caffeinehighnerd - Tumblr blog

[caffeinehighnerd]

All Too Well

College AU

Pairing(s): Sehun x Reader x Kai (ft. Jungkook)

Warnings: Language, sexual undertones, references to anxiety and depression

Part 1/?

The party is loud. 

That’s the first thing you register - not the suspicious stains on the wall, or the throng of hot, sweaty bodies, or the fact that no one in here is even slightly as sober as you are  but the sheer volume. The song is one those overplayed ones from the last decade, the kind that shouldn’t have been allowed to become as popular as it did in the first place. People are singing along to the words, most of them too drink to be embarrassed by their off-key pitch, and you can practically feel your ears bleeding as you stumble further into the dark room.

Usually, this is the last place you’d ever want to be. It’s your first semester of your second year of college, and you’ve already figured out, in spite of that crushing feeling of oh my god am I wasting the best years of my life that grows inside your stomach every time it’s Friday night and you’re scrolling through other people’s Instagram stories while in bed in your dorm room with a face mask on, that parties aren’t really your scene. You’d been to a few last year, but always with a group. And even then, you’d mostly just sit on the sidelines and observe, laughing at Baekhyun’s ill-formulated jokes and Chanyeol’s wild stories when he’d reached that point in the night where his filter started to break down. Sana would pass you a drink every once in a while, at least when she wasn’t too distracted by Suho, and you would always accept it with a sweet smile, albeit only taking a sip or two before passing it off to Jongin. He’d laugh, fingers brushing yours as he took the cup, his breath stirring your hair. 

“I don’t understand how you drink that stuff,” you’d say with a mock-shudder as he downed whatever was left inside your cup. 

He’d just smile at you, shaking his head slightly. “You’ll get it when you’re older.” 

You’d frown at that, smacking his shoulder. Not that it would do too much - in spite of his lithe figure, his arms were all hard, lean muscle. “Hey. You’re only a year older than me.” 

“Yeah, but you’re still so innocent,” he’d say with a soft smile, a certain fondness in his eyes that you didn’t quite understand. Sometimes, you want to tell him that he’s wrong, that they all are, that you aren’t nearly as inexperienced and naive as they all think you are, but then you’d just be messing everything up, wouldn’t you? After all, that’s your role: the young, cute one, the one that needs protecting, the one that doesn’t understand. 

Fuck, you’re so tired of pretending. 

Maybe that’s why you’d lied to Seulgi and Sana about having too much homework to go to Chen’s birthday dinner tonight. Why you’d switched off your phone, pulled on your shortest, tightest dress, lined your eyes with dark pencil, your lips in deep red. Why you take the cup the guy behind the keg places in front of you with a smile that’s slightly too bright, making sure he notices the way the strap of your dress falls off your shoulder as you take a sip. You can’t control your reaction to the taste, though, and you pray he doesn’t notice the way you gag slightly as the warm beer slides down your throat. 

He smirks, telling you he probably does, but you see the glint of interest in his eyes nonetheless. 

Sana would call this pure laziness - settling for the first guy you’d seen after stepping into the party - but in truth, he’s also very attractive. He’s hot in a messy, no fucks given type of way. His hair is wavy and maybe just an inch too long, falling into his eyes a bit. He wears a hoop earring in each ear, and you think his nails might be painted black. His jeans are tight and dark, matching the black V-neck he wears, a light hoodie thrown on top. He’s the exact opposite of your type, and that’s exactly why you’re going to fuck him tonight. 

You’ve been much of a dancer, but it’s easier when you have some alcohol in your system. The taste is still disgusting, but you grow somewhat numb to it after your fifth cup. The guy laughs every time you go up to grab a new one, even murmuring one time, “If I were your boyfriend, I might tell you to slow down.” 

“It’s a good thing you’re not then,” you shoot back, and he holds your gaze for a moment before biting his lip and looking away. 

You dance until you’re hot and sweaty and at least three drunk guys have accidentally elbowed you in the face. Two of them hit on you after doing so, though, so your ego isn’t as bruised as the side of your face is now. You especially hate parties like this, though, the kind thrown by frats who charge at the door and don’t look too closely at ID, knowing that high school kids are more than willing to throw away $10 for a night of free beer and trying their luck with college girls they hope are too wasted to notice the guy grinding on them still has braces and hasn’t quite gotten the hang of shaving yet. Running a hand absently through your hair, you abandon the dance floor, making your way to the keg stand. The guy from before is still there, this time with a friend. They’re talking in low voices, but they both glance up when you approach. 

“We’re not serving any more drinks tonight.” The second guy - who’s slightly taller and looks a little older than you both - shoots you a polite smile, his gaze lingering for a moment on the way your dress hugs the curve of your breasts. 

“I’m not here for a drink.” Sober you would definitely not be this blunt. 

The first guy laughs, although his cheeks are flushed a light pink, moving away from his friend. “I’ll take care of this,” he says breezily, stepping out from behind the table. He’s taller than you’d realized, maybe close to six feet, and he might be wearing eyeliner. Is it weird that this turns you on? Because it definitely does. 

The guy laughs again, and you realize you’d spoken out loud. 

Your face turns beet red, but he only looks amused. “Should we take this somewhere else?” he asks, leaning forward so that his mouth is at the tip of your ear. His breath is warm, and it makes your stomach flip. 

“Yeah,” you reply a little shakily, your voice almost a whisper, and he grabs you gently by the wrist, tugging you along until your inside one of the frat house’s bedrooms. You wonder if it’s his, if he’s in this frat - though, to be honest, he seems like the exact opposite of every frat guy you’ve ever encountered - or if he’s just taking advantage of the vacated room for the next odd forty-five minutes or so that the two of you will likely know each other. 

He locks the door behind the two of you, then gives you a quick once-over, his eyes dark. The look on his face is skeptical though, and you squirm a little, tugging at your dress and hoping he can’t see right through you. 

“Is this having sex with a stranger at some random frat party a regular thing for you?”

“Bold of you to assume we’re going to have sex.” 

“Oh, please.” He waves his hand dismissively. “You’re the one who’s been looking at me like I’m your next meal from the second you walked in the door.” 

Your cheeks heat. “I was not!” 

“Don’t worry.” The guy leans a little closer, smirking gently. “I was looking right back at you.” 

You swallow. Hard. 

He opens his mouth to continue when his phone buzzes. He looks down at it, swiping across the screen and taking a hit at your self-esteem at the same moment, as you settle back against the bed sheets, crossing your legs. It makes your skirt ride up to indecent lengths, and you blush. He’s not even looking at you, though, and it makes you feel a small, like you’re a little girl trying to pretend to be something she’s not. 

“I can hear you thinking.” The guy has slipped his phone back into his pocket and is now surveying you closely. “I was right before, wasn’t I? This isn’t something you usually do.” 

There’s something in his voice that gives you pause. The way he seemingly sees right through you, despite only having laid eyes on you one hour ago, and also the lack of insult or scorn in his tone. He doesn’t sound derisive or mocking, only curious. 

You debate lying, then give a small nod. “I’m not really into hooking up.” You pause, looking away. “At least not anymore.” 

“So why are you here tonight?” He tilts his head to the side, surveying you. “Let me guess. You’re tired of being Miss Perfect and you want a way to piss off your parents for the night.” 

You blanch at the mention of parents, gut twisting, and regret crosses his face instantly. “Ah, shit. Was that a sores spot?” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, crossing the room to sit on the bed next to you. Without hesitation, he picks up your hand and strokes the back of it gently, hot thigh brushing against your leg. 

You breathe out, the tight feeling in your chest loosening slightly as you focus on the way his long fingers look against the harsh white of your own knuckles. They’re covered in small scars and you shift your intertwined hands slightly so that you can run your thumb along a particularly nasty one. 

“How did you get these scars?” 

If he notices your abrupt change in subject, he doesn’t comment on it. “Guitar strings. My parents wanted me to get lessons, but I was always too hyper to sit through an hour with a teacher. So, I tried to teach myself. Mostly from Youtube videos. I fucked up a lot, though, hence the fingers.” 

You smile a little at that, easily able to picture him in his teenage bedroom, guitar in hand, letting out little swears every time a string accidentally caught his finger. 

“What about you?” He prods a burn on your right knuckle. It’s almost healed now, but the skin is slightly darker than the surrounding area. “That one looks like it hurt.”

“Ah. Freshman year chemistry lab. I accidentally put my hand above an open flame.” You poke the small nick on the inside of his wrist. 

He winces ruefully. “I worked in my uncle’s sushi restaurant for a summer in high school. Turns out, knives are a lot sharper than they look.” 

You laugh without meaning to. The guy looks faintly surprised, like he’s not used to people finding him amusing. 

“You’re not what I expected,” you say, turning to look at him. He’s so pretty, and without thinking, you reach out to push away a  strand of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. He catches your wrist as you pull back, his smile changing as his eyes flicker down to your lips. 

“How so?”

You pause, considering for a moment before you speak. “Your vibe is kind of like you’re above it all, too cool to really give a shit you know? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s hot. But I think, deep down, you’re actually a big softie.” 

He laughs, his breath fanning across your lips. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly, and then he’s kissing you.

God. How long has it been since you’ve been kissed like this? His hands reach up to cup your jaw, fingers tangling in your hair, and his tongue flicks gently against your lips, coaxing your mouth open. You grip his shoulders tightly, leaning back so you’re lying on the couch, bringing his body to rest above yours. He’s careful in a way you wouldn’t expect of him, holding himself up so not to crush you, keeping his hands clear of any boundaries he might need to ask permission to cross.

“My dress zips in the back,” you mutter against his mouth and you feels him smile against your neck before reaching around. He fumbles a little with the zipper, which tells you he probably doesn’t do this kind of thing as often as you think he does, but eventually it comes off. You ball up his hoodie and fling it to the other side of the room, followed by his t-shirt. He’s got a great body, the kind you only see in magazines or on TV, and you lets out a groan of appreciation, momentarily forgetting to feel embarrassed that with the dress gone, you’re only wearing your underwear. That fact clearly hasn’t escaped his mind, though, and he quickly busies himself with kissing along your chest. But then his hand curves along your rib cage, finding that one spot, and you shivers involuntarily, the hold he has on her breaking.

“Hey,” he frowns, looking down at you. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I do,” you say automatically and then, to your horror, feel a hot lump in your throat. “I really, really do. I just...I don’t know what’s wrong.” All the wonderful sensations you’d been experiencing just thirty seconds earlier have mysteriously vanished and now you just feels like crying. He’s hot, clearly skilled with his mouth and his hands, and actually a decent guy. So why can’t you bring herself to do this?

 He must sense that you’re on the verge of tears, because he quickly sits up, smoothing a hand along your hair. “Hey, it’s ok. I get it. We can stop.”

 “It’s not you,” you say, sitting up as well as you use the worst excuse in the world. You’re facing each other on the couch, you on his lap, knees resting on the bed on either side of him, and he’s staring at you with a strange look on his face, a mixture of confusion and worry. “I just...I have a lot of baggage.”

“I don’t judge,” he says gently. “Everyone has shit.”

“Yeah, but not everyone starts crying in the middle of hooking up with a ridiculously hot guy.”

“That’s the third time you’ve told me I’m hot tonight. You’re going to give me an ego complex.”

 “I think it’s a little too late for that.”

 In spite of yourself, you lets out a small, almost breathless giggle, laughing at the absurdity of the situation as you bury your head against his shoulder. “Oh my god, I’m such a mess. I’m so sorry.”

You feel him shrug, wrapping his arms around your waist. He must be a hugger. You had a feeling. You kind of like it, though: he’s still shirtless and his arms are very strong. It feels warm and snug and honestly, if you could, you would kind of never move again. But that’s not an option, especially when you start to feel a small tug of guilt somewhere in your gut. 

“I should go. I’ve caused you enough trouble for tonight.” You start to move off his lap, but he catches your wrist.

 “Don’t. We don’t have to do anything...but you can stay, if you’d like. We can talk, maybe get out of this shitty party, find somewhere to eat.” He bites his lip as he says it, looking terribly shy, and you can’t help but smile.

“I would love that....” Your mouth falls open, and you pull back to look at him. “I just realized I don’t even know your name.”

He looks surprised as well, and you think it’s funny that he knows your lips and at least a fraction of how fucked up you are and even the small stretch of skin between your neck and the junction of your shoulder but not your name.

He clears his throat, a small smile playing along his lips. “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

You smile back. “Y/L/N Y/F/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

On Monday morning, you sit with the rest of your friend group in your usual spot in the middle of the courtyard, flipping through your bio textbook as you listens to Seulgi tell a story from Chen’s birthday dinner. They’d gone to the fancy sushi restaurant in town, the one you hate because everything is overpriced and also you don’t think you can ever quite vanquish the memory of that time Baekhyun once shoved six pieces of eel into his mouth at the same time and, honestly, you’re kind of glad that you’d decided not to go. So far, though, only Sana has mentioned your absence – or even really looked at you since she sat down a good half hour ago.

You almost can’t blame them: you’re the youngest in the group, a sophomore while the rest of them are all juniors and seniors, and the only reason you’re even really friends with them was because Seulgi had spilled coffee all over white blouse during the psychology lecture you’d had together your first semester of your freshman year and then felt so bad she invited you to get lunch with and her friends right after. Sana had warmed to you immediately, in spite of your quite nature and your tendency to just smile and nod when spoken to without offering a meaningful contribution to the conversation, but you’d always gotten the feeling - in spite of the fact that she was perfectly cordial to you - that Irene preferred a group of three to a group of four. 

You’d met the boys a few weeks after you’d started sitting with the girls at lunch, when Sana suddenly declared that you had to meet the boyfriend she’d been talking your ear off about since you’d met. You’d been a little nervous, because you knew her boyfriend was a member of EXO and even though you’d never seen any of the guys in person, you’d certainly heard enough about them during your time here. EXO is about as close to royalty as you can get on campus. There are about five or six, not-so-secret secret societies at your prestigious, probably not worth the 50k tuition, hundreds of year old university, but EXO is by far the oldest and most influential. Their fathers, grandfathers, great-grandfathers and so on had all gone to school here and been members of the society, passing on the legacy to their sons. Nowadays, they were more of just a glorified fraternity, throwing a few parties - including the legendary themed ball in the spring - throughout the year, but people still talk about them incessantly, parting the corridors when they approach and letting them cut to the front of every line. You think it helps that all nine of them are exceptionally good-looking, smart, and personable. 

Anyway, you’d met Suho first, and he’d been perfectly nice in spite of your quietness, and then Baekhyun, Chanyeol, and Chen. Chanyeol had hit on you when you’d first met, much to your mortification, before one of his friends, perhaps noticing the blotchy red spots on your cheeks, had intervened. You’d learned later that his name is Kyungsoo, or D.O. as most people call him, and he’s one of the kindest, most quietly-perceptive individuals you’ve ever met. The guys started joining you all at lunch a few days later, inviting the scrutiny of other students - namely other girls, who took to wrinkling their noses and whispering things like “she’s not even that pretty” when you passed them between classes. Four of them were absent though, you learned later. Xiumin, the oldest, who was taking a year off to do volunteer work in Ecuador. Lay was studying abroad in China for the semester. And Kai and Sehun, the youngest, both sophomores and just a year older than you, who lived off campus and preferred eating lunch at their shared apartment rather than choking down the rather unappetizing options offered by the campus’ three, equally awful dining halls. You honestly couldn’t blame them. 

You think you fell for Kai the moment you first you saw him. He’d approached you in the library one day while you were working on your Spanish homework, in need of White Out to fix the mess he’d made of his statistics problem set. You’d looked over at him when he tapped your shoulder, a little annoyed at having your verb conjugation interrupted, and your breath had caught. Tanned skin, dark blonde hair that fell messily over his forehead, round wire-framed glasses, loose jeans, and a t-shirt with a fucking teddy bear on it. No one had the right to look equally as handsome and cute as he did on a daily basis, you decided. 

He’d fixed his stat homework while standing at your side, his tall frame casting a shadow over your workbook and the smell of his cologne making it difficult to concentrate. He’d handed back your White Out right after, thanking you profusely, then glanced at your work. “Professor Biel?” He’d blown out a breath, “I had her last semester. She’s a piece of work.” 

You’d spent the next forty minutes talking to him,  cognizant, somewhere in the back of your mind, of the fact that it hadn’t been this easy for you to talk to someone like this in years. Suddenly, though, he’d checked his phone and jumped to his feet, exclaiming about how he had to go. He’d apologized more than once, but never did he offer his name, or ask for yours. You’d been crushed, trudging to your usual lunch table with considerably less pep than usual when you’d noticed an unfamiliar figure in your usual seat. 

“Oh.” Kai had looked over, eyes widening, a sweet smile growing on his face. “It’s you.” 

The rest is history. 

Now, months later, after everything had gone to shit, you lack a purpose within the group. Seulgi had been your in, but you’d grown closer to Sana. And then you’d met Kai, who’d become - embarrassingly, because you know now that you’d never been nearly as important to him - probably your best friend. When he’d left you dry and broken, you found yourself out of place with the girls as well. You figure that the only reason they still sit with you and invite you places is a) Sana still cares about you somewhat and is too nice to ditch you b) it would be too much work to change things. 

Sana sits to your left now, deep in conversation with Suho. They’ve been together, on-and-off, for about two years. They’re currently off, but, given the way they’d walked in together, hand-in-hand, they’ll probably be on again within a day. The rest of you barely pay attention to their weird ass relationship dynamic now; sure, they would constantly break up, claiming they were too busy to date, but everyone knew they couldn’t stay away from each other for too long.

Next to the couple is another one: Sehun and Irene. He’d had a crush on her for forever, but she’s older, so she hadn’t really paid him much attention until a few months ago when he’d finally won her over. Coincidentally, the start of their relationship also coincided with when he’d decided that you were no longer worth his time.

(You’ll get over the bitter feeling, choking feeling inside you whenever you look at them at some point, you swear).  

“Hey,” a voice interrupts your thoughts and you turn your head to see Sana’s eyes on you. “That guy is staring at you.”

 “What?” You whip her head around quickly, trying to see who Sana’s talking about. Guys staring at you in the middle of the courtyard aren’t really a common occurrence. That’s more of Sana and Irene’s thing.

“Over there,” Sana jerks her thumb behind you. “He’s really cute.”

With the weirdest feeling in your chest, you risk a glance behind you, already knowing what you’ll see. Sure enough, Jungkook is looking straight at you. And he seems just as surprised to see you as you are ot see him. One of his friends is talking to him, but his words seem to be falling on deaf ears as Jungkook gapes at you, his mouth slightly ajar.

 You feel weirdly dizzy. Friday night, in all honesty, still feels like a dream. After the club, you and Jungkook had ended up at a tiny 24-hour burger place that he claimed made the best milkshakes. You’d stuffed yourself on cheeseburgers and fries dipped in chocolate shakes and ended up talking until five in the morning. It had been one of the best nights you’d had in a while, at least until he’d helped you into your Uber in front of the restaurant without asking for your number or giving any indication he’d like to see you again. You’d spent the rest of the weekend nursing your bruised ego and trying to salvage what was left of your self-esteem.

And now, here he is. Not ten fucking feet away from the table you’ve been sitting almost everyday for the last school year. 

“Do you know him?” Sana sounds quizzical, tapping your shoulder to reclaim your attention. You try to focus on your friend, even though you can feel Jungkook’s gaze burning into you. 

“No!” You say this a little too quickly and a little too loudly, causing the rest of the table to fall silent. Chanyeol must have been in the middle of a story because he gives you a small, hurt glance that makes you cheeks burn.

“What’s going on?” Seulgi, always wanting to be in on the gossip, leans forward.

You give Sana a pleading look. The last thing you want is for anyone to find out about what had happened on Friday night. Especially the part where Jungkook had essentially rejected you.

 Not that rejection is an uncommon occurrence for you these days, a small voice at the back of your mind pipes up and sure enough, it’s at exactly that moment that Kai decides to join the group, his girlfriend attached to his hand. He takes the only available seat at the table – across from you, which he doesn’t seem thrilled about – and swipes a chicken tender from Baekhyun’s tray. Krystal daintily slides in next to him, glancing around the table in confusion. Kai munches quietly on his chicken for a few seconds before he looks around, suddenly sensing the awkward energy amidst the group.

“Uh, what’s up, guys?”

 “Y/N and Sana are keeping secrets.” Seulgi says this with the attitude of a five-year-old child, pouting as she points a finger at her friends. You see Kai’s expression flatten into the bored indifference he always wears around you these days at the mention of your name, and it makes your heart ache so, so badly.

Sana shakes her head. “Hey, I’m innocent! Y/N’s the one with the weird guy staring at her.” 

“What weird guy?”

It’s Sehun who joins the conversation now, startling you so much you knock over your water bottle. Kai catches it without looking up from his food, setting it back upright before it can slosh water onto everyone else’s trays.

Sehun just stares at you impassively, as though daring you to question why he’s suddenly acting like you exist again after three months of virtual silent treatment. Oddly, it makes your eyes sting with tears and you look away with a lump in your throat.

 “No one,” you say lightly, focusing your gaze on your folded hands. “Sana is being crazy. There’s no one staring at me.”

“Um,” Irene pipes up, drawing everyone’s attention, “Then who’s the guy standing behind you?”

You whirls around abruptly, your ponytail nearly smacking Sana in the face. To your horror, Jungkook is hovering behind you, looking horribly awkward. He rubs the back of his neck, then glances at you pointedly, “Um, can we talk?”

You risk a discreet glance behind you. All of her friends are staring at you, including Kai, although his face is carefully blank. You get to your feet before anyone else can say anything, nodding at Jungkook.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

 He nods jerkily at you, turning and leading you far away enough that you’re out of earshot of everyone else.

“So.” He looks at you blankly. “You’re a student here.”

“Yeah. And I’m guessing you are, too.” She folds her arms across her chest, her gaze hard. “You didn’t think to mention that?”

The party, thrown by one of the less popular frats, had been populated mostly by high school kids and townies. And most frats tended to hire outside help for managing the drinks anyway. You hadn’t actually considered that he might be a student here, although you’re realizing the stupidity of that assumption right now. 

“Honestly, I had no idea you might go here too. It’s a small campus, but I’ve literally never seen you around before. I figured there was no way you were a student here too.”  

“What year are you?”

“Sophomore.”

“Me too!” you say incredulously. “How the fuck do we not know each other?”

Jungkook just shrugs, looking helpless.

You can’t help but eye him with a little bitterness. “You must be disappointed. There goes your plan to ghost me.”

He looks taken aback at that. “What are you talking about?”

“You let me leave without asking for my number or any of my social media. Admit it: you had no plan to ever contact me again.”

“You’re an idiot,” he scoffs. “I can’t believe you’d believe that about me. And to think I spent the entire weekend beating myself up for forgetting to ask for your number.”

You soften, the anger going out of you. He could be lying, but you feels like that’s not Jeon Jungkook’s style. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he admits softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You kind of grew on me, Y/N.” 

You can’t help it, you flush softly. You see Jungkook glance back at your table. “All your friends are staring at us.”

You wince. “They’re kind of nosy. And I’ve never been interesting before, so this is new for them, I guess.”

“So which one is he?”

“What?”

“Which one is the guy you were trying to fuck out of your system on Friday night?” He surveys the table again. “Is it the blonde one who’s trying to listen to our every word? Or is it the pale one with black hair who looks like he wants to eviscerate me on the spot?”

You roll your eyes.  “You’re making things up. Neither of them cares that much.”

“So, it is them.” His eyes widen. “Both? Wow, you’re a player. Way to go, Y/L/N. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

You smack his arm. “It’s not like I dated either of them.”

 “But something happened.” Jungkook’s eyes search yours and you marvels at this ability of his, the way he can pick you apart without you even having to say anything. You wonders if he’s like this with everyone, or it’s a special talent of his reserved just for you.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, looking away. “Something happened.”

Jungkook eyes you curiously for a second longer, searching for something in your face. Whatever it is, he must find it, because he holds out his phone. Your number, now.”

“Demanding, aren’t we?” You roll your eyes, but take his phone, punching in your number nonetheless. He saves it quickly, then shoves his phone back into his pocket. He’s wearing those jeans again, plus a red sweater that fits him very nicely. 

“I can see you eye-fucking me, you know.”

 “I hate you.”

 He just laughs, then breaks off, glancing back at the many pairs of eyes on you both.

“I’m going to let you get back to your friends now,” Jungkook says, putting air quotes around the last word for some reason. “But I’m texting you tonight. Be ready to spill all the deets.”

“Who even says deets anymore?” you ask, but he’s already walking away, rejoining his friends at a far table. The guy he’d been talking to on Friday night looks your way, and you quickly glances down, not wanting to invite additional scrutiny. Turning on your heel, you makes your way back to the table, settling down in your old seat and taking a long sip of your water bottle. 

Everyone is staring at you.

 “So, are we not going to discuss what just happened?” Seulgi finally breaks the silence.

“You guys are overreacting. He’s just some guy from my chemistry class. We’re working together on this lab report.”

“He’s hot,” Sana supplies unhelpfully, not noticing the way Suho frowns at her. 

You shrug, “He’s alright. And he’s definitely not interested in me, don’t worry.”  

Apparently, no one is.

Seulgi lets out a disappointed sigh, “Damn it. I was hoping for some drama. It’s been one whole year of college so far. When are you going to get a boyfriend, Y/Ni? It’s not like you can stay a virgin forever.”

At that, you choke on her water. Unconsciously, you glance up, meeting the gaze of the dark-haired boy at the other of the table, unbidden images coming to mind. His lips against your neck in your dorm room, his fingers tangled in your hair in some dark classroom, his palm on the curve of your thigh as you sat around this very table, the rest of your friends completely oblivious.

 “Hey, no discussing my sex life at the lunch table,” you scold weakly, then gets to your feet. “I’m going to the library.”

“What sex life?” Irene mumbles, at the same time that Seulgi adds, “Maybe the reason you don’t have a boyfriend is because you’re in the library all the time.”

You feel your face turn red. You know they’re her friends and they only mean well, but you can’t help but feel a dull ache in your chest at their words. Especially when no one says anything to defend you, even Sana, who’s studiously peeling her tangerine.

Without a word, you turns on her heel and stalks into the nearest building. You shove open the door to the library with more force than necessary, drawing a sharp glance from the librarian behind the desk, then plop down in a chair, burying your nose in a textbook as you think, over and over, I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.  

Jeon Jungkook is in your room.

 It should be weird, but it’s not, even though it’s past 1:30 in the morning and he’s been here since ten and you should have run out of things to say to each other at least two hours ago. He’s lying on your bed - not noticing that he’s dislocated you from your favorite study spot and you’re now trying to solve multivariable calculus equations on the floor – and flipping through his history textbook.

You’ve learnt that he’s a music major and a history minor, and that he’s in a band with his friends. He bartends every other weekend at the club, hates zucchini, likes Coldplay, is allergic to cats, has exactly three tattoos, and has the single most messed up sleep schedule of anyone you’ve ever met.

“Are you hungry?” he asks suddenly, half sitting up on her bed. In an odd show of school spirit, he’s wearing a university sweatshirt that he’s rolled up to his elbows, his trademark black skinny jeans underneath. Earlier tonight you’d asked if he ever washes them and he’d just thrown you a disgusted look in response.

 You just hum in response, too focused on the problem you’re working on to give a proper response. Huffing out an annoyed sigh, he snaps his fingers, drawing your attention to him. “I asked if you were hungry.”

“Is that your way of letting me know that you’re hungry?”

 He flashes you a grin. “You really do know me so well.”

“We could go to John Jay. That’s the only dining hall open this late.”

Immediately, Jungkook makes a face. “Can’t. I, uh, hooked up with a girl who works the night shift there last semester. I can’t go in there without her being all over me.” 

You roll your eyes, choosing not to comment on that tidbit. “What do you want me to do then?”

 He gives you puppy-dog eyes. “You could go by yourself and pick us up something?” 

“I’m not even hungry!”

“Yes, but I – your very kind and devoted friend who, by the way, helped you write your English paper not two hours ago – am starving.”

 “You edited my grammar. I used the wrong ‘there’ once!”

 “And think about what that mistake would have cost you if you had handed it in like that. You owe me one, Y/N.” 

 You roll your eyes, realizing he won’t give up until you’ve gotten him his fucking meal. “What do you want?” You get to her feet with a groan, deciding you’re going to force him off the bed once you’re back. Your knees do not take well to sitting on the floor for prolonged periods of time.

“A chicken quesadilla with sour cream on the side. And strawberry frozen yogurt if they have it. Oh, and banana milk!”

“You have the palate of an eight-year-old,” you say grumpily, grabbing your rain coat to throw over her outfit. It’s a weirdly rainy for late September, but still warm. You’re wearing a thin grey cardigan over black shorts - a tiny strip of stomach exposed - and black rain-boots.

“You’re the best!” Jungkook shouts as you’re closing the door behind you. 

You flip him off. 

The line at Plimpton is annoyingly long. Apparently many of your fellow college students have also developed the Sunday scaries and will be spending most of tonight trying to catch up on work for the next week. You mentally curse Jungkook out in your head, thinking about all the time you’re wasting when you could be working on her calculus homework, as you wait for the line to move forward. Of course, the line to pay is even longer and Jungkook’s freaking quesadilla is definitely going to be cold by the time you get out of here. 

As you dig in the pocket of your cardigan for your wallet, you spot a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye. It’s Kai, dressed in track pants and a navy sweater you recognize as the one his mom bought him last Christmas, hair slightly wet from walking over in the rain. He looks good, and it makes your stomach twist. You mean to look away, but he glances up right at that moment, your eyes meeting his. It’s a horribly awkward moment, and you can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he debates what to do. He’s been hiding behind the friend group since that fucking awful night in May, hasn’t ever had to deal with you alone, and right now he two choices. He could walk over and greet you, acting like the last couple of months have just been some sort of distant dream. Or he could look away, like you’re a stranger. The problem with the latter, however, is that it means acknowledging that your relationship has irrevocably changed and actually having to face the repercussions of last year. And so Kai, always one to run from his problems then confront them, gingerly walks over to where you’re standing. 

You feel his presence at your back, breathing in a scent that you can only describe as a mixture of expensive cologne, mint shampoo, and something that’s just inherently Kai.

You turn to face him, flashing a strained smile.  It’s a little jarring to see him alone like this after months of watching him be glued to Krystal’s side, looking at her as though she’s the only thing he ever sees, looking at her the way he had never, not once, looked at you. 

“Um, hey.”

He eyes you strangely. “What are you doing here? I thought you always said you liked going to bed early.” 

That had actually been true, at some point, and your traitorous heart leaps a beat at the fact that he remembers this about you. 

“I have a lot of homework. You know how it is.” You give him a polite smile, suddenly wishing he would just leave you the hell alone. It’s awkward between you two, painfully so, in a way that you never thought it would be. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to look at him without the words ‘you’re not someone I’d ever be interested in’ echoing in your mind over and over. 

“So, where’s Krystal?” you ask after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, realizing that you’re stuck with him for the rest of the torturously long line.

“Oh, she’s working on this paper for her philosophy class. It’s a senior-level class, so it’s a ton of work. She’s the only junior taking it this semester.”

It feels like someone has your heart in an iron hold. He sounds so, so proud of her, his voice full of fond warmth. He probably hasn’t even realized that he’d started smiling the moment you’d mentioned Krystal’s name. The cold, vise-like grip around your heart tightens, and you find it difficult to breathe as the line shuffles forward.

“Hey,” Kai looks at you warily. “Are you okay?”

 Are you okay? Suddenly, it’s one year ago and you’re huddled on the floor of the women’s bathroom in the foreign language building, your arms wrapped around your knees as he hugs her to his chest, asking this very question. It’s one year ago and you’re starting to realize that you’re falling in love with him.

 “Yeah,” you say, your voice shaky, letting your hair fall into your face to hide the fact that your eyes have welled with tears. “I’m fine.”

You turns away from him then, not inviting any more conversation as you swipe your card for the meal and stop at the drink station to get Jungkook’s fucking banana milk. You hope he won’t be able to tell you’ve been crying when you get back to the room, not wanting to deal with any more questions tonight. 

“Wait up!” you halt in your tracks when you hears Kai’s voice, and the sound of him walking up to you very fast. You’re almost out the door, and he looks slightly winded, his voice sounding out of breath as he says, “I feel like I need to apologize to you.”

The crack in your chest widens. “Kai...please don’t do this.”

 He winces. “You never used to call me Kai before.”

That was before you broke my heart, you want to say. Instead, you just shrug, glancing away.

 “Y/N.” Kai’s voice rumbles out from his chest. “Look at me, please.”

 Like the idiot you are, you lift your gaze to his. To his credit, he does look sorry. His brown eyes are mournful as they settle on yours.

“It feels like things are broken between us.” He looks down at the ground, “I miss hanging out with you, Y/N. I miss when you used to tell me things. I miss...you.” 

“Jongin,” you say, and you feel like you’re choking. “Things are different now. You know that.”

He doesn’t though, really, does he? He doesn’t know how deeply you fell for him, how badly he ripped your heart out on that awful night back in May. He doesn’t know how hard it is for you to see him with Krystal every single day.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Look, I know things got weird between us last semester, but we can put it behind us, can’t we? You’re one of my closest friends, Y/N. I don’t want to lose you over some stupid crush.”

Stupid crush. The pain is no longer a hollow ache, but a roaring fire that starts in the center of your chest and blooms out across her body. You think your hands might be shaking.

 Still, you force a smile. “You’re right. Let’s leave it in the past. I don’t want it to be weird between us either.” 

Kai looks at you strangely, but he nods. “I’m glad we had this talk. Krystal has noticed it’s weird between us, and she keeps asking me what’s up.”

And suddenly your pain turns to anger.

“So, you’re only apologizing to me because your girlfriend is suspicious?” You can’t hold back your acidic response, scoffing as you push past him. You’re halfway up the stairs when Kai catches up to you, grabbing your wrist. The wind blows his hood off, and the rain is hitting him directly in the face. If this were a movie, the moment might almost be romantic.

“Hey, it’s not just about Krystal. You know that. I care about you, Y/N. I hate the way things have been between us.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you mumble icily, and his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Why are you so angry with me?” He looks so frustrated, so confused, and it only makes your heart hurt so much more, knowing that you’d probably only meant a fraction to him of what he meant to you. 

 Because I love you and you treat me like I’m nothing. Because every time I look at you, it hurts, and you don’t even care.

“I’m not angry,” you shakes your head, offering him a stiff smile. “I’m just disappointed.” And you are. You’d expected him to call you the day after, to brush off the awkwardness and tell you he didn’t want this to mess up your friendship. You’d never thought he’d start dating the girl he’d been so broken up about that night in the first place just a week later, ignore your texts, and then pretend like you were a stranger when school started up again in the fall. 

“Then let me make it up to you.” He sounds nearly desperate now. “We can’t just go on like this.”

“Sure, we can, Jongin,” you say, his name on your tongue like poison. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

“You mean, you’re okay with this? With us not talking, with us acting like strangers?”

“And who’s fault is all of that, Kai?” You push at his chest, hard. “Don’t blame me for something you did.”

His face falls then, guilt and shame smearing his expression. You look away, breathing hard. God, fuck Jeon Jungkook and his weird cravings. This is literally the last thing you’d wanted to happen tonight. Or ever.

 “Let me come in,” he says, and you realize with a jolt that you’re standing in front of your room now. Jungkook can probably hear everything. “Let me fix this, Y/N, please.” 

You realize then, why this is so hard for him. Why he’s so determined to remedy this. It’s not because he cares about you, and definitely not because he returns even an inkling of the feelings you have for him. It’s because, up until this instant, Kim Jongin has never really hurt anyone in his life and the fact that that’s finally not true anymore is driving him crazy.

It’s not about you. Not one fucking part of it.

“Go home, Kai,” you say wearily, all the fight going out of you. “Go back to Krystal. Go back to acting like I don’t exist.”

“I can’t just leave like this, Y/N,” he says, and then gestures around you impatiently. “It’s fucking pouring. Let’s go inside and talk about this.” He reaches for your door handle and panic fills you suddenly. He opens the door an inch, and you slap your hand against it, slamming it back shut.

“You can’t!” you say, her voice oddly high pitched. Kai looks at you like you’re insane, and then his expression shifts. You see him him glance at her door, then look down at the food you’re carrying. Chicken and cheese quesadilla. Strawberry fro-yo. Banana milk.

“Aren’t you lactose intolerant?” he asks slowly.

 You don’t answer. 

“Y/N.” he says, and his voice is as hard as the steely expression on his face. He no longer looks like the gentle boy you thought you knew so well, or even the desperate man who’d been begging to repair the wedge between you two just moments earlier. “Is there someone in your room?”

“Fuck you, Kai.”

He looks like you’ve slapped him.

“You don’t get to ask me questions like that, not when you have a girlfriend. You rejected me, don’t you remember? What I do is none of your business. Not anymore.”

 With that, you wrench your door open the door and step inside, leaving him staring after you in the pouring rain.

You shouldn’t surprised that Sehun approaches you next. And it’s almost poetic, really, that it just so happens to be in the library where you’d shared your first kiss.

You’re standing in the middle of the Ancient Greece stack, flipping through a book you’re thinking of using for a paper, when suddenly someone snaps it out of your hands and slams it shut.

“I was reading that,” you say flatly.

 Sehun’s dark eyes meet yours evenly. “We need to talk.”

With Sehun, it’s less painful than it is with Kai. Maybe it’s because he’d never made you question where you stood with him. Your relationship – if you could even call it that – had been about sex. You’d fallen together one cold night in December after Kai told you he had feelings for Krystal. You’d been torn up inside, hurting enough to take eleven shots of vodka and fuck Oh Sehun in the bathroom of some club. 

Sure, you’d be lying if you said some feelings hadn’t grown on you part, but he’d never given you any indication that he saw you as anything more than a warm body – dousing that little flame of actual affection in your heart before it could grow any brighter. 

“I don’t think we do, actually,” you snatch the book out of his hand, trying to find the page you’d been looking at.

“Jongin told us about Sunday night.” 

You freeze but channel your expression into a poker face as you meets Sehun’s hard gaze. “Who’s ‘us’?”

“All the guys, Irene, Sana, Seulgi. We’re worried.”

 You laugh out loud at that. “Sehun, please don’t pretend like you actually give a fuck about me. I thought we were past that point.” 

His jaw hardens. “You’re different.”

 “What are you talking about?”

 “I always knew you weren’t the sweet, innocent girl that everyone thinks you are, but it’s more than that now. You seem...harder.”

“Well, when the guy you’ve been fucking for five months suddenly gets a girlfriend and decides that you don’t exist anymore you kind of toughen up.” You say this breezily, hoping your voice doesn’t betray the still-smarting remnants of her heart.

 Sehun, to his credit, looks pained. “Look-”

 “Please spare me. I’ve already heard one apology speech from Kai. I don’t need another one.”

 He raises an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on his face, “So it’s Kai now, huh? I always wondered when you were going to stop looking at him with those puppy-dog eyes.”

There’s suddenly a stabbing pain at the center of your chest. “You knew?”

“Oh, come on, everyone knew. Even Jongin. He actually asked us all how to let you down gently. He was so stressed about it. He kept talking about ‘not wanting to ruin the friendship.’ It was kind of cute, actually.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You don’t actually hear herself say the words, just watch the shocked expression cross Sehun’s face. You’ve never used this tone with him before, not even when you first saw him with Irene. You almost doesn’t recognize yourself.

Sehun looks like he’s about to say something but before he can, you slam the book against his chest. It actually makes a small thud, and he stumbles backwards visibly.

You leave before you start to cry.

For a week, you make up excuses to not eat lunch at your usual table.  In chemistry – which you have with Lay – you makes sure to arrive late and leave the instant class is over to avoid a confrontation.

When you run into Chen and Chanyeol in the dining hall, you pretend like you doesn’t hear them calling your name.

It works, for a while. Seulgi stops texting on the third day, Irene never even attempts, even Sana has given up by the fifth. Kai calls you a few times, and after you’ve let it go to voicemail three times in a row he stops. Sehun calls exactly once and you watch with an odd sort of fascination as the notification pops up on the screen: You have 1 new voicemail.

You delete it without listening, deciding it’s safer not to trust yourself when it comes to Oh Sehun.

 And then Sana’s birthday rolls around and you realize that, no matter how much Kai and Sehun have bruised your heart, you can’t let down one of your best friends. 

To their credit, everyone does a good job of acting like everything is okay when you arrive at the club. You’d gotten Jungkook to help with your outfit and together you’d picked out the tight black skinny jeans, strappy dark green tank top – which leaves your back completely bare – and tall heels you have on now. You’d even curled the ends of your hair and spent five extra minutes on your eyeliner.

You look good. Kai and Sehun can choke.

Sana kisses your cheek, Seulgi hugs her tightly, and Chen – always your favorite boy – gives you a quick squeeze that instantly makes you feel warmer. The rest of the guys are at the bar, and you feels your heart squeeze when you look over to see Kai with his arms wrapped around Krystal. The worst part is this: she looks like she blends right in. She laughs along with Baekhyun and Chanyeol, leaning down to whispers something in Irene’s ear ever so often, and even Xiumin – who doesn’t take well to strangers – smiles at her a couple of times. 

She just...fits. So much better than you ever could.

You hate yourself for it, but when that realization comes it’s hard to feel anything other than cold and small. Vulnerability and insecurity are not a good looks on you, but they’re ones you’ve been wearing often this semester. Your already frayed mental health is wearing thin, and you wonders how long you can go on like this before something starts to give.

Tonight, though, is about Sana. So, you smiles at all the right parts, tell a story from a fight that had broken out in your calculus class between your  professor and an overzealous student, and drink a little too much. You see Kai watching you out of the corner of his eye as you down the fourth shot that Sana pushes your way, a concerned look on his face. You glance away, refusing to meet his gaze.

 Everything goes smoothly enough, at least until Chanyeol suddenly starts waving and you turn your head to see Jungkook’s friend – the one that you’d seen him with the night you first met – approaching your group. Weirdly enough, everyone seems to know him. That makes you very nervous.

You’ve never personally met him, although you’ve gotten to know some of Jungkook’s other friends over the last few weeks. There’s Suga, the quiet, actually really funny in a dry sort of way if you get to know him guy you recognize from some of your chemistry classes, Jimin – whose boundless self-confidence  always amazes her- and Taehyung, who you personally think is even better-looking than Jungkook himself, much to the boy’s chagrin.

 “He’s taller,” you’d used as an excuse, and he’d just pouted at you until you relented and agreed that they were equally good-looking. 

However, this man is a stranger to you. (From Jungkook’s various ramblings, you guess he’s Namjoon). But, judging from the way his eyes widen as he notices you, you aren’t exactly a stranger to him. 

 He doesn’t say anything to you for the first ten or so minutes, chatting to Chanyeol and Baekhyun and wishing Sana a happy birthday. They’re all either buzzed or drunk, so no one is paying too much attention to each other anymore. Irene and Sehun are getting handsy, Kai and Krystal are whispering adoringly into each other’s ears, Jongdae is chatting with a cute girl he’d met earlier, and Xiumin is on his phone. He looks up for a moment and catches your eye, the two of you exchanging a ‘we’re-bored-someone-save-us’ sort of smile.

 And then you hear it: “Hey, have you meet Y/N? I think she’s the only one you don’t know yet.”

 Fuck. You force, nodding politely at Jungkook’s friend. “Hi.”

 “Oh yeah,” the guy nods at you, “We’ve never met, but I’ve heard a lot about her from Kookie.” 

“Kookie?” Sana suddenly seems interested in the conversation. “Oh, you must mean Jungkook. He’s Y/N’s lab partner.”

 “Lab partner?” the guy – who you’re starting to really dislike, sorry Jungkook – laughs out loud. “What are you talking about? Jungkook is a music major. He hates science.” 

Everyone goes silent. Sehun detaches himself from Irene’s arms, forcing himself into sitting position. Kai is staring at you again. You want to disappear.

 “That doesn’t make any sense...” Seulgi says, sounding confused. “Y/N, you told us he was your chemistry lab partner.”

“What?” Now the guy looks bewildered. Then his face changes, a knowing sort of smirk taking the place of his confusion. “Oh, is it because you’re embarrassed that you guys hooked up?”

Okay, it’s official. You hate this man. 

Seulgi all but shrieks, looking at you in obvious surprise. “Y/N, what the hell is he talking about?”

Cornered, you have no choice but to explain. “Um, I met Jungkook here a few weeks ago. Before he came up to me at lunch. I didn’t even know he went to the university, so I was really surprised when I saw him again that day. I didn’t want you guys to freak out, so I lied and said he was my lab partner.”

Sana nods slowly, still looking confused. “But what did he mean when he said you guys hooked up? I mean, that can’t be true. You’ve never even had a boyfriend. And you would have told us something like that.”

 The guy laughs, “Trust me, it’s definitely true. I saw them go into that room myself, and they didn’t come out for a while.”

Your face burns. He’s wrong – you and Jungkook didn’t have sex, never have, even if you thinks that you two touch each other a little too much and sometimes when you’re alone you look at each other for longer than what’s probably considered socially acceptable – but you think the truth would only make this situation look even worse.

Sana stares at you, and you hates the betrayed expression on her face. You can’t even bring herself to look at Sehun or worse, Kai. He’s gone eerily quiet, sloshing the amber liquid in his glass as he stares down at his hands, his shoulders tense.

“Y/N,” Sana says, and her voice sounds small. “Why didn’t you tell us? Why did you lie?”

Your friend sounds hurt, and it makes you feel genuinely fucking awful. Especially because there’s so many other lies and half-truths and sometimes you wonder if you’re all really even friends at all, if it’s normal to keep this many secrets from those you hold the closest.

“I’m sorry,” you say helplessly, looking around the table. Kai is still staring at the ground, and Sehun looks oddly furious and everyone else watches with careful, unsympathetic eyes that make your chest feel tight. 

Sana, who’s always had the tendency to get overemotional when she’s had too much drink, shakes her head jerkily. “You know, I’m so fucking sick of this.” 

Suddenly, your chest is tight, it feels like there’s a hard lump stuck in your throat, and there’s a strange tingling all along your arms, extending to your fingertips. Everyone is staring at you and oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, you’re having an anxiety attack. You struggle to speak, struggle to breathe, “Sana, I’m sorry, I was just- ”

“I’m not just talking about that guy! You’ve been ignoring us all week, avoiding our texts, acting like you’re so above us all. Well, guess what, Y/N, I’m tired of your attitude. Do you really think you’re so much better than us just because you have the best grades in your year? Studying all the time doesn’t make you special, it just makes you boring.” 

Although she’s usually a sweetheart, you’ve learned a few things about Sana over the months of listening to her complain about girls who flirt with Suho at parties. When she’s angry - and especially when she’s been drinking - she can be absolutely vicious. 

The choking feeling swells and spills over inside of you, and you’re afraid that you might stop breathing, your fingers digging into the skin of your palms so hard you can feel blood pooling beneath your nails as you pierce flesh.  You get to your feet, nearly stumbling over yourself as you picks up your bag and hand Sana the birthday card you’d carefully placed inside earlier. 

“I’m sorry,” you stammer out, your breathing all choppy. “For lying, for fucking up your birthday, f-for all of it.”

Your friend’s eyes go wide, some of the iciness melting slightly, but you can’t even bring yourself to stay here and listen to the rest because you thinks that if Sana is nice to you right now it might actually make everything feel even worse. Because you’re not worth it, because you’re an awful, terrible, person who deserves every bad thing that’s ever happened to you. 

You make it out of the club before you start to cry. It’s the ugly kind of crying too: heaving sobs that make your chest rattle, snot coming out of your nose,  salty tears that sting your cheeks. It’s much too cold out for a tank top, but you finds you don’t mind the biting chill. You welcome it, actually, because it distracts you from the roaring pain inside of your skull.

You don’t  know how long you sit there, back pressed to the brick wall of the club, head buried in your hands, before you feel a strong arm settle around your shoulders. You’re pressed into a warm, broad chest and you let yourself go willingly, telling yourself you almost doesn’t care who this is right now.

 Sehun stares down at you with wide, panicked eyes that contain no hint of his usual cool. You think his hand might be shaking slightly as he lifts it, absently running it over the top of your hair. 

“I didn’t know,” he admits quietly. You lift your head, not wanting him to see her tears even though he can obviously hear your sniffles, not wanting to lower herself to crying in front of him when you’ve done such a good job so far. But you do murmur softly “Didn’t know what?”

“That it could get this bad,” he says, and you think he might almost sound worried. “Jongin told me,” he says, his breath stirring your hair, “He told me to be careful with you because you were fragile.” There’s something in his tone that you don’t recognize and if you close your eyes and pretend this is anyone else, it might almost be jealousy. “But I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault,” you say hoarsely “I just...came this way, I guess.” 

His arm tightens around your shoulders. You don’t know how long you sit there, your chest heaving harshly as Sehun’s t-shirt collects the last remnants of your tears, before he’s pulling you to your feet, shrugging off his jacket and placing it around your thin shoulders. It smells like him, and you’re faintly reminded of frantic showers between classes because you needed to get this very scent off of you before it drove you senseless. 

His hand lingers on the crook of your elbow as he helps you to the car. You’d figured he’d come with Irene, but the other girl is nowhere in sight as you slide into the passenger’s seat. He hadn’t held open the door, and you hadn’t expected him to. Neither of you are going to pretend that Sehun is a gentleman.

He’s quiet on the drive back, and you watch his profile glint in the moonlight. He’s so handsome it undoes you, especially when you catch the way he keeps glancing over at you and then quickly jerking his head back, almost as though it’s involuntary. You arrive at his apartment, and you wants to ask a million questions that get stuck in your throat as he parks and swings his long legs onto the pavement. He walks slightly ahead of you as you exit the parking garage and enter the lobby of his building, not stopping to look back and see if you’re following. 

 You don’t care. Not really.

 (You kind of do).

You’re silent in the elevator, an awkward sort of tension hovering in the air. Sehun’s phone buzzes a few times but he doesn’t check it. He lets you out first when you get to his floor, and your stomach jolts when you realize that you still know the way to his apartment without him having to guide you.

The apartment is quiet and dark as he unlocks the door and gently nudges you inside. He shares this space with Kai, you remind yourself, but the other man is frequently absent. Sehun is that annoying, barely goes to class and hardly studies but still sets the curve kind of student, while Kai is equally brilliant in a much more makes a color-coded study schedule and falls asleep while cramming in the library sort of way. As a result, he often doesn’t make it back to the apartment – usually crashing with one of the boys who lives on campus – and you figure that nowadays his nights here are even more seldom, given that he has a girlfriend who lives in the dorms.

 He still pays the rent on time every month, though, and whenever someone suggests he move out and leave Sehun to figure out how to do laundry on his own he just lets out a little laugh and looks away.  You’ve never really understood it.

The apartment floor is cold beneath her feet as you slide off your heels, placing them on the shoe rack. They look weirdly mismatched next to a pair of Kai’s sneakers and Sehun’s Italian leather loafers and you look away before the heavy feeling can grow inside your chest. 

Sehun has abandoned you, so you wander the apartment aimlessly for a bit before he decides to reappear.

You remember the first time you came here: you’d been with Kai, on the way to see a horror movie that you’d coerced him into coming to with you, and he’d made you stop here for a few minutes so he could grab a jacket. (You would end up wearing that jacket later that night, the scent of his cologne still lingering in your hair when you handed it back to him outside your dorm). You’d wanted to wait in the car – both because it felt weird being in Kai’s apartment when he’d only been your friend for one short month and also because you knew he lived with Sehun and the other boy had never seemed particularly fond of you.

Kai had been oddly insistent on not leaving you alone in the car, though, and so you’d acquiesced to hovering awkwardly in the foyer as he grabbed a jacket from his bedroom. You’d been standing there, trying her best not to look around, when Sehun had come out of his room, clearly having just showered. He’d been wearing just a towel around his waist, his pale chest and broad shoulders glistening, and you’d looked away so quickly you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

He’d smirked, and you think that that might have been the start of it all.

“Here.” Silently, Sehun has appeared behind you. He hands you a folded pair of sweatpants, a black V-neck t-shirt thrown on top. You lift an eyebrow but take the clothes from him anyway. In all the nights you’ve spent here, he’s never been nearly so considerate. You’d gotten used to keeping a spare change of clothes in your bag at all times, ignoring Sana’s curious look when she’d found them while rummaging through your bag for a highlighter.  

You step into the hall bathroom to change, listening to  the sound. of Sehun fiddling with things in the kitchen outside. You hadn’t been wearing a bra, and when you looks down at your chest through the t-shirt, that fact is very obvious.

Sehun just sighs when you step out.

You lie down in bed after washing your face and brushing your teeth, not waiting for Sehun to return before you slide under the covers. Sehun is particular about things like thread count, so his sheets feel like silk clouds. For a moment, you close your eyes and let your mind go blissfully blank. 

You almost don’t hear when Sehun comes out of the bathroom, not until he’s lifting back the covers on the other side of the bed. You jerk upwards - you’d been expecting him to sleep on the couch or something - your body already moving away from his, “Irene -”

“She won’t care.” Sehun sounds almost bitter, and you wonder if the reason you’re even here tonight, the reason he’s giving you this attention, is because he doesn’t have his girlfriend’s. 

Sehun doesn’t say anything as you lie there in the silence, both of your breathing shallow. One of his hands is playing idly with the bracelet on your wrist, and you wonder if he even realize he’s doing it. 

 “I’m sorry.” He says finally, and his voice sounds like it’s cracking. You don’t laugh, but he clears his throat anyway.

“For which part?” you asks, unable to keep the edge out your voice.                   

“All of it,” he says, and you can feel his eyes on you in the darkness. “I really fucked it up with you, didn’t I?”

“I think we were fucked up to begin with,” you say and then turn around and close your eyes before you have to see the hurt on his face.

You wake up sprawled across Sehun’s chest. His arms are around your waist and your face is pressed into his neck, your legs tangled, his foot resting on your ankle. You come to at the same time he does, and in spite of all the shit that had transpired last night, you have to bite back a smile at the sleepy confusion on his handsome face. 

“I don’t remember falling asleep like this,” he mumbles, a small smirk playing on his lips. All his sharp indifference and biting anger are gone, his edges filed away in the morning light. He feels like a different person, more like the man who’d let you cry on his shoulder outside the club last night than the distant boy you remember waking up to on most mornings you were unlucky enough to fall asleep here. 

“I guess you just can’t stay away from me,” you drawl, and then shift away because you can feel him there against your thigh and Irene is still a very big conversation that you’ve never had. He must realize this at the same instant because his expression hardens, his lips pressing into a straight line.

“I should get out of here,” you say eventually, sitting up in bed. Sehun nods, looking up at the ceiling. He gets to his feet, and you have to glance away when his toned stomach and V-line come into view, his sweatpants riding low on his hipbones. 

“I’ll get your clothes,” he says, and you remember leaving your folded clothes on the sofa last night after you’d changed. He slips out of the room. 

You slide Sehun’s sweatpants down your legs, the t-shirt covering almost everything, as you await his return. Suddenly, though, you hear the sound of a key turning in a lock and the front door swings open. 

Oh, fuck. Kai.

 “Jongin.” Sehun can’t keep the shock out of his voice as he stares at his friend, even as he attempts to school his expression into one of nonchalance. Peeking out of the gap in his door, you spot him glance carefully at the clothes he holds in his hands before discreetly shoving them behind his back. 

Kai looks disheveled, you can’t help but think. His hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it, and the top buttons of shirt are undone. He glances at Sehun in surprise, his eyebrows crinkling in confusion, “What are you doing here? Didn’t you say you were going to Irene’s place last night?” 

Sehun, to his credit, is a crafty liar. He just shrugs nonchalantly, scrunching your tank top further in his hand. “She wasn’t feeling well, so she took an Uber home from the club. I just came back here.” 

“You could have dropped her off,” Kai sounds almost scolding and you have to suppress a smile in spite of herself.

“We both know that’s not my style.” Sehun gives Kai a careful glance. “What about you? You’re never back this early from Krystal’s. Did Amber kick you out our something?”

Kai lets out a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head. “I wasn’t really feeling it after last night. Things got way too out of hand. Sana shouldn’t have said those things to Y/N.”

Just like that, you suddenly remember exactly why you’d been so in love with him. (And why you probably still are). 

“She did lie.” Sehun says it so matter-of-factly it makes you want to punch him.

 “Yeah, well, I can’t really blame her.” Kai winces, his voice sounding a little strained as he says, “I can’t believe she actually hooked up with that guy.”

 “Why?” Sehun’s voice is razor sharp. “Did you really just think she’d spend the rest of college pining over you?”

Kai looks like Sehun’s slapped him. “No, of course not,” he stammers out. “But she’s not the kind of person who’d be into casual sex.”

“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think you do.”

 “And you do?” There’s something strange in Kai’s tone now, and when you peek out of the door, the boys are standing chest-to-chest, both of their shoulders tense. You’re a little worried they might attack each other, at least until all the fight suddenly goes out of Sehun and he just sighs.

“You should change,” he says to Kai, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. He touches Kai’s shoulder gently, and it’s the tiniest gesture, but there’s something so intimate about it that you find herself looking away. “You smell like a distillery.” 

“Fuck you,” Kai says, but his tone is full of warmth. He sounds so different than he did just moments before that it makes your head spin. Sehun and Kai...whatever they have, you doesn’t think you – or anyone else – will ever really privy to all of it.

Sehun waits until Kai’s bedroom door is shut behind him before sauntering back over to his own. You scramble away from the door to make it look like you hadn’t been listening, but the scathing look he gives you the moment he enters the room tells you that your efforts had been in naught.

 “You heard the whole thing, didn’t you?”

 “To be fair, you guys were talking about my sex life. I’m not sure that really counts as eavesdropping.”

Sehun rolls his eyes, handing you your clothes. 

You fold your arms across your chest. “Your defense of me was really amazing.”

He just laughs, shaking his head. “You already have Kai to be your knight-in-shining armor. You don’t need me for that.” He chucks you gently under the chin, a dark sort of humor in his eyes. “Don’t get greedy now.”

“Fuck off,” you mumble, pushing his hands away. Spinning around, you slip into his bathroom to change, tugging off his shirt with more vigor than necessary. When you’re done taming the mess your hair has become overnight, you go back into the bedroom to see Sehun also dressed in a dark sweater and jeans. He looks hot, he always does, and you bites her lip as you look away purposefully.

“I’m going to head out now,” you say, and Sehun looks up. His dark eyes lazily roam your figure, his gaze sliding up your jean-clad legs and over your bare shoulders.

“That’s a good look on you,” he says, his raspy voice sending a shiver down your spine, “Did I tell you that last night?”

Barely breathing, you shake your head. 

“I should have.”

 And then, to your confusion, he reaches behind you to pull a jacket off the hook on the back of his door, his knuckle brushing your shoulder. He shrugs it on and look at you quizzically, like he’s completely unaware of the effect he’s having on you. “Aren’t you coming?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re driving me home?”

 “What, do you really think I’d make you walk? It’s almost two miles.”

 “I could call an Uber.”

“Come on, everyone knows they overcharge.”

Suddenly, you remember the conversation you’d heard just moments before, what he’d said about Irene: we both know that’s not my style.

What exactly are you doing, Oh Sehun?

You bite your lip, then shrug, deciding not to push it.

 “What are you going to tell Kai?”

 Sehun holds the door open for you on the way out. “That I ran out to the store. He’s been telling me to buy milk for like a week now.”

“It’s like you two are a married couple.”

 Sehun laughs flatly.

 It’s quiet in the car for most of the ride. You roll down window and sticks your arm out, letting the cool air kiss your fingertips. Sehun glances over at you, his brows furrowed. “You might hurt yourself.”

You just hum in response.

You’re stopped in front of the dorms, your hand on the door handle, when he says, out of the blue, “Did you really have sex with that guy?”

You choke.

 “Sehun,” you say, voice low and hard. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Believe, I know.” If you didn’t know him better, you would think he almost sounds pained. “But I can’t stop thinking about it anyway.”

“You’re dating Irene. You’re sleeping with Irene. You have no right to think about me like that anymore.”

Sehun grits his teeth, “I’m an asshole, I know. I have a girlfriend. I shouldn’t care who you’re fucking. But ever since I first saw him come up to you at lunch that day I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, his eyes dark as they settle on yours. “Did he touch you like I used to, Y/N?” 

Suddenly, the hot boiling anger that had been rising in your chest cools to a low simmer, a new kind of heat filling you. You thinks of the last time you’d been in Sehun’s car, of how he’d made sure to drop you off last on the way home from Seulgi’s twenty-first birthday even though you lived the closest, that familiar glint in his eye. Remembers how you’d told yourself that you wouldn’t this time, that you’d learn to exercise some kind of self-control around him, that you were only causing yourself more inevitable hurt in the long run.

You remember how that had lasted all of five minutes. You remember his hands hooked around your thighs, his lips against your stomach, your fingers tangled in his hair in the backseat 

Your breathing turns harsh.

“Sehun,” you says, your voice low, your cheeks flushing prettily, his eyes dark with lust, knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel.

And then there’s a loud knock at the window.

You looks away from Sehun quickly, pressing a hand to your chest to calm your racing heart. Chanyeol peers at you from outside the car, a confused expression on his face. Sehun rolls down the window. 

“What are you two doing together?”

 “He saw me walking back from the library and offered give me a ride,” you lie before Sehun can, flashing a smile that you hope is convincing.

 “That’s...unusual of him,” Chanyeol frowns a little at Sehun, a confused furrow appearing between his brows. Sehun looks away. Chanyeol turns back to you, a guilty expression on his face. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. Sana was just drunk. We should have had your back.” 

“It’s okay,” you say meekly, bowing your head.

 Next to you, Sehun says quietly, too low for Chanyeol to hear, “No, it’s not.”

 He’s wrong, though. It always is.

  You’re panicking.

 This isn’t the ‘oh shit, I left my homework in my dorm room and now I have to ask the professor if I can run back and get it’ kind of panic. It isn’t the ‘I just ran into my ex-fuck buddy and his new girlfriend on a date at the cafeteria coffee shop and now I have to pretend like I’m  meeting someone here too’ kind either.

 No, this is the ‘I have an organic chemistry midterm that will make up 30% of my grade for the entire semester in two days and I haven’t even started studying yet’ brand of anxiety. It’s a special kind of panic, one that, for all twelve years of her secondary education and her 2.5 semesters of college you haven’t ever had the misfortune of experiencing.

Because, you see, you are a planner. You make study schedules, either jot them down in pretty colors on the stationary pad she bought while on vacation in Japan that one time or print them up online, and actually stick them, too. By this point, you’ve usually all wrapped up with her initial phase of studying, transitioning into review. But things have been a little out of the norm for her lately, what with your confrontation with Kai, then your fight with Sana in front of everyone, then your meltdown with Sehun and so, yeah, you’re freaking the fuck out, all of your notes and her molecular model set spread out across the table you’ve claimed as your stomping grounds for the last five hours, your fingers lost somewhere in the tangled ends of your hair as you tug nervously at the strands every time you get a question wrong on the practice exam you’re working on.

“You look like a fucking mess.” Jungkook is blunt as he sets the coffee down in front of you. It’s your second cup in as many hours – a Venti from the Starbucks that had recently opened up just a block away from the library. It’s currently the hottest destination on campus, hence the fact that it’s been a solid forty minutes since you’d first shooed Jungkook away from the table with the condition that he not come back unless he returned with an iced Americano. 

“Thanks,” you say dryly, but release the strand of hair you’d been pulling on so hard it feels like it might tear out of your scalp. You nervously tug your bottom lip between your teeth instead, looking up at Jungkook, “You don’t have to stay here, you know. I know you finished up that history paper an hour ago.”

He just shrugs in response. “I don’t mind keeping you company. I have some work for my music theory class to do anyway. And besides,” he eyes you playfully across the table, “I figure someone’s going to have to drag out of this library tonight or you’ll never leave.”

 He’s probably right, and suddenly you are extremely grateful for him. You’ve never really had a friend like him before – someone who just wants to be around you, without a group setting, no strings attached. It feels a little weird sometimes - you’re not cool or interesting enough to warrant the attention of someone like Jeon Jungkook -  and it still surprises you every time he sends you a text, asking if you wants to grab lunch or study together after class.

 Lifting your gaze from the test in front of you, you offer him a weak smile. “Have I ever told you what a great friend you are?” 

“No,” Jungkook looks especially proud of himself, “But you definitely should. I think we should make it a daily thing.” 

“Yeah, like your ego needs any more stroking.” 

You turn your attention back to the problem you’ve  been working on for the last twenty minutes, as if just staring at the words on the paper can help you understand why the molecule before you has an R configuration instead of S. Jungkook digs through his bag, pulling out a page of sheet music that makes your head throb just looking at it, tugging out the pencil he’d slipped behind his ear as he bends his head over the page.

You work quietly for an hour and a half, until the sun has slipped beneath the horizon and your coffee is nothing more than a few half-melting ice cubes. Jungkook stretches then, checking his phone. “It’s seven o’clock. Do you want to get some dinner?”

“Can’t.” You respond immediately, your nose half buried in your chemistry textbook. “I’m only halfway through the material for this test.”  

“Come on,” Jungkook pouts. “All work and no play makes Y/N a dull girl.”

 “Yeah, well, I’ll take that over failing out of college any day.”

 “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s one class.”

 You doesn’t know why this sets you off. Maybe it’s the way he says it, careless and unthinking. Or maybe it’s the anxiety that’s been bubbling under your skin since the moment you’d arrived back in dorm after Sehun dropped you off, cheeks still a little flushed from your conversation, heart pounding from Chanyeol’s interruption, and looked at your calendar and realized that, for the first time in your life, you had forgotten about a test.

You hadn’t always been this way, so focused on your studies. You’d always been a good student, sure, but not the best. But then the accident had happened and you’d lost everything and school became the only thing you could cling to. You may be a failure in every other aspect of your life, but at leas you got good grades. Only now, that’s seemingly about to become untrue as well. 

You set the textbook aside then, the resounding thud so loud that a couple of people look over. You can’t keep the slight edge of hysteria out of you voice as you turn on Jungkook, “It’s not just one class! I got a B on my last English paper, I’m so behind in reading for my bio lecture it’s not even funny, I turned in my last calc homework three days late because I didn’t have time to finish it, Sana hates me, and everything is fucked!”

When you finish, your chest is heaving and Jungkook is staring at you. Your breathing has gone harsh and off-kilter, and there are dark splotches on your cheeks. You feel a hot tears of embarrassment sting your eyes and you’re about to turn away when you feel him reach out, his long fingers loosely circling your wrist. “Hey,” he says softly, turning over your hand so he can slip his palm into it. He tangles your fingers, reminding you of the first night you’d met. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N.” 

 “It’s not,” you mumble. “I’ve never been so behind in school before, Jungkook. Not ever.”

 He hesitates. “Look, I’m a music major, and I’m barely getting by with that as it is. I can’t pretend like I know what you’re going through, so I won’t. But I do know this: you’re one of the smartest and most hard-working people I’ve ever met. Like, seriously, I wish I could be more like you. So, trust me when I say this: if anyone can do this, it’s you, Y/N.”

 The tears that had welled in your eyes suddenly spill over. “Why are you so nice to me?” you blurts out, and Jungkook’s gaze goes wide.

“What do you mean?”

You breathe out harshly. “I’m difficult to know, too focused on my studies, boring. I’m just there. No one would really notice if I wasn’t. But you do.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook is frowning now. “You’re not just there. Whenever you’re in the room, you’re the first person I see.”

 “Okay, seriously, what’s gotten into you today? Stop being so nice, it’s starting to weird me out.” 

You huff out a laugh in spite of the fact that you’re crying, reaching out to wipe the tears gathering beneath your eyes. Jungkook smiles, but it’s an uneasy kind of grin, and you see the worry still lingering in his stare.

Before you have time to say anything, though, you see Jungkook suddenly stiffen. You frown, turning to see what he’s looking at, ignoring the soft warning that falls from Jungkook’s lips.  Over your shoulder, you spot your entire friend group – if you can really call them that anymore these days – seated at the tables behind you. Unofficial kings and queens of your university, they’ve claimed three tables and shoved them together, open seats filled with bookbags and jackets. Everyone gives them a wide berth, and even the librarian – who’d yelled at you not two hours earlier for taking one bite of a granola bar – says nothing when Baekhyun pulls out a takeout box from one of the dining halls and bites into a slice of pizza.

 “Oh,” you say numbly, then turns back around. It’s been pretty much radio silence since Sana’s party and for some reason, you’d imagined that everyone was just too busy to use your group chat or mention getting together. But no, instead it seems like they’ve just removed you from the equation and decided to carry on business as usual. Sehun, for all his unexpected kindness the morning after the party, doesn’t look like he’s given you a single thought since he’d dropped you off in front of your dorm, his arm looped lazily around Irene’s slim shoulders as he steals a fry from Baekhyun’s dinner.

 “Are you going to be okay?” Jungkook watches your face carefully.

 There’s something about the way he is says it: not are you okay but are you going to be, like he already knows that you’re anything but, that steadies you. You look at him across the table, forcing a genuine smile. “Yeah,” you say, and you both ignore how shaky your voice sounds when you answer his question from earlier. “I think dinner sounds great.”

Jungkook doesn’t look convinced, but there’s relief in his eyes as he gets to his feet, shoving all his books into his backpack with one fell swoop. One edge of his history paper gets caught on the outside as he zips it up, but he hardly seems to care, hiking it up on his shoulder as he trashes the watery remnants of your coffee in the plastic recycling bin. You pack up a bit more slowly, your movements sluggish, as though reminding you that haven’t moved from this seat in the library in almost seven hours.

To your surprise, Jungkook holds out his hand for your bag when you’ve finished zipping it up. You frown at him in confusion, eyebrows arching upwards in an obvious question. He just shakes his head, softly murmuring “Trust me” as he takes the bag from you and then gently places a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he says brightly, and a sick feeling grows in your stomach as you realize what he’s trying to do.

“We aren’t in a high school rom com, Jungkook,” you hiss, but he just shakes his head, reaching down to lace his fingers through yours. He’d done it not moments before and you hadn’t minded – you actually still kind of like the feeling of his roughened, strong hands in your own  – but you feel your cheeks heat now. 

 Jungkook pulls you along in the direction of the other group’s table, completely ignoring the fact that there is a much shorter path out of the library. You keep your head down, but out of the corner of your eye you see the moment Sana recognizes you, a surprised look spreading across her pretty face.

Suho follows his girlfriend’s eyes, and his own widen comically at the sight of your  hand in Jungkook’s. You try to pull it away, but he doesn’t let go, a smile on his face as he bends to whisper in your ear, “Just go with it.”

You think Sehun might be the worst. He’s in the middle of laughing at something Chanyeol is saying when he suddenly turns his head, catching sight of you just as Jungkook is pulling away from your ear. There’s a rosy blush on your  cheeks, and it must make for quite the romantic picture. Sehun’s jaw tightens, his gaze growing cold. You bow her head, wishing you could disappear as you tug on Jungkook’s hand, quickening your pace past your (former?) friends and out of the library.

 Once you’re outside, you huffs out an indignant breath, a white cloud erupting from your lips in the cold air. “What the fuck?”

Jungkook just shrugs. “I wanted to see how they would react. Especially the tall ones who can’t seem to stop staring at you whenever you’re around.”

You flush. “They do not.”

 He just wraps an arm around your shoulders tightly, his tone almost fond as he pulls you close, “Oh, Y/N. The things you would realize if only you paid a little more attention.”

You run into Sehun right after you walks out of your orgo midterm. Literally.

 Your head is down as you type out a text to Jungkook, asking if he’s free for a celebratory dinner (apparently, 48 hours of pure grind could pay off) when you suddenly feel yourself collide with a hard body, almost falling to the floor if not for the strong hands that catch at your arms, steadying you before you can topple backwards.

 “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” you breathe without looking up, stepping back as the person’s hands fall from your body.

Sehun looks at you impassively, his characteristic blank expression on his face. “You should pay more attention to where you’re going.”

 Of course, it would be him. In spite of yourself, you blush. “Right, well, I said I was sorry.”

 Sehun frowns down at the device in your hand, your conversation with Jungkook still open and very much on full display. “What, is music boy that much of a distraction?”

There’s look on his face that makes you angry. He seems almost judgmental as he stands before you, arms folded across his broad chest, eyes hard.

“He has a name, you know. It’s Jungkook.”

 Sehun’s frown deepens. “Right. Jungkook.” The name falls lazily from his lips, tinged with distaste. “So, is he your boyfriend now?”

 A passing student jostles you as she walks by, slamming into your shoulder hard with her overflowing backpack and the absurdity of having this conversation here, literally at the center of dozens of students rushing past to get to their next class, suddenly dawns on you.

“I don’t have time for this,” you say curtly, attempting to step past when Sehun catches at your wrist.

 “Have dinner with me.”

“What?”

 Never, not once in the five odd months you’d been together, had he ever offered to have a meal with you, or even be seen alone with you outside the confines of your dorm room, his apartment, or the backseat of his car. So, what the hell is he doing now, months after he’d thrown you aside?

 “Have dinner with me,” he repeats. “Was I not clear the first time?”

Your head is spinning, and you jerk your wrist back from him forcefully. “Sehun, what are you doing?”

He eyes you carefully, his mask of indifference perfectly in place, but there’s something about the way that he shifts from foot to foot that tells you maybe he isn’t sure either.

 “I’m inviting you to dinner.” He slants an innocent look at you. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends go out to dinner together.” 

Every instinct screams at you to say no, to walk away and never think about him again, to close the tiny gap in your heart that’s still open for him before he has a chance to squeeze back inside, but your body has never quite listened to your brain when it comes to Oh Sehun so, for some reason, you find yourself saying – feeling as though you’re floating above your body, looking down at yourself – “Okay.”

The walk to Sehun’s car is silent and tense, your shoulders accidentally bumping each other’s every couple of steps. Your midterm had started at seven, meaning it’s closer to nine now and the afternoon warmth has given away to darkness and a freezing night chill. Sehun is a snob when it comes to eating on campus – it was one of the first things you’d learned about him, even before you became whatever the fuck you were – so you end up at a small sushi place close to his apartment. You’re worried about people seeing you together, but Sehun seems oddly nonchalant. He spends an abnormally long time perusing the menu, even though you’re sure he’d figured out his order within the first thirty seconds, only looking up when you clear your her throat.

 “Did you invite me to dinner just to ignore me the whole time?”

 Sehun raises an eyebrow, closing his menu and setting it to the side. “Honestly, I didn’t expect you to actually say yes.”

 “I still can’t really believe that I did.”

He smirks, “Guess you still can’t resist me, huh?”

You make a face. “Or more like I’m fucking starving. I haven’t eaten all day.”

An alarmed look crosses Sehun’s face, something close to concern in his voice as he leans forward. “It’s nine p.m, Y/N. That’s not good for you.”

Trying to ignore the small, pleased feeling that grows inside of you at the worry in his eyes, you just rolls your eyes. “Yes, Sehun, I know.  I’m pre-med. I’m well aware of the consequences of skipping meals.” You glance away from him, tapping your fingers against the tabletop. “I had a huge exam today. I spent all day studying, so I didn’t get a chance to eat.”

“Organic chem, right?” Sehun has this weird look on his face, and his tone is slightly off. You realize with a faint tinge of amusement that this is hard for him, giving a shit about something in your life that doesn’t have anything to do with him, actually trying to care about you outside the boundaries of sex. “I saw you studying in the library the other day.”

His voice takes on a slightly darker note when he says the last part, which you ignore. “Yeah,” you hum. “Honestly, I was expecting to fail but I think it went okay.”

Sehun snorts, “Of course it did. Have you ever gotten anything below an A before?”

You roll your eyes at him, a small smile playing along your lips. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. I’ve Never Opened a Textbook in My Life and Still Have a 4.0 GPA.”

Sehun just frowns back at you, but you can tell he’s not really annoyed by the teasing glint in his eyes. It’s weird – sitting across from him and having a normal conversation like this, as though you’re actually friends. Unlike you and Kai, you and Sehun had never been friends. No, before you’d first slept with him, you’d seen him as nothing more than a friend of your friends and he’d barely tolerated your presence because the people who he hung around with seemed to like you. But now, here he is, sitting across from you in an Italian restaurant that – on a second look around – is mostly populated by couples, teasing you about your  grades and acting like all of this is perfectly fucking normal.

“Sehun,” you breathe out, and you see his expression change at the sudden shift in your tone. “What are we doing?”

“Eating dinner.” He’s not looking at you though, and you can tell he doesn’t want to have this conversation just as much as you.

“No, I mean, why did you even bring me here? You have a girlfriend. You don’t even like me.”

 Sehun gives you a strange, almost hurt look. “Why do you think I don’t like you?”

You tone is incredulous. “Because, before last weekend, you never really talked to me unless it had something to do with sex. Because you spent all summer and most of the beginning of the semester acting like I don’t exist. Because you started dating another girl while we were still sleeping together without even telling me first.”

Your eyes burn then, and you’re suddenly reminded of when you’d first realized he and Irene were together – a memory Sehun doesn’t even know you have.

 He looks away, a dark red flush spreading across his face, his voice low as he mumbles, “I don’t dislike you.”

“But you don’t like me,” your voice is weak. “You don’t respect me, or care about me, or think about me at all unless I’m with another guy and it’s hurting your ego. Isn’t that right, Sehun?”

 He can’t meet your gaze, and that’s answer enough. You haven’t ordered yet – the nervous-looking young waiter assigned to your section is hovering awkwardly, obviously searching for an opening in your conversation to approach your table – but you don’t care. You get to your feet, pushing your chair back in with so much force it jostles the cutlery on the table.

“Y/N.” There’s alarm in Sehun’s tone now, and he’s rising to his feet as well. “Where are you going? It’s a mile back to campus.- ”

You’d rather walk a mile back in the darkness then go anywhere with him.

And that’s exactly what you do, trying to ignore the tears that slip down your cheeks, no matter how hard you try to wipe them away.

[caffeinehighnerd]

[caffeinehighnerd]

EUPHORIA SEASON 1 EPISODE 8 rue bennett | and salt the earth behind you

[caffeinehighnerd]

[caffeinehighnerd]

Men like us, Mr. Shelby, will always be alone.

[caffeinehighnerd]

Tommy and Grace in Series one.

[caffeinehighnerd]

harry’s smile reserved just for allie

[caffeinehighnerd]

“Anything is possible.”

[caffeinehighnerd]

[caffeinehighnerd]

Alex Fitzalan as Harry Bingham in The Society (2019)