said. “if you want this to work, you need to trust me. i’m not asking for you to cut yourself wide open and let me look inside. i’m just asking to know you.” you implored. “i can’t be with you if it's just bracing for impact for the next time you have that look on your face.” what the fuck is his deal?? you couldn’t figure it out for the life of you, “i’m not going to beg you to talk to me. i have better things to do with my time.” it was dead silent in the car. you didn’t feel an iota of regret, nor did you plan on it. you’re a no-nonsense person—it's his problem if he doesn’t know that by now, you thought to yourself. your gaze fell to your lap momentarily, picking a piece of lint off of your denim shorts. your ears perked up at the sound of his sniffle. oh, you beyond appalled, your eyes closing. you have got to be fucking kidding me.

“i’m a nice fucking guy, okay?” jiyong cried. “i don't—i don’t stand in people’s way. i-i don’t bother anyone—” he descended into a blubbering mess, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “and all i want is—is to just feel good. just feel fucking good for once. but its—its so hard. w-what am i doing wrong?” your frustration verged into a nauseous state. i know he did not just 'i’m a nice guy’ me, your stare was lethal—able to topple empires and sever a grown man’s jaw in half with a mere bat of your eyelashes. jiyong didn’t have the nerve to look at you, but definitely felt your eyes, because he cried harder. or it sounded like it, at least: why does it sound almost theatrical—"i’m sorry, baby!“ he wailed. jiyong was suddenly eye-to-eye with you, cheeks wet and bottom lip quivering. "i-i promise i’ll be better. i'll—i’ll figure this out. for you.” he sniffled.

before you could respond, he took your hands in his, pressing kisses into your skin. he reeked of desperation, leaning over the center console, lips molding against your clothed shoulder, descending down your exposed arm. “please don’t leave me.” he murmured shakily, wetness of his tears permeating into your warm skin. he took extra time in kissing the stretch marks adorning your elbow pit, rendering you speechless watching him lean down to your bare knee, doting it with his lips before resting his forehead. “please don’t leave me.” he repeated, “please. i’m b-begging you.” his hands aimlessly palmed at your thighs. it was a horrendously pathetic sight. you couldn’t remember the last time you witnessed such multi-faceted weakness: someone so keen on skirting around the consequences of his actions, yet somehow able to turn himself into the victim, all the while begging for validation. i have to give it to him, your hand found the back of his head, relishing in the vibrations of his satisfied shudders against your supple thigh, fingers combing through his hair, this takes another type of audacity to pull off entirely.

unbeknownst to jiyong, that was his first strike of three. the second came a few days after you returned from thanksgiving break, running into a teammate in the dining hall. it was a relatively short conversation, exchanging pleasantries and brief anecdotes from the holiday before parting—sending each other off with an amicable “see you at tomorrow’s meeting.” but when you returned to your seat across from jiyong, ready to dig into your roast chicken and pasta, he had a different idea: “who’s that?” he asked, cutting into his salmon. “oh, him?” you glanced over your shoulder, seeing your teammate some feet away, standing in line for the freshly-baked cookies. “we do debate together.” you answered casually. you took a bite of your penne, wiping the marinara droplet off the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

jiyong took a bite of his food, “seemed a little into you.” you immediately caught his drift. “based on what metric?” you didn’t hesitate, “delusion?” “my eyesight.” he looked at you, completely serious. tou planted your elbow on the table, using your fork to point at him: “whatever this is,” you gestured a small circle, looking jiyong up and down for emphasis. “shut that bullshit down immediately.” “you’re not my mom.” jiyong muttered, sticking the prongs of his fork back into the salmon, eating another piece with a soured, yet muted expression, cutting a green bean in half. “can’t tell me off like that whenever you feel like it.” “i can if it's nonsensical.” you responded without looking up, cutting your chicken. “eat your food and mind your own.” you said with finality. jiyong knew you were right, but his already impaired ego further decaying put a bitter taste in his mouth. you ate your respective dinners in silence, only speaking when you left the dining hall: you met eyes with your teammate sitting with his friends, offering a polite wave. jiyong saw him return it, taking your other hand tightly in his, leading you out the door: “your irrational way of thinking can make you an eyesore, jiyong.” “you make me this way.”

though jiyong held his boyish charm well, overtime, you learned he was comfortable enough to bite back. or worse, intentionally go against your grain. were you any better? sure . . . but marginally. you left a missed call unreturned here and there, gave him a look reading why would i? after suggesting playing tennis together, and offered a subtly raised eyebrow whenever he so desperately craved praise about anything. he got as high a grade as you on the midterm? he’s thwarting the atomic-level urge to skip his way home after your chaste kiss of congratulations to his cheek. it's rumored that his national ranking may rise by the time you two graduate? your loser boyfriend’s knees are buckling at the sound of your “thats great news, jiyongie,” coupled with that gorgeous fucking smile. he also ate your pussy like he fucking meant it, and you made his tip your bitch—sometimes going out of your way to pamper the slit with your warm tongue, and if he was extra lucky, a swirl around the head, watching the thin line of your spit and his precum connect him to your tongue. if he had the means, you’d have a birkin by now for all the trouble.

he gave it to you good that friday night, spending the last weekend before finals living comfortably between your big thighs. fresh from practice, hair still damp between your fingers from his quick locker room shower before speeding over to your dorm, tongue warm and deep between your puffy lips—this is what you fucking needed. after a week of spending a stupid amount of time in the library, squashing foolish disagreements between your teammates, and just having too much going on in that fucking head of yours—let him do the talking, or lack thereof. your arm relaxed over your eyes, lips parted as jiyong made himself known in the ones below your beautifully round fucking waist, jesus fucking christ . . . his palms dotingly toured your rolls, thumb etching over the tail ends of the stretch marks adorning your stomach; sticking out of your shirt’s hem, before gradually returning his touch to the back of your thigh, hands gently pushing against the back of your knees to keep your legs comfortably spread.

he glanced up, satisfied at the sight of you completely at the helm of his personal love language. i could do this for-fucking-ever, he thought to himself. jiyong latched off for a brief breather, licking his glistening lips, humming in content at your taste. his hands trailed down your thighs, thumbs on either side of your puffy pussy, pulling your lips apart. he spotted the general area of where your clit was, resuming his business. your eyes rolled behind your arm, back arching, your curled toes scratching into his bare waist, turning jiyong into a devout believer in the divine feminine. “o—oh, f-fuck!” your breath hitched. “just like that. o—ooh, f-fuck. . .” you drew out the last syllable behind gritted teeth, jaw falling open as your eyebrows contorted sinfully. the vibrations of his satisfied hum awoke your subconscious, landing him in a headlock. not that he was complaining at all—he moved his head to the left to align with the new angle, good to go. jiyong fucking loved being smothered between those thick fucking thighs of yours—his hearing muffled in and out, squished between your supple skin; body hair tickling his ears; the privilege of squeezing them, feeling the divots of your cellulite between his fingers—he let out a whimper, eyebrows furrowed vulnerably whilst he continued his ministrations like the good boy he is.

jiyong suckled and lapped, feeling his lips minutely tingle every time he popped off your clit. he inhaled deeply through his nostrils when your legs separated, a ghost of a whimper curdling at the back of his throat over your illustrious scent. he sunk his hips further into the duvet, body compensating for his overflowing libido, wishing he could return to your previous position. “thats so good,” your eyes were now visible, but voice barely audible—hardly above a whisper. he ate your shit too fucking good, nearly rendering you speechless. “thats so fucking—ngh! o—oh! good, baby.” “yeah? you deserve it.” he said without hesitation, his casual balance between lapping your hole and talking making you fight the urge to shove his face deeper into your cunt. “so stressed, all pent-up,” he popped off slowly, “the least i can do fucking for do you is be good.” his thumbs separated your lips, solely lapping your clit, churning a sharp gasp out from your diaphragm. “right, baby?” “r—right. right,” you breathed shakily, nodding fervently. your fingers brushed his hair back, trying to maintain some sort of a grip. “just—just k-keeping doing that with your—” “—i know, i know. i will.”

you watched him until you couldn’t, head falling back onto your pillow, eyelids heavy and mouth hung open. you barely mustered communication through weak moans and an oddly positioned waist after an intense wave of pleasure left you with one less iota of logic, gingerly shifted back into place through jiyong’s effortless knowledge of your body. jiyong must’ve really starved you of all common sense with his greedy ass fucking tongue, because of all of sudden, you were thinking of his best friend—what? your eyes shot open, panic brewing in your chest, successfully thwarting it by relishing in who was really between your thighs. jiyong looked good, too—handsome. you grounded yourself to him, raking your fingers through his hair, settling your palm on the back of his head, grinding into his face. “that’s fucking right, baby,” he praised, tongue swiping your puffy lips, his cock begging to be freed from his briefs. his hand found the back of your knee, momentarily raising your leg as he lapped the fuck out of your clit, sucking hard before popping off—sending your eyes to the back of your head. “i’m yours.”

you thought you were safe—trusting in his verbal affirmation to settle back into your pillow, ready to succumb to the pleasures provided by jiyong and only jiyong. you closed your eyes, lips parted once again—feeling that swirling tongue and whiny mouth. it worked for all of two minutes. seunghyun snuck in from your periphery, illuminating your senses with his fragmented appearances thus far in your life. it pissed you the fuck off, considering he hasn’t said a fucking word to me, let alone appear since that day at coho’s, your inner monologue ranted, didn’t say a word—no text, no nothing after the pepperdine match. who the fuck does he think he is? you opened your eyes, determined to re-direct your focus: “you b-better eat it like you mean it, jiyongie.” you pulled out all the stops, teeth raking over your bottom lip, stifling a whimper. “i mean it,” he’s completely lost in you, giving his jaw a momentary break, peppering kisses along your inner thighs, spoiling you. “i fucking mean it, baby.”

please, you begged your brain. we’ve been dating for barely two months. don’t make me do this to him. you let out a long exhale, eyes closed with a hand in jiyong’s hair, pseudo-praying to whatever higher force there was that what was trying to happen wasn’t. but as soon as jiyong’s tongue returned to your divineness, the battle was lost. it didn’t exist to begin with—you were just in denial. your breath turned shallow, mind foggy with flashes from the hotel room: how soft seunghyun’s face felt in your palms, the early autumn humidity making his cheeks stick minutely to your skin that your nails raked against jiyong’s scalp to compensate; how he was so fucking quick to take your lips for himself, coming right back to you without a shred of hesitation after jiyong knocked him off aim—to him being out of breath from running after you to the elevator; a man so tall, with a bravado so traditionally and nauseatingly masculine, falling to the beauty of a woman . . . thats what i like to see . . . you kneaded your breast through your shirt, eyebrows furrowed in your lustful trance.

a delicate moan left your lips, remembering seunghyun’s smirk tugging at his mouth whilst sat across from you at coho. jiyong thought you were still with him, but his delicious lapping of your clit was used in tandem with memories of his best friend’s grunts on the tennis court. “s—!” your eyes nearly fell out of your head, slapping your hand on top of your mouth so harshly it stung. you looked down, seeing your thighs clenched around jiyong’s head—so lost in your own, you hadn’t realized you were practically suffocating him. but with how he nursed your clit relentlessly, bringing you closer to unraveling the building knot in your abdomen, he didn’t seem to mind. in fact, he misheard: “are you close, baby?” his voice was muffled against you. “y-yes—” you avoided saying a name at all fucking costs. “just—just k-keep—oh my god!” your hips involuntarily bucked up with seunghyun’s grunts replaying in your head, chasing your high using his best friend’s face.

your body was overwhelmed, nails digging into your cheeks to shut you the fuck up, eyes glossing over through your efforts. you looked down, eyelids barely able to keep themselves open. only the top of jiyong’s head was visible. in your blurry, hazy line of sight, he looked like seunghyun. there’s a special place for me in hell—"f-fuck!“ a guttural moan rang out of your chest, setting your entire body on fire. you heard your back crack from how high your arch went, hands holding a clueless jiyong steady to your cunt. you don’t think you’ve ever came this fucking hard in your life. you felt depleted of all energy, hips bucking, doing anything to deal with the sheer intensity of your orgasm. you breathed deeply, eyes barely open, senses somewhat awoken when jiyong’s lips found your cheek, feeling his arms wrap around you afterward. you think he said something along the lines of "its okay, baby. i got you,” in an effort to bring you back down to earth—but you couldn’t have cared less. you came so hard your ears were ringing—heartbeat pulsating between your temples in makeshift morse code: three strikes. you’re out, jiyong.

you felt horrible, but none more than confused. jiyong’s blissfully unaware state, sleeping peacefully next to you as his light snores melted into his pillow. you turned onto your side, your back facing jiyong’s, eyes trained on the cast of a nearby street light peppering in through the blinds. am i not over him? the question made you shrivel up. what am i? not a day over sixteen? you ran your hand over your face, trying to ground yourself: what could’ve even led to this? i haven’t thought about seunghyun in what feels like forever, you wondered. you mentally rifled through the possibilities, trying to maintain momentum despite the uncomfortably sensitive feelings erupting in your chest. it was really fucking hard, and at times embarrassing, but you’ve never felt this way before. you would be remised not to get to the bottom of it for your peace of mind.

you traced it back to coho: “he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” you overheard seunghyun rather fleetingly in the moment. but now, it taunted you. what began as a curious itch, wondering what the fuck he meant by that, turned into a catalyst for hyper-critical analysis. what was seen as endearing when you first met jiyong—his overt shyness, sheepish glances, awestruck look in his eyes when you did so much as acknowledge him—now served as the thin veil weakly guarding himself, or better yet, his insecurities. his sweetness and charming smile didn’t feel like a front. he wanted to please in many meanings of the word, and he did—you can attest to that. seeing him after the night at the hotel, however, every step forward tugged further at the veil: the sudden glossiness in his eyes finding out seunghyun had your number the entire time, a well-hidden quiver when asking if you two were just friends, blatantly disregarding you from a significant part of his life for reasons you’ve just realized you still don’t understand, blatantly disrespecting your opinion once things didn’t go an agreeable (or his) way, jealousy permeating his logic enough to rival already resident insecurities, the audacity to unironically call himself a “nice guy,” and the final tug—being so good at eating pussy that his girlfriend thinks of his best friend.

you let out a sigh, okay, that last one's my fault, you pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the bed dip, jiyong adjusting himself in his sleep. but it's all been culminating, you inner monologue reasoned, my wake-up call just happened to be visceral. your warming face sunk into your palms, and really fucking hot. you couldn’t do yourself the disservice of denying it any longer. you reached for your sidekick on your nightside table, clicking your messages, reading the texts seunghyun sent the night you and jiyong went out: Hi this is suenghun; Call me when u can. so hell-bent he didn’t spell his own name correctly, your teeth found your bottom lip, unabashedly staring at your small screen. your thumb circled the trackball, eyeing the Reply button in the bottom right-hand corner. without thinking, you pressed it, sliding up the screen to reveal the tactile keyboard.

it was half past one in the morning, and seunghyun really wanted his day to end. practice was grueling, and having to make a b-line to the library right afterward wasn’t ideal. he filed into his bedroom after brushing his teeth, hearing his text tone go off, retrieving his blackberry from his desk. he sat down in bed, about to toss his phone onto his nightside table, until he saw the name on his screen. seunghyun did a double take, pressing the trackball quicker than he’d like to admit. his hearty chuckle would’ve given him away, anyway: I didnt know your name was spelled like that. your text tone went off, too. and loudly—“shit!” you exclaimed in a whisper, clutching your phone to your chest, hand atop the speaker. jiyong stirred in his sleep, completely unaware. you muted your phone before gradually lifting it. you hadn’t expected seunghyun to respond so quickly considering his track record, but his text didn’t fail in keeping your interest: How do u think its spelled

you grinned. in his slumber, jiyong turned to face you. the sight of his cheek squished against his pillow, hand inches away from yours, brought you back down to earth—realizing what you were doing. this little pocket of temptation dissipated with every press of a key, shoving it away with finality onto your nightside table before dozing off. asshole, seunghyun read. “spot on.” he muttered to himself, amused. he typed his final message of the night, Ji’s got u real bored huh. seunghyun started his morning with a taste of his own medicine: no response. you read his text when you woke up. self-consequential bitterness soured your mouth, until you heard jiyong’s quiet murmurs beside you, followed by his warm skin nurturing yours. you scooted closer, lips dotingly kissing his senses awake.

you decided to start finals week with a semblance of peace, putting those confusing feelings behind you. you had a mixed bag of examinations and projects—booked and busy all five days. jiyong’s workload was just as intense, but ended mid-week. he was flying home early in the morning, keen on spending his last night of the semester with you. he brought you take-out, knocking on your door wednesday evening, following the submission of his last final project and your lengthy rules of war exam. he pulled a chair from the student lounge down the hall to eat with you at your desk, satisfied with how close your arms rubbed together. his kisses were characteristically sweet, hand pulling you to your bed, despite your protests. “cmon, baby,” jiyong pouted from the edge of your bed, bringing your hand to his lips, pressing kisses on your inner wrist. “m'not gonna see you for so long. let me have a taste before i go.” “you do need to go,” you concurred with a nod, bringing your hands to his shoulders. jiyong snuck a kiss onto your palm, “your flight’s at seven. it's nearly ten and you’re still here.”

“i’ll be fine.” he said cooly. his hands found your waist, bringing you closer, standing between his knees. “wanna make you feel good,” he muttered, pressing a kiss onto your clothed stomach, the fabric of your stanford university hoodie matching his crewneck. his lips stretched into a smile, “it’ll be my christmas gift.” “fuck off and go to bed, jiyong.” “but i’m already here?” you kissed your teeth, nudging his shoulder and walking away, until he beckoned you back with a sweet-sounding giggle—catching your hand in his. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding. you know me, baby.” “i do.” you nodded. you walked to your previous spot in front of jiyong, hand slipping out of his, arms resting atop his shoulders. you gave him a sweet kiss, feeling his hands dotingly rub your lower back. “m'not in the mood tonight, jiyongie.” you reconnected the kiss, “got a lot on my mind.” “everything okay?” “m'fine but—” you softly broke the kiss, looking into his eyes. “i guess i’m just not in the headspace.” and no, i’m not alluding to fucking seunghyun, your inner monologue cursed at the pessimist’s voice in your head, i’m talking about the education policy exam i have tomorrow afternoon. fuck him.

“you’re good, baby.” said jiyong. “i’m just happy i got to see you before i left.” “thank you,” you held his face in your palms, kissing his cheek. “and me, too.” you heard him hum in content, molding your lips with his. “i’ll walk you out, hm?” “i’d never turn that down.” you walked hand-in-hand out of your residential building to his car in the front lot, slipping into his embrace. “text me when you’re at the airport,” you felt his arms tighten around your waist, his lips nestled into the supple skin of your neck. “and when you’re home. just wanna make sure all went well.” “you got it.” he felt your hand rest along the side of his neck, silently asking for his eyes. “have a safe flight, okay?” “i will, baby.” jiyong aligned the bridge of his nose next to yours, kissing you tenderly. when he pulled away, there was a particular glimmer you hadn’t seen before in his eyes. an ever-so-small gasp escaped from the back of his throat when he realized that you realized what he wanted to say—almost as if he’d been caught.

“i-i—” jiyong panicked. “i gotta go. it's getting late.” i really need to stop being nice to men, your inner monologue was floored—genuinely. you can be known for your subtlety, but you couldn’t keep your raised eyebrows at bay, “right.” you nodded, amused, watching him open the driver’s seat door. jiyong was quick to get inside—subconsciously trying to scurry from the fiery pit of embarrassment threatening to make him nauseous, stopping short of sitting in his seat. he hovered awkwardly before standing to his feet, looking over at you with an iota of conviction, at the very least. “i’ll see you after break.” “see you, jiyong.” with that, he got in his car, waving to you from the window after backing out of his parking spot. you waved back, eyes on him until he pulled out onto the street. your eyebrows furrowed with a tinge of frustration, shaking your head at his sheer audacity: “what a fucking coward.”

thursday morning was peaceful. no debate meeting until the first week of january, though nationals prep was waiting at your front door step armed with ibuprofen and a voucher for your sanity—but that was future you’s problem. you woke up at half eight, intent on getting some last minute review in before your education policy exam that afternoon. jiyong texted you promptly at six in the morning—At my gate. Boarding soon. I miss you :)—making a mental note to respond after your exam. you took a break at half eleven, stretching your arms over your head at your desk, letting out a long exhale. you got up, opting to open your window to filter fresh air into your room. winters at stanford were a mixed bag—patterns of rain, cool winds, drops in temperature at night—but today, you lucked out with clear skies in the sixties. in your moment of quiet, catching sight of a student and their family in the parking lot, helping them move out—your phone rang.

picking up your sidekick, your eyebrows furrowed at the screen. “what?” you whispered to yourself, confused—it was seunghyun. is this a mistake? or—you pressed the green call button, answering. “hello?” “so your phone does work.” “why’re you calling me?” seunghyun looked to either side of the road, crossing it once the cars cleared. “i just finished at practice and am heading to the library now,” he switched the hand his phone was in, holding the blackberry more comfortably to his right ear. “i wanted some company.” “you can’t spend ten minutes alone?” “nah,” he answered simply. “but looks like you couldn’t either the other night.” “that was a mistake.” you responded with attempted conviction. seunghyun smirked to himself, “sure,” he cooly brushed off, “you didn’t answer my question, though.”

you picked at the hem of your shirt, face warming. “what?” you asked, wanting to buy yourself time, the move useless and irrational. “don’t be like that,” you could hear his shit-eating smile. “what’d i tell you before? lying doesn’t look good on you.” “and like i said,” you gestured to yourself, the conviction in your tone now unthreatened. “i’m not gonna let you swing your dick in my face. why’re you calling me?” “like i said, i’m walking—” “—no, seunghyun.” you cut him off sharply, shaking your head though he couldn’t see. “why’re you calling me?” there was a brief pause. seunghyun turned the corner, walking past tourists taking photos by the stanford oval. “did jiyong bore you?” he was stubborn, like you. it was your turn for a brief pause, contemplating not only what to say but how to say it. jiyong didn’t bore you, per se, but he also wasn’t the reason you came as hard as you did friday night. it was a complicated answer either way. with every passing second, overhearing seunghyun’s sneakers skid against the sidewalk on his end of the line, you were further incriminating yourself. seunghyun didn’t need another boost of his fucking ego, anyway. so you went with your best option: “stop deflecting. its tired.”

seunghyun wasn’t a fool: “look who’s talking.” he chuckled. “you don’t get to talk,” you countered. “want to be all ominous, throw a tantrum at coho’s, and then disappear.” you tsked. “the fuck do you think you are? what do you think this is? who you think i am?” “jiyong doesn’t see this side of you, now does he?” said seunghyun. “what does that matter? who cares what he knows or doesn’t.” you muttered. in the moment, you didn’t realize how that sounded, though seunghyun did. he didn’t jump on it yet, however. not that you gave him the chance to, anyway: “what is your problem? like, seriously. i’ve never met anyone like you before.” “likewise,” seunghyun concurred. he looked up, seeing the library in the near distance. “although i have the suspicion that you don’t mean it as a compliment.” “like the fuck i do!” seunghyun ran his hand over his face, trying to temper his flustered state, hiding his big, sheepish smile behind his palm—he couldn’t get enough of this. not that he’d ever mention it in a million fucking years, but bickering was always the way to go with him.

gentle crackling filed in from either side of the line. you let out a sigh, “why did you call me, seunghyun?” “i wanted to see if you were free tonight for dinner.” your eyes fell closed, completely appalled. “there has got to be something wrong with you.” you heard his laughter, “i’m of perfectly sound mine.” he sat down on one of the benches outside of the library, overlooking the granite fountain. “look, i’m on campus. you’re on campus. it's no big deal.” “how do you know i’m still here?” “jiyong might've—” seunghyun licked his lips, knowing he dug himself into a self-incriminating hole, but it was too late to get out now. “ji might’ve mentioned it the other day in the locker room.” it was like your senses cleared. a knowing smile stretched your lips, nodding your head with an added air of self-indulgent pride: “i see,” your tone was curt. “so you waited for him to be out of the picture. you might be the worst friend in the world.” “maybe.” seunghyun muttered. “definitely.” you corrected him, a frown began to tug at your mouth, a flicker of a furrow irritating your eyebrows.

the both of you teetered onto the line of doing something you shouldn’t. neither you nor seunghyun hung up, though. it was inexplicit. it existed in the numbers logging the duration of your phone call, each higher than the previous. you’re the one who broke the silence. or tried to: “what makes you think i’d want to get dinner?” seunghyun was ready for that from the moment he dialed, “you answered on the first ring.” silence filled the call once again. seunghyun couldn’t see you, but he could feel the hesitation. it stirred in his chest, too, but like you, he still hadn’t hung up. he didn’t intend to, “eating alone is embarrassing.” he said. “it doesn’t have to be.” you countered. seunghyun understood your sentiment differently. whether on purpose or not, you couldn’t tell. “yeah, exactly. it doesn’t have to be. so you should come with. i mean, we’re friends. right? so what’s the harm?” “do friends ghost each other for two months without explanation, and then act like everything’s okay out of fucking nowhere?”

he kissed his teeth, looking down at his sneakers with shame. “that wasn’t one of my best moments.” he muttered. “you’re telling me.” you remarked. seunghyun held his chin with his fingers, biting his inner cheek in thought. “he doesn’t have to know, if that’s what you’re worried about.” “that’s definitely reassuring.” you dead-panned. “i mean—” he let out a breath, trying to collect his thoughts. “what i meant is . . . what is there to know about two friends getting dinner together? just keeping each other company?” you didn’t answer. he felt himself become somewhat desperate, but kept his tone leveled. “c'mon,” he implored smoothly. “my meal credits are low and i’m over the dining hall food, anyway. think of it as a fresh start. an apology for being an asshole. might as well get to know your boyfriend’s best friend, too.” “you are a fucking asshole.” you made sure he knew it, and that it stung. it did considering how quickly he was to cut you off, “yeah, yeah—i know. i fuckin’ know,” he ran his hand over his face, “so what do you—so what do you say, huh?”

you didn’t want to answer, though the pit in your stomach said otherwise. you were astonished at the thoughts running through your head, how seamless your logic felt, plainly taking into consideration what seunghyun offered. there it was again—that tug of curiosity. it took you down a cynical rabbit hole friday night, picking up your phone to text him against your better judgment. only this time, he was on the other side of the line. breathing. waiting. he—this felt more real. although, it didn’t scare you. the brewing temptation was on the verge of becoming all-consuming. you felt selfish, but it felt good. you gradually turned around, purposefully looking at your reflection in the mirror mounted above your dresser. be serious, you thought to yourself carefully. it was a mere ten seconds, but seunghyun felt as if an entire decade surpassed him—or maybe it was the pit in his stomach doing the talking. whilst his foot tapped absentmindedly, you stared into your eyes pensively, posing a question: would i be able to live with myself if i went? your subconscious took charge, providing a rather blunt answer, because suddenly you found yourself not wanting to think about jiyong at all. the reason? well, he doesn’t have to know. because there’s nothing to know . . .

“if i go,” seunghyun’s ears perked up, posture straightening. “you can’t pretend to be all mysterious. you have to be an actual person. and not insufferable.” “i didn’t know friendships came with conditions.” “do you want me to come or not?” “i do.” he said quicker than his prideful self would’ve preferred. “what time should i come get you?” “where are we going?” “applebee’s.” he heard you let out a laugh. his shoulders relaxed at the sound, “what’s so funny?” “nothing,” you shook your head. “it's just for a second there i forgot that we’re college students. i don't—” you shook your head again, trying to wipe the amused smile off your face. “i don’t know what i expected.” “well,” his tone returned to his habitual smoothness. he was almost gentle, “could you think of something better?” “no, actually.” you admitted. “i don’t go off-campus much, so i’m next to clueless.” seunghyun stopped himself from taking a dig at jiyong, “you need to live life more.” “i do.” you attempted to counter. “well, sometimes.” you heard his chuckle, “yeah, i figured. i can’t imagine the type of shit you go through with debate.”

“you have no idea, seunghyun.” a smile tugged at his mouth hearing his name leave your mouth. so casually, so effortlessly. like you’ve known him for years. “i should go. i have an exam in less than two hours.” “you don’t make a good friend.” “excuse me?” “you haven’t asked what i’m doing at the library.” “do i look dense? its obviously for finals.” “you never asked what i study, either. i know your political science from jiyong. friends should know these things about each other.” seunghyun smiled to himself. he heard you huff, “we can talk about this tonight.” “you didn’t tell me what time i should get you, either.” you paused, “stop with this mind game shit,” you heard him laugh. “don’t run me in circles. come at seven. i live in sterling quad.” “you got it.” you heard a different kind of smile in his voice. seunghyun’s face warmed, “i’ll see you tonight. good luck today. not that you need it, y'know.” “you, too.” you said. “in whatever you . . . do.” seunghyun couldn’t help himself, “physics.” he told you. your eyes widened, “damn!” “what?” “you need to stop presenting yourself as such a dumbass.” “yeah—yeah . . . you’re right.”

seunghyun arrived on time. or unbeknownst to you, ten minutes early. if it weren’t for the niceties he had to exchange with his roommate’s family before they left for winter break, seunghyun would’ve been driving aimlessly around the mostly empty parking lot outside of your residential building for a half hour. he tried to not think about the anxious curdling weaving through his ribs, permeating his stomach, traveling up his throat—a mix of excitement with a slight dash of guilt—but not enough to deter himself from calling you at 7:02 pm: “i’m outside. ready when you are.” “okay, i’ll be out in a second. gotta find my—” “—you’re good. see you—” he grinned when you cut the call off. a few moments later, he looked up from the driver’s seat, seeing you walk out of the front entrance. he stepped out of his parked car, waving his hand with an unabashed smile. “it's no land rover,” he gestured to his toyota corolla behind him. a sense of victory flustered his veins at the sound of your chuckle, eyes following you to the passenger’s seat door, “but it works well.”

applebee’s wasn’t far off campus. however, the evening traffic was humbling. just need that last turn two fucking blocks away, seunghyun’s inner monologue said bitterly. he tapped his fingers along the bottom of the steering wheel, glancing to his right, seeing you looking idly at the surrounding cars out your window. his gaze fell, seeing your hands sitting politely in your lap. you held them in the same manner the night at the hotel, only moving once his lips met yours for the first time. seunghyun’s tongue swiped his bottom lip, looking away from you with a sharp inhale through his nostrils. he rested his elbow against his door, fingers running over his face without realizing—a subconscious effort to mimic the feeling of yours against his tan skin—trying to relax his quickening heartbeat. can’t believe she’s the same person from that night, he thought, foot pressing gently on the gas pedal, moving an inch forward, she had me drooling, fucking forgetting my own name. now she’s sitting all quiet, like that shit didn’t happen. what’s her deal? how the fuck did jiyong get her—you unknowingly interrupted his internal rant with a small yawn leaving your lips—the events of your day coupled with brewing hunger catching up to you.

it was odd, how seunghyun’s frustration deflated because of something so natural—something not requiring much thought. his mind went elsewhere: i wonder how long she’s been up, he pondered, eyes glancing at the dashboard, seeing it was half past seven. probably works real hard, too, he sighed in the comfortable silence, some part of him feeling lucky to co-exist with you, especially after how he initially ran amuck. i didn’t even ask her about her exam. is it too late to now? probably, considering we’ve been together for a half hour . . . his gaze returned to you, “sorry about all the traffic.” a nervous grin tugged at a corner of his mouth, playing it cool by patting his hands atop his jeans at a fragmented rhythm. you turned your head, looking at him. “it's all good,” you reassured. “it's not in your control.”

“did your—” his words caught in his throat, looking out the windshield to ground himself—why is it always with her that i can’t fucking speak??—“did your exam go okay?” “yeah, it did. thank you for asking.” a gentle grin adorned your features. “how about you? how did it go studying for . . .” seunghyun filled in the gap for you, “quantum error correction.” you raised an eyebrow, “do i even need to ask what that is?” “nah,” seunghyun chuckled, his eyes kissing at the ends. “i won’t bore you. although, i gotta ask,” you rested your head against your seat, listening. “with your law and justice stuff, are you sure you’re not trying to kick bush out?” you scoffed, “did jiyong tell you about my track?” “yeah,” seunghyun nodded, “he’s mentioned it before.” “i don’t ever want to be president, but if it meant beating bush . . .” you looked out your window, shaking your head in thought. “shit, i’d literally be on the ticket right now, campaigning my ass off.” seunghyun let out a hearty laugh, “you’re right, you’re right.” he concurred. “glad we’re on the same page.”

“why physics then, hm?” you asked after a few moments. “with tennis, it's like you’re trying to be an overachieving asshole.” seunghyun put his hands up in faux-defeat, that same wave of victory from before washing over his skin at the sight of your amused grin in his periphery, “not too much on me, now.” he joked. “but on a real note,” his foot pressed the gas, moving the car forward, inching closer to the necessary exit. “i guess i’ve always liked it.” “just casually?” “well, not really casually.” he tried to find the words. “i guess—i guess my dad kinda showed me. pushed me towards it.” he glanced at you, seeing you nod in acknowledgement. “i guess i lucked out. 'cause i’m here.” he gestured around him with his left hand, referring to stanford. “i see,” you said. “your parents must be really proud of you.”

seunghyun looked at you, a flinch of a furrow tickling his eyebrows. did she say that on purpose? his inner monologue ran a mile a minute, that’s the same thing she said at the hotel. “i mean, yours too.” he said, hoping to jog your memory. “you—you kind of go without saying.” you grinned, your voice soft. “thank you, seunghyun.” unbeknownst to him, seunghyun didn’t need to offer the nudge, because your face warmed in the familiarity of your words. it was a unique feeling: looking at someone whose lips have been on yours, made your skin feel so hot you didn’t think it was physically possible, looked into your eyes with not only a reflection of your desire but mutual want, made you cum without even being there, yet time put a halt in everything. halt? your word choice was curious, eyes staying on seunghyun whilst his returned to the road. your gaze wasn’t heavy, but your thoughts were: if he’d been the one who ran into me after the hotel, or even the first to approach at the mixer after seeing him at coho’s, or maybe he if actually fucking called me, the possibilities hurt you. you looked away, guilt prodding at your pores, mimicking seunghyun’s look out the windshield, who knows where him and i would be right now.

you tried to deter your focus from your stirring chest, “i didn’t think you were capable of being nice.” seunghyun exhaled through his nostrils, “i may be shitty, but i’m not—” “—outright horrible, yeah.” you nodded, finishing his sentence for him. friendly silence filled the car, the only sound being the local radio. seunghyun usually played his cds until they gave out, but those ten minutes driving around the parking lot allotted time for overthinking, leading him to stow his stash away, unsure of what your taste was. but there was only so much he could take of the radio host not knowing how to do his job, or listen to the sixth ad-read in a row. “i hate this.” he muttered, turning the volume nob to the left. you overheard, “it's about time you showed your true character.” you quipped. “huh—” “—i mean, i didn’t think i was that horrible to be around.” “what? no,” he shook his head, a light, slightly confused chuckle leaving his chest. “i meant the music. i can’t stand the radio.”

seunghyun opened the center console, pulling out his cd wallet, handing it to you. “take your pick.” “you mind if i?” you gestured to the dome light. “not at all.” he pressed it for you, illuminating the center console with a warm, slightly-aged yellow hue. it was strong enough to make the words on the cds legible. his catalogue was consistent yet diverse: bill withers, mazzy star, david bowie, biggie, pink floyd, daft punk, usher, and a whole lot of frank sinatra. “your taste is so nuanced,” you carefully took out his copy of mazzy star’s so tonight that i might see, feeding it into the dashboard’s player. “yet you’re so you.” “what does that mean?” he asked, car on the cusp of approaching the exit. “do you need everything explained to you, seunghyun?” you asked, zipping the cd wallet closed. he shrugged his shoulders, “it's only a question.” you caught his eyes for a brief, swift moment. “i like it when you’re normal.”

and that’s what seunghyun was during dinner: normal. talking about anything and everything whilst sat across from you in your shared booth—normal. it made you wonder where the fuck this person was when you initially met, or the week following the hotel room, or even these past two months. the night’s events thus far played like an age-old cautionary tale—you on subtle alert for any signs of him planning to play you like a fiddle. perhaps seunghyun already has, considering he convinced you to come out to applebee’s with him at all, but the apparent loss of his guard tickled your curiosity. it's gonna become a drug if i’m not careful enough, you thought to yourself, taking a bite of your fajita rollup whilst he went on about a movie you mentioned earlier. you weren’t completely relaxed, but your posture wasn’t entirely erect, either. as the evening went on, fight or flight mode faded from your periphery: your elbows relaxed on the table, seunghyun’s back against the wall, his foot propped comfortably atop the cushioned benched-seat. maybe he really meant it when he said he wanted to start anew, you wondered, overhearing him order a brownie sundae to share for dessert, or maybe i’m the most gullible woman in the world. not that i want to leave, though . . .

you split the brownie, scooping a portion of it with the vanilla ice cream it came with. “so you wanna go pro, or?” you asked, eating your bite. a smirk tugged at seunghyun’s lips, “i mean—” it took him a moment to answer, chewing through the gooey chocolate. “it would kind of be a waste of time if i didn’t, right?” he looked up at you, expecting you to agree. you didn’t: “no.” you responded earnestly, shaking your head. “not if you don’t want it to be. you’ll have a degree soon enough. for better or for worse, your only talent won’t be hitting a ball with a racket.” “that’s true.” seunghyun nodded, pushing the plate closer to you. “i don’t think my parents would ever forgive me if i didn’t, though.” “i won’t tell you to disregard that worry,” your spoon sunk into the brownie and ice cream, “because that’s not a luxury people like us can afford. and with that mean serve you have, i wouldn’t wanna waste it, either.” you said, hearing him chuckle. “i know it isn’t easy—trust me, i do. it wasn’t my decision to become the designated family role model that my baby cousins’ll be compared to for the rest of their lives.” you looked up, seeing seunghyun already looking at you. you suddenly deflected, “or maybe i’m just rambling.”

he reassured you immediately. “you’re not.” you pushed the plate back his way, but his eyes didn’t leave you. “it’s not rambling if you’re telling the truth.” you didn’t say anything, stirring the melted ice in your cup with the plastic straw you drank out of all evening. seunghyun finished the last bite of the sundae, a question pestering the back of his mind. it didn’t take long to reach his lips: “do you talk to jiyong about these kind of things?” he muttered, keeping his gaze down at the plate before him, stirring the leftover chocolate drizzle. you put your cup down, senses tingling over the possibilities as where this might go, but halting any brash conclusions before they escaped your subconscious. “do all roads have to lead back to him?” you kept your tone light, a polite grin molding your lips. seunghyun saw you in his periphery, but kept his head down. it might’ve been shame or cowardice—he couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “he’s not—” he licked his lips, finding the words. “he’s not built for things like this.” he saw your face drop. not to one of worry, but one of cold-hearted, targeted disappointment—regret. he felt like a child tattled on; a friend ousted—his pride betraying him in real time.

“why did you ask me to come to dinner with you, seunghyun?” you didn’t spare a glance at the waiter dropping the check off, but your hand shoved the leather folder seunghyun’s way. he kept it cool, opening the folder, eyes skimming the receipt. “i told you,” a characteristic grin coated his face. to you, it was a threat—a dumb one, running your patience thin. “i don’t like eating alone. and i wanted us start fresh—” “no.” you cut him off with a tut, crossing your arms over your chest. “i already told you. don’t do that tired shit around me.” a chill ran down his spine, masking it with the swift pulling of his wallet from the pocket of his jeans, fishing his debit card out. he shrugged his shoulders, “i’m just surprised you’re still together, is all.” you shook your head, “don’t do that, either.” you told him.

he looked up, but not towards you, kissing his teeth quietly. “what is it, hm?” you purposefully pestered, voice-levelled. “is he seeing another girl? i can’t read your fucking mind.” “what? no!” he was genuinely amused, eyes returning to yours. “jiyong? doing that?” he thought aloud, scoffing, clearly entertained by the prospect. “if that happened, thats how i know the world’s gonna end the next day. he doesn’t ever shut the fuck up about you.” irritation fluttered between your eyebrows, but your expression was condescending, knotting seunghyun’s eyebrows together in mounting annoyance. “so that’s what this is.” you nodded to yourself knowingly. you met his eyes, unyielding. “you want to weave your way in and out of my life as you please because you’re upset he got to me before you did.” your fingers stirred your straw. “this is a really complicated way of saying you like me, seunghyun. took you only two months, yet it's somehow more pitiful than those who take it to the grave.” he didn’t look offended. just hurt. wounded, even. you looked away after a moment, eyes trained on your nails. “we could’ve been somewhere really different if you had just called.”

seunghyun didn’t like hearing the truth. his lips tightened, heart pounding with each passing moment. would’ve been better if she was the one who got away instead of what i tossed away, his inner monologue reminded him bitterly, i don’t even know why the fuck i do that. “he doesn’t love you, you know.” he tried to play fire with fire, but you were unrelenting. undeterred—“what makes you think i want someone to be in love with me?” you asked. the question weighed heavily, pressing enough on seunghyun’s chest to prolong his sudden silence. “did i say i was in love with him?” “you didn’t.” he murmured. “so why would i give a fuck if he loved me or not?” to a passerby—like the group of friends being seated a couple booths down—your voice was nothing to be bothered about, blending into the background. your waiter, however, who heard the details of your contentious conversation, strategically scurried off after picking up the bill, processing seunghyun’s payment.

“i guess you wouldn’t.” seunghyun responded. “cool.” you said bluntly. he returned your energy, “cool.” your shared stubborn silence persisted after the waiter returned the leather wallet, now equipped with a receipt to sign, exiting with a quiet “whenever you guys are ready.” after a pregnant moment, seunghyun adjusted his posture, taking the pen, signing the restaurant’s copy of the bill. he slipped his debit card back into his wallet, fleetingly glancing at you, making out a thought stirring in that head of yours. she makes things so fucking complicated, his thoughts grumbled, but i can’t get away. i feel like i’ll die if i do. you kept your gaze on your cup’s rim. you weren’t sure why your subconscious decided to make an enemy out of your logic. your mouth opened before you could stop yourself: “he looked at me like he was in love with me.” your voice barely surpassed the volume of gorillaz on the sound system, but your tone came across so unexpectedly vulnerable. seunghyun heard you loud and clear. he caught on that jiyong didn’t say it—what’d i tell her? motherfucker doesn’t know shit about what to do. barely built for anything real.

you’re good at hiding it, but over time, seunghyun’s become more comfortable with looking into a mirror. if it's you, that is. he sees hurt etched onto your face, though something tells him its deeper than that. no tears, he mentally noted, i know it’d take way more than immaturity to bring her there. seunghyun’s ears perked up when you cleared your throat, effectively bringing yourself back down to earth. he’s getting under my skin, your internal monologue whirred. i need to get out of here before i do something i’ll regret. in this long beat, seunghyun showed himself once again to be someone who was always just one step ahead. not a master at chess, but acquainted with its moving parts. he saw something in you that you couldn’t see yourself, or more aptly, didn’t want to. though you actively used every atom in your body to deny it, you saw yourself in him. could it be the knowing look in either of your eyes—a flicker of your reflection in his irises if you looked long enough? or the unspoken cunning alignment of how you see the world around you? or does he just fucking get it? it not only being you—but what you understand your purpose to be, and him his? a purpose of worth—of understanding? describing it as mere attraction or being with someone on your intellectual level wasn’t enough—it was a complete and utter match, down to the bone. to the atomic makeup. to unspoken words. it was strong enough to scare either of you, but his words prevailed through the heaviness of that beat: “who wouldn’t be?” you looked up, thinking you’d see his shit-eating grin. he was dead serious, his eyes completely sincere.

the ride home was silent. neither you nor seunghyun spoke a word, letting his mazzy star cd fill the air. he pulled into the same parking spot outside of your residential building, putting his car in park. “thank you for dinner.” you said, taking your seatbelt off. “no problem.” he muttered, looking over at you. “s'my treat.” the nicety flowed smoothly, but he was entirely unsure, unable to make out what this lingering tension meant. you provided an answer, though he didn’t like it: “seunghyun?” “hm?” “you can’t ever call me again.” his expression fell into softened worry, eyebrows furrowing sympathetically. “wh—what?” he subtly shook his head, confused. “why?” you looked into his eyes, hurt tainted by shame ruminating in your chest, voice quieter than before: “you know why.” was all you could muster, tone a pitiful attempt at conviction. seunghyun clenched his jaw, trying to salvage the last scraps of his ego, but his eyes looked wounded. his gaze shifted around the windshield, though yours stayed on him. perhaps it was your subconscious attempting to capture this—the last, definitive moment of possibility before the door closed for good.

not if seunghyun had something to say about it, though. or more aptly put, that flicker in his eyes. he turned his head to look at you, leaning over the center console, body effectively closer to yours. you turned your head to face the windshield, effectively away from him. “don’t make me say it.” your voice barely conjured above a whisper, begging as the strength left you expeditiously. the feeling of his body heat zeroing into yours made your eyes flutter closed—the tip of his nose briskly nudging against your temple, your lips parting. his lips ghosted over your skin, traveling down your cheek, not a hint of a kiss in sight, but enough to activate the last few iotas of sense in your brain, keeping your breathing steadied. “m'not gonna tell you what to do.” his voice was low, breath hot against your ear. “you’re smart enough to make your own decisions.” your shoulders relaxed, a shallow breath escaping between your teeth. seunghyun’s lips brushed against your earlobe, “but i will be at the birthdays,” you inhaled deeply through your nostrils, heartbeat quickening. “i’ll smile in your wedding photos,” the smallest, most delicate moan escaped your diaphragm. your hand found seunghyun’s hair, his stifled grunt vibrating against your skin, the flutter of his eyelashes tickling your ear as he tried so fucking desperately to keep himself together. “i’ll k-keep eye contact from across the table at christmas dinner,” your breathy gasps weren’t helping him, “i’ll get you the most expensive gift at your baby shower,” he undid his seatbelt, feeling you so beautifully nudge your nose against his cheek—needing that proximity. he happily gave it to you, pressing a kiss onto the supple skin of your cheek before making his closing argument: “what’re you going to tell him when the baby grows up and looks like me?”

“oh my g-god.” your voice quivered, lips inching dangerously close to his. how you breathed each other in—so unabashedly, so vividly—outdid the sin of adultery; it was in its own league. “what am i supposed to say to my wife when i can’t get it up for her? hm?” he murmured, open mouth hovering above yours. “when the only time i can stomach fucking her is when i’m thinking about you? thinking about the night at the hotel when i was in college, kissing my best friend’s wife like it was the last thing i’ll ever fucking do? hm? tell me, baby. what should i say to her?” his voice was unbelievably gentle, almost tender. he spoke as if you would disappear the millisecond his lips halted their muted ministrations on your skin— as if an improperly pronounced syllable would curse him for eternity. but no punishment was worse than being cast aside as a mere bystander, to jiyong nonetheless. not when seunghyun knew he was the one for you—the one who knew so much in such little time, the one who couldn’t stomach being near you because he felt suffocated in his infatuation turning into deep-seated longing, the only one who could see the look in your eyes. a secret language only you two could speak; colors only you two could see.

“oh my god—” you repeated, your defeated whimper breathing him back to life. you gradually opened your eyes. the look on his face—eyelids heavy, lips parted, eyebrows knitted together pathetically—made your thighs squish together firmer than before. you lifted your hand, fingers brushing past his chin. “i—” your mouth fell, watching him take your thumb between his lips. your teeth found your bottom lip, feeling his warm tongue swirl the pad. you felt something throb between your thighs. you slowly pulled it out, tracing his bottom lip with his saliva. seunghyun pressed a kiss to your palm before leaning in closer. you nearly—nearly closed the gap, until it all felt too real. “stop.” you begged yourself. “s-stop,” you shook your head, tip of your nose brushing against his. “we can't—we can’t do this.” you let go of him. seunghyun remained where he was, his shoulders deflating in defeat, gaze lowering shamefully to his hands.

you looked out the passenger’s seat window, but your body didn’t move an additional centimeter. no thought of unlocking and pulling the door handle open—just sitting in silence. seunghyun didn’t have the strength to ask why. he already knew. the answer was a flight away, settling into bed after unpacking his carry-on, happy to be home for the holidays. your expression soured, disgusting by how deeply internal this conflict became. how could i have let it get this far? how could i have let it get this messy? your mind went a million miles per hour yet concurrently in slow motion. it all felt so useless: you didn’t regret going to dinner with seunghyun, yet although you knew where it could potentially lead, you’re upset you let it get to that point, though you knew full well you were setting yourself up to betray someone you care about—and you wanted to. when did i become so contradictory? you kissed your teeth, shaking your head. i spend so much of my time unpacking other people’s logic. when the fuck did mine become so corrupted?

you huffed, frustration irritating your chest. “you’ve been his best friend for so long, his first memory is probably with you.” seunghyun didn’t look up. you turned your head, expression hardened in his direction. “how could you do this to him?” his head shot up, offended. there’s no fucking way she’s going to get away with this, his inner monologue scrambled. “you’re his girlfriend.” he said without an iota of hesitation, tone doused in conviction. “how could you do this to him?” you scoffed, “don’t act like that’s the same thing. you know each other better than anyone else ever will.” seunghyun was quick to counter, shaking his head. “its on the same fucking playing field.” “no it’s fucking not.” “yes it is.” “no it’s not.” “yes it is.” “no it’s—” “—yes it—” “fine!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “fine! then it is! are you fucking happy now?” you eyed him sharply. you leaned closer, finger poking his chest. “we got the both of us here, seunghyun.” you told him the bare truth. his mouth twitched in and out of a scowl. “any suggestions on what we do now? since you never shut the fuck up?”

you stared at each other, the silence of lifetimes past filling his car. “yeah, that’s what i fucking thought.” you bickered with the air of a decades-old marriage, brushing him off without a second thought. seunghyun was so irritated, he started smiling. “you wanna know something really funny?” he didn’t flinch at your unamused “what?”—eyes meeting yours with matching strength. “jiyong reminds me every fucking chance he gets that he saw you first,” said seunghyun. “but one of these days, i’m gonna remind him you saw me first. because he loves to just conveniently leave that part out.” “you two never grew past the age of seven.” you tsked, shaking your head dismissively. “i don’t know how i got involved with such—” “—who do you pick then, huh?” he cut you off. you gave him a look, “do you only ever hear yourself speak?” you tapped your temple mockingly. “or do you have any room for others?” seunghyun didn’t back down, “who do you pick?” “you know i can’t answer that.” “no, i don’t. because i know it’s me.” “you don’t know that—” “—then why are you still in my car! you could’ve left as soon as i parked!” he exclaimed.

“but you wouldn’t want that, now would you?” you countered. “would’ve fucking defleated—” you stumbled messily on your words. a frustrated exhale left your mouth, finger pointing out the windshield, though in your mind it was a memory. “would’ve looked more like a lost fucking puppy than you did at the elevator, huh?” you pinched the bridge of your nose, momentarily caught off guard by how fiercely your heart beat— feeling it in your throat. “how could i get sucked in like this?” you told yourself off. seunghyun shot a sideways glance your way, brutally annoyed. “i didn’t know who you two were three months ago.” “didn’t take you long to fuck him, though.” seunghyun muttered bitterly. your stomach dropped. “what?” something in your voice made his stomach drop, too. “i never fucked jiyong.” you shook your head, each subtle stretch of your muscle more menacing than before. “what makes you think that?” anger festered between your eyebrows, cinching them together in a way that made seunghyun’s temples perspire. “and what makes you think you can talk to me like that?”

seunghyun shook his head with vigor, denying your rightful allegations like a cowardly motherfucker, existential fear flooding his veins as his life flashed before his eyes. i’m gonna beat jiyong’s ass, he mentally noted. “he—he told me.” he couldn’t bear to look at you, nervous system riddled with shame, his mouth suddenly unable to produce saliva. “well, he—he didn’t explicitly tell me. it's just—it's a thing we do in tennis.” “what the fuck are you talking about right now, seunghyun?” “just—just—” his words clogged his throat. he was a broken record, “he just told me.” “lied.” you corrected, seeing him nod diligently—almost obediently. “he fucking lied to your dumbass.” “he did.” seunghyun concurred without hesitation, still without the gall to look at you. “he did lie to my dumbass.” he repeated. “all of you are the same.” you said. “not one shred—one shred of common sense amongst however many million of you.” you tapped your temple with your pointer finger. “and you’re the ones declaring endless wars, but are so easily duped and bamboozled by cucks comparing dick sizes? and i'm—i’m the one that’s inept? because i fucking bleed once a month? something i didn’t ask for?” you gestured to yourself for emphasis, eyebrows raised. “and god forbid—god forbid!” you exclaimed, putting your hands up dramatically. “god forbid i want my pussy fucking ate instead of—” your brain ran faster than your mouth, but you caught up after a moment. “instead of sucking a dick that smells so rank it could knock the elderly out with the briefs still on—then i become the villain.” you shook your head, “you can’t even tell the difference between fact and fiction, motherfucker.”

seunghyun nearly broke out into prayer. he really needed a cigarette right now. what got him was how you hardly stuttered, coupled with the absence of filler words—you were serious. he can’t imagine what your opponent feels like during a heated debate. “no wonder the nuclear family is dying.” you continued, “we don’t want to populate the world just to raise dumbasses like you. can you fucking blame us?” seunghyun knew to respond: “nope. i can’t.” he didn’t receive your praise for having the correct answer. not that he expected it, nor deserved it. “always talking about how much of a ‘nice guy’ he is. how about you be someone decent instead.” you muttered to yourself, tsking at the thought of jiyong. “all of this just because he chatted me up at a college mixer. i need to stop being so generous with my time.” you noticed how quiet seunghyun was. you weren’t going to let him go easily, “and what if i did have sex with him, hm? not that i did.” you clarified for the nth time, shaking your head condescendingly. you reached across the center console, nudging seunghyun’s forehead with the pad of your pointer finger, “in case it hasn’t processed up here.” you added. when he opened his mouth, you didn’t give him the chance: “is this all because i dated him before you? are you really that immature?”

seunghyun suddenly found the gall, working against an invisible timer: “its—its not!” he blurted out. his hesitation wasn’t to stall his telling of his truth, but his attempt to find the words to spell it out. he wasn’t very successful, “this . . . is different.” he muttered awkwardly. he gradually looked at you, seeing hints of annoyance and frustration decadent in the furrow of your eyebrows—the subtle shake of your head, trying to figure him out like an unsolvable riddle. you looked so beautiful, even when you were irate with him. “it's not—” he took a breath, determined to not succumb to whatever effect you have on him. he looked at you again, unwavering: “look, it's not a crime to want someone. or something.” “but this is different!” you threw his words back at him. you pointed down to the center console, a gesture meant to reference him and yourself. “this is unlike me. i’m a good—i’m a good fucking person.” the conviction in your voice disappeared in the face of the realization that you didn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. not anymore, at least. “i don't—i don’t . . .” you shook your head, hoping it would clear the deepening fog in your brain—pinpoint you in the logical direction. but it only worsened. a wave of panic washed over you, unable to recognize yourself. you looked at seunghyun, defeated: “i don’t do shit like this. i . . . i mind my own.”

something in seunghyun’s bones told him this was his last chance. that door was actively closing, the creaks of hinges taunting his eardrums. he leaned closer, taking in your features. “i need you to look me in the eyes,” he spoke, “and tell me that it's not me.” a breath parted your lips, looking away from him, pitifully shaking your head. “seunghyun . . .” “then i’ll never bring it up again.” his throat was heavy, maneuvering his head to keep his eyes on you, as if you were fading away from view. “i’ll never bring it up again. i swear.” he repeated truthfully, voice ending with a tremble. he didn’t have the strength to hide it anymore. “you can have the picket fence and shit.” he waved at nothing in front of him, gesturing to the possible future. “live a cookie-cutter life peacefully. maybe he’ll win a couple grand slams and you’ll start a nonprofit under your surname. but i’ll sign your marriage certificate as your witness if you tell me to.” your sinuses weighed on your face. there it was, that tug. “i’ll shut up myself the fuck up if you tell me to. all you have to do is look in my eyes and say the words.”

his heartbeat fastened, eyes looking around him frantically. “look, i—” he licked his lips, grounding himself. “i don’t know what it is about you. actually, i do,” he corrected himself. “i fell for you so hard it's like i discovered a sixth sense. it scared the shit out of me, and i know you feel it too.” you didn’t say anything, only listened. “it blinded me, but it also pissed me the fuck off. because i realized that i’m so prideful that i don’t prevent someone as good as you from slipping through my fingers. not that i deserve you, no,” he shook his head in affirmation to himself. “but it was all so confusing. i’ve never—i’ve never felt this way before. this strongly. so i went up to you at coho's—leading with that frustration,” he tsked at himself, ashamed. “only to find out it was all based on a lie. a stupid one, too. that jiyong ran me amuck for whatever reasons he has. i can’t blame him. i may be a dumbass, but i’m not stupid. there’s things that’re unaddressed between us—parts of how we work. but he’ll never have the balls to say it out loud. and it’s landed us here.” seunghyun took a breath. “and just when i thought it was over, that this was the worst i’ve ever fucked up,” he turned his head, seeing your side profile, chin down. “you texted me. you answered the phone on the first fucking ring.” he watched you close your eyes. “that’s when i realized you and i aren’t so different after all.”

you tilted your head back onto your seat, wanting to disappear. “you’re killing me.” “i’m telling you the whole truth and nothing but.” seunghyun leaned closer, the tip of his nose barely grazing your cheek. “all you have to do is tell me.” his voice fell to a whisper, feeling his body become boneless. it was like you sucked the life out of him, but concurrently nourished his soul. you were his poison. he planned on picking you every time, even if it meant compromising his closest friendship. “look into my eyes and tell me.” you opened your eyes, turning your head to face him. “seunghyun—” “tell me.” if you blinked, you would’ve missed the sight of his bottom lip quivering. he remained strong, maintaining eye contact, blinking harder than before: “tell me and you can walk out of this car. we’ll forget this ever happened.” he said. “so i can finally stop torturing myself with the thought of you,” your lips parted, hand coming up to hold his face without thinking. rationale didn’t exist for seunghyun anymore, either. nothing stopped his kissing your palm, “your name will haunt my daydreams, but not as much as my hand stifling it in my bedroom. i’ll learn to live with it. i promise.” he sounded perishable. “just tell me,” he begged, feeling weaker with every syllable. “and i’ll take it to the grave.”

you watched him kiss down to the inner part of your wrist, resting his lips against your skin. your other hand found his hair, but your touch didn’t invite him in. instead, it served as a buffer leading into the question he knew he’d be faced with at some point, yet his posture deflated at the mere utterance: “why didn’t you call me, seunghyun?” you weren’t mad nor disappointed. like seunghyun, whatever was in the air sucked the energy out of you—making you just as desperate as him. it was poetic, how beautiful you sounded. how intimate your tone was, speaking to seunghyun like he was the only person in the entire universe. like your words were only for him to hear, despite already being alone in his car. he murmured into your wrist, “i’m so in love with you i don’t remember what it feels like to have common sense.” his breath shuddered at the feeling of your fingers combing his hair back. afraid to lift his head to look at you, he leaned into your touch, hiding his face. his words warmed your veins, trickling into your heart, obliterating what you thought you knew about love. there’s only so much a college senior could know. but as you sat there, watching your man so unequivocally devoted to you that he can’t bear the courage to look at you, you had all the answers you needed. you ushered seunghyun to you, feeling him melt into your chest.

you held each other: his arms making residence around your waist, breathing tempered against your hoodie. your shared unspoken language filled the gaps—manifesting in his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of your nails gently raking against his scalp, you deep in thought, feeling his chest rise and fall with yours. “he’s not someone i can respect.” you confessed. seunghyun knew who you were talking about. “i should’ve left him after the pepperdine match.” you tutted at yourself. “is it because he nearly lost it for us?” seunghyun asked meekly. “no,” you answered. “it's because his insecurity clogged his logic. you should’ve seen the tantrum he threw in the car. you’re cut from the same cloth.” “we can be different.” “barely.” you held seunghyun closer, feeling his arms wrap more snuggly around you. your fingers roamed his hair, feeling the vibrations of his content hum against you. “you wanna know something?” you spoke by his ear. “mm?” he murmured. “at some point, i was so sick of it, i used his face to cum to the thought of you.”

his breath hitched. “it was the same night i texted you.” “oh my god.” he groaned into your hoodie, hands pawing at your waist. he felt something throb between his thighs, jeans feeling increasingly uncomfortable. “look at me.” you said. he listened, lifting his head from your chest. your palms molded around his jaw, pressing firmly to keep him in your grasp. seunghyun’s eyelids didn’t look heavy, but they held weight. if you listened carefully, you caught his shallow breaths—lips parted, eyes glancing at your mouth unabashedly. your teeth raked against your bottom lip, having to separate your thighs to alleviate some of the conjuring heat. “love me so bad you don’t know how to spell your name, hm?” you felt and heard him shudder, watching him measly attempt at getting himself together. “i forget it if i’m with you long enough.” he answered breathily. he leaned in, but you didn’t give him what you wanted just yet—letting his open mouth hover greedily above yours. a defeated gasp filled his lungs, “please.” he whimpered, forehead finding yours, eyebrows furrowed upward. “i don’t recognize myself. i’m going crazy 'cause of you, baby.” his nose grazed your cheek. you tipped your head back slightly, feeling his lips ghost over your neck. he inhaled your scent, encouraged by your hands on the back of his head. “the part that gets me is that i like it,” he said, pressing a light kiss. he heard your small gasp, kissing again, “oh my god—i fucking need it.”

“you got what you wanted—f-fuck—” he whimpered at your faltering voice, an added air of desperation intertwined in his gentle ministrations. “you got what you wanted.” you repeated, eyes rolling to the back of your head, feeling his lips find your soft jawline, cascading your double chin. “you’re under m-my skin. ruining every thought i’ve ever had.” you let your back fall against the door. seunghyun fought the urge to climb over the center console. “you were—” you swallowed, throat dry. your mind felt fuzzy, somehow grasping your words, “you were right when you said jiyong has no idea what he’s doing.” seunghyun grunted in response, completely lost in you. “do you? hm? i’m so tired of being wrong, seunghyun. i’ve been waiting too long—” “—get the fuck over here.” he grabbed your face with either of his hands, bringing his lips to yours.

neither of you breathed. time stood still. you remembered where you were when his lips caught yours again. once you regained consciousness, back in your own body, goosebumps mostly subsided—everything was on the table. deep exhales cascaded either of your faces, a moan escaping your mouth into his, fingers rifling through his hair until your palm settled on the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as the realization of what you were doing sunk in. what it meant was beside you. oh—but how good it felt? nothing could have prepared seunghyun for the sound rattling out of your throat next. it was guttural, but divine. it came from the soul. how does he know? because he made it right back: his fingers pawed at your hoodie, subconsciously needing to melt into you; to be one with you until the end of time—kissing you like he was the woman. you held him to you with an arm around the back of his shoulders, other hand holding his cheek, silently encouraging him to tilt his head to the left. he listened without hesitation. seunghyun ignored how the gear stick actively dug into his waist, exhaling heavily through his nostrils when your tongue met his. his breath hitched, shuddering vulnerably against you feeling your hand reach underneath the hem of his jacket and shirt, rubbing his lower back tenderly. he kissed you with more fervor than before—i need to get on my knees, his thoughts were scrambled. i need to get on my—

“i need you.” you told him, vibrations of your voice against his mouth making his mind all mushy. “i need you, seunghyun.” you repeated breathily—the heat between your thighs unbearable. “f-fuck—n-need—” he couldn’t stop kissing you, body feeling boneless. “n-need—i need you, too. wanna make you feel good.” he winced when his crotch brushed past his side of the center console. he was painfully hard—afraid of what it’ll look like once he took his pants off. “go in the back.” he said. “i-i’ll meet you there.” his awkward word choice wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. he was too focused on maintaining his balance once his feet hit the asphalt—“s-shit"—keeping a hand on the car, opening the door for you. "lay down. get—get comfortable f'me.” you heard him say whilst you climbed in. you laid on your back as comfortably as you could, careful not to bump your head on the closed door behind you.

his palms traced your thick thighs, the denim tickling his fingers. “can i take these off? yeah?” “mhm,” you watched his fingers unbutton your jeans, lifting your hips as he tugged them off your legs. your underwear followed, both tossed onto the car floor. he fell to his knees at the sight of your puffy pussy. his palms made residence on your bare inner thighs, lovingly kneading their plushness between his fingers—his teeth not sparing his bottom lip. he sunk the tip of his nose into the softest part of your thigh, pressing a purposeful kiss. his nostrils caught the scent of your divineness—it took every singular ounce of common sense in his body not to immediately falter to it. he couldn’t open his eyes, trusting his senses to lead him to where he knows he belongs. “been waiting for this for far too long.” his breath was hot against you. your hand muffled your mouth, eyes rolling in the intoxicating anticipation. his thumbs separated your lips, his warm tongue making itself known. “o-oh my god!” you gasped. your breathing stilled, hearing the lewd sound of his tongue lapping your hole. with every swipe, he came closer to your clit. and he knew it: “oh,” his voice was low. “you taste real fucking good. holy shit.” seunghyun palmed himself through his jeans, whimpering into your pussy. “f-fuck!—” “—ha—a!” you cried out. your hand grabbed onto the shoulder of the driver’s seat, trying not to fall over, nails digging into the synthetic leather.

seunghyun stopped. he licked his lips, not satisfied in the slightest. “show me where your clit is, baby,” he said. “don’t wanna waste your time.” you held onto the driver’s seat firmly, other hand grabbing one of the headrests in the backseat, gradually pulling yourself up. “wanna watch.” you breathed. your back laid against the door behind you, foot propped on the center console, your other ankle resting comfortably atop the backseat. the new view dizzied seunghyun, his mouth watering at the sight of your cellulite recoiling in the midst of you adjusting your posture to your needs. “i’ve been waiting for this, too. f-fuck . . . ” he watched the tip of your middle finger disappear between your puffy lips, slowly inching towards the top. he knew you found his homeland when your shoulders relaxed, licking his lips whilst yours parted, entering a state of bliss. your lids were heavy, opening your eyes as best you could, feeling his nose find what’s becoming his favorite part of your inner thigh, lips pressing a slow kiss on the soft pouch. he heard your frail whimper as your finger continued rubbing in circles, relishing in the sound of how wet you became right by his ear.

“you play with it real good.” he said, teeth pressing into his bottom lip. “yeah? f-fuck—” “—yeah, you do. you play with it real fucking good.” he praised. he grinded his hips into the seat, feeling light-headed. “c'mere.” he got to work—you froze. your eyes glossed over, toes curling around nothing. it was a sight meant to be engraved on an ancient marble vase, capturing the rawest form of pleasure, harbored in a museum for eternity—historians marvel at its teachings, whilst female spectators walk away with a bitter air of “must be nice.” “o—oh my god, h-holy shit—” you mewled, mouth unable to close. you looked down, fingers combing his hair back, seeing his tongue nurse your clit in real time. “k-keep going.” your voice couldn’t surpass a whisper. “keep s—sucking just like that.” you thought you knew what you were asking for with how jiyong does it, but seunghyun actually sucked on your clit, your hips bucked up unexpectedly. “o—oh f-fuck!” you yelped, breathing heavily.

seunghyun latched back on, palms kneading the sides of your big thighs, using them to maintain his grip on you. he sucked more firmly before popping off. his mouth felt a slight chill every time he separated from your clit, his lips glistening. “you deserve this twenty-four fucking seven.” he murmured, slowing his pace. the vibrations of his satisfied hum made your eyebrows furrow so deep they turned upward, bottom lip caught between your teeth. “need to make this shit my full-time job—goddamn.” he flattened his tongue, moaning when you shoved his face deeper into your cunt. “then act like it,” you told him. a long exhale left your nostrils, feeling and hearing him whimper, “e-eat it like you mean it, seunghyun.” oh, did he listen. your eyes rolled back, head snapping up when the knot in your abdomen made itself known. “th—that’s so f-fucking good. . .” you watched him worship your pussy, drawing your syllables out. “o-oh my god, b-baby—m'close.” you gasped, unable to look away when his tongue lapped you faster. “y-yes! y—yes, yes—f-fuck! s-seunghyun—o—oh!” you cried out unabashedly. your eyes closed, head tipping back. don’t need to imagine him when he’s finally here, your inner monologue reminded you, bringing you over the edge. “d-dont—don’t stop! don’t stop! o—oh, f-fuck—!” you panted erratically, ascending into your high. back arching off the door. your chest heaved in tandem with guttural moans ringing from your diaphragm, giving seunghyun everything he’s dreamt about.

your temples pounded, senses clearing when his lips found your soft jawline. “still with me?” he asked gently. “mhm,” you hummed weakly, slowly turning your head towards him, his lips pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “just give me a second.” you heard him hum in understanding. his lips hovered the supple skin of your cheeks, planting them wherever he saw fit, patiently kissing you back to life. you inhaled deeply through your nostrils, hands traveling up his jacket on the exhale, fingers tugging at the zipper. your hand slipped underneath his shirt, riding up his chest—your touch was sensual, yes, but none more than tender; grounding. a silent plea for proximity, earned with a trusting kiss to your lips. seunghyun moved to your neck, placing slow yet purposefully kisses into your skin, savoring the moment. “how was i, hm?” your voice was soft, breathing leveled. “everything you hoped for?” you chuckled, seunghyun feeling your cheek bunch up against his temple whilst you grinned. “you’re not a person.” his voice was muffled against you. “you’re god herself.” you chuckled again—the sweet sound making his heart stutter: “oh, really?” you smiled, flustered. “then god’s asking if you have a condom.”

“i do—” seunghyun sat up quickly, forgetting his upper half was in his car, bumping his head against the ceiling. “shit!” he cursed under his breath. “slow down.” you giggled, even more beautiful when amused. “m'not going anywhere, y'know.” “i think i have some in here.” he carefully stepped out of the car, opening the passenger’s seat door. pulling his glove compartment open, he rifled through, but to no avail. “c'mon . . ” he tutted to himself, kissing his teeth. he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, spotting the familiar silver wrapper, “oh thank fucking god.” he muttered in relief. “now that just makes you a whore.” you couldn’t hide your smile, failing to stifle your laughter. your eyes lingered on seunghyun as he undid his belt, unbuttoning his jeans before pulling them and his briefs down far enough to free his cock. oh . . . you liked what you saw . . . your leg slipped from the top of the backseat, thighs pressing together without thinking. seunghyun sucked in a sharp breath, thumb collecting his building precum, slicking his cock with it. “i’m a whore for being prepared?” he asked, fingers carefully unwrapping the condom, gradually slipping it on. a grin tugged at your lips, eyes staying on him as he climbed back into the car. his hand wrapped around your right ankle, gently lifting your leg, returning it to its previous position atop the backseat. you scooted down to lay on your back, welcoming him to you, hands on either side of his face, “you’re a whore for having it with your dollar bills.” you playfully tutted, feeling him laugh into the kiss.

he positioned his tip between your soft, puffy lips. his nose nudged yours sweetly, silently beckoning your mouth to his. you obliged without hesitation. this kiss was romantic—soft, sensual. “you better tell me if something’s wrong.” he muttered, voice low. “i will,” you reassured, gently reconnecting the kiss, “i will.” seunghyun slowly pushed his tip in, stomach dropping hearing you wince. “e-everything okay?” his voice quivered, back of his mind percolating with sudden realization. “yeah.” you nodded truthfully, “need to adjust. just go slow.” “i will, baby. i will.” seunghyun leaned down, kissing your cheek dotingly. his lips stayed there, however, because he started to panic. because the more he pushed his cock in—slowly—the more enveloped he was by your tight, gummy walls; the more he was blessed with your divine warmth—and the more he felt closer.

your cute, small gasps weren’t helping. universe save him whenever he overheard your delicate whisper of his name, summoning him like a prayer. he stretched you out gorgeously, giving you something you didn’t know you needed, but it made all the more sense that he was the one who did it for you. “a—any better?” his voice quivered, trying to remain steady. “yeah,” you said breathily, nodding. “jus’ go slow.” you licked your lips, mind fuzzy, “i’ll tell you when to go fast.” i’m not gonna make it, his inner monologue panicked. but seunghyun listened, gradually pulling out, only leaving his tip in. his heavy panting tipped you off, seeing his glossy eyes. “you’re not all here with me, baby.” your caring, doting tone dripped off his ears like honey, making his head spin. oh god— “take a breath for me, seunghyun—” “—f-fuck!”

he had that supreme-court-just-gave-florida-to-bush look on his face. you kept your laughter in, thankfully. “that's—that’s never happened to me before.” seunghyun’s words slurred slightly, pulling out, seeing the now ruined condom. “i think you need to reckon with the fact that you have a really big crush on me.” you chuckled, hiding your face behind your hands. you heard his sneakers skid against the pavement of the parking lot, his hand reaching underneath to take off the condom, tossing it onto the asphalt. “it’ll take a second to wake it back up.” “think you need some help?” “y-yeah. if you don’t mind.” “c'mere, pretty boy.” you called him over softly. he didn’t need to be told twice, “i’ll show you something, hm?” your lips found one another’s like two souls reuniting after centuries apart. there was no rush. you kissed him slowly and deeply, gifting him your tongue when his breathing didn’t sound shallow anymore. sighs of content escaped his nostrils, washing over your cheeks, cascading goosebumps down your spine. your hand reached down, stroking his cock as best you could in your current position. seunghyun received it well, kissing you harder—but not faster—making you moan beautifully against his mouth.

your lips parted from his, the sound of his slick reaching either of your ears. “this is what jiyong and i were doing the night you finally called me.” seunghyun gasped—“a—agh!” he moaned, eyebrows furrowing tightly. “he wasn’t lucky enough to eat my pussy.” your tone was smooth, satisfied with hearing his abrupt, fragmented breaths beside your ear. “well, not yet, anyway. but you already know how that turned out.” you giggled. seunghyun let out his most vulnerable moan yet, face hidden in your hoodie. “you’re nearly there, but not quite. might need a little more.” you spoke sincerely, hand halting your ministrations, “can you stand up for me?” “out—” his voice quivered, “outside of the car?” “outside of the car, baby.” you affirmed. you sat up when he rested his hands on the car, scooting down the backseat, closer to him. a small smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth, amused by the sight of his semi-hard cock. your soft palms traced his toned stomach underneath his shirt, hearing him quickly suck in a breath.

one hand cascaded down, your fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. “didn’t even know i have one that good.” you murmured to yourself, bringing his tip to your lips, running your tongue over his slit. “fuck,” he cursed sharply, nails digging into the roof of his car. he watched your tongue swirl around his tip, eyebrows raising like he’d been caught when you looked up at him, only for his knees to buckle once you started taking him into your mouth—all the while not breaking eye contact. you gradually took half of him into your mouth. not that he was fucking complaining, holy shit—he’s too busy trying not to clear his blurring vision. you were riling him the fuck up—“f-feels so fucking good—ngh!” seunghyun whimpered. he gasped, the vibrations of your chuckle whilst he was still in your fucking mouth catching him horrendously off guard, wincing sinfully. you sucked him off how you wanted to—not wanting to stress your jaw, work your neck, stress your cheeks or anything, really. there didn’t seem to be any issue, however, considering how putty he was after barely a touch. you pumped his tip, sound of his slick so fucking lewd, yet how unbothered you looked by it made seunghyun ready to become a father then and there. he was at your mercy—your complete helm. i could get used to this . . .

“you’re basically there.” “whhaa—” his words slurred, trying to regain his composure. “do you want a little more?” “y-yes.” he stuttered, nodding quickly. “your mouth. p-please—y-yes!” he sounded fragile, deep voice cracking vulnerably. you hollowed your cheeks around him, sucking just enough to make him forget to breathe. seunghyun was unequivocally enraptured by you. sure, he might’ve had some semblance of an idea of what this night might—just might be like . . . but this? man . . . he meant it when he said he would take his feelings to the grave if that was what you wanted. he meant every fucking word he said, actually. and to know—though his intuition never lies, and after tonight, he knows yours doesn’t either—that he is yours as much as you are his . . . take that to the fucking bank, motherfucker, his inner monologue rambled, breathing shallow. he was hard as fuck yet again in spite of his earlier flub. he watched you take him into your mouth however you so pleased, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his tip—head falling back when your cheeks hollowed around him graciously. his jeans fell to his ankles, hand covering his mouth, eyes almost crossing—and to know her bare pussy’s just rubbing against the seat—

without thinking, he pushed his hips forward. you didn’t hesitate, taking him out of your mouth: “absolutely not.” “wh—what?” he was momentarily confused, soon realizing. “did i say you could?” you tutted, squeezing your fingers firmly around the base of his cock. “n-no! you—y-you didn’t!” he shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. “m'sorr—m'sorry, baby. f-fuck—holy f-fuck, i’m sorry.” his breathing deepened, whimpering. you felt his dick throb in your hand, “i'm—i-i’m hard again. let me make it up to you. let me fuck you—fuck you good. i promise—” he rambled, but you cut him off. a chill ran down his spine. he swore his dick twitched, “you better have another condom, seunghyun.” “i-i do.” he nodded, pulling his jeans up enough to retrieve his wallet, taking another silver wrapper out. he put the condom on, hovering over you a few moments later. “i’m sorry—” “—just fuck me, seunghyun.” you held his face, fingers falling to the collar of his shirt, tugging aimlessly whilst you felt him position himself, “fuck me so i forget how much you hurt me.” his face fell to one of hurt, beautifully melting into one of inexplicable pleasure, mimicking yours as he filled you up. he wasted absolutely no time—giving you what you deserve.

you mewled with every thrust, descending into guttural moans every time his balls plopped against the bottom of your ass. “f-fuck, yes!” you gasped. “oh, f-fuck—baby—” you bit your bottom lip, seeing his dick disappear and reappear in real time—stretching you out delectably. your thick thighs recoild with every movement, hugging his waist the best you could in your position. “your dick feels so fucking good.” you whimpered, tugging at his shirt. “just like that, just like that—hngh!” you inhaled sharply, feeling him hit all the areas you needed most. seunghyun was a babbling, incoherent mess: “i l-love it when you tell me what to do.” he panted. “i love it—f-fuck! holy fuck!—” you clenched around him, halting his thrusts temporarily. “f—fuck, baby—” he drew out his syllables pathetically, moving his hips slowly, gradually fucking you again. your hand reached aimlessly behind you, pads of your fingers turning white against the window for any sort of possible grip, your body jolting forward with every thrust. “i love it when you p-put me in my place, baby.” he buried his face into your neck, the sound of your moans intoxicating his self-control. “i want—mmph!—i want my place to b-be you.”

your puffy lips were having a field day, rammed repeatedly by his toned pelvis. “you’re so good at fucking me, you know that?” you breathed heavily. “i don’t think—mmf! hngh! oh, fuck! y-yeah—oh, yes! like that!” your eyes rolled back, hearing how creamy the condom sounded, pounded deliciously. “i don’t think i could get used to this from anybody else.” you told him, mouth falling from how fragile his moan that followed sounded. “so you better get up in there,” your voice quivered. “'cause no one’s gonna be able to fuck me like you do.” seunghyun went faster, earning the most beautiful moan out of you. “y-yes!” you squeaked, legs feeling like jelly. “like t-that m-my love, like that!” “y-you’re gonna be the death of me, baby.” he whimpered, drawing out his syllables, panting like a motherfucker. “i don’t know who i was b-before i met you. i’m gonna—gonna spend the rest of my f-fucking life m-making it up to you. you hear me—o-oh, fuck—” he steadily halted his pace, thrusting hard, catching his breath. “i’m so s-sorry for not calling. i’m so sorry for hurting you,” he sounded on the brink of tears, lips seeking refuge on your temple. “i don’t know what i was thinking—” “just fuck me like it never happened, okay?” your chest heaved, feeling the knot tug at your abdomen, begging for release. “you already know me so well so quick, seunghyun.”

either of your whorish moans battled it out for the top spot, feeling him pummel your pussy mercilessly. “are you—are you close, seunghyunnie?” oh my fucking god, his inner monologue panicked. “y-yes—” “—yeah? m'close too.” you bit your bottom lip, thighs about to give out in your lustful haze.“you know how i like it!” you cried aloud, gummy walls clenching around him, feeling that familiar euphoric wave take over your entire body. “you know just how i l-like it, seunghyunnie!” he gasped, watching your back arch, your face succumbing to the ethereal force of the orgasm he had the privilege of giving you. watching you cum made him cum—“i’ll keep going, baby! i’ll k-keep—f-fuck!” the condom warmed inside of you, chock-full of what you do to him. seunghyun’s stomach caved inward, moans nearly choking his throat, gasping for air whilst goosebumps erupted underneath his sleeves. you were in your own realm—hand having fallen to the floor, temples pounding viciously. it didn’t take long for seunghyun to find you—as he always did—returning his head to your chest, eyelids heavy as your fingers found his sweaty hair. he rested in your divineness, seeking refuge in a way that's tender—familiar, now. you held onto him, afraid he’d slip away; perish. on the floor of the passenger’s seat, your phone vibrated: Hi baby :) Hope ur exam went ok, jiyong texted. he stared at his next message on his screen, sending it five minutes later, just as seunghyun pulled out of you: I love you.

honey's taglist ☕️: @gongyoosgf @infinetlyforgotten @riddlerloveb0t @mesopotamism @pepsicolapussi @breakmeoff @thanosspills @moontabi @tabibabib @lexalith @lavenderobsessed @heartubeatusalon

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andy-15-07 · 5 months ago

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Hello! Can you make a Paul Mescal story where Y/N is a famous actress and singer, she was dating a friend of Paul's and their breakup wasn't very friendly, so she and Paul didn't get along very well. They're making a movie together (it could be Gladiator II where she's the sister of the emperors) and they're going to be a romantic couple throughout the movie. It's practically an enemies to lovers (an +18…🫦)

Set on Fire

PAIRING:Paul Mescal x reader

WORD COUNT: 2119 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Paul Mescal Masterlist

The roaring heat of the Moroccan desert felt like a furnace, the sun glaring down mercilessly on the film set. Y/N adjusted her tunic, cursing the sweat trickling down her back. It was day four of filming Gladiator II, and things were already tense. Not because of the epic stunts, the heavy costumes, or the sweltering heat—but because of Paul Mescal.

Paul Mescal, the golden boy of the film industry, the one everyone adored, except her.

“Y/N, ready for blocking?” the assistant director called.

She nodded, plastering on her professional face. The cameras were about to roll, and she couldn’t afford to let her personal feelings show.

Paul was leaning against one of the makeshift pillars on set, his leather armor glinting in the sun. He looked every bit the part of a grizzled gladiator, with his tousled hair and piercing eyes. Y/N hated to admit it, but he looked good—too good.

“Try not to trip over your lines this time,” he said, smirking as she walked past.

Her eyes narrowed. “Try not to get winded during the fight scene, old man.”

Paul chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly attractive. “Touché.”

The tension between them wasn’t just about ego. It went deeper, stemming from her past relationship with James, one of Paul’s close friends. Their breakup had been public, messy, and filled with more drama than she cared to relive. Paul had made it clear whose side he was on, and they hadn’t exactly been cordial since.

“You two have so much chemistry!” the director gushed during a break. “It’s electric! Keep it up!”

If only he knew.

Later, after a grueling scene where their characters confessed their forbidden love, Y/N stormed off the set, fuming. Paul followed her, his boots crunching on the gravel.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded, grabbing her arm.

She wrenched it free. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t lean into the kiss.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted me to throw myself at you.”

Paul’s jaw clenched. “It’s called acting, Y/N. Maybe try it sometime.”

“Don’t lecture me about acting, Mescal. You’re not exactly Daniel Day-Lewis.”

Paul stepped closer, his voice dropping. “You know what your problem is? You can’t separate real life from the script. That kiss—it’s not about you and me. It’s about the characters.”

Her heart pounded as he loomed over her, his blue eyes blazing. “Maybe you should stop pretending you’re above it all, Paul. You’re just as involved in this as I am.”

Their animosity hit its peak during a late-night rehearsal. Alone in the empty studio, they ran lines for a heated argument scene.

“You think you’re better than me?” her character shouted.

“I don’t think it—I know it,” Paul shot back, his voice dripping with disdain.

The energy between them was raw, almost too real. As the argument escalated, their voices echoed in the cavernous space.

Suddenly, Paul grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her close. “Do you hate me, Y/N? Or is it something else?”

Her breath hitched, her scripted lines forgotten. “What are you doing?”

He smirked, his voice a whisper. “Getting into character.”

Before she could respond, he kissed her. It wasn’t gentle or rehearsed—it was fiery, filled with the frustration and tension that had been building between them for weeks.

When they pulled apart, both were breathless.

“That wasn’t in the script,” she muttered.

Paul grinned. “Improvisation.”

The air in the empty studio was thick with the aftermath of their kiss. Y/N stared at him, her breath catching in her throat. Paul, his eyes still dark and intense, reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

"I... I don't know what that was," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Me neither."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. "But I want to know more."

Y/N felt a shiver crawl down her spine. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment. He tasted of whiskey and regret, but also of something raw and undeniable. He tasted of hope.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze searching hers. "Come to my room later," he whispered, his voice husky. "I want to see you again."

Y/N nodded, unable to speak.

Later that night, she found herself standing outside his hotel room door, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She took a deep breath, then knocked softly.

The door swung open, revealing Paul in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, his hair tousled. He smiled, a slow, seductive smile that sent a jolt of excitement through her.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside to let her in.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the city lights outside. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind him.

"You came," he said, his voice a low murmur.

She nodded, unable to speak.

He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw. "You're beautiful," he whispered, his gaze sweeping over her.

Y/N felt a flutter of nerves, a mixture of excitement and apprehension. She smiled, a shy, uncertain smile. "You're not so bad yourself."

He moved towards her, his steps slow and deliberate. He knelt in front of her, his eyes locked with hers. "Let me show you how beautiful you are."

He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw, then moving down her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Y/N closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her lips. She parted her lips, and he tasted her, a slow, tentative exploration that quickly turned into a passionate kiss. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, and the kiss deepened, their tongues dueling for dominance.

Y/N broke the kiss, panting slightly. "Paul..."

He looked up at her, his eyes dark and intense. "Let me," he whispered, his voice a low growl.

He began to unbutton her shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly with the unfamiliar buttons. Y/N giggled, helping him. He finally managed to free her from the confines of the fabric, revealing the delicate lace of her bra.

He traced the lace with his fingers, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "You're breathtaking," he murmured, his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against her skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. He gently cupped her breast in his hand, his thumb circling her nipple, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

Y/N reached down, her fingers tracing the contours of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against her palm. She moved lower, her hands exploring his broad shoulders, his toned abdomen, finally resting on the waistband of his jeans.

He watched her movements, his breath catching in his throat. He reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, his fingers fumbling with the clasp.

Y/N, emboldened, took over, her fingers deftly undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans. She slid them down, revealing him in all his glory. He was even more impressive than she had imagined, long and thick, throbbing with anticipation.

She reached out, her fingers tracing the length of him, feeling the warmth of his skin. He gasped, his eyes widening.

"Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

She leaned down, her lips brushing against the sensitive head of his penis, eliciting a low groan from him. She circled him with her tongue, tasting him, exploring him.

He gripped the sheets, his body trembling with anticipation. She moved lower, taking him deeper into her mouth, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him filling her mouth.

He arched his back, his head thrown back, a series of low moans escaping his lips. He reached down, his hands gripping her hair, pulling her closer.

Y/N continued to pleasure him, her movements slow and deliberate at first, then increasing in speed and intensity. He felt a wave of pleasure wash over him, his body trembling with the force of it.

He cried out, his hands tightening on her hair, his body arching off the bed. He felt a release, a surge of pleasure that left him weak and breathless.

He collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving, his heart pounding. Y/N held him close, stroking his hair.

"That was..." she began, her voice husky.

"Incredible," he finished for her, his voice a low growl.

He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering. "I want more."

Y/N smiled, a lazy, contented smile. "I think I do too."

He rolled off her, his eyes still filled with a lingering afterglow. He reached for her, pulling her close. "Come here," he whispered.

She moved beneath him, her body fitting perfectly against his. He lowered himself onto her, the initial touch tentative, then deepening with a groan.

Y/N arched into him, her nails digging into his shoulders. The sheets rustled, the air thick with the scent of their arousal.

He moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hands exploring her body, eliciting soft moans from her lips. He found the sweet spot on her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

Y/N reached down, her fingers finding the sensitive skin beneath his waistband, circling him gently. He gasped, his grip tightening on her hips.

"Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "You're incredible."

She leaned up, kissing him deeply, her tongue tangling with his. He responded with a ferocity that matched her own, his hands moving lower, exploring the hidden depths of her body.

Y/N felt a shiver crawl down her spine as his fingers found the most intimate parts of her. She arched into him, her body trembling, a low moan escaping her lips. Paul's eyes, dark and intense, met hers, and she saw the raw desire mirrored in their depths.

He moved inside her, slow and deliberate at first, then with increasing urgency. Y/N cried out, her body arching against him, the pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo. She felt him inside her, every muscle tightening, every nerve igniting.

The world seemed to fade away, replaced by the sensation of his body moving within her. It was a primal, overwhelming experience, a release of all the pent-up tension and unspoken desires.

Paul followed soon after, his body trembling above hers as he erupted inside her. They lay spent, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths ragged. Paul held her close, burying his face in her hair.

"That was..." she began, her voice husky.

"Incredible," he finished for her, his voice a low growl.

He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering. "I want more."

Y/N smiled, a lazy, contented smile. "I think I do too."

And as their bodies began to stir again, they knew this was just the beginning of a passionate, unforgettable affair. This time, it wasn't just about physical pleasure; it was about emotional connection, about exploring the depths of their intimacy and discovering the true meaning of passion.

They continued to make love throughout the night, their bodies moving in a rhythmic dance, their passion building to fever pitch. They explored each other's bodies, their hands and mouths a whirlwind of sensations.

In the morning, they woke to the gentle rays of the rising sun, still entwined in each other's arms. They lay in comfortable silence, the aftermath of their passion a warm, comforting glow.

Paul leaned down, his lips brushing against her hair. "Good morning," he whispered, his voice husky with sleep.

Y/N smiled, snuggling closer to him. "Good morning."

They spent the rest of the morning in bed, lazily talking and laughing, their bodies still tingling with the afterglow of their lovemaking.

As they lay there, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of something special. The tension that had simmered between them for so long had finally been released, replaced by a deep, passionate connection.

She looked at Paul, his face peaceful in sleep, and a wave of happiness washed over her. She had never felt this way before, so completely and utterly connected to another person.

She knew that their relationship wouldn't be easy. They still had to overcome the lingering effects of her past and the initial animosity between them. But she also knew that they were strong enough to face whatever challenges came their way.

As she drifted back to sleep, she held onto the feeling of Paul's arms around her, the warmth of his body against hers. She knew that this was just the beginning of their story, a story filled with passion, adventure, and love.

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not-neverland06 · 1 year ago

Text

How About a Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, the ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I always appreciate your thoughts and comments on these chapters. I don’t reply to every comment, mainly because I’m cackling like an evil witch over your suffering Summary: Time split in two. Both sides of the same coin and neither of you can get your shit together.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you,” you held your hand out and shook Tom’s, though your experience with him was anything but wonderful. If you didn’t need the exposure you’d never do another movie for him again. Cooper came up behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“I’m sorry, I’m just going to steal her for a minute.”

Tom waved his hand and went to track down another drink. You sank into Cooper’s arms, deflating with relief. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He chuckled and the sound had shivers going down your spine. “No problem at all, sweetheart.” He swept you out of the room and into one of the hallways of whoever’s house you were at. You’d stopped paying attention after about the fifth party you’d been dragged to. Working with Cooper had been a dream come true, but you hadn’t realized just how much socializing you’d have to do.

He let go of you and you immediately missed the feeling of his arm around you. He provided you with a sense of protection you’d been severely lacking since you started acting. He was a shield against the greed of Hollywood.

You let yourself lean against the wall and he watched you with a keen eye, smiling slightly at how tired you looked. “Doing alright?”

You nodded before looking up and giving him a small smile. “Just need a little break, that’s all.”

He rested against the wall opposite to you, tugging out a cigarette and offering you one. You shook your head and tried rolling out your shoulders to get rid of some of the lingering tension. He had a knowing look on his face when he spoke.

“It was like that for me too when I first started out. No one really prepares you for how much ass you have to kiss in this industry.”

You let out a short laugh and rolled your eyes, “My lips are chapped at this point. I’ve never had to stroke so many men’s egos in one night.”

“I hope you don’t feel like you have to do the same with me.”

You glanced up at Cooper and shook your head, “No, you’re not like that.”

Fuck him, you thought. You didn’t have to do what he said. You got up, prepared to duck your way through the fighting again, when you heard the unmistakable high pitched ringing of a bullet flying by and then you were launching forward.

“Fuck!” Your hand flew to your arm, trying to stop the blood from oozing out of the graze on your arm. He hadn’t left a hole but a good chunk of your bicep was splattered on the ground.

“Now, what did I tell you sweetheart?” You turned around to stare shocked at Cooper. He pointed to the ground with his gun. “Go ahead and sit your ass back down.” The warmth of the blood seeped out from between your fingers and your other hand clenched in rage.

“Why don’t you just go fuck yourself, Cooper?” He might not have had eyebrows anymore but you could still make out the way his muscles shifted in anger. Despite it all, you could still read him like a book.

You weren’t going to let him think he could just continue to treat you however the hell he wanted. “What did you just say to me?” His voice was low, a dangerous tone that days before you might not have messed with. But you didn’t care. He’d shot you twice at this point, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a shit about catering to his feelings right now.

Your hand reached towards the gun tucked in your pants. His eyes tracked the movement but he made no move to stop you. Slowly, you wrapped your fingers around the handle and you pointed the barrel right at him. He chuckled but there was no humor in the sound. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“If you’re gonna shoot me, go ahead and do it. But our partnership ends here.” You hoped he couldn’t see the way your hand trembled or how the gun shook. You weren’t sure, when the moment came, if you could actually kill him. Despite it all, you still saw the man you used to love in that face.

And despite what he’d told you about that man, you couldn’t let yourself believe him. You couldn’t afford to lose the last good memory you had. You’re caught off guard when he clicks the hammer again and tucks the gun back in his holster.

Your eyes are wide with surprise but he just raises his hands in surrender. “Go ahead and leave, I’m never one to linger where I’m unwanted.” Well, that’s a fucking lie. Still, you decide to take him at his word and slowly you tuck the gun away again.

“Goodbye, Cooper.”

He smirks, “Goodbye, darling.”

You should have known better. You’ve barely turned around before a rope is looped around your waist and dragging you to the ground and back towards him.

“Thanks for having me over, Barb. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” She shook her head and placed your cup of coffee on the table.

“What kind of hostess would I be if I asked that of you?” She gave you a kind smile and left to dart back into the kitchen. You fiddled with the table mat in front of you, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Cooper came back in from the yard and waved you forward.

“Come on, she’ll be a while longer, it’s nicer out here.” You left your cup on the table and followed him outside. He led you to the pool, motioning for you to take a seat on one of the chairs. You appreciated how hospitable he and his wife were but you were feeling incredibly out of place in his home.

Cooper laughed and gave you a funny look. “You don’t look very comfortable over there.”

You shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. “Am I that obvious?”

He shook his head, “Not to anyone else, maybe.”

“But you know me a bit better than anyone else,” you finished the thought for him. He was right. He knew you better than anyone in Hollywood did. And you enjoyed it and loved how close you had gotten over the course of filming the movie. But you also hated it a little bit.

Cooper Howard had always been an on-screen crush for you and now face-to-face with him, the infatuation has gotten even worse. It made you feel awful every time Barb invited you over to their house. You were a guest in her home and halfway to being in love with her husband.

But who could blame you? He was kind and sophisticated, and he wasn’t one of those Hollywood assholes who looked down on anybody who was deemed as below him.

And maybe you were mistaking his generosity for something else, but you swear he had a certain look in his eyes every time he stared at you.

You almost hoped that he didn’t. You wanted this to be different from the other men you worked with. They always claimed they were in love with you. It didn’t take long for them to realize that it was only lust and not love.

You wanted him to be different.

Maybe you’re a fool for thinking that there was still Prince Charming’s around. But you would hold onto that hope for as long as you could.

“I fucking hate you. You know that?”

“Why don’t you shut your mouth, huh, sweetheart?” You hissed in pain as Cooper squeezed the rag around your arm even tighter. He grinned at the noise and tied the makeshift bandage off.

“You should have just left me there.” He stood up and yanked your hands towards him. He used some of the rope to tie you up, leading you around on a leash like you were a damn dog.

“Couldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, why the hell not?” He finally looked at you, an angry set to his eyes. But he didn’t respond, he just yanked on the rope and dragged you forward. You complied, only because of the way your shoulder pulsed with pain.

You wished he had left you in Filly instead of dragging you along behind him. He had already dealt with Ma June and gotten whatever the hell it is that he puffs on. You had no idea why he even needed you anymore.

You weren’t of any use to him and it’s not like there’s some big bounty on your head. Why keep you around? Why not give you both what you want and just let you go?

Maybe it was cruelty. Maybe the only thing he got out of it, was knowing that he was torturing you. That seemed like enough for a man like him.

You stared at the back of his head and felt hate burning in your gut. He was right. Cooper was gone, you couldn’t even see him anymore. You didn’t want to see him anymore.

“We’ll get along just fine if you keep that attitude of yours in check.” If you could still pull out your gun, you’d take your chance. You’d shoot him dead if you could. Instead all you could do was longingly stare at it from where it was tucked in your bag.

He returned from where he’d been keeping watch, confident no one was going to bother them tonight. She sat with her back to him, the rope tied around the post of the old warehouse they were camped out in. She’d refused to talk to him since they’d made camp for the night and it was slowly driving him insane.

He’d made a decision when he went back for her. She belonged to him now, she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He didn’t understand why she had to make all of this so hard.

He knelt down in front of her and she averted her eyes to a corner of the room behind him. He reached for the bandage on her arm and she jerked back, she looked at him at least, even if it was to glare. He’d take progress where he could get it.

“You want to let it fester and rot then be my guest.” She stared at him a moment longer before sighing and offering him her arm. He unwrapped the bandage and threw it to the ground. It was sopping wet with her blood and she winced at the noise it made when it landed, some blood sprayed off and hit her face. He’d meant to just graze her, done a bit more damage than expected.

There was a large divot where muscle should be, he could nearly see bone poking through on the deepest bit. It was a wonder she hadn’t been complaining the whole time they were walking. He’s not sure how she’s bearing the pain so well.

He needs to cauterize it before she loses more blood. He takes a glance at her face, the way her jaw is set, the cold look in her eyes everytime he so much as breathes. There’s no way this will go over very well, but there’s no point in investing any time in her if she just dies of rot tomorrow.

He starts a fire in the area with the least visibility, he’s trying not to tempt any stragglers near them. It’s not like he can rely on her to watch over him in the night, he’s sure if he handed her a knife she’d slit his throat right now.

He pulls his machete out and lets the dull edge heat up before bringing it back over to her. Her eyes widen but she still doesn’t say anything. And when he presses the edge into her wound and her skin sizzles and roasts she still doesn’t utter a word.

But she bites down on something in her mouth so hard blood leaks out of the corner of her lips. She’s being real tempting right now, all bloodied and cooked, smelling like a nice meal. Maybe he should chop her up into little pieces, she’ll keep him fed for a while, that’s for sure.

She starts panting, breathing heavy through her nose and he knows he’s kept this on here longer than necessary. Still, he can’t help himself. He presses the blade a little deeper, lets it hit some uninjured skin just to see if she says anything. She only clenches her eyes shut and turns away from him.

Disappointed by the lack of response he backs off. “You’re welcome,” he grouses.

“Fuck. Off.” She spits the words out at him, droplets of blood flying off her lips as she does.

The way her eyes flare with anger shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. But she has always been particularly pretty when she’s pissed off at him. He licks the blood off his lips and grins. “So she can talk.”

Her eyes well up with tears and he sits back, enjoying the sight of her breaking down. She’s caused enough trouble for him the past few days, she’s just getting a taste of her own medicine.

Cooper swoops in, taking her hand and leading her around the dance floor. She grins up at him, eyes shining under the lights of the ballroom, once again he’s struck by just how gorgeous she is. “I should warn you,” she leans in like she’s sharing a horrible secret and whispers, “I’m a terrible dancer.”

He takes her in, the pretty dress she’s wearing and how well it suits her and shakes his head. “Just let me lead.”

Her laugh makes his heart race and all he wants to do is run away with her. Get her out of here and just have her all for his own, if only for a few hours. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, mister.” The music picks up and he takes her through the steps he had to practice a dozen different times for a multitude of occasions, one including his wedding.

“Do you know how pretty you look tonight?”

She gives him a coy smile and shrugs. “I’ve been told by a few men, but I think I’d actually believe it if you said it.”

He leans down and kisses her. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself. She’s as soft as he’d imagined, shy and confused, but she doesn’t stop him. He feels her lean in and he slowly parts from her. “You look beautiful.” She pulls away from him, eyes wide and lips parted from shock. He sees the shine on her lips, the slight way they’ve swelled up and he wants to lean in again but he’s interrupted.

“Cut!” Sam walks over to them, a big grin on his face and claps Cooper on the shoulder. “I love the improv, Coop, we’re gonna do this again. Keep the kiss.” Cooper nods and waits for him to walk off before he turns back to her.

He offers her an apologetic smile. “I hope that didn’t bother you, darling. It felt right for the scene.” Not a complete lie, it did work better than whatever the writers had chosen for the next few minutes of dialogue. But truly, he was just fulfilling his own selfish desires.

She seems to blink herself out of some sort of daze. She shakes her head and steps away from him, he lets his hands fall down to his sides, already missing the feeling of her. “No, not at all. Good call, Coop.” His name on her lips sounds like music to his ears, especially that breathy way she says it when she’s nervous.

He sighs and rubs a hand down his face. What the fuck is he doing? He shouldn’t have kissed her. He definitely shouldn’t have pushed to get her this role, either, knowing she was going to be his love interest. He knows she’s been trying to step back from these types of things. But he also knows that she’d take any role he offered her.

He shouldn’t be taking advantage of that, but he can’t help himself. He finds that he wants to be near her, always. He wants to listen to her ramble and have her there to read scripts with, he just wants her around him constantly. It used to be purely platonic. The respectful relationship between a mentor and mentee. But she’d figured out how to navigate this world on her own.

Soon, he worried she wouldn’t need him anymore. Or want him around. He takes every opportunity he can to have her on set and it’s only recently that he’s noticed the physical attraction. He takes his hand off his face and glances to the side.

Barb is there, but she hadn’t been watching. She’s busy talking to one of the PA’s. He takes in a deep breath and gets back on his mark. If he messes up a few times, just so he can kiss her again, who could blame him?

“Cat got your tongue?”

You have a dozen different remarks, but you’re too drained to go through this routine again. You can tell he’s getting angrier the longer you ignore him. Good! He’s shot you twice, you didn’t exactly owe him the satisfaction of your conversation.

Your arm is throbbing, a dull pain that you can feel deep in your bones. You keep shifting, trying to ease some of the pressure off of it, but with the bindings around your wrist it’s nearly impossible. You want to cry, scream, fight. You want to do anything, but he’s bound you and you feel like a beaten down dog.

Your tails’ been cropped and you’re just going through endless rounds of fighting until you’re useless enough to be put down. You don’t see a way out of this. And even if there was, even if you did escape, you’d still have the rest of the Wastelands to get through.

He stands up and moves next to you. He throws himself down with a thud and digs around in your bag. “No rations left, huh?” You close your eyes and let your head thunk back against the pole you’ve been leashed to. He grabs his own bag and pulls out his foul smelling jerky.

He dangles it under your nose, slapping your cheeks with it a few times until you open up your eyes. He grins, yellowed teeth making you nauseous, “There are those pretty eyes. Come on, open up sweetheart, ass jerky ain’t gonna eat itself.”

Your nose scrunches up in disgust and you turn your head away. “Hey!” He snaps and you jump. “I’m being generous here, now, open your damn mouth.”

“Why’d you shoot me?” You spit it out, rushed and near incoherent. It’s a desperate attempt to distract him so you don’t have to eat what is confirmed human meat. That could have been you today, had you not woken up before that creepy old couple got to you.

He takes a moment, contemplating his answer. “Thought you were the raider.”

“Why?”

He rolled his eyes and the jerky, thankfully, dropped back into his lap. “I heard someone in pain. You don’t have a great track record, sweetheart, I figured someone had gotten you again.”

Indignant anger bubbled up in your gut and you moved as far away from him as you possibly could. Though, it was only a few inches. “You didn’t think I could defend myself. It wasn’t even a consideration?”

You knew how to shoot a gun, and you knew how to fight back. But shouldn’t there be a bit of grace considering a few days ago the entire world wasn’t fucking insane? You think you’ve handled yourself exceptionally well considering everything that’s been thrown at you.

There’s no hesitation in his answer, “No.”

“Well,” you spit the words out like you want to wound him with them, “you were wrong.”

To your surprise he smiles. It seems genuine enough, appreciative even, but you can’t trust him anymore. You never should have trusted him to begin with apparently. “That I was.” You wished you could smack the smug look off his face. He was acting like he had anything to do with your fighting or surviving that fight. Despite what happened with the raiders, you were capable of protecting yourself.

That woman was already bleeding out and on the ground before he had interrupted. “What the fuck do you want from me, Cooper?” His hand twitched towards his gun and he glared at you. You rolled your eyes and sighed, “Oh grow the fuck up, I said your name, shoot me or get over it. I’m not gonna play this game with you anymore. I’m not gonna let you walk all over me and I’m not going to continue to cater to your temper.”

He wasn’t angry, though, he was grinning. Making a noise that bordered on a laugh. “Someone found their fight again, it seems.”

Your jaw clenched and you kicked at him. He grunted at the impact and you felt a little bit of satisfaction flare up, “Answer the question.”

He shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t particularly like you, but I can’t seem to let you go either.”

“Well,” you scoffed, “you sure know how to make a girl swoon, don’t you.” Your wrists itched within the confines of their bindings and you pictured strangling him with the very rope he had you tied up with.

“You wanted the truth.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Cooper wrapped his arms around Barb’s waist, he leaned in to kiss her but she dodged away from him. He let out a heavy sigh, already dreading this conversation, and backed up. “What are you talking about?”

She whirled around on him and glared, “Do not pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” He shook his head and walked over to the bar cart, pouring himself a glass of something that would hopefully calm him enough for another fight. They’d been fighting a lot lately.

He knew what this one was going to be about. Her, but they’d been having issues long before this attraction started up. She just wanted something to use against him, to make him the bad guy. She just couldn’t ever handle hearing the truth about herself.

But he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. He was sick of rolling over and just letting her have what she wanted for the sake of peace. “Give me something to work with here, Barb.”

She scoffed and shook her head muttering, “Unbelievable,” under her breath. “Shoving your tongue down her throat, that’s what I’m talking about!”

Cooper winced, “Lower your voice, Janey is-”

“Do not,” she held up a hand to silence him. “Do not bring our daughter into this. Answer the damn question.”

He let out a humorless laugh and held up his hands. “I don't know what you want. You’ve never had a problem with this before. It’s a part of my fucking job, Barb, what the hell do you want?”

She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just admit it, Coop, she’s different. We both know it, this isn’t some scripted kiss. You wanted it!” Of course he did. At least she actually liked him, appreciated him, made him feel something other than shame and frustration. She didn’t manipulate him at every opportunity like Barb did.

“Lower your goddamn voice!” He snapped, heat rushing to his cheeks in anger. “I am married to you, you are my wife, not her. I love you, okay, Barb. I don’t know where this is coming from, or why you’re choosing now to bring this up. But I’ve had a long day and I don’t want us to go to bed angry.”

She shook her head again and paced the length of the living room. “Cooper, I can’t-”

The phone ringing interrupted her. She looked at it like she knew who was calling and waved her hand to dismiss him. “We will continue this,” he walked towards the phone and took it off the hook. “What?”

He regretted how short he sounded when he heard her on the other line. She sounded a little confused and like she was sorry for bugging him. “Coop? Sorry, is this a bad time?” He glanced over his shoulder at Barb but she wasn’t looking at him anymore.

He let out a deep sigh and tried to reign in his temper, “No, sweetheart, what’s up?”

“Oh, well a few of us figured we’d go out and get some drinks. I wanted to see if you wanted to join us, or if you could give me a ride?”

He let the phone droop to his cheek and glanced at Barb again. She was already making her way towards the bedroom. “Make your choice, Cooper,” she called over her shoulder.

She piped up on the other end, “Coop?”

He glanced down at the phone again before he shook his head and brought it back up to his ear. “Yeah, I’ll be right over, honey. Let me just grab my jacket.”

“You remember that first movie we did together?” He leaned back against the wall, arm propped up on his knee and gazing out at the Wasteland. “Passed a poster for it in this old movie theater a week ago.” He glanced over at her and nudged her shoulder. “Must have been a sign, huh?”

Her voice was a hoarse croak that he nearly didn’t understand. “Did you ever love me?” The question came out of nowhere, catching him slightly off guard.

Anger flared through him. He turned to glare at her but she wouldn’t look at him. She had the audacity to ask something that fucking stupid and then she couldn’t even look at him?

“Hey,” she sighed and turned to face him. “‘Course I did. Why the hell would you say that?”

She snorted and shook her head. “Seriously?” He nodded and she sighed. “You told me you didn’t. All I was, was a hole to fill.”

He ran a hand down his face and shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you sweetheart.”

“How about the truth,” she gave him a sharp look and he laughed. She was real cute when she was trying to be threatening.

“Alright. You want some advice? Everyone in the Wastelands lies. Can’t trust a thing anyone says.”

She nodded but he should know better than to think she would give up so easy. “So, I can’t believe you now then?” She must have thought she was real clever. He was getting a little sick of this back and forth. She needed to learn to just listen to him, she’d get a lot farther a lot faster that way.

“Consider this the one exception.”

“And here I thought you didn’t like to drink, sweetheart.” She let out a drunken giggle and slumped further against Cooper. He glanced at her and laughed. Her eyes were barely open and she kept pointing at something but refused to tell him what it was she was talking about. “Keys?”

She lifted her purse but it dropped to the ground before he could grab it from her. Cooper sighed and propped her against her door, he leaned down to grab the bag and dug around until he found the keys. He noticed the little key chain he got her dangling from them and smiled.

A mini revolver, to commemorate their first movie together. It was cute that she had kept it, he hadn’t really expected her too. Then again, he’s kept every ridiculous gag gift she’s gotten him. “Alright, let’s get you to bed.” She threw an uncoordinated arm over his shoulder and let her feet drag while he tried to corral her into her apartment.

“Work with me, honey, come on.” She finally lifted her feet enough to stumble into her bedroom. He closed the door and heard a loud thud. “Shit,” he ran into her room but she’d only tossed her shoes across the room.

“I don’t drink,” she slurred, eyes red and cheeks puffy.

He chuckled and nodded his head. He hoped to get her lucid enough just long enough to get her tucked into bed. He was tired and going to get drinks had been a mistake. He wasn’t in the mood to try and entertain a group of people with tales of his glamorous Hollywood experience. Honestly, he’d gone just to talk to her, but she’d been in more of a mood to party than he had expected.

“Don’t trust anyone.” He grabbed the sleeves of her jacket, helping her out of it and trying not to laugh at how much she struggled with them. “Just you,” she hummed, giving him a smile even though her eyes were closed and she was a second away from passing out.

“That’s real sweet, why don’t you get in bed?” She nodded and threw herself down against the pillows. Cooper sighed and got up to get her trash can out of the bathroom, dropping it by the side of her bed in case she needed it.

He glanced down at her, taking in the serene expression she held when she slept. It was so different to the usual way she kept herself guarded, she seemed so vulnerable in moments like these. He brushed the hair off her face and turned the light off. It made him feel good to know that she felt safe with him.

He could never be with her the way that he wanted to, but at the very least he could protect her from the people who would just take what he wanted.

“I don’t think I can do this on my own,” she whispered. She shifted again, tugging at the bindings once more. Annoyed at her constant fidgeting he reached over and loosened them slightly. His fingers lingered on the reddened marks on her wrist, he pressed lightly on them and she shivered.

He let her go and sat back against the post. “I know.”

“I stupidly thought I would find something in Filly. I think I was trying to prove something to myself, but I can’t do this. I need help, but I’m not gonna let you treat me like some pet you didn’t want.”

He sighed and she turned to look at him. When he really took her in, actually paid attention to her, he could see how tired she was. That sort of bone deep tired that you only get after a lot of bad days. He’s sure that’s what this was, it’s how it was for him when he first started out on his own.

He didn’t have anyone to help him or guide him, he figured it out on his own. It made him smarter, stronger, turned him into somebody that no one was going to fuck with. She was a lot different than him, though.

“Alright.”

“You’re going to help me,” she held out her hands and he understood the gesture for what it was. A test, to see if he was true to his word, if you could actually believe him.

He grinned and yanked her closer, reveling in the way she winced at the ropes burning the open wounds. “I’ve had a taste of you now, sweetheart, I won’t be letting you go anytime soon.” She doesn’t flinch when he pulls out his knife, not even when he presses it against the tender skin of her wrist.

There’s trust in her eyes, a hesitant trust, but it was there. He slices through the knot of rope and wraps the rest of it up to put back in his bag. She lets out a sigh of relief and rubs at the irritated patches of skin. “I really did love you, you know?”

He’s sick of this. He’s sick of how sad she sounds, how tired. It’s barely been a week and she’s already starting to give up. He's already made the decision to keep her around, he’s not one to go back on his word. But she’s making it real hard to not just knock her out and shut her up. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, “so did I.”

She scoffed, “No. You didn’t, not like I did.”

His hand clenches at his side in frustration. What’s it gonna take to drill this into her head? He grabs her by the chin and yanks her forward, the leather of his glove smushing her lips together. “I loved you. You don’t get to doubt that and you don’t get to doubt me.”

He’s darting forward before she can shove him back. Her hands hang limply between them and she gasps in surprise when he presses their lips together. It’s not altogether pleasant, her lips cracked and bloodied and his have long since turned to leather.

But that familiar passion he once held for her sparks up and he shoves forward. She whimpers and lets herself fall back, hands grabbing at his jacket and tugging him closer. He used to treat her gently, savor their time together like they’d never have another chance. It always felt like that, they were one moment away from losing each other. He supposes he’d been right, their time was short.

Who they were now were two different people to who they’d been. He bites down on her lip hard enough to draw blood and pulls back. She’s staring up at him, shocked and flustered. He can’t tell if she wants to kiss him again or slap him. He doesn’t give her a chance to choose, he licks her blood off his lips and drops her to the ground.

She groans as her head slams against the floor, sand and dust billowing out from under her. “You should get some rest. We’ve got a long walk tomorrow.” He leaves her there in the dirt, lets her linger in the feeling of his rejection. He rubs at his lips and savors the taste of her blood on his tongue.

#the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #fallout tv series #fallout x reader

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