fireheaurt

[fireheaurt]

amazon wishlist — kang taehyun

pairing: roommate!kang taehyun x afab!reader summary: your roommate and best friend, taehyun, finds a dildo on your amazon wishlist.

wc: 5.5k

warnings: masturbation, dry humping, dirty talk (praise, some degradation), pet names (princess, angel, baby, pretty), like One spank, teasing/humiliation?, penetrative, safe sex, mention of cunnilingus and handjob, also unrealistic because taehyun games here but. let me live my gamer bf dreams ok?

note: originally wrote this in 3rd person and then had to manually change it to 2nd person so sorry for any mistakes ! also still figuring how this site works so sorry for the plain formatting. i dont actually know if amazon sells dildos, and if they cost $30? probably not but yk... artistic liberty... capitalism...

There’s no chicken.

You notice this one Friday afternoon in the middle of July, while the pavements outside sizzle from the heat and the sun spills through the windows and warms up your back. You’re in the kitchen, sifting through a pathetic heap of frozen food. Usually, you head to the nearby supermarket after pilates class to pick up a pack of bacon; other times, Taehyun comes home after a day with Kai bearing a bag of frozen wedges. Either way, it’s clear that neither of you have bought anything edible since your last grocery run two weeks ago.

Frozen french fries. Korean corndogs. A half-empty pack of fishcakes. No chicken.

You open the fridge, eyes skimming over its meager contents, as if it would be there. It isn’t. You open the freezer again, wondering if the gods above would be so gracious as to summon some chicken breast into your freezer to feed you and your roommate tonight. They don’t.

“Maybe we should go grocery shopping.”

You’re fresh from a long, elaborate shower. Your hair falls in wet tresses over your shoulders and you’re clad in dolphin shorts and a big shirt that might have been Taehyun’s but you borrowed so often and for so long that he probably forgot it ever belonged to him. It’s your turn to cook dinner and you’re grumbling over the fact that Taehyun cooked your only remaining pack of chicken breast last night when you hear his bedroom door click open.

Just in time. A shitty rap song follows the sound of the soft padding of his footsteps against the floor. “Hey, you home?” he calls from halfway down the hallway, but you cut him off before he can say anything else.

“I told you I would cook chicken and you still finished it last night, and now there’s nothing for me to cook, asshole,” you say, more exasperated than angry. You turn around just as he walks in, wearing nothing but black joggers and his obnoxious RGB headset. His eyes are wide and bashful. You wrinkle your nose and turn around again. “What happened to your shirt?”

Taehyun has the decency to sound sheepish. “Sorry, I was playing with the boys,” he mumbles, like that wasn’t painfully obvious already. You have no problem with seeing Taehyun or shirtless guys by themselves, but a shirtless Taehyun has you torn between wanting to throw up and throwing away your clothes. Maybe to other people having a first-class view of his washboard abs sounds like a blessing, but to you, it’s only a level below mental distress.

“Tell Kai I said hi,” you say absently, now going through your drawers for restaurant flyers (if worse comes to worst, you’ll order takeout for tonight). “Anyway, what’d you come outside for?”

“I needed to talk to you about something.”

At this, you peer over your shoulder, studying Taehyun’s face. He doesn’t look particularly upset, just stoic, which is a dangerous sign in itself. Taehyun’s usually calm, but he’s not stoic—at least, not in this stage of your friendship, when Taehyun has known you long enough to stop pretending that he’s some sort of tsundere.

“Is something wrong?” you ask softly, turning around to lean against the counter.

“I saw your wishlist on Amazon. Why do you have a dildo on there?”

The words fall on you like a bucket of hardened cement. You feel your heart rate increase by about a thousand beats.

“I—you what?” you sputter in disbelief. There are a few seconds in-between this moment of horror where you want to scold him, yell at him, do anything, but it’s not like he’s in the wrong. It’s your Amazon wishlist. But why was he snooping around on it? And why did you put a dildo on it? Fuck. Your mind searches for an intelligent response, but all that falls out of your mouth is, “Other people can see that?”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows. “Yes? I hope you didn’t share it with your parents or anything, ‘cause it’s like, the first one on the list.”

You grip the counter, suddenly feeling very ill. “Oh. Shit.” You had not done anything of the sort—you kept your parents away from your online presence for that very reason. But if anyone was to stumble upon your questionable wishlist on Amazon dot com, you weren’t expecting Taehyun of all people. Your best friend? And roommate? Really? Fuck Jeff Bezos, for real.

“But that’s besides the point,” Taehyun says, advancing towards you, and you back up a little. Between his tall, wide-shouldered frame and you being a good bit smaller, you discover that it is very, very easy to feel intimidated, almost trapped, by him. “Why do you need to buy one? You know I got a dick, right?”

It’s like another punch to the stomach, except someone also crushed your head with a boulder. If you weren’t red before, you definitely are now, sweat pooling at your palms at his implication. “What the fuck are you talking about.”

Taehyun shrugs and reaches behind you to grab a glass from the dish holder. “I’m just saying,” he says, making his way over to the sink. “Why waste thirty dollars on some plastic when you can get the real thing for free? And better?”

Are you even hearing him right? “Genuinely what are you on,” you say, still aghast. “I wanted to buy one because—because—I mean, I-I don’t know, it’s normal! Shit, Taehyun, does it really matter? Don’t tell me you’re being serious.”

He shrugs again. “Why not?”

You say the first thing that pops into your mind. “What if it sucks?”

Taehyun only laughs. “You really have that little faith in me?”

“I don’t know!” You think briefly on the sex talks you two have had—some you had sprawled over each other on the couch, glasses of soju in hand; others you had during movie nights, clay masks smeared over your faces while you struggled not to laugh too hard. They were fun, sure, but it’s one thing to hear Taehyun talk about fucking other people and another to hear him talk about fucking you. To your knowledge, Taehyun’s pretty good in bed, but… But why are you even considering it? You both have been best friends for years. If you have sex, it’s only going to ruin your friendship. There are other ways for you to feel good—ways that don’t risk a seven-year friendship and getting kicked out of the apartment.

“I don’t know,” you say again, suddenly terrified at yourself for not giving him a straight answer. It should be a hard, flat no! You shouldn’t be considering it all! Yet here you are, your brain suddenly full of the thought of Taehyun and his dick.

“Hey, I’m just saying. Trying to open up some options for you here. I’m one hundred percent willing, but only if you are.” Taehyun puts up his hands like that settles it. He flashes you a smile. “Just tell me, okay? And if you still don’t want to, that’s chill too. We’ll both act like this never happened.”

Is that even possible? “Right,” you say, feeling faint. “Okay, yeah.”

Taehyun’s smile doesn’t fade. You can only watch as he takes a swig of water and shuffles happily to his room.

You think about it. Probably a bit too much.

You have an essay to write for your class, and it’s due in a few hours—but you can’t stop thinking about it. It being Taehyun fucking you. In your defense, you’ve been pent up all week, trying to balance your academics and health and social life and Taehyun all without having any time for yourself, so it makes sense, you think. You hope it makes sense that you’re fantasizing about your roommate, considering everything that’s happening to you.

You shut your laptop and sigh, lying back down on your bed. Taehyun has been acting completely normal in the three days between now and when he had first made his offer, which you are endlessly grateful for, but also bewildered by. He had even paid for takeout that same night, and you had eaten it together on the floor of your living room, and it was like nothing had even happened. Still, you’ve been mulling it over ever since. Pondering it, if you will. And it’s not your first time. Many nights you have found your tired, worn-out brain wandering to your roommate, his pretty face, great body, cute personality… How it would feel. What he would do. Taehyun, leaning over you, kissing you, running his pretty hands up and down your skin. Nipping at your collarbone with his sharp, perfect teeth. Grazing them along your neck, sucking at the soft parts.

Fuck. You’re wet.

You feel crazy.

Your hands slide down your panties, face burning with shame. The only thing you can think of is Taehyun, his soft skin and pretty brown eyes, his lean arms and chest. You picture him above you, caging you between his arms, a glittering smile on his face as he touches you, his back muscles flexing. Do you like that? he whispers, his voice low and raspy. You don’t even have to work hard to imagine what he sounds like during sex—the walls here are awfully thin, he’s a twenty-one-year-old guy, and you’ve thought about it more often than not.

“Fuck,” you keen, your hips rolling up as you dip your finger into your folds. Your free hand trails up your torso and into your mouth; you roll your tongue around your fingers and wish, crazily, that you were sucking on Taehyun’s instead. “Shit, oh f—”

“About your offer.”

You’re sitting at the dining table. Taehyun is halfway through his serving of pancakes that you made for him in a partly-tired, mostly-horny daze. After a particularly busy morning, you can’t remember much of last night other than the fact that you fucked yourself sore and came three times in a row, no refractory period, and now you can barely hold your fork.

Taehyun looks up at you. He’s shirtless again. If you were any crazier you would be disappointed that he never left much room for imagination before your first time together. “My offer,” he echoes.

“From a few days ago,” you clarify, poking your fork through your slice of toast. “The. You-fucking-me thing.”

“Ah.” Taehyun leans back and you can tell he’s fighting down a smile. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well. I’ve been kinda… you know, lately,” you begin, staring hard at your plate, “and I was gonna buy the… you know, but then I realized my shipping address is still at my parents’ house and I really don’t want to wait for another week or pay extra to get it the next day or pay thirty dollars for a plastic dick so—”

“So you want me to fuck you?”

You let out a breath and brave a glance at him. “Yeah,” you mumble.

“That’s all you had to say,” Taehyun says with a smile. He pushes his plate away and fixes you with a look. “When do you want to do it? Kinda weird to be planning this out, no?”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do it,” you groan.

Taehyun laughs, reaching over to touch your arm. “Don’t worry about it. What about later tonight? After you’re finished with your homework, I can help you unwind,” he suggests, and he sounds like he’s just telling you about the weather—but his voice has dropped about three octaves and normally you would find this shit cringe, but. Holy fuck.

You aren’t one for slutshaming, but perhaps you are one yourself. You squeeze your thighs together and nod, your gaze falling to the table. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“Good. You can come to my room once you’ve finished. I won’t be playing tonight, so don’t worry about interrupting. Well, you might be interrupting something, but—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Nooo need to elaborate,” you spit, standing up and picking up your plate. Taehyun laughs as you walk over to the sink and put away your dish. When you return back to the dining table, he continues eating like nothing happened. “I’ll go study now.”

“Study well, pretty.”

You make a vague sound of affirmation before slipping inside your room again. You back up against the door and take a second to breathe, then shuffle over to your closet.

Your panties are wet. Again.

“Come in.”

You step inside his room. It’s dark—his lights aren’t on, save for the RGB strips on his setup. He sits on his chair, legs spread, lap looking awfully inviting. For once, he’s wearing a hoodie, and he looks like he just got off a game.

“I expected to catch you at a more… compromising time,” you say, carefully.

“Funny way to say you wanted to see me jerking off.”

“I didn’t say that,” you say with a frown, and you stop walking in front of his chair. Taehyun pats his lap. He’s smiling so, so wide.

“Take a seat.”

You’re grateful when his hands reach up to cup your waist, guiding you as you slide a leg over him and sit down. It’s weird—oddly comfortable, but your tits are pressed up against his chest and your faces are really, really close. Like, close enough you can see each of his eyelashes. He’s so, so pretty.

Taehyun looks you in the eye. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice soft. When you nod, he hums and squeezes your waist. “Alright. Tell me about your day.”

“Huh?”

“Foreplay, baby. That’s like, the whole essence of a hookup.” Taehyun raises his eyebrows at you. “Would you just play along?”

“Fine, fine. I didn’t do mu—oh,” you gasp, as Taehyun’s lips latch onto your neck, pulling you into him. “Ah, fuck. I didn’t do much. I—I woke up early and did some assignments. Got a ninety percent on my mock exams.”

“Woah,” Taehyun says, pulling away. His eyes are bright. “Really?”

“Yeah. All of them.”

“Damn. Good job. Sometimes I forget you’re smart and hot,” he murmurs in between kisses. “Perfect girl.”

Holy shit. “Um—and then I went to the gym and this guy asked me for my number,” you continue. Taehyun licks at your throat and bites down hard. “Ow, fuck you. I said no thanks and then went back home and showered.”

“Did you do anything in the shower?”

You scoff as he licks along your jaw. “No. I’m not a perv like you.”

“Not a good idea to make fun of the guy who’s about to fuck you.”

“Sorry. Can’t help it.”

“And then what?”

“And then I had breakfast with you and after, I… I fucked myself a little.” Taehyun groans and your breath hitches in your throat. “I thought of you.”

He chuckles. “I would have been a little confused if you hadn’t. You must have been so pent up, baby, huh?”

You grab a fistful of his hair and pulls him away from your neck so your eyes meet. “I’ve been thinking of you. For a long time. Even before you made the offer,” you say, barely breathing. Your grip loosens, and you watch as his eyes grow dark. “Anytime I got h-horny, I—I imagined you. And I… was going to buy the toy ’cause I never thought I’d get the real thing with you.”

Taehyun seems taken aback, but his face of faint surprise melts into his usual cocky smile and he presses his lips against yours.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but the real thing is a little bigger than five inches, baby.”

If you weren’t wet before, you’re drenched now. You feel a little bad for his grey sweatpants, the front all smeared with your precum. But knowing Taehyun, he’d probably like that.

You continue kissing for a while, Taehyun’s gaming chair creaking incessantly underneath your weight, but you’re too turned on to be bothered. He’s still playing with your panties, rubbing you over them. You honestly, truly might die.

“Taehyun,” you say, pulling away. He looks like a mess, lipgloss smeared all over his mouth, hair messy from your constant running your hands through them. “Can you touch me?”

“I am touching you, baby.”

You whine. “No, no, like—like inside me, please, fuck.”

“Use your pretty voice to ask me nicely.”

You take a deep breath but it’s let out as a whimper. “Please, Taehyun. Fuck me with your fingers,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck. “Please, please. Please.”

“Good job, princess. Of course. Anything you want.”

And you—you almost die, and it shows with the way you squeezes your thighs together and nuzzle your face deeper into his shoulder, letting out a soft moan when he finally moves to comply.

Taehyun seems to notice, because something in his eyes shifts and he leans in, kissing your cheek. “Do you like it when I praise you, baby? Come on, tell me everything. Tell me what turns you on. Want to make you feel good.”

“I like praise, yeah,” you say, your voice trembling as he moves his hands down to the hem of your panties. “Praise and… And some degradation, too, but mostly praise. I like pet names and—fuck—biting and spanking and k-kissing, fuck, even just kissing turns me on so much.”

“I can tell, baby.” Taehyun glides a finger over your cunt and smiles. “You’re fucking soaked. So cuuute.” He coos it, like you’re some sort of cute doll and not his fucking roommate whose pussy he’s playing with.

It makes you whimper, your fingers shaking where they should be holding onto Taehyun’s shoulders. “Ugh, fuck,” you squeak. “Fuck you.”

“Let me do it first. Grind down on me, pretty.”

You comply and gasp a little at the hardness underneath you. “Fuck. You’re so—”

Taehyun hums, his hands moving to your waist, helping you rock harder against him. “Just for you. I’ve been hard all day just thinking about you.”

You make a pathetic sound at the back of your throat and kiss him, your mind suddenly flooded with images of him touching himself right here in his chair, the slick sound of his hand wrapped around his cock, all while he thinks of you. Without warning, he reaches up his free hand and lightly taps at your cheek; you don’t even have to think about it before your mouth falls open and his fingers slide in.

“Perfect,” Taehyun breathes, and your heart skips in your chest. “You’re so good, fuck. Didn’t even have to ask, what a good girl.”

You grind down harder. Taehyun throws his head back and lets out something between a sigh and a groan. “Fuck, princess,” he rasps. “You’re so cute.” He reaches up with his other hand to caress your flushed face. “You feel really—ugh—really fucking good.”

“Oh my god, wait, fuck, wait—” You whimper around his fingers and slow to a stop; your hands clutch at the back of his hoodie. You whine into the cloth, breathing him in, feeling him all over you. His hands move down to your waist, squeezing gently. You can hardly breathe. “I… I was getting close. I don’t wanna come yet.”

Taehyun shifts a little under you; you huff when his hands slide under your ass and he moves to stand up, lifting you with him. “Let’s move to the bed, then,” he grunts, and your legs close around his waist as he carries the both of you to his bed.

He preoccupies himself by kissing you—your lips don’t move away from each other’s as you tumble onto the mattress. Your mind is racing. You’ve imagined kissing Taehyun so many times before, fantasized about how it felt, and these past few days it was all you could think about. His lips are so warm, his hands even warmer where they wander on your skin. You want him close, closer. Inside.

You break the kiss. “Taehyun,” you murmur against his lips. “Taehyun, please.”

Thankfully, Taehyun seems to understand what you’re getting at, and doesn’t make you beg for it—he’s shimmied out of his sweats and hoodie in record time, with only boxers and a wife beater left. He smiles down at you, gentle, loving. “Could you undress for me?”

You don’t need to be asked twice. You pull your dolphin shorts down and kick them off your ankles, trying your best to peel off your shirt as you do so. Taehyun is fully shirtless now, shadows cast across his toned muscles, and his hands probe at his boxers, but his eyes are fixed on you.

You have never felt so exposed wearing your favorite set of lingerie—you fight the urge to cover your stomach with your arms and instead opt to look up at Taehyun from under your lashes and hope he’s as horny as you are right now.

It takes a moment for Taehyun to recollect himself, but when he does, his hands are immediately on you, awed at your softness. “Damn,” he breathes.

“How eloquent of you.”

Taehyun laughs, running his hands down your waist. “No, I—” He breathes out another chuckle, his eyes trailing down to your belly. “No, you’re just perfect.”

Your cheeks heat and you feel yourself throb a little at his praise. “Says you. Know how many guys would kill to have your body?”

“Know how many guys would kill to have such a beautiful, sexy, smart girl like you?”

You press your lips together. You can’t help but think about how nice he looks, seated between your legs. “A lot of guys would be after you, it seems.”

“Can’t blame them. Fuck, your thighs,” Taehyun groans, moving his hands over them. Your breath catches in your throat. His hands look—are—huge. “Oh my fucking god. Promise me you’ll let me eat you out.”

You blink. “Of course,” you say. “Could you get to fucking me already?”

Taehyun laughs. “Right, sorry. Let me take my boxers off first.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“Yeah, it should be in the hoodie pocket.”

You retrieve the hoodie from the other side of the bed and feel around in its pocket before your fingers graze the plastic; you immediately pick it up and throw the hoodie on the floor. Meanwhile, Taehyun is finally fully naked and stroking himself; you turn even redder. Fuck, you want him so bad.

You tell him so. “Hurry, hurry, please,” you gasp, tossing the unopened condom packet to Taehyun, who chuckles.

“On your hands and knees, angel.”

You obey and whimper impatiently as Taehyun opens the condom and puts it on.

“Jesus, baby, you’re such a mess already and I haven’t even put it in,” Taehyun mumbles. You feel the bed dip where he climbs onto it again, and moans when he gives your ass a smack. “Needy. That’s what you are. Needy and impatient.”

You whimper. “Please, pleasepleaseplease, just put it in, put it in—” Taehyun pushes the small of your back so you drop face-first onto the mattress, cheek squished against the blankets. It smells like him. Everything smells like him. For once you fall silent when he announces he’s sliding in and you feels it poking at your entrance. Your eyes squeeze shut.

He slides in the first inch and you can’t help but whine. “Pleeeease, Taehyun,” you gasp, your voice high and reedy. He complies without an answer, sliding in more, slowly, until he’s almost halfway. You let out a squeak.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyun coos. “Don’t think you can take it?”

You make a small, pathetic noise at the back of your throat. “Nonono,” you cry. “You’re just… really big. Bigger than that—that dumb f-fucking dildo.”

“Aw, am I r-r-really?” Taehyun grins and eases another inch into you before you get the chance to retort. You suck in a breath instead, bunching the sheets into your hands. In a moment of guilt, he uses his other hand to give your waist a reassuring squeeze, then leans over to push back your hair for you. “Damn, you’re tight. You can take it, though, can’t you?”

You whimper. “Ah, shit, yes.”

“That’s it. There you go. Doing such a good fucking job, taking my cock.”

Taehyun kisses your shoulder as he slides in the rest, a string of pathetic whimpers and cries leaving your mouth as he bottoms out. Once his thighs touch the back of yours, he stays very still, letting you adjust to the size.

To both your surprise, you are the one who breaks the almost-silence with a short huff as you prop yourself on your elbows. “You… you can move now,” you grit out, sounding almost pained.

Taehyun hums. “Tell me first. Which do you like better? The toy or my cock?”

You’re silent, but he can see your knuckles whitening as you grip the bedsheets. Taehyun scoffs and grabs both your arms with his hand, pulling them behind you with a grunt. You yelp as his cock hits a different angle inside of you.

“Tell me. Which one is better? I won’t move until you tell me.”

You whimper for a few moments, but Taehyun doesn’t let up. You take a shaky breath and let your head hang. “Y-you,” you mumble.

“Louder, pretty.”

“I like your cock better—hmf—better than the toy,” you say. Taehyun can hear the tears in your voice and his belly flip-flops. So fucking hot.

He might have said that out loud—you might have heard him—but he doesn’t have time to think about the possibilities, because at once he’s drawing his hips away from yours and slamming back inside again. The reaction is immediate. You keen, chest heaving at the intensity. 

“Fuck,” you croak, clinging onto the bedsheets.

“God,” Taehyun breathes, holding you up to his chest, “I’m obsessed with you.” He mouths at your neck and you whimper.

“Don’t bite too hard,” you plead. Taehyun bites down harder in response.

“I’ll bite as hard as I want,” he says, but there’s no heat in his words, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder right after. His hands snake up your body, from your hips to your waist until they stop comfortably at your tummy. He thrusts in and out of you at a steady pace, kissing mindlessly at any sliver of skin he can get his lips on. “Been dreaming about this for ages, you know. I’ve been wanting to fill you up for the longest time.”

Fire stirs within the pit of your stomach at the thought. “I do, too. Fingered myself thinking it was your cock,” you mumble back, delirious, and you can feel him smile against your shoulderblades. Suddenly, he slides out, flips you over and enters you once more in a single swift movement. His pace picks up and you exhale slowly, melting into the pleasure, your eyes trained on the array of faces he’s making above you.

“You’re perfect, angel.” Taehyun’s voice drops into a murmur, his bangs falling perfectly around his face. “I’ve always wanted to do this with you, baby. Not only because you’re really hot, but”—he lets out a moan here—“also ’cause I really, really like you, and I don’t wanna fuck the shit out of you for no reason, I—I also wanna take you on dates, and—” He pauses and groans when you squeeze down on him, eyes twisting shut. “Ah, shit, and I wanna fuck you not as a one time thing, but—fuck, but as like, a boyfriend thing—mm—you know?”

You let out a moan, your eyes cracking open incredulously. “You’re telling me this now?” you pant.

Taehyun laughs but goes even faster, his hands still tight around the softness of your waist. You cry out and latch onto his strong arms, wondering if this is happening, if this is real, if Taehyun really just confessed to you in the middle of rearranging your guts. You can’t believe this. Your heart flutters. Your pussy throbs. God, what is wrong with him?

Taehyun’s hand moves up to your jaw. He tilts your chin up and presses your lips together in a slow, slow kiss. “Fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous. Shit,” he says, kissing you again and again. He looks almost desperate, moving inside you, his entire face flushed red. “I love kissing you. Such a pretty girl, my baby, aren’t you? I—oh, fuck, you feel so good, I like you so much.”

“Shit,” you mewl, reaching up to cup his face. He kisses the corner of your mouth, moving almost desperately now, moaning loudly against your skin. “Fuck, Taehyun, you’re crazy—fuck—”

“Tell me how beautiful you are,” Taehyun rasps, not sounding like himself at all, but he moves his hips impossibly faster, and his hand trails down to your neck. “Tell me how pretty you look while your pussy chokes this dick, fuck.”

You wail, your hands flying up to grasp at his wrists. “I’m—’m a puh-pretty girl, fuck, ’m so pretty—”

“That’s right, princess. Are you close? You wanna come?” he rasps, reaching down now to rub your clit. “Go ahead, baby, come on my cock, please, fuck, come on—”

“Taehyun,” you gasp, your breath hitching, as you feel the waves of your oncoming orgasm. 

“—cream on it, sweet girl, make me proud, wanna feel you coming for me, ’cause of me—”

You cry out from underneath him and you jolt so suddenly it startles him; your back arches off the bed and your thighs clamp around him and you go very, very still. You come for a long time, breathing and whining throughout it; Taehyun keeps moving, easing you out of it, his hands rubbing and squeezing your waist until finally your muscles relax and you go slack, melting back into the mattress.

“That’s it, pretty, good job,” he murmurs, running feather-light touches up and down your torso. “Good job, princess, what a sweet girl.”

He slides out of you after a minute, and you make a noise; you crane your neck to watch as he peels off the condom. “Did you come?” you ask, your voice awfully quiet. He looks up at you and smiles.

“It’s fine, baby.”

You move to sit up. “No, no—”

“Angel, I’m good.”

“You’re still—”

“Shush.” Taehyun scoots closer to you, settling on his elbows between your legs. “I still want to taste you.”

An hour later, you find yourselves lying in bed together. After making you come another time on his tongue and finally coming after the world’s best handjob, Taehyun had scooped you up and seated you in the bathtub, where you took turns washing each other’s hair and giggling deliriously about what had just happened. You smell overwhelmingly like his shitty male body wash, but you find it hard to care that much when he’s buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Seeing that your friendship was effectively ruined in the best way possible, you find it hard not to giggle a little, wrapped in his arms. Taehyun’s hands, sliding smooth and gentle across your torso, stop abruptly.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks, sounding affronted.

“You. You’re ridiculous.”

“What? I wasn’t even doing anything.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just ask me out on a date? As opposed to offering to fuck me. You came off a little strong with that, you know,” you mumble. “Now that I think about it, it was kind of a dick move.”

“Sorry,” Taehyun grumbles. “I’ve asked you out to dinner multiple times but you kept calling them friend dates so I gave up on that.”

“You were trying to flirt with me? I had no idea.”

“Clearly. That’s why I had to stop trying to make romantic advancements and just settled on asking to fuck you instead. The dildo was the perfect incentive.” His fingers move up to tangle in your hair. “I had—I have, like, the biggest, stupidest crush on you. It’s embarrassing.”

You smile. “Lucky you. I like you, too.”

He breathes out, presses his forehead to your shoulder. “Thank god. I was waiting for you to say it,” he says quietly. “We don’t have to talk about it now, though. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

“Fine with me. Why were you even looking at my Amazon wishlist, anyway?”

“Well.” Taehyun stills his hands and clears his throat. “I was trying… to pick out… a birthday gift for you.”

“A birthday gift?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t laugh.”

You start to laugh. “Oh my god,” you say again, in between giggles. “My birthday isn’t for another two months, dumbass.”

“I wanted to be prepared!” Taehyun protests, pinching lightly at your waist. “I told you, I have the biggest fucking crush on you. I was gonna give you a bunch of little gifts. And actually, I was planning to ask you to be my girlfriend. I was so excited, too. Asked the guys for help and everything. Soobin was going to hold up the sign. And Beomgyu was in charge of finding a nice place.”

You snort, twisting around to kiss him. “Sorry for laughing. You’re just an idiot sometimes,” you mumble, and kiss him again. “If it makes you feel better, I would have said yes. And anyway… I kinda knew you liked me. The walls are very thin, you know.”

Taehyun tenses up behind you. “What?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“I hear you jacking off all the time. I’m sorry to break it to you. At least you sound pretty.”

Taehyun groans and presses his nose between your shoulderblades. “Fuck you,” he says, muffled.

You hum. “We’re even.”

tyun: pussy so good i professed my undying love for her

[fireheaurt]

What? Like It’s Hard?

gn reader x soonyoung

summary: With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows. 

Or, studying for a law test has never seen this much chemistry.

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, uni au, friends to lovers, opposites attract

warnings: swearing, drinking, food, arguing, a couple sex jokes, one spicy scene at the end but no actual smut, refusal to acknowledge feelings, what's the word for beyond oblivious????

full wc: 24.3k

playlist! - i'm not very good at this but i tried to add songs alternating between yn and soonyoung :)

a/n: hello!! first of all, sorry this so long! it's been a very very busy summer. thank you to everyone who has continued to show interest in the story, it's really kept me going. i honestly have no idea what this is anymore but i hope it does not disappoint :) as always i appreciate feedback of any form <3 thank you again for reading and have a lovely day! finally, happy scoups day :)

a/n2: a special shout out to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta and for helping me fact check... why do i keep writing about lawyers when i know absolutely nothing about the field.......

“Nope.” You grab your backpack, shoving your laptop inside, but he gets to your water bottle before you can reach it. 

“Come on.” Soonyoung pouts his lips. 

“I won’t do it,” you say. 

Soonyoung hugs your water bottle hostage against his chest, dark blue hiding in the crook of his elbow, bright against the pale pink sweater he wears. It’s an unusual choice for him, normally clad in baggy jeans and loose t-shirts. Still, the color highlights his new hair, blonde bordering on white. Hardly the first time he’s done something insane for a bet. 

“Please! I’m desperate!” He cries again, stepping closer, though he keeps a firm grip on your water bottle. You never should have told him how emotionally attached you are to it; you should have known it would be held against you. 

“No,” you say. You sling your backpack on, just in case he gets any other ideas. The other students shoot dirty looks at you, actually in the library to study (like you were, until Soonyoung arrived). So you grab him by the arm, rolling your eyes at how he jerks the water bottle out of reach. 

“Walk and talk, we’re not doing this here,” you say, folding your arms over your chest. 

“Come on, how hard can it be?” Soonyoung asks. “It’s just a test.”

“Just a test?” You snort. “Soonyoung, you are aware that most people don’t apply to law school on a dare?” 

“I don’t have to get into law school!” He says, “just get a 179 on the LSAT.” 

As if that makes it any better. You eye Soonyoung and his tight grip on the plastic. Maybe it’s a lost cause and you should just swing by the bookstore to get a new one instead. But that water bottle has butterfly stickers that have survived since freshman year and a dent from the time Jun tried to use it as a weapon in a fight against Jihoon (that was declared a draw when the bottle busted open and doused both of them equally); it holds memories better than water and you’ll be damned if you let Soonyoung hold it hostage. 

“That’s actually harder,” you mumble. From the corner of your eye, you can see him tucking the blue bottle under his right arm, farthest from you. This won’t be easy, especially since you saw the poorly disguised thirst trap of him and one of his frat bros at the gym: those arms are not to be underestimated. 

“I’ll pay you!” 

“With what money?” 

Soonyoung pauses. You’ve reached the exit by now, sunlight warming you through the glass doors. He turns to the sunlight, and you know he’s pretending to be a main character from an artsy film (not that he’s ever seen on). He takes a deep breath, as if he already regrets what he has to say next. 

“Okay, I’ll offer you the only services I have.” He turns to face you, eyes on the floor. 

“Oh my god, Soonyoung!” You shove his shoulder. “You are not selling your body for a test!” 

“But it’s all I know!” He says. He pokes your arms. “You could have so much muscle if you lifted just twice a week.” 

“Oh.” You blink at him. “You meant working out?” 

“What did you think I meant?” 

You feel heat rush into your cheeks. You push the door open, praying Soonyoung doesn’t notice. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, not daring to check if he’s following. “I don’t have time to workout.” 

“Then what do you want?” Soonyoung asks. He stays just out of reach, adjusting his grip so that the water bottle hangs from his hand. “Please, I’ll do anything!” 

“Why do you need me?” 

“Because you’re the smartest person I know,” he says without hesitation. In the three years of your friendship, you’ve learned that the only time Soonyoung isn’t serious is when he flirts. 

“You are,” he insists. “Plus you’ve already taken it, so you’re my best chance. My only chance, it’s not like I have a good track record with tests.” He gives you a lopsided smile as he tries to pretend like he’s joking. But Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You see the sparkle in his eyes dim, and you remember freshman Soonyoung–when he failed the midterm and holed up in his room in the frat house for two full days, not even venturing out to drink. It’s that damn sparkle that gets to you. He isn’t paying attention anymore, water bottle hanging loosely from his hand, but you can’t bring yourself to snatch it. 

“You can pass it,” you say with a sigh. “It’s about studying correctly.” 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung says. “I’ve never really studied.” 

“Well, that’s what I’ll teach you.” 

Soonyoung freezes, grabbing your arm. “Seriously?” When you turn to face him, his smile is so bright it warms you from the inside out, hotter than the actual sun on your skin. He throws his arms around you, wrapping you in a hug so tight he lifts you off the ground. Your heart does this strange thing where it hops into your throat. Your arms come up as a reflex but his embrace is too tight for you to even hug him back.  

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He shouts. He doesn’t let go, even when he sets you back down. He loosens his arms just enough to look at you, the full force of his smile directed at you. “I swear you’re welcome at the frat house any time, I’ll buy you anything you want when I have money, I’ll drive you wherever you want if I can get Seungcheol’s car, I’ll do whatever, just thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

You know you should answer, or say something, but thinking is too much when he’s so close you can smell the strangely sweet combination of laundry detergent, cologne, and sweat. You push out of his arms, snagging your water bottle on the way out. 

“It’s whatever,” you mumble. Though his arms aren’t around you anymore, you feel strangely hot, like your blood is boiling, and your heart still pounds. 

“It is not whatever,” Soonyoung declares. “I swear, whatever you want, I’ll do it.” He holds a hand over his heart and if it was anyone else you’d think they were joking but it’s Soonyoung: he’s deadly serious. 

You can’t handle his gaze anymore, turning to study your beat up sneakers. “Really? You’ll get my first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice from Jun?” 

“I’ll get that book back.” He glances at you. “It is a book, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “Though there’s been some good adaptations.” 

“That’s the one with the zombies?” 

“Zombies?” You frown. “Oh my god, do you mean Pride and Prejudice and Zombies?” 

“That’s not the original book?” 

“No,” you say, laughing. “The original is Jane Austen, in the 1800s.” 

“Oh,” Soonyoung says. 

“I’ve actually never seen that one,” you say. “It’s the only adaptation I haven’t seen.” 

“How many movies are there?” 

“Well, there’s the 1940 adaptation, the BBC series that’s widely regarded as the most faithful adaptation, the 2005 Kiera Knightley movie that’s iconic, plus the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, which is a vlog-style Youtube adaptation. Then of course there’s Jane Austen’s other works, like Persuasion, which, the new one, for the record, was a terrible adaptation.” You stop when you realize you’re dangerously close to going on what Jihoon calls ‘an Austen tirade.’ 

“I liked the movie,” he says after a pause. “I don’t know if it was that good, or close to the books. But it was fun.” 

“I’ll have to watch it, then,” you say. “I know it’s the obvious choice, but Pride and Prejudice really is my favorite Jane Austen novel. Good luck getting it back from Jun though. He’s studying abroad this semester.” 

“He’s the friend from your history class?” 

“No, that’s Jihoon, my roommate,” you say. “Jun was in my language class.” 

“I thought you hated everyone in that class.” 

“Oh, I did,” you say. “But Jun is friends with Jihoon, so he sort of just became my friend too.” 

Soonyoung hums, saying nothing else. You don’t recognize the song, though you tend to mostly listen to classical music when you study or whatever Jihoon blasts from his room, so it’s not that surprising. The melody is nice, though. Well, Soonyoung’s voice is. 

“I really am grateful,” Soonyoung says. “I know I was begging, because I don’t think I can do this without you–well, I don’t know if I can do it with you, but you’re my only hope and–I’m rambling again.” He flashes a smile. “The point is, thank you.” 

You shrug, feeling shy under his gaze. “It’ll help me study anyways,” you say. “You learn a lot when you teach.” 

“I thought you already took it?”

“I only got a 150,” you say, sighing. “I need at least a 165.” 

Soonyoung nods, forehead creasing like it always does when he’s lost in thought. “Thank you anyway.”

“Well, you swore to do whatever I tell you,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “Don’t think I won’t abuse that.” 

“Oh, YN,” he says, “I’m counting on it.” He even winks. 

You cough, choking at the outright flirting. Soonyoung hasn’t tried a line on you in so long you thought he’d used them all. He isn’t serious–it was engraved in his DNA the second he became a fully fledged member of Sigma Beta Tau but it’s not like many people flirt with you, so it’s hard to stop your heart from jumping. 

You check your phone, unable to look him in the eyes. It’s 2:18 now, prime naptime if you can get back to your apartment before Jihoon gets back. But if it’s past two, unless he lied to you at the start of the semester, that means Soonyoung should be in his data ethics class. “Hey, don’t you have class right now?” 

Soonyoung glances at the time on his phone. “Shit.” He takes off, sprinting across the grass, dodging three picnics and narrowly avoiding getting rocked in the back of the head by a frisbee. He pauses at the edge, turning back around to wave wildly at you. 

“Thank you!” He shouts. The picnickers glance between you and him and you can feel the blush returning. Soonyoung doesn’t notice all the eyes on him, waving like a goofball one final time before sprinting off again. Like a whirlwind, he’s gone again, leaving you to stroll across campus and wonder what you just signed up for. 

.

.

Soonyoung’s brow furrows into a frown, lips pulling together in a pout. He rests his chin on his hands, looking up at you from the table like a puppy that knows he’s in trouble. “That bad?” 

“Your analytical reasoning was good!” You say, not wanting to destroy him just yet. “The logical analysis wasn’t that bad either, you just need practice.” 

“Wasn’t there a third section?” 

“The score for reading comprehension was pretty bad.” Horrendous, actually, but you can’t tell him that, not when he’s deflating faster than a balloon at a knife throwing contest. He sits back, head knocking lightly against the back of the stiff library chairs. 

“We can work with this! It’s really not that bad,” you say. You reach out instinctively, wrapping your hands over his hands. Your thumb rests against the soft smooth skin of the back of his hand, the rest of your fingers brushing lightly against his calloused fingers. You jerk back when you realize what you’re doing, patting his hands once and grabbing the workbook in front of him as if it’s what you meant to do all along. You study the upside down words, not daring to look at the disgust that’s probably painted on Soonyoung’s face. 

“You can start with practicing the logic problems,” you say, flipping through the work book. “I’ll figure out a strategy for the reading portion.” 

Soonyoung heaves a sigh, sitting up and hunching over the workbook. You flip open one of your old workbooks and try to pretend like you’re not trying to melt away from embarrassment. 

“This isn’t very much teaching,” Soonyoung says without looking up. “Lots of problem solving.” 

“I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” you say. “I just watched a lot of youtube videos when I was studying last year. I should have known better than to take it over the summer, though.” 

Soonyoung glances up. “How come?” 

You chew on your lip. You’ve known Soonyoung for a while now, but you’ve never talked to him like this, mentioning any real things other than complaining about roommates. Soonyoung would listen, probably say the ‘right’ things, but it’s a study session, so you just say, “Just not good timing.” 

He nods, returning to his humming. You turn to your own workbook, trying to figure out how to get Soonyoung to actually read the passages for the reading comprehension. Twenty minutes pass in an instant and Soonyoung drops his pencil, sliding his journal with the answers back in front of you. You flip to the answer key, scanning between the two. 

“When are you taking it again?” Soonyoung asks while he waits. 

“Just before Halloween,” you say. Exactly 38 days from now, according to the IMPENDING DOOM countdown clock on your phone. 

“That soon?” 

You shrug. “I wanted to give myself time to take it again in case I bomb it and it had to be before midterms, so, yeah.” 

“Is it really that bad to take all your tests at once?” Soonyoung asks. 

“I mean, finals week pretty much kills me every semester. I actually thought I was cutting it close with only two weeks between it and midterms.” 

“Is November cutting it too close?” 

“Depends on when in November you plan on taking it,” you say, “though you probably won’t be able to take it again if you don’t like your score.” 

“Not a problem for me,” Soonyoung says. He doesn’t waver against your raised eyebrow. “I’m getting that 179, first try.” 

“You’re that confident?” 

“In you.” He winks. “Also the bet is off if I don’t get it on the first try.” 

You nod. “Yeah, that makes more sense.” You glance at your calendar. “

“November 18th.” 

“That’s not too bad, you dodged between midterms and finals, there should be plenty of cram time.” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I just scheduled it so that I would get the results before the Christmas party.” 

“I didn’t think you would be the religious type.” 

“Oh, I’m not,” he says. “The frat has this annual post-finals party before people go back home for holiday break, usually on the last day of finals. There’s no way I’m letting Seungkwan get away with my hard earned Playstation, and there’s no way he’d miss the party.” 

“You can’t just buy your own game?” 

“It’s a console actually,” he says, “and that’s not the point.” You prepare for some lecture about honor or frat code or something overly dramatic and inspired by any of the countless war propaganda movies he loves, but he closes his mouth. 

“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” you say. You turn back his sheet, half the answers marked with a dark blue X because red feels too cruel. “You’re clearly committed.” 

He sighs at the answers, flipping back to the first question and frowning. You think the conversation is over, but without looking up from glaring at the right answers, he says, “You should come.” 

“To?” 

“The Christmas party.” 

You stare at the top of his head but he doesn’t seem to notice. You wonder how he manages to keep his hair so blonde without ruining his scalp but you don’t see any dandruff. “Me?” You finally say. 

“You said you’d come, like, freshman year,” he says. “You never did.” 

You did promise, back when you saw him for class every day. But frat parties weren’t your scene back then. They aren’t your scene now. Nothing about blasting music and binge drinking appeals to you, and yet Soonyoung peeking at you from his notebook makes you feel guilty anyways. He looks at you like he really doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go.

And that’s the worst part: for Soonyoung, you would go. When he looks at you with the damn Soonyoung Sparkle, you’d do anything. 

“I’ll… think about it,” you finally say. 

He looks at you for a moment longer, then nods, like he didn’t really expect you to say yes. You try not to feel like you’re letting him down. 

“Can you explain this one to me,” he asks, turning the book so you can see it from across the table. 

You skim the question, which turns out to be a series of questions about stained glass windows. You take a moment to glance between Soonyoung’s answers and the correct ones. 

“Walk me through your process,” you say. 

“Okay, I start with…”

.

. 

“Soonyoung, are you even listening?” 

He blinks at you, lifting his head from his arms. “Something about strategies? For reading?” 

You snap the book shut, shaking your head. You open your mouth, speech on responsibility and studying on the tip of your tongue but one look into Soonyoung’s Sparkle Eyes (patent pending) and all the words are gone. You really need to figure out how to get around that super power. 

“Come on, it’s so nice out,” he says. “We should be outside.” He grabs your hand. “This is not studying weather, this is dating weather.” 

“Soonyoung your test is in two months, you seriously want to skip?” You don’t dignify the second part of his complaint with a response. The idea of Soonyoung on a date makes your stomach flip. 

He sighs. “No, but it’s October, we won’t get many more nice days, so can we at least go outside?” 

You hesitate a heartbeat too long and Soonyoung jumps up. He closes the workbook, knocking loose papers off the table and sending highlighters of every color flying in every direction. The chaos earns a couple side eyes from the people around you and a full on glare from the person directly next to him, but Soonyoung, as Soonyoung as ever, doesn’t seem to notice. He picks up the papers and highlighters, shoving them into his backpack without a folder and slinging it over his shoulder. You can only follow him, grabbing the drinks before he tries to carry them along his laptop. When it comes to Soonyoung, mixing liquids and technology is more dangerous than mixing alcohols. You haven’t forgotten The Coffee Incident, flooding his backpack at 8 in the morning. 

He drags you out of the library, though you don’t put up much of a fight. Soonyoung makes you want to relax, just a little, and when he smiles back at you as soon as he steps out of the sunlight, you find you don’t regret a thing. 

Soonyoung pulls his emergency blanket out of his blanket, passing it to you. He’s more prepared for naps than any class he’s ever taken but the thin fabric is soft so who are you to judge? He heads straight for the quad, which is already filled with people, some groups of friends, too many obvious couples with heads in each other's laps or arms wrapped around each other. Soonyoung settles down in a relatively unpopulated corner, taking the blanket back to shake it out the blanket a few times before laying it flat on the ground. 

Soonyoung groans when you pull out the workbooks as soon as you sit down. “There isn’t anything more fun to study?” 

“Soonyoung, it’s the LSAT,” you say. “It’s not really meant to be fun.” 

“But–” 

“You’re the one that wanted to go outside,” you remind him, tapping his arm with a pen. “If you’re too distracted we’ll have to go back into the library.” 

He gazes at the other people laughing for a long moment before turning to face you again. You raise your eyebrows and he takes the workbook from your hands, flipping it open to the sticky-note bookmark. 

The next twenty minutes are relatively quiet, the only noise coming from the chatter of the people around you, too far away to clearly hear, and Soonyoung humming while working through practice problems. You’re not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it, though he bobs his head slightly. You wonder what Soonyoung is like when he isn’t trying to get out of studying–even outside of the party invites you’ve avoided, you rarely see him on campus (because you aren’t on campus when you don’t have to be). You almost went to dinner with him to celebrate passing the business class freshman year where you met him, but you got food poisoning and he never rescheduled. 

It’s for the best, though. Even like this, tutoring him minus payment of any kind, you can tell that spending too much time with him will be dangerous. He flirts so easily it feels genuine, and even though he can be ridiculous, he’s never been anything but lovely to you. And it doesn’t help that he’s hot. He glances up, as if he can feel you staring, but he just flashes a smile at you and ducks his head again. Damn frat bros with endearing charms that melt you like the perfect grilled cheese. 

Perfectly blue without a cloud in sight, the sky is an empty canvas above you. The air is just the right temperature, just between hot and cold, the sun ensuring that it never dips into the latter. Just the slightest breeze kisses your skin, lifting the edges of the papers but never flipping them. Soonyoung was right: the perfect date weather. 

“Soonyoung?” You turn your head to see a dark haired man standing over you. Wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and sides ripped open, you figure there’s a 80% chance he’s one of Soonyoung’s frat brothers. 

“Seokmin?” Soonyoung frowns. 

“You were actually serious?” Seokmin asks, gesturing to the books. “You know Seungkwan said it as a joke, right?” 

“Yeah, but a bet is a bet,” Soonyoung says. “And I really want his Playstation.” 

Seokmin snorts. “You know he only said it because he knows you can’t do it.” 

“I’m not like I’m losing anything by trying.” Soonyoung sets his lips in a sharp line of determination (which you recognize from the dining hall when he sweet talks his way into free cookies). Seokmin raises his eyebrows at his aggression but eventually decides it’s not worth the fight. Instead, he plops down on the blanket, making a little triangle between the three of you. 

“You must be YN,” he says, extending his hand. His easy smile and the way he sat down without waiting for an invitation reminds you of Soonyoung. Unlike the faux blonde, it feels foreign and you shift a little closer to Soonyoung instinctively. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you lie. Seokmin’s eyes curl into little half moons when he smiles, apparently not noticing your awkwardness. You can’t help but feel like he’s intruding as he turns to Soonyoung and asks him to explain what he’s doing. Soonyoung explains it well, though it helps that he was working on the analytical reasoning section. 

It’s because he’s interrupting Soonyoung’s studying. That’s why it bothers you that he’s here, even though Soonyoung doesn’t seem to mind and Seokmin seems genuinely interested. Unfortunately, the revelation doesn’t stop you from wishing Seokmin would just leave.  

“I don’t know how you do any of this,” Seokmin says after Soonyoung explains the next problem. 

“It’s easy!” Soonyoung says. “Half the time the answer is in the question, you just have to know where to look!” 

“Quoting me?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Well I did learn from the best!” 

“So cliche,” you mutter but the compliment gets you smiling anyway. You look up to find Seokmin looking at you. He has a strange look on his face, frowning, but not angrily. He looks a little bit like when Soonyoung can’t decide between the right answer and the second best option. He doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. 

“What?” 

He pauses a long moment before answering, as if pondering how to answer. Finally, he says, “I like you.” 

You stare at him. Soonyoung had been diligently working on practice problems but his head jerks up at the words. 

“I mean, you’re a cool person,” Seokmin quickly says. “Good tutor for Soonyoung.” After hearing his name, Soonyoung grins and turns back to underlining in the workbook. 

“Tutor?” You say. “I really don’t think I’m doing all that much.” 

Seokmin shrugs. ”I don’t know many people that would spend this much time with someone if they aren't helping. Besides, either way, I’ve never seen Soonyoung this dedicated before.” 

“That’s because you don’t dare to bet against me,” Soonyoung says without looking up. 

“He might have a point there,” you say. Soonyoung takes a moment to smile at your support. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re cool,” Seokmin says. 

“Thank you?” You wait for him to say something else but he sits back and rests his hands behind him, stretching out in the sun a little more. Sighing, he tilts his head toward the sun. 

“Seems like the weather will turn cold soon,” he says. “This might be the last warm day of the year.” He glances at Soonyoung. “And you’re spending it here instead of pre-gaming the Tau party.” 

Soonyoung’s pencil freezes. He peeks up at Seokmin, then at you, then shrugs. “I take my bets seriously.” 

“Whatever,” Seokmin says. He lays back fully, half of his body sticking off the blanket into the grass. “What are the Ke$ha lyrics? ‘The party don’t start ‘til Soonyoung walks in?’” He doesn’t wait for a correction. “I think I’ll wait until you're finished and we’ll tear it up together.” 

Soonyoung glances at you, then unsuccessfully tries to hide his laughter at your expression. You don’t mean to be rude, but Seokmin really just invited himself all on his own and crashed your picnic. Study date. Outdoor study session. The name doesn’t matter, what does matter is it’s only supposed to be you and Soonyoung. 

“He’ll fall asleep in about five seconds,” Soonyoung whispers. “He doesn’t actually care about the party, he just likes my nap blankets.” On that point you can’t really blame Seokmin. 

“As long as it doesn’t disrupt your studying,” you say. 

“Right,” Soonyoung says, more to himself than you. “That’s what’s important.” 

You aren’t so oblivious that you miss his bitterness, but you are enough of a coward to decide not to ask about it. How do you even ask about something like that? You can barely answer his questions about the LSAT, so feelings? No chance. 

You flip open your own workbook and set a pencil case down to keep the book open and ignore the soft snores from Seokmin. Soonyoung hums, the soft breeze carrying the gentle tune to you and easing you into a false sense of comfort, planting the idea that it’s always been like this and it always will be. But Soonyoung will take the LSAT in November and you will graduate in the spring and there won’t be any more excuses for seeing him, let alone laying out in the sun with him. Letting yourself enjoy this moment has dangerous consequences for your heart. 

And yet you enjoy the warm sun on your skin and hum along with Soonyoung anyway. Seokmin is right: this kind of day won’t last long. 

.

.

You jump awake at the sound. It takes you a moment to register where you are, to blink the sleep out of your eyes and recognize the stiff library chairs, the yellow tinted lighting of the study rooms on the third floor. Built like a prison cell with no windows and stained linoleum floors, you aren’t entirely sure how you fell asleep. The last thing you remember is working on your essay on Sense and Sensibility, which was rather difficult since you haven’t had the time to finish rereading it. Your book rests on the table next to your open laptop, screen dark. 

A second knock reminds you why you woke up in the first place and you turn to the door. Through the glass door you see a student with a backpack hanging off their shoulder, half smiling. They turn the knob, opening the door just enough to stick their head in. 

“Hey, sorry, I think I have the room scheduled,” they say. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” you say, slamming your laptop shut and shoving everything into your backpack. To their credit, the other student doesn’t rush you, even apologizing and telling you to take your time. But if you’ve lost the room, that means the two hours you had booked the study room for–the two hours you designated for writing the essay and doing problem sets–were spent asleep, which means the LSAT cram schedule has been completely thrown off with only three days before the test. 

You groan as you step into the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor. The farther up, the more intense the quiet levels get. Hopefully it won’t be so quiet that you fall asleep, but since you got a nap, you should be able to power through an all-nighter. It wouldn’t be the first time. You brace yourself to check your phone for the time, though being kicked out of the room means you already know your fate. 9:08 means that you have a little less than three hours until the library closes. You’ve done more with less time. 

The first couple desks are occupied by students but you don’t stray, heading for a familiar corner, ignoring the empty desks that line the stacks. Your corner, that you found freshman year during finals season when you couldn’t find an empty desk, is perfect: hidden behind the encyclopedia shelves with a light directly above it, only three dicks carved into it–all on the underside (discovered on a particularly bad day where you found it most comfortable to lay underneath and rethink your entire life). You smile at the small comfort, striding through the stacks with Sense and Sensibility still in your arms. 

You nearly drop the book when you see the backpack, abruptly turning despite the fact that it must have been obvious to whoever stole your corner that you were headed there. You feel rage boiling up and threatening to spill. You close your eyes, reminding yourself that the corner isn’t actually yours. Still, as you settle into a desk facing a giant window that reveals the dark campus, you can’t help but feel bitter. Your thoughts stray to the desk that should be yours, even as you pull out your computer. 

BATTERY LOW

The words light up your screen, mocking you before the screen falls dark again. You dig in your backpack for your charger that you always slip into the main pocket. You feel your underused pencil pouch, the single journal since you keep most of your notes on your laptop, LSAT prep book, your three folders, and no charger. Even when you look inside and lay the entire contents of your backpack on the desk in front of you, the only charger you find is for your phone. Which means the longer laptop cord is probably sitting on your desk, all the way back at your apartment. 

A twenty minute walk back, twenty minutes less for writing your essay. You can start it on your phone, maybe, though the thought of switching between reading the Sparknotes and typing already exhausts you. It’s moot anyways, since all you can do is sit and stare at the desk, covered in the contents of your soul. This is what your life has become: a stack of paper that weighs less than the digital universe on your laptop that’s all contingent on a $15 charger that abandons you when you need it most. 

In the end it isn’t the rage that gets to you. It’s the hilarity of it all, how silly it is that your life is dictated by something so stupid. 

The fifth floor decrees silence, so you make sure that your sobs don’t make a noise. You can’t control the tears but you can hold your breath. When your head starts to feel light and your lungs are desperate for air, you can breathe through your mouth and inhale as slow as you can to keep the shakiness to a minimum. You can do everything you can to hold it together, even when you’re falling apart. 

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You lift your head, ready to face a tired librarian kicking you out but instead you see bleach blonde hair and a forced smile over a furrowed brow. 

“What are you doing here?” You whisper, glad for the quiet because you don’t trust your voice to support you. 

He holds up a thick, leatherbound book. LSAT for Dummies. “Extra reading couldn’t hurt, right?” 

You blink at him. The only times you’ve seen Soonyoung in the library on his own has been with a thick blanket and closed eyes (it’s how you know he sleeps with his mouth open, just a little). You can’t quite believe he’s in front of you and yet he takes a step closer and doesn’t vanish. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks. 

“Shhh,” you say, holding your finger to your lips to get him to quiet down, even though there’s no one in sight. “Quiet floor.” 

He nods, looking around as if he’s waiting for someone to kick him out. He turns to look at your desk, the contents of your backpack still strewn about. He tilts his head but doesn’t dare raise his voice to ask. You know he hasn’t missed the tears, still wet on your cheeks. 

You done? He mouths. 

Not even close, you think, but you nod anyways because it’s the easier answer. Soonyoung doesn’t hesitate, gently closing your laptop and sweeping everything into your backpack. You watch as he dumps it all into the biggest pocket, zipping it up and slinging it onto his back. He tucks the law book under his arm and holds out his other hand for you to take. 

“Come on,” he whispers. And you take it, let him pull you out of your chair. The walk to the elevator; out of the library; toward the edge of campus; nothing feels far when Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your hand. You follow him in a daze, clinging to his hand in the off-chance that all your luck rides on him–like if you let go, you’ll lose your tether to this planet. 

Soonyoung rarely walks in silence and today is not an exception. He rambles about the only member of the frat capable of cooking that apparently can’t do anything without creating a giant mess. Even as he complains about the guy, Soonyoung can’t help defending him, explaining in mouth-watering detail how good his food is. 

“One time he crowd sourced some steaks and did a grill for the new pledges and they all thought it was a prank or something and nearly cried when he actually let them eat them. I think they burnt their mouths from eating it too fast, afraid someone was going to take it away from them.” Soonyoung stops at the edge of campus. He glances at you, a question in his eyes. Where are we going? 

“Soonyoung,” you say. Squeezing his hand feels natural. “I don’t really want to go back right now.” 

He nods, squeezing your hand back. “You want to go for a ride?” 

“You have a car?” 

“Nope.” Soonyoung fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes a call. You can only hear Soonyoung, who says, “I need a ride,” and “Pick me up by the duck statue,” and then he hangs up. 

The edge of campus that Soonyoung drags you to is right next to the athletic fields, which explains why there is a giant statue of the mascot that towers over you. It has three of its own personal spotlights and shiny claws from fans rubbing them for good luck, despite there being no official tradition. You only went to one game, mostly to confirm you would rather be anywhere else (except maybe the bathroom of the stadium). Either way, the only thing you do know about the statue and mascot for your school is that it is not a duck. 

“That’s a raven.” You point at the statue. 

Soonyoung frowns between you and the hunk of metal. “Oh, Larry?” 

“It has a name?” 

“Well, there’s the official name, which is like, Midnight Rain or something, and the frat name.” 

“And the frat name is Larry?” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I didn’t choose it.” 

“And you call it a duck, too?” 

“It looks like a duck.” 

You study the statue. You aren’t an ornithologist, but you’re pretty sure ducks have webbed feet instead of talons, and different beaks. Plus you’ve never seen a pure black duck. But you’ve spent enough time with Soonyoung to know it doesn’t have to make sense when the frat is involved (in fact, you’ve found sense is rarely involved in their decisions). 

“We just call it the duck. Or Larry, when we want to be formal.” Soonyoung jumps at the honk of a horn. You turn around with him to find an obnoxiously red convertible parked against the curb. The driver’s smooth black hair is styled to look effortless, hair falling just above his eyes, and he wears sunglasses despite the fact that the sun went down three hours ago. He might be attractive, if he wasn’t trying so hard. You never thought you had a type, but someone like Soonyoung, who wears clothes that he likes and sticks his hair straight up because he thinks it looks funny–that’s more your style. 

“Here’s our ride,” Soonyoung says. He starts walking, pulling you with him, still holding your hand. You aren’t sure if he even realizes, but you’re in no hurry to remind him. 

“Hey Josh,” he says. 

Driver (Josh, apparently), finally pulls off his sunglasses. “Soonyoung, you have a friend.” 

“I’m YN,” you say, wishing your voice didn’t sound so scratchy from crying. 

 “Oh, I know,” he says, a twinkle in his eye that flirts between danger and fun. “I’m Joshua.” You try not to feel unsettled by it. He raises an eyebrow as Soonyoung slides into the backseat and you sit beside him. “Am I just an Uber to you?” 

“Seungcheol is out and I knew there was no way you would let me drive your car,” Soonyoung says. 

“So, yes?” 

Soonyoung shrugs and laughs at Joshua’s expression. 

“Where are we headed?” He asks with a resigned sigh as if he’s used to Soonyoung’s antics. Has he done this before? You frown. Why does it matter to you if he’s done this with someone else? You’re so busy with the internal war, you miss Soonyoung’s answer. 

“Seriously?” Joshua asks. “It’s a weeknight.” 

“Like that’s ever been a problem for you.” 

Joshua glances at you. “You’re okay with this?” 

You pause. You don’t actually know where Soonyoung said to go. But it’s Soonyoung, your heart says. You're inclined to agree with it tonight. “Yeah.” 

He shakes his head and mutters something you don’t catch and kicks the car into gear. Before long, you are flying down a two lane road you didn’t even know existed. The wind starts to pick up with the top of the car down, blasting your face. Though your nose is still stuffed from crying, the air fills your lungs, tasting like dead leaves and unnatural warmth courtesy of climate change. For the first time tonight, you can breathe. 

.

.

The clock reads just shy of 1 am by the time the car stops. As soon as the rumbling engine cuts out, another noise takes over, drowning everything else out. Crashes too rhythmic to be thunder, the blows softened by tall dunes illuminated by the car’s headlights that Joshua didn’t turn off. 

Soonyoung turns to you with a grin. “Ready to have some fun?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, jumping out of the car instead of opening the door, ignoring Joshua’s shout. He sprints toward the crashing waves. 

Joshua shakes his head, opening his door and ushering you out from the back. He even closes the door behind you, folding his arms over his chest and walking slowly to the beach with you. The headlights cut out but the moon and stars shine enough to see where the boardwalk ends and the sand begins. Soonyoung’s movement gives him away more than any light, running alongside the water and dancing with the tide. 

You clear your throat. The ride cleared your head enough for you to feel properly embarrassed about meeting someone right after sobbing. You shudder to imagine how terrible you looked when he first picked you up, clinging to Soonyoung like he was the only thing keeping you alive. A blush forms just at the thought of it. 

“So, you do this often?” You ask. 

“Do something truly insane because of Soonyoung? All the time.” Joshua laughs. “We don’t usually end up this far away though, and usually someone’s life is in imminent danger.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say, watching Soonyoung strip his socks and shoes off and toss them behind him. One sock gets caught in the wind and blows back toward you and Joshua. 

Joshua stops before the two of you can catch up to him. You turn to look at him. It’s difficult to read his expression in the moonlight but he frowns like he’s not sure he should say something. Eventually he says, “I’m going for a walk down the boardwalk.” He glances at Soonyoung, then back at you and smiles. “Have fun with him.” 

You watch him turn around and trudge back up the sand, wondering if all of Soonyoung’s friends are this strange. Maybe it’s just being in a frat. You grab Soonyoung’s sock and set it with his shoes, smiling when he turns around and waves like a maniac. 

“It’s the ocean!” He shouts over the crashes. 

“You’re soaked!” You shout back. He glances down and apparently finally realizes his shirt is wet, clinging to his shoulders already. He strides back toward you, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer. 

“My shoes are not coming off!” You warn him. 

“Just come closer!” He says. “It’s amazing!” You stand with him at the edge of the water, watching it rise in the darkness and draw closer and closer. It crashes on the sand first, a violent move, kicking up wet sand and mixing it with white water. The frothy white water creeps forward, until you have to dance backward. Soonyoung stays in the water, letting it wash around his feet. 

“It feels better like this,” he says. 

“My feet are covered in enough sand,” you say, though he does look like he’s having fun. The water must be freezing this time of the year–it would feel so nice running over your skin. But you’d end up with wet socks and even more sand in your shoes to clean out. 

Soonyoung holds out his hand. “You’d like this.” 

You chew on your lip. Normally you’d laugh in his face and say ‘not a chance.’ But normalcy has never been running three hours away to the beach in the middle of the night when you have class at 9 in the morning. You pull off the sneakers without untying them and pull your socks off, setting them next to Soonyoung’s and joining him at the edge of the water. His hand isn’t out by the time you return but he slips it into yours when you join his side. 

Another wave crashes and you watch the water creep forward, faster than you expect it to be–and you’re right, it’s freezing, but Soonyoung’s right too, it sends an icy shock throughout your body that sends a tingly rush up from your toes to every nerve in your body, setting them on fire. You squeeze his hand and laugh. 

“Good?” He asks.

“I love it.” 

You don’t know how long you stand there, holding onto Soonyoung’s hand and letting the water wash over you. After a few waves, it doesn’t feel cold anymore. You stand until your feet are buried in wet sand, each wave sending you lower and lower. 

“My feet are freezing,” Soonyoung eventually says. 

“Mine, too.” You lift your feet reluctantly, already missing the coarse sand and cold water. You have to let go of Soonyoung’s hand to put on your socks and shoes, shuddering at all the sand in your socks. The cotton became damp from sitting too close to the water, your shoes faring the same. Yet you don’t regret a second of it. 

You stand up and stretch, feeling your spine pop. When you turn back around, you almost scream. You manage to contain it to a gasp, a wheezing Soonyoung’s name. He blinks at you innocently, like he isn’t standing in front of you with his shirt in his hand. 

“What are you doing?” You choke out. 

“We’re at the beach,” he says. “I have to take pictures.” 

“And you need to take off your shirt for that?” 

“Why? Does it bother you?” He smirks. 

Muscles have never been a selling point for you. The “people” you’ve crushed on have all been smart or kind, crushes of intellect rather than bodies. His toned abs, sculpted shoulders, the way his body curves gently as he allows you to stare at him–normally it wouldn’t get to you at all (other than the embarrassment of being this close to a shirtless man for the first time in a long time). But it’s not just the muscles. It’s Soonyoung, your Soonyoung who calls you at four in the morning to tell you about the movie he just finished and is too endearing for you to truly be annoyed at. It’s the Soonyoung that gets lost in the Engineering building even as a senior. It’s the Soonyoung that drags you to the beach in the middle of the night just to make you smile. Yes, it bothers you. No one should be this incredible and hot. 

“No,” you mumble, failing to convince yourself of the lie. 

Soonyoung seems to be done teasing you, dropping his shirt into your hands. He walks a little closer to the waves, apparently not bothered by the chilly ocean breeze. He starts to pose, then raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to take pictures?” 

“Where’s your phone?”

“The camera’s broken,” he says. “Just use yours and you can send them to me.” He continues to pose, flexing his arms as subtly as he can which isn’t particularly subtle (though the muscles are even more impressive in person). You are tempted to reach out and feel the tension, before you realize you are staring again. 

You numb to Soonyoung in this half-dressed state as you take the pictures. The frat must have a professional photographer or something, because Soonyoung knows how to pose. Despite some of the angles and positions seeming awkward, each picture comes out as if from a photoshoot. He only gives you a few instructions on taking pictures, and compliments you way beyond your talents. 

“Just like that!” Soonyoung says, breaking his model face to grin at you. “You’re really good at this.” 

“You can’t even see the pictures,” you say. You bite your lips so you don’t smile. Apparently that doesn’t matter, because he keeps posing. It’s a good thing you just upgraded your phone storage because you estimate at least a thousand pictures are taken for each pose. 

“Are you guys done?” You jump at the voice next to you. Apparently Joshua returned from his walk, sneaking up using the crashing waves as cover. “We should head back soon if you want to make your morning classes.” 

“Definitely want to,” you say. You haven’t gotten any work done, but that’s no excuse to skip class. Soonyoung pouts but doesn’t argue. 

“Perfect!” Joshua claps his hands together. He shoves you toward Soonyoung and grabs your phone. “One more picture together and we’ll go.”

Being at a distance worked perfectly fine but those muscles have you frozen in place again. Soonyoung throws an arm over your shoulders and grins like you do this all the time. His biceps press through your jacket, the flex of the muscle exactly as you imagined it, not that it stops your heart from thundering. 

You can’t help but steal a glance at Soonyoung. Despite feeling like you’ll malfunction at any second, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Soonyoung’s features look soft this close, even the sharp cut of his jawline. You want to study every line of his face, each curve, memorize it until the way his lips slowly curl into a smile is carved into your heart. Spending the rest of your life here doesn’t seem too bad. 

“Let’s go,” Joshua says, breaking whatever magic froze time for you. You are left with cold toes and sand in your sneakers as you march up the dune and back to Joshua’s car. 

“I just cleaned it,” he groans, looking at all the sand you and Soonyoung tracked in. 

You mumble an apology but when you try to offer to clean it for him, he shakes his head. “Nobody touches my baby.” 

You glance at Soonyoung, who followed you into the backseat again. He rolls his eyes at Joshua, smiling in a way that you know means he isn’t serious. You smile back at him and click your seatbelt into place. 

“Address?” Joshua asks, handing you his phone. You punch it in and hand the phone back. 3 hours and sixteen minutes. 

Joshua whistles, seeing the arrival time of 4:53. “Remind me never to do this again.” 

“The beach was your idea,” Soonyoung says. His words slur a little. 

“Just go to sleep already,” Joshua says. The engine rumbles on and he pulls away from the empty boardwalk. 

“‘m not even tired,” Soonyoung says, fighting a yawn. He slouches and leans against the headrest, rolling his head to look at you. “You have class in the morning?” 

“Not until nine.” 

“That’s good.” He doesn’t succeed in fighting the yawn this time. His blinks become longer and longer, eyes closing more than opening. It’s like watching the energizer bunny shut down. 

“Soonyoung?” 

He opens his eyes and you think maybe he’d wait for the rest of his life for you to say something. 

“Thank you.” 

“Always.” He smiles lazily. “I swore I’d do anything.” 

His sworn loyalty. It should be fun, having a boy like him dedicated to fulfilling your wishes. But what would it be like if he wasn’t sworn to you? If he did these kinds of things just because he wants to? 

You didn’t think you were tired but the next thing you know, Soonyoung gently shakes you awake. 

“We’re here,” he says in a quiet, very un-Soonyoung voice. 

You blink at him, trying to figure out why your neck hurts so much, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. From the rear view mirror, Joshua watches you. Right, instead of writing your essay, doing the problem sets, or any of the readings, you went to the beach. You wait for the guilt to set in but it doesn’t come. None of the anxieties from earlier in the evening (the technical part of your brain reminds you it was the night before) overwhelm you. 

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat. Your mouth tastes nasty but before you can say anything, Soonyoung hands you a water bottle. You take a sip before saying thank you. 

Soonyoung unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’ll walk you up.” 

You nod, grateful you don’t have to ask him. The night has been a full adventure on its own yet you aren’t quite ready for it to be over. At least you aren’t ready to say goodbye to Soonyoung. 

There’s still something you want to tell him. You want to tell him that you like his blonde hair, even though everyone else thinks it’s ridiculous. You want to tell him that you lied earlier, you nearly lost your mind seeing him shirtless. You want to tell him that you feel proud when he gets the right answer on the first try, that you think his concentration frown is cute, that you’ve never enjoyed studying like you do when he’s by your side. You want to tell him that on your worst days, days like today, just being Soonyoung makes it better. 

But you learned a long time ago tired ramblings and drunk confessions are siblings. They both end in heartbreak and twelve packs of ramen. 

So you ride the elevator with him and watch the lights flicker. You never cared when Jihoon brought his friends (well, Jun) over, but the carpets that look dirty no matter how many times they’re cleaned and beige walls are even worse tonight. You can stand to live in a boring apartment, but not a dirty one. 

“This is me,” you say, gesturing to 808. You turn your back on the door, facing Soonyoung instead. He looks radiant under the fluorescent hallway lights, which really isn’t fair. They make his bleach blonde hair look natural, highlight the blemishes on his skin, easy to see when he’s this close. 

You should go inside and he should go back down but neither of you move. For the second time tonight, you are frozen in time with Soonyoung. 

The floor creaks and you jump, turning around at the same time, accidentally knocking into Soonyoung’s chest as you turn to face the noise behind you. Jihoon, gym bag over his shoulder, frowns at you across the hallway. 

“Are you seriously just getting back now?” 

Shit. You never texted him. “Um, Jihoon, this is Soonyoung,” you say. He waves behind you. “Soonyoung, Jihoon.” 

Jihoon folds his arms. “I’ve heard about you.” You glare at him, which he ignores. “You’re taking the LSAT on a dare?” 

“You’re the one that wants to be a music producer?” 

Jihoon raises his eyebrows and looks at you. “You’ve mentioned me?” 

“Only the worst,” you say, smiling at him. 

“I thought you were at the library all night?” Jihoon says. 

“We went on an adventure,” you say. You show him your sandy shoes. He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he knows he interrupted something, but the stubborn asshole doesn’t move. 

You turn back to Soonyoung. “Goodnight,” you say, resisting the urge to hug him. 

“It’s morning,” Jihoon says. 

“Goodnight,” Soonyoung says, glancing at Jihoon. He pauses and fidgets with the hem of his shirt but finally gives you a half hug that feels more like a bro hug than anything else. He disappears into the elevator then pops his head out a final time “Send me the photos!” 

You turn to Jihoon. “I forgot to text you.” 

“I figured I’d wait until the morning to call,” he said. “Even if you were kidnapped there’s still a 90% chance you’d figure out a way to show up for class on time.” He turns the key in the lock and strides into the apartment. You’re too tired to argue back, especially when he’s right, so you just follow him into the apartment. 

“I like him,” Jihoon says before you vanish into your room. 

“Should I find you a wedding dress?” You say. “Soonyoung is single.” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes and grabs a protein shake from the fridge. “Why do I even bother?” 

You don’t wait for him to leave first, peeling your shoes off in the entryway where you can sweep up the sand and practically fall into your room. It’s race to change into an old t-shirt before you collapse onto your bed. 

You set an alarm for 8:30 and check fifty times to make sure it’s actually set. Then you open your camera roll, shaking your head at the countless pictures. You choose twenty non-blurry ones before your eyes start to droop. You scroll to the bottom and click on the pictures Joshua took. Soonyoung grins for the camera, his easy smile as captivating on your phone as it is in person. You are staring at him, a soft smile on your lips and hearts practically bugging out of your eyes. It’s so ridiculously obvious how you feel. You send him his thirst traps and keep that picture for yourself. 

It takes a week for you to realize Soonyoung never posted the pictures. 

.

.

The weight of the world has the decency to wait until you’re home to fall on your shoulders. You hold your keys up and can’t push it into the lock. If you didn’t do well today, it means the past two months have been a complete waste–all the studying, the assignments you got low grades on because you were studying, the nights you spent at your desk–wasted and doomed to repeat. 

All but the time you spent with Soonyoung. Even if you fail (again), he should at least score decently, and you can’t consider that a complete waste. 

You raise your key to insert it into the lock but the door flies open. Jihoon glares at you, arms folded over his chest. “What the hell is taking you so long, your boyfriend is here.”  

You peer past him and find Soonyoung lounging on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table. He sits up when he sees you, grinning and waving. You wonder if he’s been there since you told him you were finished. You make a mental note to get Jihoon his favorite protein shakes. 

“How did you know I was here?” 

“Me and your boyfriend heard you shaking your keys in front of the door for like twenty minutes,” Jihoon says.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mutter, praying Soonyoung didn’t hear either of you. You push past Jihoon, letting him lock the door behind you. Soonyoung jumps off the couch as soon as you drop your bag, almost tackling you in a hug. You pretend not to hear Jihoon’s scoff as he locks himself in his room again. 

“How’d it go?” He asks, squeezing you one more time before letting go. You try not to feel disappointed about it. “I mean, I know you did amazing, but how do you feel? Was the room super hot or super cold? Did the proctor give you the evil eye when you turned in your paper because they were secretly trying to sabotage you?” 

“No?” You frown. “And the room was fine, I felt pretty good about it, but I felt good last time, so I don’t really know, I just really don’t want to take it again.” You sigh. “I know you want to know as many details as possible for your test, but I really, really don’t want to think about it right now.” 

Soonyoung grins and pulls out a package of White Claws and a bottle of vodka from a plastic bag that you just noticed sitting on your coffee table. “That’s perfect because I brought a gift from the whole frat.” 

“That seems pretty on brand,” you say. 

“And a gift from me.” He digs again and pulls out a DVD. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. 

“You’re kidding.” You say. “I think I have to be drunk to watch that.” 

“You don’t have faith in my taste in movies?” Soonyoung asks but he pops open the first drink and slips something shaped concerningly like a knife out of his pocket and stabs the can, chugging it before it can really spill on your carpet. Before you can register what he did, he tosses the empty can on the coffee table, immediately scrambling to straighten it. “Sorry, force of habit.” 

“Soonyoung, I don’t think I can keep up with you,” you say, sitting slowly onto the couch. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m a lightweight,” he says. “I definitely should not have chugged that.” 

“I guess I better catch up,” you say, unscrewing the vodka and pouring a shot in the little paper cups that Soonyoung brought. The acrid scent curls your lip but you knock it back as fast as you can, forcing it down when you miss the back of your throat and it burns your tongue. Soonyoung hands you a can, the lime flavored seltzer pushing the nasty flavor out of your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m terrible at that,” you say. 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I’m not one to judge. You should have seen me as a pledge.” 

You grin at the mental image of Soonyoung wearing a fake toga made of bedsheets. “I bet you were adorable.” You take another sip of the drink (which tastes significantly worse when you aren’t comparing it to straight vodka) and miss Soonyoung scrambling for words. 

“I can’t drink this,” you declare, setting the can down. You cross the room to the fridge, opening it and studying the contents. Soonyoung follows you, resting his chin on the door and glancing inside. 

“Jihoon does most of the cooking,” you say, feeling self-conscious. Not much populates your fridge, a package of chicken breast and a carton of eggs. A couple containers of take out that are either two days or two weeks old sit in front, and the drawer of fruit that is filled with apples from Jihoon’s mother definitely smells funny. 

“I live in a frat house, this is heaven.” 

You flash him a smile and grab the orange juice, shaking it as you grab a glass from the cabinet (thank god Jihoon did the dishes last night). Soonyoung follows you back to the couch and waits for you to pour a glass and add two shots of vodka. You raise the glass and he takes your rejected White Claw and clinks it. 

“Cheers,” he says, sipping this one instead of chugging it. He sets it down and leans against the armrest so that he can face you. “How did you meet Jihoon, by the way? He seems like a pretty reserved dude.”

“Yeah, sorry if he was short with you, he isn’t half as mean as he pretends to be,” you say. 

“We actually talked a lot.” He pauses, tilting his head as he thinks about it. “Well, a lot about working out. I think I could turn him into my gym buddy with enough pressure.” 

“I would pay to see that,” you say. Jihoon tried to bring you to the gym exactly once, and you have regretted it ever since. The soreness haunts you, but you think Soonyoung might be one of the few people on the planet that could keep up with him with those arms. 

“I didn’t know you were into that,” Soonyoung says with a giggle. You roll your eyes. 

“You know for a fact that’s not what I meant,” you say, “and to answer your question, we lived in the same dorm freshman year. He was next door, and both our roommates were psychotic, so we ended up trading. We’ve been living together ever since because I’m the only one that can put up with his annoying ass. Also he cooks and keeps me alive during finals.” 

“I can’t believe I was a dorm assignment away from living with you.” Soonyoung shakes his head and pretends to sigh. “Fate isn’t on my side.” 

“Don’t you live in a frat house?” 

“Semantics,” Soonyoung says. He pauses. “Semen-tics.” He starts to laugh and though the joke is far from funny, you find yourself giggling too. 

“You’re drunk,” you say. 

Soonyoung points at you. “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk too.” 

You tilt your head from side to side, trying to think at first but the motion feels nice, toeing the line between dizzying and comfortable. Right, you were checking if you were drunk. You have your answer, but you don’t want to stop spinning just yet. 

“Do you really want to be a lawyer?” Soonyoung asks. You freeze with your head on your right shoulder, frowning at him. “I mean, like, how do you know?” 

“It makes good money,” you say. “Well, corporate law does. Everything going according to plan, I’ll be out of debt before I’m thirty, retiring at 65.” 

“But how do you know that’s what you want?” Soonyoung asks. You wonder if he’s asking you or himself. You think about the first day you met him. 

It was the first day of your sophomore year, 8 in the morning in the worst classroom in the Armhayer Building at the end of a dead end hallway with no windows. The business program had a required career building course and some cruel administrator decided to make the other available class clash with the other required business class for the year, so half the class was people you were stuck with for the full year. Despite its reputation, the business school at the university seemed to only accept idiots. 

You settled for a long semester of biting back your eye rolls and yawning through class, choosing a seat in the front so that at least you won’t have to look at anyone else. And for fifteen minutes, you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

Then Soonyoung walked in. 

He was out of breath, telling the professor that he got lost several times and someone gave him the wrong directions. You didn’t really pay attention to him until he dropped into the seat next to you. Fully prepared to give him a side eye and judge him for the rest of the semester, Soonyoung flashed a smile at you and apologized for disrupting you. He was so obviously not your type, yet when his head dropped on your shoulder, you didn’t wake him up. Two classes later when the professor told the class that you would be in a semester-long partner project, you didn’t hesitate to say yes when Soonyoung asked you. 

Soonyoung hadn’t ever taken the class seriously, going through the motions and doing the bare minimum for most of the assignments. You never paid any attention to it, but you realize that he never actually told you what he planned to do with his life, always asking you what you planned to do with your copious amounts of money. Now you wonder if it was because he really doesn’t know. 

“I want stability,” you finally say. “This plan is stable. Safe, as long as everything goes according to plan. I guess it’s not as cool as dreaming about being an astronaut or whatever, but it’s what I want.” 

“I think it’s cool. Knowing what you want to do.” Soonyoung says with little enthusiasm. 

“You don’t have any idea?” 

He shrugs. “I have to be smart to do the things I want to do.” 

“You are smart.” 

“You don’t have to pander to me, I’m not looking for your pity.” 

“Soonyoung.” You wait for him to look you in the eyes. “You are smart. This isn’t pity. Sure it takes you a little longer to read things, and you have to work a little harder to answer some questions, but that doesn’t mean you’re not smart. You’re just as capable as me, more capable when it comes to emotional intelligence. Have you ever noticed that wherever you go, someone is always waving to you? I don’t think there’s a single person in this world that doesn’t like you. Don’t downplay how important that is.” 

He chews on his lip and you know he doesn’t believe you. How many people have told him he’s dumb? You want to drag every single one of them here and make them apologize, make them realize how special the boy in front of you is. Eventually he shrugs. “I’ll just end up being an intern, and then I’ll be so charming they’ll promote me without realizing I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll become a CEO that pays people to do the job for me.” 

You smile and shake your head. “We can vacation together in the Bahamas.” 

“Please, that’s where the semi-rich people go,” Soonyoung says, lifting his head from the back of the couch. “We’ll have our own islands and sail past each other.” This time when he smiles, the sparkle glints, just a little. His bleach blonde hair sticks in strange angles from rubbing against the couch, looking a little like a fuzzball. You reach a hand out and pat it down, except the hair is fried from being bleached so many times and almost breaks under your hand. 

When you pull your hand down, Soonyoung is staring at you. Except staring isn’t the right word. He looks at you like no one else ever has, a thousand unsaid words behind his eyes, a language like no other that maybe only you can understand. Those dark eyes, so soft and warm, begging you to drown in them. He’s a siren, luring you in with a song of desire that only you can hear. 

You don’t realize you’ve leaning closer until you fall forward, catching yourself on his chest. Soonyoung’s hand flies to your waist, moving so fast it must have been reflex. 

“Sorry,” you mutter but you don’t get off him. Resisting his eyes from this close is impossible. Soonyoung blinks at you, frozen. It occurs to you that you’re almost kissing him. All you have to do is lean forward, press your lips against his. Would his lips be chapped? Would he kiss you back? Would he make fun of you for being a terrible kisser? You hold your breath, wondering if you are about to find out. 

You jump at the bang of a door slamming shut. You push off Soonyoung’s chest, back to your side of the couch until your back slams against the armrest. The pain is almost enough to sober you up and you realize exactly what you were about to do. You can’t bear to look at Soonyoung staring at you so you look at Jihoon instead, who doesn’t seem to realize that he interrupted anything by walking into the kitchen, headphones blasting music so loud that you can hear it. He grabs one of the takeout containers from the fridge and finally notices you and Soonyoung staring at him. 

“What?” He shouts over his headphones. You shake your head and he stares at you all the way back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make you jump again. 

“We should probably start the movie,” you say, turning to face forward, anywhere but Soonyoung. “I’ll get my laptop.” He doesn’t say anything but you can feel Soonyoung’s eyes on you as you jump up. Ignoring the spinning in your head, you walk to your room. You lean against the door as soon as it shuts behind you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. 

You wish you could blame the idiocy on the alcohol, but you aren’t drunk enough for that. Besides, regardless of the reason, it was a mistake, it would be a mistake, to kiss Soonyoung. No matter how badly you want to do it. 

Your computer sits on your desk. The longer it takes for you to get back, the stranger it will be, so you grab it and return to the couch. Dizziness gives you an excuse to peer at the floor, perfectly valid reason to avoid Soonyoung’s eyes. 

“Are you ready to have your mind blown?” He asks when you insert the DVD into your laptop. 

You raise your eyebrows but still don’t have the courage to face him. “It’s that good?” 

Soonyoung laughs easily, as if nothing happened. “You have no idea what you’re in for.” 

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He faces the computer, sitting back against the couch. Other than his red tinted cheeks, you can’t tell he’s drunk at all. You have no idea what you’re in for, he said. He has no idea how right he is. 

.

.

You hold Soonyoung by the shoulders, staring him down. Your eyes begin to water but you hold them open, determined not to lose. Soonyoung squints, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. You just have to hold out a little longer, but your eyes begin to ache and the air pierces into them. 

“Damn!” Soonyoung cries, throwing himself back onto the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. You let go of his shoulders and resist the urge to rub your eyes, settling for blinking as fast as humanly possible. Your eyes burn but you smile anyways, wiping tears away with the back of your hand. 

“How are you so good at that?” Soonyoung asks. He gives into the impulse, hands pressed against his eyes. 

“I’m really not, I think you’re just bad at staring contests,” you say. “Now hurry up, you lost so you have to answer.” 

He sighs as if he didn’t beg you to help him study. With only a day before his test, you’re not sure how much this is really helping, but at least he isn’t partying with the rest of his frat (who do a pre-finals bar crawl, apparently). Instead, Soonyoung is on your couch, again. You try not to think about the last time he was here. Not productive thoughts, especially not when Soonyoung is one day away from taking the most important test of his life. 

“Is it B?” 

“Are you asking or telling?” 

“I hate when you say that.” He peers at the paper, eyes moving slowly as he rereads the line. “No, it’s C! Wait, no, B. No, A!” 

“Pick an answer.” 

He chews on his lip. You have to force yourself to keep your focus on his eyes. “B,” he finally says. 

You’re tempted to drag it out and make him wait but he puts on the Soonyoung Sparkle so you go ahead and nod. 

“I knew it! Trust your gut!” 

“You’re quoting me now.” You pretend to wipe tears from the corner of your eyes. “You’ve grown up so quickly.”  

If it were Jihoon, he’d roll his eyes but Soonyoung perks up, as if you’ve given him a real compliment. He pauses before asking his next question, eyes flickering to the papers separating you from him. 

“You really think I’ll do well?” He asks softly. 

You study him, the way his unnaturally blonde hair has been strategically gelled to stick up in all the right places, the way his plain white t-shirt hangs loose on his shoulders. You wonder what he sees when he looks in the mirror because the way he sits now, waiting for an answer as if you’d actually say no, breaks your heart a little. He really has no idea how brilliant he is, in every sense of the word. You don’t know how to make him see it so you just take his hand and wait for him to look you in the eyes. 

The second the glittering dark irises meet yours, you see the desperation. He tries to smile, to hide the fear but Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You fight the urge to brush your fingers against his cheek. 

“Soonyoung.” You squeeze his hand. What you feel isn’t a passing crush, you’ve known that for a while now. Admitting it doesn’t give you the bravery to do anything except pull the shield of cowardice around your heart a little tighter. “I’d be an idiot if I said I didn’t.” 

He holds your gaze a little longer, until it almost looks like he believes you. Then his eyes light up. “I have a surprise for you!” 

He digs into his backpack, pulling out a blanket (not the one he used when it was still warm enough to sit outside in the grass), a plastic water bottle half-full of bright green liquid, three crumpled flyers for events on campus, and finally, a small rectangular item, carefully wrapped in paper towels. 

“I was a little worried it would get damaged in my backpack,” he says. “I really, really tried to walk gently and didn’t bring it near any coffee.” 

You choose not to point out the unnatural liquid in the plastic water bottle, instead appreciating his efforts to protect whatever your surprise is. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t try. He carefully pulls the paper towels off, revealing a navy blue leather bound book with gilded lettering. Not just any book. 

“You got it back?” You cry. Soonyoung pulls the rest of the paper towels off to reveal the intricate design on the cover, the golden pages, with Pride and Prejudice inscribed on the spine. “My baby!” 

You hover over the book, not wanting to ruin it with the dirt and oils from your hands but so desperately wanting to caress the beautiful book. It’s just as you remember it, down to the tiny dent on the front cover where you accidentally knocked it against a railing. You can’t wait to put it back on your bookshelf where there has been an empty space ever since Jun managed to snag it. You remember Soonyoung is there when you hear his laughter. 

“You like it that much?” 

“Of course,” you say. “It’s my baby.” 

“It’s a book.” But he smiles and you know he’s just teasing. So you figure, why not? 

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His frat-bro instincts must take charge because he doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, pulling you against his chest and squeezing you like he’s the one getting a gift. 

“Thank you,” you say. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

“This is my thank you,” he says. You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest, a strange sensation that sends butterflies tumbling around between your stomach and your heart. “It’s the least I could do for you. 

The awkward position isn’t exactly comfortable, twisting your body to face him with your shoulder overtop of his forcing your face into his neck but you don’t want to let go. You give yourself five more thundering heartbeats before you let go, turning to study your book again so you have an excuse to avoid his eyes. 

“How did you get it back?” 

“Same way you lost it,” Soonyoung says. “I made a bet.” 

“On what?” 

Soonyoung shrugs, turning to look at the book that still sits in his lip. He gently places it into yours, using the paper towels to prevent smudging with his fingers. 

You frown. “How? Jun is in another hemisphere.” 

“Don’t underestimate the power of video calls and express shipping,” Soonyoung says. “By the way, I’m wearing your friends down. Pretty soon they’ll like me more than they like you. 

“Oh really?” You raise your eyebrow. You ignore the vole gnawing at your gut whispering that he might just be right. 

“I got Jihoon to go to the gym with me and I got him to admit I was friends with you before he was,” he says, holding a finger out. “Jun says that he wants to meet me the second he returns to the country.” A second finger goes up. “Who else can I add to the list?” 

He’s only joking. He doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but your skin wants to crawl inside out. The truth is, they are pretty much your only friends. Jihoon, Jun, and Soonyoung, the latter two having wormed their way into your life. My only friends. 

“You’ve got to start going on the offensive,” Soonyoung says. He avoids your eyes and you know he didn’t miss your discomfort. Great, now he pities you. “I’m serious, Seokmin and Joshua have been asking about you, and Seungcheol keeps complaining that he hasn’t met you yet.” 

You snort. “They’re frat bros, they just want more people to party with.” 

“I’m a frat bro,” he says. 

“Yeah, but…” But what? He’s Soonyoung? Once again, you wonder why he is so different to you–why the epitome of frat boy chaos doesn’t repulse you like he should. But he isn’t some one-dimensional steroid-infused party boy, not the type to bully the freshman trying to join just because he can. He gets drunk after two shots and makes his pledges follow him for 24 hours a day as “hazing,” only to take them for a dinner he can’t afford and skips his own classes so they don’t miss theirs. 

He’s not a typical frat boy. But Soonyoung loves his frat, and you can’t find a way to tell him this without making it sound like you are looking down on the rest of the members. 

So you just say, “Isn’t this supposed to be a study session?” 

Soonyoung sighs, pulling the book in front of him and staring at the words. Even though you can see that he isn’t reading, he doesn’t say anything else. 

“Your test is tomorrow,” you say. 

“Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t pick up the pencil. 

You’ve never struggled to read Soonyoung. He can’t hide when he’s upset, shoulders slumping, a little pout forming over his lips. He doesn’t fully frown but his eyebrows comes together, just a bit. And it’s usually easy to figure out what’s wrong–he’s tired, or wants to be at a party instead of studying. But now? He was fine just a moment ago, even while he was cramming earlier. 

“Is something wrong?” You don’t know why you’re so scared of the answer. 

“I just thought that… nNever mind.” He sighs again. “You’re right, this is a study session. I should be studying.” He doesn’t look at you and you can’t help but feel like you messed up. But Soonyoung eventually picks up his pencil and asks you to check his answers and the feeling slowly fades. 

Will the rest of your feelings fade when you aren’t with him like this anymore? When he takes his test and has no reason to see you every day? Will your heart still beat at the mention of his name? Will you spend the rest of your life thinking about all the almosts with him? Or will it fade until Soonyoung is just a boy that you helped because of a silly bet?

Even as you consider it, you know the answer. He isn’t just a boy, and he never will be. Maybe that’s what really scares you. 

.

.

You glare at Soonyoung. “Do you know what time it is?” 

Jihoon glances at his watch. “7:43.” 

Soonyoung grins beside him, arm over his shoulder. Both boys stand in your bedroom doorway looking far too composed for this ungodly hour. 

“It’s a Saturday.” Just two minutes ago you were in blissful sleep. Okay, maybe not blissful, since you stayed up until three in the morning because you couldn’t fall asleep, and you were having a weird dream where you were looking for something and ended up by the stadium staring at a giant duck statue instead of the raven. But the point is you were asleep until two fists banged on your door so loud you thought it was going to fall apart. 

You can’t even be that mad at Soonyoung, not when he smiles like that. So you glare at Jihoon.

“Honestly, I figured you would be up,” he says. “You were the one that said you didn’t think you were going to get any sleep.” 

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says. “I really just wanted to help distract you for the last hour.” Right. The last hour until your entire future would be determined by a triple digit number. No biggie. 

“Let me get dressed,” you say. They step back before you have the chance to slam the door in their face. You’d like to be able to dress up nicely, but you’re already shivering, so you grab your comfiest sweatpants and the sweatshirt Soonyoung lent you (that still smells like his cologne). You dart into the bathroom and meet the two boys in the doorway of the apartment, pulling on your sneakers. 

You pull the hood over your messy hair and tighten the strings. Soonyoung grins at you and taps your nose. 

“Ready to go?” 

“How did you get out of bed this early?” 

“Oh, I never got in,” he says. “Long story, but we gotta go, they won’t wait much longer.” 

“They?” You ask but Soonyoung doesn’t hear you. He turns to Jihoon, waving. 

“See you tomorrow!” He says, throwing an arm over your shoulders to pull you out the door. “I’ll let you know how it goes!” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” But he looks at you and smiles. “It’ll be fine.” Before you can thank him, he shuts the door. 

Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your side, pulling you to the elevators and squeezing you against him. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I should be asleep.” 

Soonyoung smiles, as if your grumpiness is funny. You decide it’s moot since there’s no way you could fall asleep now that you are an hour and seven minutes away from finding out the results of your future. 

“I figured I’d save you from wallowing in worry,” Soonyoung says. “We can do fun things while we wait. I planned out the whole morning, we have options! There’s going to the gym, or for a job around campus, breaking into the science lab and petting the rabbits, going to Barb’s for breakfast–”

“Breakfast,” you say. You aren’t a huge fan of getting in trouble with the college when you have just over a semester before graduation and though you aren’t sure if your stomach will accept food, working out is a guarantee for throwing up. Besides, a hot cup of coffee could clear a little of the fog in your brain. 

“Barb’s it is,” Soonyoung says, practically bouncing on his toes. He really seems to only have two settings, and today he’s at 120%. 

He lets go of your side when the elevator opens and you step to the ground floor of your apartment. You rub your arms and pretend like the chill is from the weather even though the lobby is still warm. He holds the door for you pretending to be a doorman, bowing and gesturing with his arm for you to pass. You turn so that he doesn’t see that the silly gesture made you smile. 

Parked outside is a white jeep that looks larger than normal, and is apparently the asshole that’s been blasting their music for the past ten minutes. You aren’t surprised in the slightest when Soonyoung strides up to the car.  

“I don’t have a car,” he says, belatedly apologetic. The two men in the front seat don’t seem to mind, though you suspect they have been up all night along with Soonyoung as soon as the door opens and you hear their voices singing off-tune over the blasting music. 

“Boy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away,” The driver cries, using a water bottle as a mic. You recognize Seungcheol from Soonyoung’s descriptions, half from his voice and half from the back of his head. The person riding shotgun is also familiar, a mess of dark hair that must be Joshua. He doesn’t look much different in daylight, sunglasses resting on his forehead. Thankfully they turn the music down a little and stop singing when you get it. 

Seungcheol grins at you through the mirror. “So I finally get to meet the infamous YN. You know, you still haven’t shown up to any parties.” 

“I’ve been busy,” you say, glancing at Soonyoung who focuses a little too much on his seatbelt. 

“Hi, YN,” the passenger up front says, waving at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Joshua,” you say. “Get into life and death scenarios with Soonyoung recently?” 

“Well, Soonyoung jumped out of a car window.” He pauses. “It wasn’t moving,” he adds when Seungcheol jerks his head towards him. “Though I wouldn’t put it past him.” 

“I have done it before,” Soonyoung says solemnly. It takes him a moment to realize everyone is staring at him. “It was a dare.” 

“Why am I not surprised,” Seungcheol grumbles, turning back around and putting the car into drive. Though you were thinking something along the same lines, the way Soonyoung deflates a little makes you wish Seungcheol hadn’t said anything. 

The rest of the drive is quiet–at least in terms of conversation. Seungcheol cranks his stereo up to the loudest setting and blasts the Spice Girls until Joshua starts singing along. Apparently car karaoke for “Wannabe” is sacrilegious to the frat leader. 

You can hear yourself think again when the car pulls into the parking lot and he finally cuts the engine. A few cars line the parking lot of the 24 hour diner that sits on the outskirts of campus. The giant neon red Barb’s that hangs over the entrance flickers in the cloudy morning light teeters the line between quaint and electrical fire waiting to happen. 

The workers, a host and three waitresses, wave at the boys, and do a double take at you. You swear you hear the host whisper “Is that really them?” to Joshua as he leads the group to a table in the corner but Soonyoung distracts you with the menu. 

“I had this thing memorized since freshman year, I can’t believe you’ve never been here. The pancakes are my favorite for hangover cures, not that I’m hungover by the way, I’m actually running on my third energy drink.” He taps the picture, a golden stack of perfectly fluffy pancakes that can only be photoshop. 

“Aren’t energy drinks bad for your heart?” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “Joshua invented this to get through finals, you mix Red Bull, Bang, and Coke and it keeps you up for three days straight. Great for when you’re nervous because you physically have to do something about it.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say. “Wait, why are you nervous?” 

“Your test results come out today,” he says too quickly.  

You consider debating with him but a waitress approaches, wearing a fifties frock and a high ponytail with a ribbon that probably looked like a bow at the start of her shift but has drooped down and now just looks sad. Her face is a mask of emotions, not a smile, not a frown, just emptiness, a contrast to the button clipped to her collar making her “Happy.” 

“The usual?” She asks, pausing at you. She tilts her head and you can see the mask twisting at the edges, a frown almost forming on her brow. She glances at Soonyoung. “Is this who I think it is?” 

“Who do you think it is?” Soonyoung asks at the same time that Joshua and Seungcheol say, “Yes.” 

The corner of Happy’s lips turn into a tiny smile that seems to be her equivalent of a grin. “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

“Okay, haha, very funny,” Soonyoung says. “Stop harassing my friend. We’ll order when we have a chance to look at the menu.”  

Happy raises her eyebrow just slightly at the word “friend,” but closes her notepad. She returns to a pastel pink bar where you can clearly see her whispering and gesturing to you. 

“Why do so many people know me?” You mutter, shrinking into the corner of the booth. 

“The thing about Drunk Soonyoung is that he doesn’t really shut up,” Seungcheol says. 

“That’s being gentle,” Joshua says. “One time he spent four hours describing Finding Nemo. That’s longer than the actual movie.” 

“It’s a good movie,” Soonyoung says. 

“The point is,” Seungcheol says, glaring at Joshua, “he tends to talk when he’s drunk. Usually about good things, things that he… Well, things that he likes.” 

You turn your head to look at Soonyoung, who is once again pretending to study the menu. “You like studying for the LSAT that much?” 

Joshua unsuccessfully tries to hide his laugh with a snort while Seungcheol gains slightly more success with a fake cough. Soonyoung doesn’t react at all, staring at the painted flowers on the menu. Eventually, he shrugs. “I’m dedicated to the bet.” He points at a stack of pancakes covered in bananas and chocolate. “That’s what I usually get.” 

“Isn’t against all rules of gym core and muscle building to eat decadent things?” 

“Did you just call working out ‘gym core?’” Seungcheol asks. 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Nope!” Soonyoung says brightly. “And cheat days are a thing, so do you want to split it or not?” 

“You know I can’t say no to bananas and chocolate.” 

“And pancakes!” He waves down the waitress and points to the stack. 

“Ah, the new Soonyoung,” she says. “You guys getting your actual usual?” 

Joshua and Seungcheol nod and she doesn’t bother to write any of it down. Then again she already knows their orders. Except she called Soonyoung’s “new.” Before you can ask what she meant, a shout makes you jump. You turn around to see a stream of boys entering, enough of whom you recognize that you realize at least half the frat has rolled into the diner. The waitresses roll their eyes and groan but somehow they don’t look all that upset. 

“Mr. President!” The tallest boy, Johnny according to Soonyoung’s Instagram tags, holds a fist over his heart and pounds it a couple times. Seungcheol nods and greets each of the boys, most of whom seem to still be in various stages of inebriation. Almost all of them glance at you and whisper to each other, and you get the feeling they know exactly who you are. 

Just what has Soonyoung said about you? 

“How are we doing on time?” One of them calls out. 

“46 minutes,” Joshua says. You frown. 46 minutes… until 9? Do they all know about today? 

You tap Soonyoung on the arm. “What’s going on?” 

“You see, the thing is,” he says, “apparently I was nervous?” He tries to fake a laugh but it sounds strained. “I don’t really know but the guys made me tell them about today and then I didn’t really know what was happening but I guess they followed us here? Thought you might like moral support, or something.” 

You peek out at the booths crowded with frat bros and cringe back into your seat when they grin at you. “They’re all looking at me.” 

“Well, I guess I do talk about you a lot,” he says, only loud enough for you to hear. He won’t meet your eyes. 

Ask him why. You want to be brave. You want to be right about the answer you think he’ll give you. You chew the inside of your cheek. 

“Because of the bet?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t answer for a moment. “I guess.” 

Coward. 

“Why are we whispering?” Joshua asks, leaning across Soonyoung towards you. “Are we gossiping?” 

Soonyoung pushes him off. “Butt out.” 

“Just telling Soonyoung that I’ve never had an army of drunk guys rooting for me before,” you say. 

“Could have had it sooner if you came to a party,” Seungcheol says. 

“You really want me at a party that bad? We just met.” 

Seungcheol glances at Soonyoung, who shakes his head. He sighs. “If only I could tell you why you need to come.” 

You frown between the three men. “I don’t like when people talk in circles over me.” 

“Just promise you’ll come to the Christmas party. It’ll all make sense then,” Seungcheol says. You’ve heard a lot about Seungcheol from Soonyoung, and the more you listen to him, the more you believe it. He’s a strange man. 

“I’ll think about making an appearance.” 

“Really?” Soonyoung whips around to face you and you know that you have to come now. You haven’t seen him this excited since you let him skip studying to party. No, he’s even more excited now. “You’ll come?” 

You can’t stand his gaze so you study the placemats. “Maybe.” 

He grabs your hand until you meet his eyes. “Please?” 

The Soonyoung Sparkle. You never win against it. “Fine.” 

“Get a room,” Joshua says behind a very fake cough. You pull your hand back into your lap and pretend like you aren’t embarrassed. 

“How long now?” You shout out.

“40 minutes,” someone answers. You groan and lean back into the sofa. Studying was hard enough but waiting makes you want to pull out each individual hair on your head. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide if the stain looks more like a horse or a flower. 

“Look at this.” Soonyoung passes his phone in front of you, forcing you to look down. His Instagram is open to a picture of a kitten looking drunk, face covered in milk. Such and obvious attempt to distract you but you smile anyway. 

“Sweet,” you say and even you aren’t sure if you mean the cat or Soonyoung. He shows you cat pictures until the food finally arrives (33 minutes to go). You have to wait another five minutes because Soonyoung insists on having a photoshoot, despite your protests that you look like you just woke up (he raises his eyebrows at that). You stop fighting when Joshua makes him cut a piece of the pancake and feed it to you. Chocolate nearly drops in your lap but Soonyoung shoots his hand out at the last second and catches it. 

“Okay, can we please just eat,” you say. Joshua and Seungcheol shrug and pretend like they weren’t instigating the pictures and telling you and Soonyoung how to pose. 

Soonyoung was right about the bananas and chocolate. Rich and decadent, they’re delicious. When he cuts you a slice and pushes it toward you, you can even forget the countdown to the end of the world. Or, more accurately, the end of the world doesn’t mean anything to you when Soonyoung smiles at you like that. 

You eat slowly enough to bring you to the ten minute mark. Fear mixes with the dessert for breakfast in your stomach, twisting it until it threatens to jump out of your throat. Soonyoung takes your hand under the table and holds it. You don’t run away this time. 

He holds you to the planet again, keeps you from floating away and disappearing before you can reach the stars. It’s Soonyoung that keeps your heart beating. Always Soonyoung. 

Seungcheol and Joshua chat, Soonyoung piping in a few times, but their words don’t reach you. Stuck somewhere between crushed beneath the weight of the world and floating away, you focus on the clock, watching the seconds tick closer and closer. 

“Last minute!” Someone behind you finally shouts. Soonyoung squeezes your hand. You pull up the website on your phone and put in your login information and hover over the SUBMIT. At thirty seconds, they start shouting it out. 

“Ten!” 

“Nine!” 

“Eight!” 

“Seven!” 

“Six!” 

“Five!” 

“Four!” 

“Three!” 

“Two!” 

“One!” 

Half the guys start cheering already, probably forgetting the count down doesn’t mean as much as the results themselves. You hit SUBMIT and watch the little wheel spin around and around and around until it finally refreshes. The number stares back at you, impossible to read right in front of you. 

169. 

“Congratulations!” Soonyoung shouts, throwing his arms around you and squeezing while you try to comprehend what that means. 169. The number should be all you can think about but Soonyoung holds you, shouting how proud he is, how he always believed in you. 

“169!” Seungcheol shouts, miles away from your bubble. You can hear the guys break out into cheers, hear them chanting the number (which turns into 69) but it’s just you and Soonyoung. The world didn’t end and Soonyoung is still by your side. 

The rest of the morning is a blur. Every member of the frat insists on congratulating you, which mostly means a lot of hugs, though one of the more drunk guys tried to spin you around on his shoulder. You laugh when you’d usually frown and find your way back to Soonyoung’s side like a magnet. 

Maybe it’s the euphoria that gives you courage. 

“Hey Soonyoung?” 

“Hm?” 

You say it before you can think too much. “Maybe just the two of us next time?” 

He grins before you can finish speaking. “I’d love that.” 

.

.

You have the courtesy to let Soonyoung sleep in as much as he wants. You wait for him at Barb’s, trying to figure out how to call this a date. 

You’ve seen him a couple times since you got your score back, but you needed to study for finals and he had to make up for missing a lot of frat activities. You’ve only seen him in passing, nothing to fill the Soonyoung shaped hole in your heart. But today that will change. You will celebrate together and you will tell him how you feel. And then… you have no idea. 

It’s just Soonyoung there’s nothing to be nervous about. Too bad your body doesn’t agree with you. Every nerve stands at attention, jumping at the bell that rings when the door opens. You don’t worry when Soonyoung doesn’t get to Barb’s by 8:30 like he said he would. Even at 8:45, you aren’t worried. 

It’s only at 8:55 that you really start to wonder where he is. Maybe you should have picked him up. Knowing him, there’s a 50% chance he’s lying in a ditch after a failed attempt to recreate an impossible stunt from Fast and Furious. At 9, you call him. Between each silence in the ring, you wait for his voice but it never comes. He uses the automated voicemail, so you don’t even get his voice telling you to leave a message. 

The anxiety turns to fear while you wait. The door rings and you see a fluff of bleach blonde hair and jump up. But though you recognize the face, it isn’t Soonyoung. 

Chan, one of the younger members of the frat, with Mingyu and a guy whose name you forgot. They all have the same look in their eyes when they see you, far too much like pity. 

“You’re YN, right?” Mingyu asks. “You’re supposed to meet Soonyoung?” The two guys with him, easily identifiable as frat members between their unkempt hair and sweatshirts plastered with Greek letters, stop mid conversation and glance at each other. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, still standing in the awkward position in the booth. 

“He’s got his score back,” Mingyu says. 

“We were supposed to–” 

“Yeah, I know,” Mingyu says. “It was a 167. You should really talk to him yourself.” He pauses, glancing at his frat brothers but they shrug. “He’s at the house. See if you can talk some sense into him.” 

You’re too afraid to ask any other questions so you just watch Mingyu and the other two walk past, and pretend that they aren’t whispering and stealing glances at you. 

Going to a frat house was never on your bucket list but your feet travel without guidance. You find yourself in front of a rather nondescript house. No bodies hang out from windows, no one is passed out in the yard. Then again it’s a weekday. 

You pause at the door, wondering if you should knock. You tap your hand on the door and it slides open, the latch bolt pushed completely in. You step inside tentatively, peeking around but it’s quiet. You turn the corner to find an open room and Soonyoung sitting on a couch, glass with a bright liquid in his hand. He doesn’t even look at you. 

“Are you seriously drunk right now?” 

Soonyoung just shrugs, taking another sip from the glass. Even from here you can smell that it’s more tequila than fruit punch. 

You shake your head, crossing the room sitting beside him even though he didn’t invite you to sit down. He was considerably cuter the last time you saw him drunk. You’ve gotten used to the power of Soonyoung’s facial expressions, his smiles, his frowns, the way his eyes glaze over when he’s bored, the way they gleam when he daydreams; they’re as precious to you as Soonyoung himself. But his face is a clean slate now, not a smile, not a frown, just a blank stare. 

“You know a 167 is still insanely good, right?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Soonyoung.” He doesn’t look at you, so you grab his drink. Any other day and you would have failed miserably but his alcohol-impaired senses make him slow enough for you to get a hand on the half-empty glass. He glares at you but you don’t yield, tightening your grip and pulling the bottle even harder. 

“Let go,” you growl. “Talk to me like a normal human.” 

He shakes his head, pulling on the glass so you yank back, except you overestimate how weak he is like this, and the glass flies out of his hand, the contents spilling all over you. The red liquid sinks into your blue sweater, soaking you through all three layers. 

“What the hell?” Soonyoung says. 

“That gets your fucking attention? Spilling your drink?” You say. “You know, I really thought you were different.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re acting like a child. So you didn’t win the bet. Who fucking cares? Do you know how hard it is to get higher than a 160? Soonyoung, you are smart, and you worked so hard for this. You could go to law school with that score. You could graduate above a 2.3 if you stopped acting like a stereotypical fuck bro and actually studied. 

“You know, you could actually be something if you wanted. You don’t have to get a degree and work at a corporate job that sucks your soul away until the Soonyoung that actually matters is gone. I know it’s easier this way, but if you actually tried to dream, you could do something. I don’t get it, honestly. Because everyone thinks you’re an idiot you act like one? Is that what it is?” 

“You don’t have to pretend like you don’t think the same thing.” 

You snort. “I don’t, but clearly you won’t believe me. You think that if you have to work for something then it’s not worth it when you could be so much more.” 

“Why do you even care?” Soonyoung asks, looking you in the eyes for the first time. For a moment, you think you might actually be wrong, because all you see in his eyes is pain. A physical force that constricts your heart and makes you weak in the knees, Soonyoung looks at you like he’s been fighting a war you never knew about, like he’s been suffering in silence for a lifetime. He looks at you like you’ve broken his heart. 

Why do I care? You could scoff. Because I’ve been in love with you ever since you fell asleep on my shoulder. I’ve been fighting this stupid crush for so long that I don’t know who I am without it. I don’t know who I am without you. I care because every day the world proves that we aren’t worthy of this planet, that love can’t solve all problems yet you make me question it all. You don’t just bring light into my life, you make it glitter. And I can’t tell you any of this. 

“I don’t know.” The lie tastes bitter but it’s still sweeter than rejection.

“Then why are you here?” Soonyoung looks away. Without his eyes pinning you down, you can breathe again, but every inhale still drags against your heart. You stand up. Afterall, you don’t have an answer for him. 

“I take it back. You are an idiot,” you mutter over his head as you walk past him. You make it to the corner of the street before the tears finally spill over your cheeks, and all the way back to your room before you can’t breathe. 

.

.

Without the distraction of finals, you are left with your own thoughts, your words and Soonyoung’s floating around your head. You have always been something of a hermit but you’ve become J.D. Salinger himself, only leaving your room to sneak into the kitchen and scrounge for scraps of junk food that Jihoon hasn’t thrown away yet. You watch so much reality TV that you start to dream about it. 

Every episode the people, a family living on a homestead that just happens to dress in brand name clothes and drive a Benz, fight and cry and make up. You yell at the mother when she forces her daughter to change because she didn’t think polka dots are appropriate and cry along with the daughter when she starts to sniffle in her confessional, wondering if her mother would ever approve of her choices, whether it was clothes or the people she wants to date. 

You bet your confessional would be a hit if it was ever filmed. Tears run down your cheeks as you practice it in the mirror, choking out an apology for calling him an idiot and telling the whole world what you aren’t brave enough to tell him. 

Jun calls but you can’t answer. He leaves three voicemails: an apology, a goofy one telling you he’ll be back soon, and a final one, yelling at you to pick up or at least let him know you’re alive. You text him an apology you don’t know if you mean. He says thank you anyway and doesn’t call again. 

You have no plans to change your schedule (wake up, steal food, cry, sleep) but on the third day you run out of goldfish and can’t find anything in the kitchen that doesn’t make you nauseous. To make matters worse, despite the fact that it’s seven in the morning (the earliest you’ve woken up since the Fight), Jihoon catches you. 

You’ve successfully avoided him and his inevitable lecture, slamming your door shut and ignoring his knocks but he catches you off guard today. He sneaks in from his morning workout wearing a black t-shirt and slides that he somehow manages to walk stealthily in, scaring you when you close the fridge and find him standing where the door was. 

“Are you done hiding?” 

“I’m not hiding,” you mutter. 

He folds his arms. 

“Fine,” you say. “I’m not done hiding.” 

“Well too fucking bad,” Jihoon says. You try to step past him but he holds his arm out. You’ll never beat him in a physical fight so you step back, shaking your head. 

“Have it your way. Go ahead.” You wave your hand. “Get it all out. Yell at me or lecture me or whatever, I don’t care. You’re going to tell me that I’m an idiot? That I shouldn’t be so afraid of rejection, that I’m blind to how he feels? 

“Or are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t trust someone like him? That I shouldn’t be crying over a goddamn frat boy, I’m better than this, I’m better than him.” You choke back a sob, not sure what words are coming out anymore. You wipe at the tears in your eyes and are so focused on trying not to cry that you don’t notice Jihoon walking away. You do see him come back, blurry shape coming into focus as you blink away the tears. He holds something in his hand, a navy blue square. A throw pillow from the couch? 

He shifts it in his hand until he holds the corner with the zipper, swinging it a couple times back and forth. Then he yanks his arm back and arcs the pillow in a wide loop, landing directly on your head. 

“Ow!” You cry but Jihoon just swings again, hitting your arm this time. He hits you so hard it knocks you off balance, sending you to the floor. Jihoon doesn’t hesitate, swinging the pillow into you again and again, every inch of you. 

“You. Are. An. Idiot.” He grunts out each word with a blow. “You really think you’re better than him?” 

He finally pauses, not even breathing heavily. You shake your head to answer him. “Of course not.” 

“Good,” he says. Then he hits you again and again and again. 

“Ow, Jihoon, what the hell?” You bury your head in your knees and hold your arms over you, trying in vain to protect yourself. 

“I’m not your babysitter,” he says. “I’m not your father, or your brother, or any of that shit. I’m your best friend and you’re being an idiot and I’m not going to stop hitting you until you get some sense knocked into you.” He freezes, as if realizing exactly what he said. “Wait, no–that’s not what I mean, shit, sorry, but–” 

You peek out from your arms and find Jihoon opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out what to say. He looks like a fish out of water, and it occurs to you he is a fish out of water. He’s never had to comfort you before, probably never had to comfort anyone. No wonder he’s so bad at it. 

You wouldn’t laugh at him and borderline abuse, but your emotions are beyond fried, and he just looks so funny standing over you with a pillow raised, still sputtering half apologies. You try to stop the laugh before it comes out but it turns into a snort and then you can’t stop laughing, tears that you tried to push back falling freely. You lay back on the floor and laugh until your sides hurt, only vaguely aware of Jihoon laughing above you. Eventually he joins you on the floor. 

“You know what I meant,” he says. The pillow rests on the floor between his legs, all the fluff on the far end from the one-sided pillow fight. 

“I knew what you meant without the pillow.” 

“Too bad,” Jihoon says. “I’m tired of listening to the theme song of that god awful show. You could at least watch something like–” 

“I swear if you bring up an anime, you’ll feel exactly how hard that pillow can hit.” 

Jihoon laughs, patting it a couple times. “I saw him the other day. He looked tired.” He pauses but you don’t dare speak. “We didn’t speak. I don’t even think he saw me. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not the one he needs to talk to.” 

“I know,” you say. 

“Then why are you still on the floor?” 

Because you’re scared. Because it would be easier to just give up now, for once to ignore putting in the hard work and just let it pass. But just because it’s the easy option doesn’t mean it’s the right option. At the very least you need to apologize to him. 

“What if he hates me?” 

Jihoon snorts. “Then he’ll get some pillow violence too.” He pauses. “He doesn’t, though.”

“It doesn’t mean that it will turn out okay.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” Jihoon says. “But no matter what happens, you’ll deal with it. And even if it absolutely sucks in the moment, eventually it will be over, and it sure as hell will be better than that stupid fucking show.” 

You nod, setting your chin on your knees. Your stomach turns in anticipation for what you will have to do, but he’s right. It’s time to stop running. Tonight is the Christmas party, and you were never formally uninvited. Somehow you doubt Seungcheol will throw you out. It’s time to get off the floor and get ready. 

“Have you ever thought of being a life coach?” 

“Hell no.” 

.

.

What am I doing here? You fake a smile at Seungcheol and swallow the shot as fast as you can, grimacing as the vodka burns everything from the inside of your mouth to the depths of your stomach. You should have just stuck to your mixed drink only policy but Soonyoung always has you breaking your rules. Even when he isn’t with you. 

Seungcheol disappears as soon as you take the drink, and you don't see anyone else you are comfortable enough to chat with, though that list is quite short. You do a turn of the house, which looks marginally better than the last time you saw it ,the benefit of bad lighting. It’s already crowded with more people than you’ve ever seen on campus. You make your way through each room on the lower floor, finding more than a couple bleach blondes. None are who you’re looking for. You stop in the living room, where you saw him last. 

“He isn’t here.” You turn at the voice. An unfamiliar boy stands next to you, holding a half-empty Smirnoff Ice. “He went to visit family or something.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “At least that’s what he said.” 

You nod. You find it doesn’t surprise you that he seems to know who you are. You suppose you’ve grown used to it, just one of the side-effects of being close with Soonyoung. Though it’s still strange, it doesn’t make you uncomfortable anymore. Or it wouldn’t, if you didn’t think this stranger is implying that it’s your fault Soonyoung isn’t at the ‘Party of the Year.’ 

You can’t stand his gaze so you make your way back towards the drinks, grabbing the first bottle you could find and chugging half of the lukewarm drink. It tastes like a fruit you can’t recognize and carbonation and the more you drink the harder it is to swallow but you force it down. 

You came to apologize. He isn’t here, so why do you stay? Because you promised him? Do you really miss him that much? That you would come here and suffer through all this chaos, just for the memory of him? It doesn’t make any sense but you think that might be a side effect of the alcohol. You get another drink just in case you’re still sober. 

.

.

Your head pounds, the aching feeling of the stage between drunk and sober. Normally you’d like to be sound asleep by now, or at least in the comfort of your home, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. It’s hot and sweaty, the music is way too loud, and you can’t find water anywhere, but you stay anyway, because you’re an idiot that fell in love. 

You curl up on the couch, opposite of a couple making out as if the room isn’t full of people, waiting for just a glimpse of him that will never appear. Even drunk, you think it’s pitiful, but you can’t stop. 

You didn’t think you could fall asleep in all the noise but you open your eyes when you feel the world tilt sideways. You’re vaguely aware of the arms underneath your legs and back, cradling you against someone’s chest. No, not just someone. 

Because you aren’t enough of an idiot, you can tell it’s him, his sweet scent, maybe even just his arms. Soonyoung carries you out of the living room and up the stairs, the blaring music fading only slightly. 

“I thought you weren’t here,” you mumble. 

Soonyoung frowns down at you. “You okay?” 

You shake your head, suddenly realizing there are tears in your eyes. No, I’m not okay, I love you, you want to say. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to hug you while still carrying you. 

With your head resting against his chest, you can fully appreciate his beauty. His hair is black, which suits him even though he looks nothing like your Soonyoung anymore. You reach up and trace the lines of his face that are unchanging, the sharp straight line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his nose, his soft eyebrows. You drop your hand when you realize he’s staring at you, belatedly realizing you never got to his lips. You can only imagine how soft they’d be, soft like Soonyoung himself. 

“You’re crying,” Soonyoung says softly. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or not. He pauses in front of a door, struggling to open it without dropping you. Finally the door swings open and he sets you down on a bed, taking a deep breath and sitting beside you. 

He brushes the tears from your eyes, as Soonyoung as ever. Sweet as ever. Sweet and Soonyoung. They should be the same word. You make a mental note to email Merriam-Webster’s dictionary and make the suggestion. 

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just watching you with those perfect eyes. His hand rests on your face even though the tears are long gone, thumb tracing shapes on your cheek. 

“You swore you’d do anything for me,” you say. 

“Anything,” Soonyoung repeats. 

You turn to the walls, knocking his hand off your cheek, not daring to look him in the eyes. Even drunk, you are a coward. He’s put up pictures on his wall, a couple Polaroids but mostly printed pictures, with the frat, some childhood pictures, and one that you recognize. The picture of the two of you at the beach that you thought you didn’t send, where you are looking at him with all the love in your heart. You trace his smile, blinding even in paper form. 

“Could you maybe try loving me back then?” You mumble. Your eyes feel heavy between the alcohol and the tears and you’ve said what you needed to say, so you let them take over, closing your eyes and letting the blasting music from downstairs drown out any thoughts. And because it’s so loud and you’ve already drifted off to sleep, there’s no way you could hear his answer. 

“I already do.” 

.

.

The first thing you do when you wake up is throw up. You make it out of the bed but not to the bathroom, mostly because you don’t actually know where it is. You grab the nearest bucket-shaped item, which happens to be a mostly empty trash can. You lean away as soon as you’re done, breathing through your mouth and looking away from the mess. Belatedly, you realize someone is patting your back, brushing hair out of your face. 

“Better?” Soonyoung asks. His knees rests against your lower back, one hand resting on your back, the other caressing your face. Thank god you already threw up because looking at him makes your stomach twist again and if there was anything in you, it would come up again. If you could throw up your heart, you would. As it is, the organ is trying to climb its way up your throat, whether it’s guilt or heartbreak you don’t know. 

 You nod in answer to his question, letting him help you up. Your head pounds and though you know you won’t throw up again, your stomach flips. Right, your policy of mixed drinks is definitely reinstated after this. 

“Sorry I threw up in your trash can,” you say. 

“Believe me, that is not the worst that trash can has seen,” Soonyoung says. “Wait, that sounds bad, I didn’t mean it in a weird way, I just mean–” He stops himself, shaking his head. “It’s a frat house.” 

“It’s your room,” you say softly. With sober (albeit heavily hungover) eyes, you take in the room again. It’s tiny, one bed pushed against a wall with a desk set right next to it. Unsurprisingly, it’s stacked with protein powder and a pile of frat flyers, laptop balancing off the edge, not a paper in sight. Except for the one next to his bed, the walls are bare, an ugly shade of beige except for a circle filled with white plaster that looks suspiciously like the reformed crime scene of a fist going through drywall. It must be from whoever owned the room before Soonyoung. 

The wall next to his bed is covered in pictures. You remember being amazed by them last night. Your eyes zero in on the picture of the two of you, right next to the pillow that’s still dented from your head. 

“Did I steal your bed?” You frown except the movement hurts your head. 

“I slept in Johnny’s room since he’s decided to disappear off the face of the planet instead of accepting the fact that he graduates next semester,” Soonyoung says. “I actually just came in here for some clothes, which reminds me.” He rummages through a drawer, pulling out a wrinkled t-shirt and handing it to you. “If you want a change.” 

You glance down and feel like throwing up all over again. Your favorite shirt is covered in stains, alcohol, vomit, and something you definitely don’t want to name. If you weren’t feeling so terrible already, you’d cry that Soonyoung is seeing you like this. 

“I’ll get you a toothbrush, too,” he mutters, disappearing and leaving you to scramble to switch shirts. The white dri-fit is meant to be a workout shirt, though it’s clear that it would be oversize on Soonyoung. Either way, the soft fabric is gentle on your skin, much better than the jeans you slept in. Too bad you’re stuck in them until you get back to your apartment. 

You could run away right now. Soonyoung probably wouldn’t be surprised. But he’s being nice to you, so much nicer than you deserve. Sweet and Soonyoung. But you came here to apologize, and though last night got derailed, you can’t keep running from it. Besides, it’s not like the morning can get much worse. 

So when Soonyoung comes back proudly brandishing an unopened toothbrush that he may or may not have stolen from Seungcheol’s bathroom, you accept it gratefully. You stare yourself down in the bathroom, fighting nausea and an impending migraine because you have a mission to achieve, a real mission unlike last night. It’s still a haze, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget how gently Soonyoung cradled you against his chest, the brush of his fingers on your cheek. If he didn’t show up this morning, you’d think it was a dream. 

Soonyoung’s door is open when you finish but he isn’t in his room. You grab your bag from the floor and venture down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. There’s a couple people passed out in the living room, and one person snoring softly in the kitchen, head folded in his arms in a position that must be incredibly painful for his neck. But it’s where you find Soonyoung, digging through the fridge and finally pulling out a water bottle. He hands it to you, along with a bottle of pills. 

“Thank you,” you sigh, not even bothering to check the label for the brand. You take a couple and chug half the bottle, gaslighting yourself into believing that it will instantly revive you (it doesn’t work and your head still pounds). 

“Are you hungry?” Soonyoung asks. He opens the fridge again, this time wide enough to show the shelves that are filled with beer, vodka, and White Claws. There’s a pizza box and some eggs, but not much else. 

“How are any of you alive?” You ask softly, glancing at the snoring person on the counter. 

“Yuta can sleep through an apocalypse, don’t worry about him,” Soonyoung says, waving his hand. He closes the fridge, leaning against it. “And most of us keep our actual food in mini-fridges. I just cleared mine out for break, so I don’t have anything in it.” He doesn’t say anything else about vanishing. 

“I’m pretty sure that pizza has been in there since the start of the semester and I’ve never seen eggs in here before though, so I don’t think you should risk any of this,” Soonyoung says. “McDonald’s fries are a far superior hangover cure, they’ve never failed me.” 

“There’s a McDonald’s nearby?” 

Soonyoung grins, pulling keys out of his pocket and spinning them around his fingers a couple times, except they fly off and clatter on the floor. The man asleep on the counter, Yuta apparently, stirs but doesn’t move. You can’t help but smile as Soonyoung scrambles to retrieve them from the floor. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flustered. 

“There isn’t one,” Soonyoung explains, leading the way to the door. “But I have the keys to Seungcheol’s car.” 

“I’m not really comfortable with grand theft auto,” you say, though you don’t stop following him to Seungcheol’s giant white Jeep. 

“He gave me the keys last night when I walked in,” Soonyoung says. “Something about owing me. He was pretty drunk.” He darts around to the passenger side before you can, opening the door for you. He waves his hand when you frown at him, as if you’re the one acting strange. Thinking with this headache is too hard so you just get into the car and strap the seatbelt on. 

“I can’t believe you thought I’d steal a car,” Soonyoung says. He turns the engine on and scans the front of the car before finally settling his right hand on the gear shift. 

“You have driven this car before, right?” 

“Of course,” Soonyoung says a little too fast. You grab onto the door handle and hope that your stomach really is empty. 

Soonyoung’s driving isn’t the worst you’ve ever experienced; that title goes to Jihoon, who was banned from touching car keys after his Mario Kart driving. That said, you think he’s a good second place. He slams on the gas and the brakes too hard and drives altogether too fast. He blasts the radio and sings along purposefully off key. You should be terrified but it’s the most fun you’ve ever had riding in the passenger seat. 

“I’m never riding with you again,” you say, breathless from laughing. He pulls to a stop at the red light, the Golden arches of your destination still one light away. “You know yellow lights mean slow down right?”

“I stopped at this one!” Soonyoung says. “I’ll have you know I haven’t been in an accident.” He pauses. “Since I was nineteen.” 

You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from smiling fully. “That’s what I figured.” You peek at Soonyoung and he’s smiling too. 

So different from the last time you saw him. You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t be able to laugh and joke around with him so easily, not when you still haven’t apologized. And Soonyoung shouldn’t be looking at you like that, genuine fondness in his eyes. 

“The light’s green,” you say. His smile fades a little when he turns his head and drives ahead, stepping lightly for once. You’re so close now, but a car going straight in the right lane prevents him from turning. 

The pain medicine must have kicked in because your headache is slowly fading, replaced by heartache that no medication can cure. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You blurt out. 

The blinker beeps a steady rhythm in the empty silence. “Isn’t it obvious?” 

“Nothing’s ever obvious with you, Soonyoung,” you say softly. 

“Oh.” The light turns green and he guides the car slowly into the parking lot, stopping in a spot instead of pulling up to the drive through. As soon as the car is in park, he turns to face you. There’s a crease in his forehead that you recognize from the rare occasions that he would actually talk to you seriously. “YN, I genuinely thought I was being clear about this from the beginning, but if you still really don’t get it, then I’ll say it straight up: I like you. I’ve liked you since the day we met and then I fell in love with you. 

“Did you know you’re the first person that’s ever genuinely believed in me? I mean, I know I have friends, and my family means well, but they always get this look in their eye whenever I talk about trying for things, like it was cute that I was trying, but they never actually believed in me. And I started to believe them too. I started to believe that I couldn’t believe in myself.” He frowns. “That makes no sense. The point is, you are the reason I started to believe in myself again. 

“No one’s ever looked at me like you do. No one’s ever told me to get my shit together–well, they have, but you’re the only one that told me it was because I could be better. 

“You say it wasn’t obvious, but I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times. I flirted, I tried to ask you on a date so many times, and I finally accepted that you’d never see me like that, so I was a dick. I told you off, even though you were right. I’m so sorry for that, and I’m sorry I ran away, and I’m sorry it took me so long to apologize.” 

“Stop,” you say. Soonyoung’s eyes widen, tears welling up, and you realize he thinks you’re rejecting him. “Stop apologizing!” His brow creases in confusion, an adorable frown. Summoning all your courage, you reach out, resting your hand on his. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I didn’t have any right to judge you and the choices you were making, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you when I knew how much the bet meant to you.”

You squeeze his hand, closing your eyes. “And I think I was a little oblivious on purpose. I’m not the kind of person that has crushes, let alone crushes that like me back, so I freaked a little and missed all the signs.” You open your eyes and grin at him. It’s easy to feel brave when he smiles back at you. “But I like you, Soonyoung. I like you so much, I don’t have enough words to express it. My whole life has been about my future, my career, and it’s exhausting, but being with you makes it all exciting again. Like, no matter what happens, if you’re with me, it won’t just be okay, it’ll be fun.” 

Soonyoung beams. “Really?” 

You squeeze his hand. “I like you.” Like the first time you took the LSAT, you can’t think of a single word, except instead of damning your future this feels like the start of it. Soonyoung sits across from you and you don’t need words. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, but reality sets in when your stomach growls. You glance outside the window and remember where you are. “Did you just confess to me in a McDonald’s parking lot?” 

“Better than drunk in my own bed.” 

“I didn’t!” You let go of his hand to hide your face. 

Soonyoung grins. “You were cute!” 

“I don’t remember it, it doesn't count!” 

“Whatever you say,” Soonyoung says, leaning over the center console. He gently pulls your hands away from your face, hand circling your wrist gently. You instinctively hold your breath, though you don’t lean away. Soonyoung leans a little closer, forehead resting against yours. 

“This okay?” He whispers, breath kissing your lips, and you remember that less than an hour ago, you were throwing up. Your head still aches and your stomach is still queasy and your whole body feels disgusting. 

“We are not having our first kiss in a McDonald’s parking lot,” you say, leaning back. Soonyoung sighs, but he sits back in his chair, settling for grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours. 

“Fine,” Soonyoung says. He rubs his thumb back and forth, and when you meet his eyes, you see a familiar glint of trouble. “You know I’m still sworn to you. Whatever you want.” 

The words go straight to your heart. You could live a thousand lives and never meet someone as genuine as Soonyoung. You know that he means it, heart and soul, that he’d do anything for you. And it should be terrifying that he’s willing to bear his heart for you, that you are willing to do the same. But it’s Soonyoung. It’s easy to trust him with it, because even though he breaks half the computers he touches and can’t hold onto a pencil for his life, he won’t ever drop your heart. 

I love you. One day you’ll be able to say it, one day you’ll scream it like you so desperately want to. But until then, you settle for his certified brilliant smile and the gentle brush of his lips on the back of your hand, only letting go to turn the engine back on. 

“Let’s get you some fries,” he says. “Then kisses?” 

You shake your head and laugh, slipping your hand back into his. 

Before he can put the car into gear, his phone rings. He stares at the screen for a moment, frowning like he can’t decide whether he should answer it or not. Finally he slides the green across, turning on speaker. 

“Hey Seungcheol, I’m with—” 

“Where the hell are you? And where is my car?” Seungcheol’s voice is somewhere between angry and concerned. “You think it’s okay to vanish and then show up only to steal my car?” 

“First of all, you gave me the keys,” Soonyoung says. He glances at you. “And I’m at McDonald’s because YN desperately needed a hangover cure.” 

“Hey,” you say so Seungcheol knows you’re there. 

The line is quiet for so long you think Soonyoung’s phone has finally given up on him but eventually he says, “You’re with YN?” 

“We talked,” he says. “And we’re good.” 

You snort. “That’s how you’re going to describe it?” 

“Are we not good?” 

You glance at your hand still intertwined with his, the Soonyoung Sparkle glittering back at you when you look him in the eyes. Good? There’s not a word to describe how you feel right now. 

“We are beyond good.” 

.

.

“Are you crying?” You whisper. Soonyoung shakes his head, chin brushing against your head but when he inhales again, he sniffles. You reach up to pat his cheek and are entirely unsurprised when it’s wet. On screen Elle Woods continues her speech, for once not wearing pink. 

“She’s just so cool,” Soonyoung says. You lift your head off his chest so you can look him in the eyes. The temptation to tease him is hard to resist but he pouts his lips and you see another tear slip out. You kiss his cheek, out of habit more than anything. Strange how much can change in two weeks, how something you’ve never imagined doing has become natural. But being with Soonyoung is just like that. New and old at the same time, the kind of comfort that has you planning how to make this last a lifetime. 

Soonyoung wraps his arms around you tighter, so you nestle back into his chest, turning away from the end of the movie to close your eyes and breathe in his cologne. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck. “The whole bet was based on a movie you haven’t seen.” 

“You’re missing the end,” he says. His voice rumbles in your ear, drowning out his heartbeat. 

“I’ve seen it before.” Your bed really isn’t built for two people to lay down together. You are laying more on Soonyoung than the mattress but it’s not the first time. From the way he holds you, you doubt it’ll be the last. 

The credits roll too quickly, but Soonyoung still doesn’t let go. He pulls you up so that your head is next to his, nose centimeters away from yours. 

“So am I officially qualified to go to law school?” He asks. 

“You are Elle Woods certified,” you say. “But you’re sure that’s what you want?” 

“I mean I have to get in. But I figure if I’m going to waste away at a desk, I might as well do it for something I believe in.” He pauses. “With someone that believes in me.” He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, breath tickling the sensitive skin. You can’t help but sigh. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s what you want,” you say, after several heartbeats of struggling to think. 

“I want…” His words “To be with you. However you’ll have me.” His arms loosen, hands sliding down to your waist. 

“Still not answering the question,” you breathe out but you can’t even remember what the question is, not when he’s shifting to lay on top of you, lips inching their way up your neck. He kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips, then stops, pulling away and meeting your eyes again.

The Soonyoung Sparkle. The grinch has nothing on you–your heart swells so large it feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest–Alien style. Does he know what he does to you? How he’s made everything in your life shine? How happy you are when he’s with you? 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Soonyoung blinks at you. “You…” 

“I love you,” you say again, this time with more confidence. “I really, really love you.” 

Soonyoung grins, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, moving like the world outside has stopped. He makes a bubble around you again, or maybe it’s your own heart; either way the only thing that exists is the way his hands inch up your shirt, the way his lips begin to press harder against yours. You give up on coherent thoughts, settling for wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

“I love you, too,” Soonyoung whispers between kisses. “If that wasn’t obvious.” 

Soonyoung who always treated you like you were enough already. Soonyoung who does everything with 100% of his heart. Soonyoung who has always been sincere with you, from the first day you met him. Soonyoung, who you are so lucky to be loved by. 

You don’t know how to say any of this in a way that makes sense so you let his fire melt you until you are putty in his arms. He pulls away, and the Soonyoung Sparkle burns, your personal stars flickering back at you.  

“You want to–” Soonyoung starts to say, but the door slams open. Then Soonyoung falls on you, pillow rolling off his head. 

“I’m taking this back!” Someone shouts while you hear Jihoon cursing. 

“Read the room, idiot!” Soonyoung pushes off of you, sitting up and pulling your shirt down as smoothly as he can. You sit up, trying to decide if you should be embarrassed or angry. Facing Jun, frozen midstep with his jaw hanging open a little and Jihoon in the doorway with his arms folded, shaking his head slightly, you opt for the latter. 

“Does no one knock in Colombia?” You frown at him. “And when did you get back? Why didn’t you call?” 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he mumbles, staring at his feet. “And you were supposed to be alone, according to my sources.” He glares at Jihoon. 

“YN didn’t say he was coming over,” he says with a shrug. 

You turn your frown to him. “You walked in halfway through the movie, I literally shouted ‘Soonyoung’s over.’” 

“I had my headphones on,” he says, though he’s avoiding your eyes too. Typical of your friends, never claiming responsibility for their actions. 

“So this is Soonyoung,” Jun says, turning to face him. Soonyoung moved to the edge of the bed, too far away for your taste but probably an appropriate distance for your friends, especially compared to what they walked in on. Jun tilts his head. “You dyed your hair.” 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung scratches the back of his head. “Spur of the moment thing.” You miss the blonde, surprisingly fitting considering it isn’t his natural color. But the black suits him too, and probably will help him with law school interviews. Then again, knowing Soonyoung, this color won’t last long either. Good thing there isn’t a color you don’t think suits him. 

“We should do this properly,” Soonyoung says. “Go out for dinner or something.” 

“Hey, I didn’t get dinner,” Jihoon says. 

“You want to get dinner with me?” Soonyoung perks up. 

“No, I’m protesting unfair treatment.” 

“It’s not unfair, I’m just clearly his favorite,” Jun says. 

“Can you guys stop fighting over my boyfriend?” You say. 

Jihoon and Jun stare at you. When Soonyoung turns to face you, he grins, eyes sparkling. 

“What?” 

“You just called him your boyfriend,” Jun says. 

“Well… he is.” You feel your cheeks flush. “Why are you guys making it weird?” 

“It’s not weird,” Soonyoung says. He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “It’s cute,” he whispers in your ear. “Adorable.” This only makes you flush even more. 

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll just grab this and you two can get back to… whatever.” Jun takes a step towards your bookcase. You grab the pillow that he threw at Soonyoung and nail him in the chest, earning a laugh from Jihoon. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

“The book is mine, Soonyoung never fulfilled the bet!” Jun says. You stand up, blocking him from your Pride and Prejudice. 

“Hey, I followed through!” Soonyoung says. “We’re dating!” 

“I remember the bet stating that you had to ask YN out after you took the LSAT.” Jun turns to him. 

“And I did,” Soonyoung says. “You never said it had to be right after.” 

Jun eyes him. “That’s cheating.” 

“That’s being a lawyer,” you say. “And I think he’s going to be really good at it.” 

Jun glances between you and Soonyoung and shakes his head. “Whatever, I’ll get my book back another day.” 

You step closer to Soonyoung and he links his pinky with yours. You glance at your friends. “Are you going to stand there forever or are we getting dinner?” 

“You two don’t want to get back to what you were doing?” Jihoon asks. 

You slip your hand into Soonyoung’s. He meets your eyes and he’s only been your boyfriend for two weeks but looking at him is like looking home. There’s no need to rush. 

“Sounds like someone doesn’t want to pick where we go.” 

“We should make them pay, too,” Soonyoung says. 

You grin at him. “You are the smartest person I know.” 

[fireheaurt]

What? Like It’s Hard?

gn reader x soonyoung

summary: With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows. 

Or, studying for a law test has never seen this much chemistry.

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, uni au, friends to lovers, opposites attract

warnings: swearing, drinking, food, arguing, a couple sex jokes, one spicy scene at the end but no actual smut, refusal to acknowledge feelings, what's the word for beyond oblivious????

full wc: 24.3k

playlist! - i'm not very good at this but i tried to add songs alternating between yn and soonyoung :)

a/n: hello!! first of all, sorry this so long! it's been a very very busy summer. thank you to everyone who has continued to show interest in the story, it's really kept me going. i honestly have no idea what this is anymore but i hope it does not disappoint :) as always i appreciate feedback of any form <3 thank you again for reading and have a lovely day! finally, happy scoups day :)

a/n2: a special shout out to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta and for helping me fact check... why do i keep writing about lawyers when i know absolutely nothing about the field.......

“Nope.” You grab your backpack, shoving your laptop inside, but he gets to your water bottle before you can reach it. 

“Come on.” Soonyoung pouts his lips. 

“I won’t do it,” you say. 

Soonyoung hugs your water bottle hostage against his chest, dark blue hiding in the crook of his elbow, bright against the pale pink sweater he wears. It’s an unusual choice for him, normally clad in baggy jeans and loose t-shirts. Still, the color highlights his new hair, blonde bordering on white. Hardly the first time he’s done something insane for a bet. 

“Please! I’m desperate!” He cries again, stepping closer, though he keeps a firm grip on your water bottle. You never should have told him how emotionally attached you are to it; you should have known it would be held against you. 

“No,” you say. You sling your backpack on, just in case he gets any other ideas. The other students shoot dirty looks at you, actually in the library to study (like you were, until Soonyoung arrived). So you grab him by the arm, rolling your eyes at how he jerks the water bottle out of reach. 

“Walk and talk, we’re not doing this here,” you say, folding your arms over your chest. 

“Come on, how hard can it be?” Soonyoung asks. “It’s just a test.”

“Just a test?” You snort. “Soonyoung, you are aware that most people don’t apply to law school on a dare?” 

“I don’t have to get into law school!” He says, “just get a 179 on the LSAT.” 

As if that makes it any better. You eye Soonyoung and his tight grip on the plastic. Maybe it’s a lost cause and you should just swing by the bookstore to get a new one instead. But that water bottle has butterfly stickers that have survived since freshman year and a dent from the time Jun tried to use it as a weapon in a fight against Jihoon (that was declared a draw when the bottle busted open and doused both of them equally); it holds memories better than water and you’ll be damned if you let Soonyoung hold it hostage. 

“That’s actually harder,” you mumble. From the corner of your eye, you can see him tucking the blue bottle under his right arm, farthest from you. This won’t be easy, especially since you saw the poorly disguised thirst trap of him and one of his frat bros at the gym: those arms are not to be underestimated. 

“I’ll pay you!” 

“With what money?” 

Soonyoung pauses. You’ve reached the exit by now, sunlight warming you through the glass doors. He turns to the sunlight, and you know he’s pretending to be a main character from an artsy film (not that he’s ever seen on). He takes a deep breath, as if he already regrets what he has to say next. 

“Okay, I’ll offer you the only services I have.” He turns to face you, eyes on the floor. 

“Oh my god, Soonyoung!” You shove his shoulder. “You are not selling your body for a test!” 

“But it’s all I know!” He says. He pokes your arms. “You could have so much muscle if you lifted just twice a week.” 

“Oh.” You blink at him. “You meant working out?” 

“What did you think I meant?” 

You feel heat rush into your cheeks. You push the door open, praying Soonyoung doesn’t notice. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, not daring to check if he’s following. “I don’t have time to workout.” 

“Then what do you want?” Soonyoung asks. He stays just out of reach, adjusting his grip so that the water bottle hangs from his hand. “Please, I’ll do anything!” 

“Why do you need me?” 

“Because you’re the smartest person I know,” he says without hesitation. In the three years of your friendship, you’ve learned that the only time Soonyoung isn’t serious is when he flirts. 

“You are,” he insists. “Plus you’ve already taken it, so you’re my best chance. My only chance, it’s not like I have a good track record with tests.” He gives you a lopsided smile as he tries to pretend like he’s joking. But Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You see the sparkle in his eyes dim, and you remember freshman Soonyoung–when he failed the midterm and holed up in his room in the frat house for two full days, not even venturing out to drink. It’s that damn sparkle that gets to you. He isn’t paying attention anymore, water bottle hanging loosely from his hand, but you can’t bring yourself to snatch it. 

“You can pass it,” you say with a sigh. “It’s about studying correctly.” 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung says. “I’ve never really studied.” 

“Well, that’s what I’ll teach you.” 

Soonyoung freezes, grabbing your arm. “Seriously?” When you turn to face him, his smile is so bright it warms you from the inside out, hotter than the actual sun on your skin. He throws his arms around you, wrapping you in a hug so tight he lifts you off the ground. Your heart does this strange thing where it hops into your throat. Your arms come up as a reflex but his embrace is too tight for you to even hug him back.  

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He shouts. He doesn’t let go, even when he sets you back down. He loosens his arms just enough to look at you, the full force of his smile directed at you. “I swear you’re welcome at the frat house any time, I’ll buy you anything you want when I have money, I’ll drive you wherever you want if I can get Seungcheol’s car, I’ll do whatever, just thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

You know you should answer, or say something, but thinking is too much when he’s so close you can smell the strangely sweet combination of laundry detergent, cologne, and sweat. You push out of his arms, snagging your water bottle on the way out. 

“It’s whatever,” you mumble. Though his arms aren’t around you anymore, you feel strangely hot, like your blood is boiling, and your heart still pounds. 

“It is not whatever,” Soonyoung declares. “I swear, whatever you want, I’ll do it.” He holds a hand over his heart and if it was anyone else you’d think they were joking but it’s Soonyoung: he’s deadly serious. 

You can’t handle his gaze anymore, turning to study your beat up sneakers. “Really? You’ll get my first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice from Jun?” 

“I’ll get that book back.” He glances at you. “It is a book, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “Though there’s been some good adaptations.” 

“That’s the one with the zombies?” 

“Zombies?” You frown. “Oh my god, do you mean Pride and Prejudice and Zombies?” 

“That’s not the original book?” 

“No,” you say, laughing. “The original is Jane Austen, in the 1800s.” 

“Oh,” Soonyoung says. 

“I’ve actually never seen that one,” you say. “It’s the only adaptation I haven’t seen.” 

“How many movies are there?” 

“Well, there’s the 1940 adaptation, the BBC series that’s widely regarded as the most faithful adaptation, the 2005 Kiera Knightley movie that’s iconic, plus the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, which is a vlog-style Youtube adaptation. Then of course there’s Jane Austen’s other works, like Persuasion, which, the new one, for the record, was a terrible adaptation.” You stop when you realize you’re dangerously close to going on what Jihoon calls ‘an Austen tirade.’ 

“I liked the movie,” he says after a pause. “I don’t know if it was that good, or close to the books. But it was fun.” 

“I’ll have to watch it, then,” you say. “I know it’s the obvious choice, but Pride and Prejudice really is my favorite Jane Austen novel. Good luck getting it back from Jun though. He’s studying abroad this semester.” 

“He’s the friend from your history class?” 

“No, that’s Jihoon, my roommate,” you say. “Jun was in my language class.” 

“I thought you hated everyone in that class.” 

“Oh, I did,” you say. “But Jun is friends with Jihoon, so he sort of just became my friend too.” 

Soonyoung hums, saying nothing else. You don’t recognize the song, though you tend to mostly listen to classical music when you study or whatever Jihoon blasts from his room, so it’s not that surprising. The melody is nice, though. Well, Soonyoung’s voice is. 

“I really am grateful,” Soonyoung says. “I know I was begging, because I don’t think I can do this without you–well, I don’t know if I can do it with you, but you’re my only hope and–I’m rambling again.” He flashes a smile. “The point is, thank you.” 

You shrug, feeling shy under his gaze. “It’ll help me study anyways,” you say. “You learn a lot when you teach.” 

“I thought you already took it?”

“I only got a 150,” you say, sighing. “I need at least a 165.” 

Soonyoung nods, forehead creasing like it always does when he’s lost in thought. “Thank you anyway.”

“Well, you swore to do whatever I tell you,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “Don’t think I won’t abuse that.” 

“Oh, YN,” he says, “I’m counting on it.” He even winks. 

You cough, choking at the outright flirting. Soonyoung hasn’t tried a line on you in so long you thought he’d used them all. He isn’t serious–it was engraved in his DNA the second he became a fully fledged member of Sigma Beta Tau but it’s not like many people flirt with you, so it’s hard to stop your heart from jumping. 

You check your phone, unable to look him in the eyes. It’s 2:18 now, prime naptime if you can get back to your apartment before Jihoon gets back. But if it’s past two, unless he lied to you at the start of the semester, that means Soonyoung should be in his data ethics class. “Hey, don’t you have class right now?” 

Soonyoung glances at the time on his phone. “Shit.” He takes off, sprinting across the grass, dodging three picnics and narrowly avoiding getting rocked in the back of the head by a frisbee. He pauses at the edge, turning back around to wave wildly at you. 

“Thank you!” He shouts. The picnickers glance between you and him and you can feel the blush returning. Soonyoung doesn’t notice all the eyes on him, waving like a goofball one final time before sprinting off again. Like a whirlwind, he’s gone again, leaving you to stroll across campus and wonder what you just signed up for. 

.

.

Soonyoung’s brow furrows into a frown, lips pulling together in a pout. He rests his chin on his hands, looking up at you from the table like a puppy that knows he’s in trouble. “That bad?” 

“Your analytical reasoning was good!” You say, not wanting to destroy him just yet. “The logical analysis wasn’t that bad either, you just need practice.” 

“Wasn’t there a third section?” 

“The score for reading comprehension was pretty bad.” Horrendous, actually, but you can’t tell him that, not when he’s deflating faster than a balloon at a knife throwing contest. He sits back, head knocking lightly against the back of the stiff library chairs. 

“We can work with this! It’s really not that bad,” you say. You reach out instinctively, wrapping your hands over his hands. Your thumb rests against the soft smooth skin of the back of his hand, the rest of your fingers brushing lightly against his calloused fingers. You jerk back when you realize what you’re doing, patting his hands once and grabbing the workbook in front of him as if it’s what you meant to do all along. You study the upside down words, not daring to look at the disgust that’s probably painted on Soonyoung’s face. 

“You can start with practicing the logic problems,” you say, flipping through the work book. “I’ll figure out a strategy for the reading portion.” 

Soonyoung heaves a sigh, sitting up and hunching over the workbook. You flip open one of your old workbooks and try to pretend like you’re not trying to melt away from embarrassment. 

“This isn’t very much teaching,” Soonyoung says without looking up. “Lots of problem solving.” 

“I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” you say. “I just watched a lot of youtube videos when I was studying last year. I should have known better than to take it over the summer, though.” 

Soonyoung glances up. “How come?” 

You chew on your lip. You’ve known Soonyoung for a while now, but you’ve never talked to him like this, mentioning any real things other than complaining about roommates. Soonyoung would listen, probably say the ‘right’ things, but it’s a study session, so you just say, “Just not good timing.” 

He nods, returning to his humming. You turn to your own workbook, trying to figure out how to get Soonyoung to actually read the passages for the reading comprehension. Twenty minutes pass in an instant and Soonyoung drops his pencil, sliding his journal with the answers back in front of you. You flip to the answer key, scanning between the two. 

“When are you taking it again?” Soonyoung asks while he waits. 

“Just before Halloween,” you say. Exactly 38 days from now, according to the IMPENDING DOOM countdown clock on your phone. 

“That soon?” 

You shrug. “I wanted to give myself time to take it again in case I bomb it and it had to be before midterms, so, yeah.” 

“Is it really that bad to take all your tests at once?” Soonyoung asks. 

“I mean, finals week pretty much kills me every semester. I actually thought I was cutting it close with only two weeks between it and midterms.” 

“Is November cutting it too close?” 

“Depends on when in November you plan on taking it,” you say, “though you probably won’t be able to take it again if you don’t like your score.” 

“Not a problem for me,” Soonyoung says. He doesn’t waver against your raised eyebrow. “I’m getting that 179, first try.” 

“You’re that confident?” 

“In you.” He winks. “Also the bet is off if I don’t get it on the first try.” 

You nod. “Yeah, that makes more sense.” You glance at your calendar. “

“November 18th.” 

“That’s not too bad, you dodged between midterms and finals, there should be plenty of cram time.” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I just scheduled it so that I would get the results before the Christmas party.” 

“I didn’t think you would be the religious type.” 

“Oh, I’m not,” he says. “The frat has this annual post-finals party before people go back home for holiday break, usually on the last day of finals. There’s no way I’m letting Seungkwan get away with my hard earned Playstation, and there’s no way he’d miss the party.” 

“You can’t just buy your own game?” 

“It’s a console actually,” he says, “and that’s not the point.” You prepare for some lecture about honor or frat code or something overly dramatic and inspired by any of the countless war propaganda movies he loves, but he closes his mouth. 

“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” you say. You turn back his sheet, half the answers marked with a dark blue X because red feels too cruel. “You’re clearly committed.” 

He sighs at the answers, flipping back to the first question and frowning. You think the conversation is over, but without looking up from glaring at the right answers, he says, “You should come.” 

“To?” 

“The Christmas party.” 

You stare at the top of his head but he doesn’t seem to notice. You wonder how he manages to keep his hair so blonde without ruining his scalp but you don’t see any dandruff. “Me?” You finally say. 

“You said you’d come, like, freshman year,” he says. “You never did.” 

You did promise, back when you saw him for class every day. But frat parties weren’t your scene back then. They aren’t your scene now. Nothing about blasting music and binge drinking appeals to you, and yet Soonyoung peeking at you from his notebook makes you feel guilty anyways. He looks at you like he really doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go.

And that’s the worst part: for Soonyoung, you would go. When he looks at you with the damn Soonyoung Sparkle, you’d do anything. 

“I’ll… think about it,” you finally say. 

He looks at you for a moment longer, then nods, like he didn’t really expect you to say yes. You try not to feel like you’re letting him down. 

“Can you explain this one to me,” he asks, turning the book so you can see it from across the table. 

You skim the question, which turns out to be a series of questions about stained glass windows. You take a moment to glance between Soonyoung’s answers and the correct ones. 

“Walk me through your process,” you say. 

“Okay, I start with…”

.

. 

“Soonyoung, are you even listening?” 

He blinks at you, lifting his head from his arms. “Something about strategies? For reading?” 

You snap the book shut, shaking your head. You open your mouth, speech on responsibility and studying on the tip of your tongue but one look into Soonyoung’s Sparkle Eyes (patent pending) and all the words are gone. You really need to figure out how to get around that super power. 

“Come on, it’s so nice out,” he says. “We should be outside.” He grabs your hand. “This is not studying weather, this is dating weather.” 

“Soonyoung your test is in two months, you seriously want to skip?” You don’t dignify the second part of his complaint with a response. The idea of Soonyoung on a date makes your stomach flip. 

He sighs. “No, but it’s October, we won’t get many more nice days, so can we at least go outside?” 

You hesitate a heartbeat too long and Soonyoung jumps up. He closes the workbook, knocking loose papers off the table and sending highlighters of every color flying in every direction. The chaos earns a couple side eyes from the people around you and a full on glare from the person directly next to him, but Soonyoung, as Soonyoung as ever, doesn’t seem to notice. He picks up the papers and highlighters, shoving them into his backpack without a folder and slinging it over his shoulder. You can only follow him, grabbing the drinks before he tries to carry them along his laptop. When it comes to Soonyoung, mixing liquids and technology is more dangerous than mixing alcohols. You haven’t forgotten The Coffee Incident, flooding his backpack at 8 in the morning. 

He drags you out of the library, though you don’t put up much of a fight. Soonyoung makes you want to relax, just a little, and when he smiles back at you as soon as he steps out of the sunlight, you find you don’t regret a thing. 

Soonyoung pulls his emergency blanket out of his blanket, passing it to you. He’s more prepared for naps than any class he’s ever taken but the thin fabric is soft so who are you to judge? He heads straight for the quad, which is already filled with people, some groups of friends, too many obvious couples with heads in each other's laps or arms wrapped around each other. Soonyoung settles down in a relatively unpopulated corner, taking the blanket back to shake it out the blanket a few times before laying it flat on the ground. 

Soonyoung groans when you pull out the workbooks as soon as you sit down. “There isn’t anything more fun to study?” 

“Soonyoung, it’s the LSAT,” you say. “It’s not really meant to be fun.” 

“But–” 

“You’re the one that wanted to go outside,” you remind him, tapping his arm with a pen. “If you’re too distracted we’ll have to go back into the library.” 

He gazes at the other people laughing for a long moment before turning to face you again. You raise your eyebrows and he takes the workbook from your hands, flipping it open to the sticky-note bookmark. 

The next twenty minutes are relatively quiet, the only noise coming from the chatter of the people around you, too far away to clearly hear, and Soonyoung humming while working through practice problems. You’re not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it, though he bobs his head slightly. You wonder what Soonyoung is like when he isn’t trying to get out of studying–even outside of the party invites you’ve avoided, you rarely see him on campus (because you aren’t on campus when you don’t have to be). You almost went to dinner with him to celebrate passing the business class freshman year where you met him, but you got food poisoning and he never rescheduled. 

It’s for the best, though. Even like this, tutoring him minus payment of any kind, you can tell that spending too much time with him will be dangerous. He flirts so easily it feels genuine, and even though he can be ridiculous, he’s never been anything but lovely to you. And it doesn’t help that he’s hot. He glances up, as if he can feel you staring, but he just flashes a smile at you and ducks his head again. Damn frat bros with endearing charms that melt you like the perfect grilled cheese. 

Perfectly blue without a cloud in sight, the sky is an empty canvas above you. The air is just the right temperature, just between hot and cold, the sun ensuring that it never dips into the latter. Just the slightest breeze kisses your skin, lifting the edges of the papers but never flipping them. Soonyoung was right: the perfect date weather. 

“Soonyoung?” You turn your head to see a dark haired man standing over you. Wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and sides ripped open, you figure there’s a 80% chance he’s one of Soonyoung’s frat brothers. 

“Seokmin?” Soonyoung frowns. 

“You were actually serious?” Seokmin asks, gesturing to the books. “You know Seungkwan said it as a joke, right?” 

“Yeah, but a bet is a bet,” Soonyoung says. “And I really want his Playstation.” 

Seokmin snorts. “You know he only said it because he knows you can’t do it.” 

“I’m not like I’m losing anything by trying.” Soonyoung sets his lips in a sharp line of determination (which you recognize from the dining hall when he sweet talks his way into free cookies). Seokmin raises his eyebrows at his aggression but eventually decides it’s not worth the fight. Instead, he plops down on the blanket, making a little triangle between the three of you. 

“You must be YN,” he says, extending his hand. His easy smile and the way he sat down without waiting for an invitation reminds you of Soonyoung. Unlike the faux blonde, it feels foreign and you shift a little closer to Soonyoung instinctively. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you lie. Seokmin’s eyes curl into little half moons when he smiles, apparently not noticing your awkwardness. You can’t help but feel like he’s intruding as he turns to Soonyoung and asks him to explain what he’s doing. Soonyoung explains it well, though it helps that he was working on the analytical reasoning section. 

It’s because he’s interrupting Soonyoung’s studying. That’s why it bothers you that he’s here, even though Soonyoung doesn’t seem to mind and Seokmin seems genuinely interested. Unfortunately, the revelation doesn’t stop you from wishing Seokmin would just leave.  

“I don’t know how you do any of this,” Seokmin says after Soonyoung explains the next problem. 

“It’s easy!” Soonyoung says. “Half the time the answer is in the question, you just have to know where to look!” 

“Quoting me?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Well I did learn from the best!” 

“So cliche,” you mutter but the compliment gets you smiling anyway. You look up to find Seokmin looking at you. He has a strange look on his face, frowning, but not angrily. He looks a little bit like when Soonyoung can’t decide between the right answer and the second best option. He doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. 

“What?” 

He pauses a long moment before answering, as if pondering how to answer. Finally, he says, “I like you.” 

You stare at him. Soonyoung had been diligently working on practice problems but his head jerks up at the words. 

“I mean, you’re a cool person,” Seokmin quickly says. “Good tutor for Soonyoung.” After hearing his name, Soonyoung grins and turns back to underlining in the workbook. 

“Tutor?” You say. “I really don’t think I’m doing all that much.” 

Seokmin shrugs. ”I don’t know many people that would spend this much time with someone if they aren't helping. Besides, either way, I’ve never seen Soonyoung this dedicated before.” 

“That’s because you don’t dare to bet against me,” Soonyoung says without looking up. 

“He might have a point there,” you say. Soonyoung takes a moment to smile at your support. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re cool,” Seokmin says. 

“Thank you?” You wait for him to say something else but he sits back and rests his hands behind him, stretching out in the sun a little more. Sighing, he tilts his head toward the sun. 

“Seems like the weather will turn cold soon,” he says. “This might be the last warm day of the year.” He glances at Soonyoung. “And you’re spending it here instead of pre-gaming the Tau party.” 

Soonyoung’s pencil freezes. He peeks up at Seokmin, then at you, then shrugs. “I take my bets seriously.” 

“Whatever,” Seokmin says. He lays back fully, half of his body sticking off the blanket into the grass. “What are the Ke$ha lyrics? ‘The party don’t start ‘til Soonyoung walks in?’” He doesn’t wait for a correction. “I think I’ll wait until you're finished and we’ll tear it up together.” 

Soonyoung glances at you, then unsuccessfully tries to hide his laughter at your expression. You don’t mean to be rude, but Seokmin really just invited himself all on his own and crashed your picnic. Study date. Outdoor study session. The name doesn’t matter, what does matter is it’s only supposed to be you and Soonyoung. 

“He’ll fall asleep in about five seconds,” Soonyoung whispers. “He doesn’t actually care about the party, he just likes my nap blankets.” On that point you can’t really blame Seokmin. 

“As long as it doesn’t disrupt your studying,” you say. 

“Right,” Soonyoung says, more to himself than you. “That’s what’s important.” 

You aren’t so oblivious that you miss his bitterness, but you are enough of a coward to decide not to ask about it. How do you even ask about something like that? You can barely answer his questions about the LSAT, so feelings? No chance. 

You flip open your own workbook and set a pencil case down to keep the book open and ignore the soft snores from Seokmin. Soonyoung hums, the soft breeze carrying the gentle tune to you and easing you into a false sense of comfort, planting the idea that it’s always been like this and it always will be. But Soonyoung will take the LSAT in November and you will graduate in the spring and there won’t be any more excuses for seeing him, let alone laying out in the sun with him. Letting yourself enjoy this moment has dangerous consequences for your heart. 

And yet you enjoy the warm sun on your skin and hum along with Soonyoung anyway. Seokmin is right: this kind of day won’t last long. 

.

.

You jump awake at the sound. It takes you a moment to register where you are, to blink the sleep out of your eyes and recognize the stiff library chairs, the yellow tinted lighting of the study rooms on the third floor. Built like a prison cell with no windows and stained linoleum floors, you aren’t entirely sure how you fell asleep. The last thing you remember is working on your essay on Sense and Sensibility, which was rather difficult since you haven’t had the time to finish rereading it. Your book rests on the table next to your open laptop, screen dark. 

A second knock reminds you why you woke up in the first place and you turn to the door. Through the glass door you see a student with a backpack hanging off their shoulder, half smiling. They turn the knob, opening the door just enough to stick their head in. 

“Hey, sorry, I think I have the room scheduled,” they say. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” you say, slamming your laptop shut and shoving everything into your backpack. To their credit, the other student doesn’t rush you, even apologizing and telling you to take your time. But if you’ve lost the room, that means the two hours you had booked the study room for–the two hours you designated for writing the essay and doing problem sets–were spent asleep, which means the LSAT cram schedule has been completely thrown off with only three days before the test. 

You groan as you step into the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor. The farther up, the more intense the quiet levels get. Hopefully it won’t be so quiet that you fall asleep, but since you got a nap, you should be able to power through an all-nighter. It wouldn’t be the first time. You brace yourself to check your phone for the time, though being kicked out of the room means you already know your fate. 9:08 means that you have a little less than three hours until the library closes. You’ve done more with less time. 

The first couple desks are occupied by students but you don’t stray, heading for a familiar corner, ignoring the empty desks that line the stacks. Your corner, that you found freshman year during finals season when you couldn’t find an empty desk, is perfect: hidden behind the encyclopedia shelves with a light directly above it, only three dicks carved into it–all on the underside (discovered on a particularly bad day where you found it most comfortable to lay underneath and rethink your entire life). You smile at the small comfort, striding through the stacks with Sense and Sensibility still in your arms. 

You nearly drop the book when you see the backpack, abruptly turning despite the fact that it must have been obvious to whoever stole your corner that you were headed there. You feel rage boiling up and threatening to spill. You close your eyes, reminding yourself that the corner isn’t actually yours. Still, as you settle into a desk facing a giant window that reveals the dark campus, you can’t help but feel bitter. Your thoughts stray to the desk that should be yours, even as you pull out your computer. 

BATTERY LOW

The words light up your screen, mocking you before the screen falls dark again. You dig in your backpack for your charger that you always slip into the main pocket. You feel your underused pencil pouch, the single journal since you keep most of your notes on your laptop, LSAT prep book, your three folders, and no charger. Even when you look inside and lay the entire contents of your backpack on the desk in front of you, the only charger you find is for your phone. Which means the longer laptop cord is probably sitting on your desk, all the way back at your apartment. 

A twenty minute walk back, twenty minutes less for writing your essay. You can start it on your phone, maybe, though the thought of switching between reading the Sparknotes and typing already exhausts you. It’s moot anyways, since all you can do is sit and stare at the desk, covered in the contents of your soul. This is what your life has become: a stack of paper that weighs less than the digital universe on your laptop that’s all contingent on a $15 charger that abandons you when you need it most. 

In the end it isn’t the rage that gets to you. It’s the hilarity of it all, how silly it is that your life is dictated by something so stupid. 

The fifth floor decrees silence, so you make sure that your sobs don’t make a noise. You can’t control the tears but you can hold your breath. When your head starts to feel light and your lungs are desperate for air, you can breathe through your mouth and inhale as slow as you can to keep the shakiness to a minimum. You can do everything you can to hold it together, even when you’re falling apart. 

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You lift your head, ready to face a tired librarian kicking you out but instead you see bleach blonde hair and a forced smile over a furrowed brow. 

“What are you doing here?” You whisper, glad for the quiet because you don’t trust your voice to support you. 

He holds up a thick, leatherbound book. LSAT for Dummies. “Extra reading couldn’t hurt, right?” 

You blink at him. The only times you’ve seen Soonyoung in the library on his own has been with a thick blanket and closed eyes (it’s how you know he sleeps with his mouth open, just a little). You can’t quite believe he’s in front of you and yet he takes a step closer and doesn’t vanish. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks. 

“Shhh,” you say, holding your finger to your lips to get him to quiet down, even though there’s no one in sight. “Quiet floor.” 

He nods, looking around as if he’s waiting for someone to kick him out. He turns to look at your desk, the contents of your backpack still strewn about. He tilts his head but doesn’t dare raise his voice to ask. You know he hasn’t missed the tears, still wet on your cheeks. 

You done? He mouths. 

Not even close, you think, but you nod anyways because it’s the easier answer. Soonyoung doesn’t hesitate, gently closing your laptop and sweeping everything into your backpack. You watch as he dumps it all into the biggest pocket, zipping it up and slinging it onto his back. He tucks the law book under his arm and holds out his other hand for you to take. 

“Come on,” he whispers. And you take it, let him pull you out of your chair. The walk to the elevator; out of the library; toward the edge of campus; nothing feels far when Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your hand. You follow him in a daze, clinging to his hand in the off-chance that all your luck rides on him–like if you let go, you’ll lose your tether to this planet. 

Soonyoung rarely walks in silence and today is not an exception. He rambles about the only member of the frat capable of cooking that apparently can’t do anything without creating a giant mess. Even as he complains about the guy, Soonyoung can’t help defending him, explaining in mouth-watering detail how good his food is. 

“One time he crowd sourced some steaks and did a grill for the new pledges and they all thought it was a prank or something and nearly cried when he actually let them eat them. I think they burnt their mouths from eating it too fast, afraid someone was going to take it away from them.” Soonyoung stops at the edge of campus. He glances at you, a question in his eyes. Where are we going? 

“Soonyoung,” you say. Squeezing his hand feels natural. “I don’t really want to go back right now.” 

He nods, squeezing your hand back. “You want to go for a ride?” 

“You have a car?” 

“Nope.” Soonyoung fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes a call. You can only hear Soonyoung, who says, “I need a ride,” and “Pick me up by the duck statue,” and then he hangs up. 

The edge of campus that Soonyoung drags you to is right next to the athletic fields, which explains why there is a giant statue of the mascot that towers over you. It has three of its own personal spotlights and shiny claws from fans rubbing them for good luck, despite there being no official tradition. You only went to one game, mostly to confirm you would rather be anywhere else (except maybe the bathroom of the stadium). Either way, the only thing you do know about the statue and mascot for your school is that it is not a duck. 

“That’s a raven.” You point at the statue. 

Soonyoung frowns between you and the hunk of metal. “Oh, Larry?” 

“It has a name?” 

“Well, there’s the official name, which is like, Midnight Rain or something, and the frat name.” 

“And the frat name is Larry?” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I didn’t choose it.” 

“And you call it a duck, too?” 

“It looks like a duck.” 

You study the statue. You aren’t an ornithologist, but you’re pretty sure ducks have webbed feet instead of talons, and different beaks. Plus you’ve never seen a pure black duck. But you’ve spent enough time with Soonyoung to know it doesn’t have to make sense when the frat is involved (in fact, you’ve found sense is rarely involved in their decisions). 

“We just call it the duck. Or Larry, when we want to be formal.” Soonyoung jumps at the honk of a horn. You turn around with him to find an obnoxiously red convertible parked against the curb. The driver’s smooth black hair is styled to look effortless, hair falling just above his eyes, and he wears sunglasses despite the fact that the sun went down three hours ago. He might be attractive, if he wasn’t trying so hard. You never thought you had a type, but someone like Soonyoung, who wears clothes that he likes and sticks his hair straight up because he thinks it looks funny–that’s more your style. 

“Here’s our ride,” Soonyoung says. He starts walking, pulling you with him, still holding your hand. You aren’t sure if he even realizes, but you’re in no hurry to remind him. 

“Hey Josh,” he says. 

Driver (Josh, apparently), finally pulls off his sunglasses. “Soonyoung, you have a friend.” 

“I’m YN,” you say, wishing your voice didn’t sound so scratchy from crying. 

 “Oh, I know,” he says, a twinkle in his eye that flirts between danger and fun. “I’m Joshua.” You try not to feel unsettled by it. He raises an eyebrow as Soonyoung slides into the backseat and you sit beside him. “Am I just an Uber to you?” 

“Seungcheol is out and I knew there was no way you would let me drive your car,” Soonyoung says. 

“So, yes?” 

Soonyoung shrugs and laughs at Joshua’s expression. 

“Where are we headed?” He asks with a resigned sigh as if he’s used to Soonyoung’s antics. Has he done this before? You frown. Why does it matter to you if he’s done this with someone else? You’re so busy with the internal war, you miss Soonyoung’s answer. 

“Seriously?” Joshua asks. “It’s a weeknight.” 

“Like that’s ever been a problem for you.” 

Joshua glances at you. “You’re okay with this?” 

You pause. You don’t actually know where Soonyoung said to go. But it’s Soonyoung, your heart says. You're inclined to agree with it tonight. “Yeah.” 

He shakes his head and mutters something you don’t catch and kicks the car into gear. Before long, you are flying down a two lane road you didn’t even know existed. The wind starts to pick up with the top of the car down, blasting your face. Though your nose is still stuffed from crying, the air fills your lungs, tasting like dead leaves and unnatural warmth courtesy of climate change. For the first time tonight, you can breathe. 

.

.

The clock reads just shy of 1 am by the time the car stops. As soon as the rumbling engine cuts out, another noise takes over, drowning everything else out. Crashes too rhythmic to be thunder, the blows softened by tall dunes illuminated by the car’s headlights that Joshua didn’t turn off. 

Soonyoung turns to you with a grin. “Ready to have some fun?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, jumping out of the car instead of opening the door, ignoring Joshua’s shout. He sprints toward the crashing waves. 

Joshua shakes his head, opening his door and ushering you out from the back. He even closes the door behind you, folding his arms over his chest and walking slowly to the beach with you. The headlights cut out but the moon and stars shine enough to see where the boardwalk ends and the sand begins. Soonyoung’s movement gives him away more than any light, running alongside the water and dancing with the tide. 

You clear your throat. The ride cleared your head enough for you to feel properly embarrassed about meeting someone right after sobbing. You shudder to imagine how terrible you looked when he first picked you up, clinging to Soonyoung like he was the only thing keeping you alive. A blush forms just at the thought of it. 

“So, you do this often?” You ask. 

“Do something truly insane because of Soonyoung? All the time.” Joshua laughs. “We don’t usually end up this far away though, and usually someone’s life is in imminent danger.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say, watching Soonyoung strip his socks and shoes off and toss them behind him. One sock gets caught in the wind and blows back toward you and Joshua. 

Joshua stops before the two of you can catch up to him. You turn to look at him. It’s difficult to read his expression in the moonlight but he frowns like he’s not sure he should say something. Eventually he says, “I’m going for a walk down the boardwalk.” He glances at Soonyoung, then back at you and smiles. “Have fun with him.” 

You watch him turn around and trudge back up the sand, wondering if all of Soonyoung’s friends are this strange. Maybe it’s just being in a frat. You grab Soonyoung’s sock and set it with his shoes, smiling when he turns around and waves like a maniac. 

“It’s the ocean!” He shouts over the crashes. 

“You’re soaked!” You shout back. He glances down and apparently finally realizes his shirt is wet, clinging to his shoulders already. He strides back toward you, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer. 

“My shoes are not coming off!” You warn him. 

“Just come closer!” He says. “It’s amazing!” You stand with him at the edge of the water, watching it rise in the darkness and draw closer and closer. It crashes on the sand first, a violent move, kicking up wet sand and mixing it with white water. The frothy white water creeps forward, until you have to dance backward. Soonyoung stays in the water, letting it wash around his feet. 

“It feels better like this,” he says. 

“My feet are covered in enough sand,” you say, though he does look like he’s having fun. The water must be freezing this time of the year–it would feel so nice running over your skin. But you’d end up with wet socks and even more sand in your shoes to clean out. 

Soonyoung holds out his hand. “You’d like this.” 

You chew on your lip. Normally you’d laugh in his face and say ‘not a chance.’ But normalcy has never been running three hours away to the beach in the middle of the night when you have class at 9 in the morning. You pull off the sneakers without untying them and pull your socks off, setting them next to Soonyoung’s and joining him at the edge of the water. His hand isn’t out by the time you return but he slips it into yours when you join his side. 

Another wave crashes and you watch the water creep forward, faster than you expect it to be–and you’re right, it’s freezing, but Soonyoung’s right too, it sends an icy shock throughout your body that sends a tingly rush up from your toes to every nerve in your body, setting them on fire. You squeeze his hand and laugh. 

“Good?” He asks.

“I love it.” 

You don’t know how long you stand there, holding onto Soonyoung’s hand and letting the water wash over you. After a few waves, it doesn’t feel cold anymore. You stand until your feet are buried in wet sand, each wave sending you lower and lower. 

“My feet are freezing,” Soonyoung eventually says. 

“Mine, too.” You lift your feet reluctantly, already missing the coarse sand and cold water. You have to let go of Soonyoung’s hand to put on your socks and shoes, shuddering at all the sand in your socks. The cotton became damp from sitting too close to the water, your shoes faring the same. Yet you don’t regret a second of it. 

You stand up and stretch, feeling your spine pop. When you turn back around, you almost scream. You manage to contain it to a gasp, a wheezing Soonyoung’s name. He blinks at you innocently, like he isn’t standing in front of you with his shirt in his hand. 

“What are you doing?” You choke out. 

“We’re at the beach,” he says. “I have to take pictures.” 

“And you need to take off your shirt for that?” 

“Why? Does it bother you?” He smirks. 

Muscles have never been a selling point for you. The “people” you’ve crushed on have all been smart or kind, crushes of intellect rather than bodies. His toned abs, sculpted shoulders, the way his body curves gently as he allows you to stare at him–normally it wouldn’t get to you at all (other than the embarrassment of being this close to a shirtless man for the first time in a long time). But it’s not just the muscles. It’s Soonyoung, your Soonyoung who calls you at four in the morning to tell you about the movie he just finished and is too endearing for you to truly be annoyed at. It’s the Soonyoung that gets lost in the Engineering building even as a senior. It’s the Soonyoung that drags you to the beach in the middle of the night just to make you smile. Yes, it bothers you. No one should be this incredible and hot. 

“No,” you mumble, failing to convince yourself of the lie. 

Soonyoung seems to be done teasing you, dropping his shirt into your hands. He walks a little closer to the waves, apparently not bothered by the chilly ocean breeze. He starts to pose, then raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to take pictures?” 

“Where’s your phone?”

“The camera’s broken,” he says. “Just use yours and you can send them to me.” He continues to pose, flexing his arms as subtly as he can which isn’t particularly subtle (though the muscles are even more impressive in person). You are tempted to reach out and feel the tension, before you realize you are staring again. 

You numb to Soonyoung in this half-dressed state as you take the pictures. The frat must have a professional photographer or something, because Soonyoung knows how to pose. Despite some of the angles and positions seeming awkward, each picture comes out as if from a photoshoot. He only gives you a few instructions on taking pictures, and compliments you way beyond your talents. 

“Just like that!” Soonyoung says, breaking his model face to grin at you. “You’re really good at this.” 

“You can’t even see the pictures,” you say. You bite your lips so you don’t smile. Apparently that doesn’t matter, because he keeps posing. It’s a good thing you just upgraded your phone storage because you estimate at least a thousand pictures are taken for each pose. 

“Are you guys done?” You jump at the voice next to you. Apparently Joshua returned from his walk, sneaking up using the crashing waves as cover. “We should head back soon if you want to make your morning classes.” 

“Definitely want to,” you say. You haven’t gotten any work done, but that’s no excuse to skip class. Soonyoung pouts but doesn’t argue. 

“Perfect!” Joshua claps his hands together. He shoves you toward Soonyoung and grabs your phone. “One more picture together and we’ll go.”

Being at a distance worked perfectly fine but those muscles have you frozen in place again. Soonyoung throws an arm over your shoulders and grins like you do this all the time. His biceps press through your jacket, the flex of the muscle exactly as you imagined it, not that it stops your heart from thundering. 

You can’t help but steal a glance at Soonyoung. Despite feeling like you’ll malfunction at any second, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Soonyoung’s features look soft this close, even the sharp cut of his jawline. You want to study every line of his face, each curve, memorize it until the way his lips slowly curl into a smile is carved into your heart. Spending the rest of your life here doesn’t seem too bad. 

“Let’s go,” Joshua says, breaking whatever magic froze time for you. You are left with cold toes and sand in your sneakers as you march up the dune and back to Joshua’s car. 

“I just cleaned it,” he groans, looking at all the sand you and Soonyoung tracked in. 

You mumble an apology but when you try to offer to clean it for him, he shakes his head. “Nobody touches my baby.” 

You glance at Soonyoung, who followed you into the backseat again. He rolls his eyes at Joshua, smiling in a way that you know means he isn’t serious. You smile back at him and click your seatbelt into place. 

“Address?” Joshua asks, handing you his phone. You punch it in and hand the phone back. 3 hours and sixteen minutes. 

Joshua whistles, seeing the arrival time of 4:53. “Remind me never to do this again.” 

“The beach was your idea,” Soonyoung says. His words slur a little. 

“Just go to sleep already,” Joshua says. The engine rumbles on and he pulls away from the empty boardwalk. 

“‘m not even tired,” Soonyoung says, fighting a yawn. He slouches and leans against the headrest, rolling his head to look at you. “You have class in the morning?” 

“Not until nine.” 

“That’s good.” He doesn’t succeed in fighting the yawn this time. His blinks become longer and longer, eyes closing more than opening. It’s like watching the energizer bunny shut down. 

“Soonyoung?” 

He opens his eyes and you think maybe he’d wait for the rest of his life for you to say something. 

“Thank you.” 

“Always.” He smiles lazily. “I swore I’d do anything.” 

His sworn loyalty. It should be fun, having a boy like him dedicated to fulfilling your wishes. But what would it be like if he wasn’t sworn to you? If he did these kinds of things just because he wants to? 

You didn’t think you were tired but the next thing you know, Soonyoung gently shakes you awake. 

“We’re here,” he says in a quiet, very un-Soonyoung voice. 

You blink at him, trying to figure out why your neck hurts so much, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. From the rear view mirror, Joshua watches you. Right, instead of writing your essay, doing the problem sets, or any of the readings, you went to the beach. You wait for the guilt to set in but it doesn’t come. None of the anxieties from earlier in the evening (the technical part of your brain reminds you it was the night before) overwhelm you. 

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat. Your mouth tastes nasty but before you can say anything, Soonyoung hands you a water bottle. You take a sip before saying thank you. 

Soonyoung unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’ll walk you up.” 

You nod, grateful you don’t have to ask him. The night has been a full adventure on its own yet you aren’t quite ready for it to be over. At least you aren’t ready to say goodbye to Soonyoung. 

There’s still something you want to tell him. You want to tell him that you like his blonde hair, even though everyone else thinks it’s ridiculous. You want to tell him that you lied earlier, you nearly lost your mind seeing him shirtless. You want to tell him that you feel proud when he gets the right answer on the first try, that you think his concentration frown is cute, that you’ve never enjoyed studying like you do when he’s by your side. You want to tell him that on your worst days, days like today, just being Soonyoung makes it better. 

But you learned a long time ago tired ramblings and drunk confessions are siblings. They both end in heartbreak and twelve packs of ramen. 

So you ride the elevator with him and watch the lights flicker. You never cared when Jihoon brought his friends (well, Jun) over, but the carpets that look dirty no matter how many times they’re cleaned and beige walls are even worse tonight. You can stand to live in a boring apartment, but not a dirty one. 

“This is me,” you say, gesturing to 808. You turn your back on the door, facing Soonyoung instead. He looks radiant under the fluorescent hallway lights, which really isn’t fair. They make his bleach blonde hair look natural, highlight the blemishes on his skin, easy to see when he’s this close. 

You should go inside and he should go back down but neither of you move. For the second time tonight, you are frozen in time with Soonyoung. 

The floor creaks and you jump, turning around at the same time, accidentally knocking into Soonyoung’s chest as you turn to face the noise behind you. Jihoon, gym bag over his shoulder, frowns at you across the hallway. 

“Are you seriously just getting back now?” 

Shit. You never texted him. “Um, Jihoon, this is Soonyoung,” you say. He waves behind you. “Soonyoung, Jihoon.” 

Jihoon folds his arms. “I’ve heard about you.” You glare at him, which he ignores. “You’re taking the LSAT on a dare?” 

“You’re the one that wants to be a music producer?” 

Jihoon raises his eyebrows and looks at you. “You’ve mentioned me?” 

“Only the worst,” you say, smiling at him. 

“I thought you were at the library all night?” Jihoon says. 

“We went on an adventure,” you say. You show him your sandy shoes. He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he knows he interrupted something, but the stubborn asshole doesn’t move. 

You turn back to Soonyoung. “Goodnight,” you say, resisting the urge to hug him. 

“It’s morning,” Jihoon says. 

“Goodnight,” Soonyoung says, glancing at Jihoon. He pauses and fidgets with the hem of his shirt but finally gives you a half hug that feels more like a bro hug than anything else. He disappears into the elevator then pops his head out a final time “Send me the photos!” 

You turn to Jihoon. “I forgot to text you.” 

“I figured I’d wait until the morning to call,” he said. “Even if you were kidnapped there’s still a 90% chance you’d figure out a way to show up for class on time.” He turns the key in the lock and strides into the apartment. You’re too tired to argue back, especially when he’s right, so you just follow him into the apartment. 

“I like him,” Jihoon says before you vanish into your room. 

“Should I find you a wedding dress?” You say. “Soonyoung is single.” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes and grabs a protein shake from the fridge. “Why do I even bother?” 

You don’t wait for him to leave first, peeling your shoes off in the entryway where you can sweep up the sand and practically fall into your room. It’s race to change into an old t-shirt before you collapse onto your bed. 

You set an alarm for 8:30 and check fifty times to make sure it’s actually set. Then you open your camera roll, shaking your head at the countless pictures. You choose twenty non-blurry ones before your eyes start to droop. You scroll to the bottom and click on the pictures Joshua took. Soonyoung grins for the camera, his easy smile as captivating on your phone as it is in person. You are staring at him, a soft smile on your lips and hearts practically bugging out of your eyes. It’s so ridiculously obvious how you feel. You send him his thirst traps and keep that picture for yourself. 

It takes a week for you to realize Soonyoung never posted the pictures. 

.

.

The weight of the world has the decency to wait until you’re home to fall on your shoulders. You hold your keys up and can’t push it into the lock. If you didn’t do well today, it means the past two months have been a complete waste–all the studying, the assignments you got low grades on because you were studying, the nights you spent at your desk–wasted and doomed to repeat. 

All but the time you spent with Soonyoung. Even if you fail (again), he should at least score decently, and you can’t consider that a complete waste. 

You raise your key to insert it into the lock but the door flies open. Jihoon glares at you, arms folded over his chest. “What the hell is taking you so long, your boyfriend is here.”  

You peer past him and find Soonyoung lounging on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table. He sits up when he sees you, grinning and waving. You wonder if he’s been there since you told him you were finished. You make a mental note to get Jihoon his favorite protein shakes. 

“How did you know I was here?” 

“Me and your boyfriend heard you shaking your keys in front of the door for like twenty minutes,” Jihoon says.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mutter, praying Soonyoung didn’t hear either of you. You push past Jihoon, letting him lock the door behind you. Soonyoung jumps off the couch as soon as you drop your bag, almost tackling you in a hug. You pretend not to hear Jihoon’s scoff as he locks himself in his room again. 

“How’d it go?” He asks, squeezing you one more time before letting go. You try not to feel disappointed about it. “I mean, I know you did amazing, but how do you feel? Was the room super hot or super cold? Did the proctor give you the evil eye when you turned in your paper because they were secretly trying to sabotage you?” 

“No?” You frown. “And the room was fine, I felt pretty good about it, but I felt good last time, so I don’t really know, I just really don’t want to take it again.” You sigh. “I know you want to know as many details as possible for your test, but I really, really don’t want to think about it right now.” 

Soonyoung grins and pulls out a package of White Claws and a bottle of vodka from a plastic bag that you just noticed sitting on your coffee table. “That’s perfect because I brought a gift from the whole frat.” 

“That seems pretty on brand,” you say. 

“And a gift from me.” He digs again and pulls out a DVD. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. 

“You’re kidding.” You say. “I think I have to be drunk to watch that.” 

“You don’t have faith in my taste in movies?” Soonyoung asks but he pops open the first drink and slips something shaped concerningly like a knife out of his pocket and stabs the can, chugging it before it can really spill on your carpet. Before you can register what he did, he tosses the empty can on the coffee table, immediately scrambling to straighten it. “Sorry, force of habit.” 

“Soonyoung, I don’t think I can keep up with you,” you say, sitting slowly onto the couch. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m a lightweight,” he says. “I definitely should not have chugged that.” 

“I guess I better catch up,” you say, unscrewing the vodka and pouring a shot in the little paper cups that Soonyoung brought. The acrid scent curls your lip but you knock it back as fast as you can, forcing it down when you miss the back of your throat and it burns your tongue. Soonyoung hands you a can, the lime flavored seltzer pushing the nasty flavor out of your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m terrible at that,” you say. 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I’m not one to judge. You should have seen me as a pledge.” 

You grin at the mental image of Soonyoung wearing a fake toga made of bedsheets. “I bet you were adorable.” You take another sip of the drink (which tastes significantly worse when you aren’t comparing it to straight vodka) and miss Soonyoung scrambling for words. 

“I can’t drink this,” you declare, setting the can down. You cross the room to the fridge, opening it and studying the contents. Soonyoung follows you, resting his chin on the door and glancing inside. 

“Jihoon does most of the cooking,” you say, feeling self-conscious. Not much populates your fridge, a package of chicken breast and a carton of eggs. A couple containers of take out that are either two days or two weeks old sit in front, and the drawer of fruit that is filled with apples from Jihoon’s mother definitely smells funny. 

“I live in a frat house, this is heaven.” 

You flash him a smile and grab the orange juice, shaking it as you grab a glass from the cabinet (thank god Jihoon did the dishes last night). Soonyoung follows you back to the couch and waits for you to pour a glass and add two shots of vodka. You raise the glass and he takes your rejected White Claw and clinks it. 

“Cheers,” he says, sipping this one instead of chugging it. He sets it down and leans against the armrest so that he can face you. “How did you meet Jihoon, by the way? He seems like a pretty reserved dude.”

“Yeah, sorry if he was short with you, he isn’t half as mean as he pretends to be,” you say. 

“We actually talked a lot.” He pauses, tilting his head as he thinks about it. “Well, a lot about working out. I think I could turn him into my gym buddy with enough pressure.” 

“I would pay to see that,” you say. Jihoon tried to bring you to the gym exactly once, and you have regretted it ever since. The soreness haunts you, but you think Soonyoung might be one of the few people on the planet that could keep up with him with those arms. 

“I didn’t know you were into that,” Soonyoung says with a giggle. You roll your eyes. 

“You know for a fact that’s not what I meant,” you say, “and to answer your question, we lived in the same dorm freshman year. He was next door, and both our roommates were psychotic, so we ended up trading. We’ve been living together ever since because I’m the only one that can put up with his annoying ass. Also he cooks and keeps me alive during finals.” 

“I can’t believe I was a dorm assignment away from living with you.” Soonyoung shakes his head and pretends to sigh. “Fate isn’t on my side.” 

“Don’t you live in a frat house?” 

“Semantics,” Soonyoung says. He pauses. “Semen-tics.” He starts to laugh and though the joke is far from funny, you find yourself giggling too. 

“You’re drunk,” you say. 

Soonyoung points at you. “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk too.” 

You tilt your head from side to side, trying to think at first but the motion feels nice, toeing the line between dizzying and comfortable. Right, you were checking if you were drunk. You have your answer, but you don’t want to stop spinning just yet. 

“Do you really want to be a lawyer?” Soonyoung asks. You freeze with your head on your right shoulder, frowning at him. “I mean, like, how do you know?” 

“It makes good money,” you say. “Well, corporate law does. Everything going according to plan, I’ll be out of debt before I’m thirty, retiring at 65.” 

“But how do you know that’s what you want?” Soonyoung asks. You wonder if he’s asking you or himself. You think about the first day you met him. 

It was the first day of your sophomore year, 8 in the morning in the worst classroom in the Armhayer Building at the end of a dead end hallway with no windows. The business program had a required career building course and some cruel administrator decided to make the other available class clash with the other required business class for the year, so half the class was people you were stuck with for the full year. Despite its reputation, the business school at the university seemed to only accept idiots. 

You settled for a long semester of biting back your eye rolls and yawning through class, choosing a seat in the front so that at least you won’t have to look at anyone else. And for fifteen minutes, you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

Then Soonyoung walked in. 

He was out of breath, telling the professor that he got lost several times and someone gave him the wrong directions. You didn’t really pay attention to him until he dropped into the seat next to you. Fully prepared to give him a side eye and judge him for the rest of the semester, Soonyoung flashed a smile at you and apologized for disrupting you. He was so obviously not your type, yet when his head dropped on your shoulder, you didn’t wake him up. Two classes later when the professor told the class that you would be in a semester-long partner project, you didn’t hesitate to say yes when Soonyoung asked you. 

Soonyoung hadn’t ever taken the class seriously, going through the motions and doing the bare minimum for most of the assignments. You never paid any attention to it, but you realize that he never actually told you what he planned to do with his life, always asking you what you planned to do with your copious amounts of money. Now you wonder if it was because he really doesn’t know. 

“I want stability,” you finally say. “This plan is stable. Safe, as long as everything goes according to plan. I guess it’s not as cool as dreaming about being an astronaut or whatever, but it’s what I want.” 

“I think it’s cool. Knowing what you want to do.” Soonyoung says with little enthusiasm. 

“You don’t have any idea?” 

He shrugs. “I have to be smart to do the things I want to do.” 

“You are smart.” 

“You don’t have to pander to me, I’m not looking for your pity.” 

“Soonyoung.” You wait for him to look you in the eyes. “You are smart. This isn’t pity. Sure it takes you a little longer to read things, and you have to work a little harder to answer some questions, but that doesn’t mean you’re not smart. You’re just as capable as me, more capable when it comes to emotional intelligence. Have you ever noticed that wherever you go, someone is always waving to you? I don’t think there’s a single person in this world that doesn’t like you. Don’t downplay how important that is.” 

He chews on his lip and you know he doesn’t believe you. How many people have told him he’s dumb? You want to drag every single one of them here and make them apologize, make them realize how special the boy in front of you is. Eventually he shrugs. “I’ll just end up being an intern, and then I’ll be so charming they’ll promote me without realizing I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll become a CEO that pays people to do the job for me.” 

You smile and shake your head. “We can vacation together in the Bahamas.” 

“Please, that’s where the semi-rich people go,” Soonyoung says, lifting his head from the back of the couch. “We’ll have our own islands and sail past each other.” This time when he smiles, the sparkle glints, just a little. His bleach blonde hair sticks in strange angles from rubbing against the couch, looking a little like a fuzzball. You reach a hand out and pat it down, except the hair is fried from being bleached so many times and almost breaks under your hand. 

When you pull your hand down, Soonyoung is staring at you. Except staring isn’t the right word. He looks at you like no one else ever has, a thousand unsaid words behind his eyes, a language like no other that maybe only you can understand. Those dark eyes, so soft and warm, begging you to drown in them. He’s a siren, luring you in with a song of desire that only you can hear. 

You don’t realize you’ve leaning closer until you fall forward, catching yourself on his chest. Soonyoung’s hand flies to your waist, moving so fast it must have been reflex. 

“Sorry,” you mutter but you don’t get off him. Resisting his eyes from this close is impossible. Soonyoung blinks at you, frozen. It occurs to you that you’re almost kissing him. All you have to do is lean forward, press your lips against his. Would his lips be chapped? Would he kiss you back? Would he make fun of you for being a terrible kisser? You hold your breath, wondering if you are about to find out. 

You jump at the bang of a door slamming shut. You push off Soonyoung’s chest, back to your side of the couch until your back slams against the armrest. The pain is almost enough to sober you up and you realize exactly what you were about to do. You can’t bear to look at Soonyoung staring at you so you look at Jihoon instead, who doesn’t seem to realize that he interrupted anything by walking into the kitchen, headphones blasting music so loud that you can hear it. He grabs one of the takeout containers from the fridge and finally notices you and Soonyoung staring at him. 

“What?” He shouts over his headphones. You shake your head and he stares at you all the way back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make you jump again. 

“We should probably start the movie,” you say, turning to face forward, anywhere but Soonyoung. “I’ll get my laptop.” He doesn’t say anything but you can feel Soonyoung’s eyes on you as you jump up. Ignoring the spinning in your head, you walk to your room. You lean against the door as soon as it shuts behind you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. 

You wish you could blame the idiocy on the alcohol, but you aren’t drunk enough for that. Besides, regardless of the reason, it was a mistake, it would be a mistake, to kiss Soonyoung. No matter how badly you want to do it. 

Your computer sits on your desk. The longer it takes for you to get back, the stranger it will be, so you grab it and return to the couch. Dizziness gives you an excuse to peer at the floor, perfectly valid reason to avoid Soonyoung’s eyes. 

“Are you ready to have your mind blown?” He asks when you insert the DVD into your laptop. 

You raise your eyebrows but still don’t have the courage to face him. “It’s that good?” 

Soonyoung laughs easily, as if nothing happened. “You have no idea what you’re in for.” 

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He faces the computer, sitting back against the couch. Other than his red tinted cheeks, you can’t tell he’s drunk at all. You have no idea what you’re in for, he said. He has no idea how right he is. 

.

.

You hold Soonyoung by the shoulders, staring him down. Your eyes begin to water but you hold them open, determined not to lose. Soonyoung squints, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. You just have to hold out a little longer, but your eyes begin to ache and the air pierces into them. 

“Damn!” Soonyoung cries, throwing himself back onto the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. You let go of his shoulders and resist the urge to rub your eyes, settling for blinking as fast as humanly possible. Your eyes burn but you smile anyways, wiping tears away with the back of your hand. 

“How are you so good at that?” Soonyoung asks. He gives into the impulse, hands pressed against his eyes. 

“I’m really not, I think you’re just bad at staring contests,” you say. “Now hurry up, you lost so you have to answer.” 

He sighs as if he didn’t beg you to help him study. With only a day before his test, you’re not sure how much this is really helping, but at least he isn’t partying with the rest of his frat (who do a pre-finals bar crawl, apparently). Instead, Soonyoung is on your couch, again. You try not to think about the last time he was here. Not productive thoughts, especially not when Soonyoung is one day away from taking the most important test of his life. 

“Is it B?” 

“Are you asking or telling?” 

“I hate when you say that.” He peers at the paper, eyes moving slowly as he rereads the line. “No, it’s C! Wait, no, B. No, A!” 

“Pick an answer.” 

He chews on his lip. You have to force yourself to keep your focus on his eyes. “B,” he finally says. 

You’re tempted to drag it out and make him wait but he puts on the Soonyoung Sparkle so you go ahead and nod. 

“I knew it! Trust your gut!” 

“You’re quoting me now.” You pretend to wipe tears from the corner of your eyes. “You’ve grown up so quickly.”  

If it were Jihoon, he’d roll his eyes but Soonyoung perks up, as if you’ve given him a real compliment. He pauses before asking his next question, eyes flickering to the papers separating you from him. 

“You really think I’ll do well?” He asks softly. 

You study him, the way his unnaturally blonde hair has been strategically gelled to stick up in all the right places, the way his plain white t-shirt hangs loose on his shoulders. You wonder what he sees when he looks in the mirror because the way he sits now, waiting for an answer as if you’d actually say no, breaks your heart a little. He really has no idea how brilliant he is, in every sense of the word. You don’t know how to make him see it so you just take his hand and wait for him to look you in the eyes. 

The second the glittering dark irises meet yours, you see the desperation. He tries to smile, to hide the fear but Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You fight the urge to brush your fingers against his cheek. 

“Soonyoung.” You squeeze his hand. What you feel isn’t a passing crush, you’ve known that for a while now. Admitting it doesn’t give you the bravery to do anything except pull the shield of cowardice around your heart a little tighter. “I’d be an idiot if I said I didn’t.” 

He holds your gaze a little longer, until it almost looks like he believes you. Then his eyes light up. “I have a surprise for you!” 

He digs into his backpack, pulling out a blanket (not the one he used when it was still warm enough to sit outside in the grass), a plastic water bottle half-full of bright green liquid, three crumpled flyers for events on campus, and finally, a small rectangular item, carefully wrapped in paper towels. 

“I was a little worried it would get damaged in my backpack,” he says. “I really, really tried to walk gently and didn’t bring it near any coffee.” 

You choose not to point out the unnatural liquid in the plastic water bottle, instead appreciating his efforts to protect whatever your surprise is. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t try. He carefully pulls the paper towels off, revealing a navy blue leather bound book with gilded lettering. Not just any book. 

“You got it back?” You cry. Soonyoung pulls the rest of the paper towels off to reveal the intricate design on the cover, the golden pages, with Pride and Prejudice inscribed on the spine. “My baby!” 

You hover over the book, not wanting to ruin it with the dirt and oils from your hands but so desperately wanting to caress the beautiful book. It’s just as you remember it, down to the tiny dent on the front cover where you accidentally knocked it against a railing. You can’t wait to put it back on your bookshelf where there has been an empty space ever since Jun managed to snag it. You remember Soonyoung is there when you hear his laughter. 

“You like it that much?” 

“Of course,” you say. “It’s my baby.” 

“It’s a book.” But he smiles and you know he’s just teasing. So you figure, why not? 

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His frat-bro instincts must take charge because he doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, pulling you against his chest and squeezing you like he’s the one getting a gift. 

“Thank you,” you say. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

“This is my thank you,” he says. You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest, a strange sensation that sends butterflies tumbling around between your stomach and your heart. “It’s the least I could do for you. 

The awkward position isn’t exactly comfortable, twisting your body to face him with your shoulder overtop of his forcing your face into his neck but you don’t want to let go. You give yourself five more thundering heartbeats before you let go, turning to study your book again so you have an excuse to avoid his eyes. 

“How did you get it back?” 

“Same way you lost it,” Soonyoung says. “I made a bet.” 

“On what?” 

Soonyoung shrugs, turning to look at the book that still sits in his lip. He gently places it into yours, using the paper towels to prevent smudging with his fingers. 

You frown. “How? Jun is in another hemisphere.” 

“Don’t underestimate the power of video calls and express shipping,” Soonyoung says. “By the way, I’m wearing your friends down. Pretty soon they’ll like me more than they like you. 

“Oh really?” You raise your eyebrow. You ignore the vole gnawing at your gut whispering that he might just be right. 

“I got Jihoon to go to the gym with me and I got him to admit I was friends with you before he was,” he says, holding a finger out. “Jun says that he wants to meet me the second he returns to the country.” A second finger goes up. “Who else can I add to the list?” 

He’s only joking. He doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but your skin wants to crawl inside out. The truth is, they are pretty much your only friends. Jihoon, Jun, and Soonyoung, the latter two having wormed their way into your life. My only friends. 

“You’ve got to start going on the offensive,” Soonyoung says. He avoids your eyes and you know he didn’t miss your discomfort. Great, now he pities you. “I’m serious, Seokmin and Joshua have been asking about you, and Seungcheol keeps complaining that he hasn’t met you yet.” 

You snort. “They’re frat bros, they just want more people to party with.” 

“I’m a frat bro,” he says. 

“Yeah, but…” But what? He’s Soonyoung? Once again, you wonder why he is so different to you–why the epitome of frat boy chaos doesn’t repulse you like he should. But he isn’t some one-dimensional steroid-infused party boy, not the type to bully the freshman trying to join just because he can. He gets drunk after two shots and makes his pledges follow him for 24 hours a day as “hazing,” only to take them for a dinner he can’t afford and skips his own classes so they don’t miss theirs. 

He’s not a typical frat boy. But Soonyoung loves his frat, and you can’t find a way to tell him this without making it sound like you are looking down on the rest of the members. 

So you just say, “Isn’t this supposed to be a study session?” 

Soonyoung sighs, pulling the book in front of him and staring at the words. Even though you can see that he isn’t reading, he doesn’t say anything else. 

“Your test is tomorrow,” you say. 

“Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t pick up the pencil. 

You’ve never struggled to read Soonyoung. He can’t hide when he’s upset, shoulders slumping, a little pout forming over his lips. He doesn’t fully frown but his eyebrows comes together, just a bit. And it’s usually easy to figure out what’s wrong–he’s tired, or wants to be at a party instead of studying. But now? He was fine just a moment ago, even while he was cramming earlier. 

“Is something wrong?” You don’t know why you’re so scared of the answer. 

“I just thought that… nNever mind.” He sighs again. “You’re right, this is a study session. I should be studying.” He doesn’t look at you and you can’t help but feel like you messed up. But Soonyoung eventually picks up his pencil and asks you to check his answers and the feeling slowly fades. 

Will the rest of your feelings fade when you aren’t with him like this anymore? When he takes his test and has no reason to see you every day? Will your heart still beat at the mention of his name? Will you spend the rest of your life thinking about all the almosts with him? Or will it fade until Soonyoung is just a boy that you helped because of a silly bet?

Even as you consider it, you know the answer. He isn’t just a boy, and he never will be. Maybe that’s what really scares you. 

.

.

You glare at Soonyoung. “Do you know what time it is?” 

Jihoon glances at his watch. “7:43.” 

Soonyoung grins beside him, arm over his shoulder. Both boys stand in your bedroom doorway looking far too composed for this ungodly hour. 

“It’s a Saturday.” Just two minutes ago you were in blissful sleep. Okay, maybe not blissful, since you stayed up until three in the morning because you couldn’t fall asleep, and you were having a weird dream where you were looking for something and ended up by the stadium staring at a giant duck statue instead of the raven. But the point is you were asleep until two fists banged on your door so loud you thought it was going to fall apart. 

You can’t even be that mad at Soonyoung, not when he smiles like that. So you glare at Jihoon.

“Honestly, I figured you would be up,” he says. “You were the one that said you didn’t think you were going to get any sleep.” 

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says. “I really just wanted to help distract you for the last hour.” Right. The last hour until your entire future would be determined by a triple digit number. No biggie. 

“Let me get dressed,” you say. They step back before you have the chance to slam the door in their face. You’d like to be able to dress up nicely, but you’re already shivering, so you grab your comfiest sweatpants and the sweatshirt Soonyoung lent you (that still smells like his cologne). You dart into the bathroom and meet the two boys in the doorway of the apartment, pulling on your sneakers. 

You pull the hood over your messy hair and tighten the strings. Soonyoung grins at you and taps your nose. 

“Ready to go?” 

“How did you get out of bed this early?” 

“Oh, I never got in,” he says. “Long story, but we gotta go, they won’t wait much longer.” 

“They?” You ask but Soonyoung doesn’t hear you. He turns to Jihoon, waving. 

“See you tomorrow!” He says, throwing an arm over your shoulders to pull you out the door. “I’ll let you know how it goes!” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” But he looks at you and smiles. “It’ll be fine.” Before you can thank him, he shuts the door. 

Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your side, pulling you to the elevators and squeezing you against him. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I should be asleep.” 

Soonyoung smiles, as if your grumpiness is funny. You decide it’s moot since there’s no way you could fall asleep now that you are an hour and seven minutes away from finding out the results of your future. 

“I figured I’d save you from wallowing in worry,” Soonyoung says. “We can do fun things while we wait. I planned out the whole morning, we have options! There’s going to the gym, or for a job around campus, breaking into the science lab and petting the rabbits, going to Barb’s for breakfast–”

“Breakfast,” you say. You aren’t a huge fan of getting in trouble with the college when you have just over a semester before graduation and though you aren’t sure if your stomach will accept food, working out is a guarantee for throwing up. Besides, a hot cup of coffee could clear a little of the fog in your brain. 

“Barb’s it is,” Soonyoung says, practically bouncing on his toes. He really seems to only have two settings, and today he’s at 120%. 

He lets go of your side when the elevator opens and you step to the ground floor of your apartment. You rub your arms and pretend like the chill is from the weather even though the lobby is still warm. He holds the door for you pretending to be a doorman, bowing and gesturing with his arm for you to pass. You turn so that he doesn’t see that the silly gesture made you smile. 

Parked outside is a white jeep that looks larger than normal, and is apparently the asshole that’s been blasting their music for the past ten minutes. You aren’t surprised in the slightest when Soonyoung strides up to the car.  

“I don’t have a car,” he says, belatedly apologetic. The two men in the front seat don’t seem to mind, though you suspect they have been up all night along with Soonyoung as soon as the door opens and you hear their voices singing off-tune over the blasting music. 

“Boy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away,” The driver cries, using a water bottle as a mic. You recognize Seungcheol from Soonyoung’s descriptions, half from his voice and half from the back of his head. The person riding shotgun is also familiar, a mess of dark hair that must be Joshua. He doesn’t look much different in daylight, sunglasses resting on his forehead. Thankfully they turn the music down a little and stop singing when you get it. 

Seungcheol grins at you through the mirror. “So I finally get to meet the infamous YN. You know, you still haven’t shown up to any parties.” 

“I’ve been busy,” you say, glancing at Soonyoung who focuses a little too much on his seatbelt. 

“Hi, YN,” the passenger up front says, waving at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Joshua,” you say. “Get into life and death scenarios with Soonyoung recently?” 

“Well, Soonyoung jumped out of a car window.” He pauses. “It wasn’t moving,” he adds when Seungcheol jerks his head towards him. “Though I wouldn’t put it past him.” 

“I have done it before,” Soonyoung says solemnly. It takes him a moment to realize everyone is staring at him. “It was a dare.” 

“Why am I not surprised,” Seungcheol grumbles, turning back around and putting the car into drive. Though you were thinking something along the same lines, the way Soonyoung deflates a little makes you wish Seungcheol hadn’t said anything. 

The rest of the drive is quiet–at least in terms of conversation. Seungcheol cranks his stereo up to the loudest setting and blasts the Spice Girls until Joshua starts singing along. Apparently car karaoke for “Wannabe” is sacrilegious to the frat leader. 

You can hear yourself think again when the car pulls into the parking lot and he finally cuts the engine. A few cars line the parking lot of the 24 hour diner that sits on the outskirts of campus. The giant neon red Barb’s that hangs over the entrance flickers in the cloudy morning light teeters the line between quaint and electrical fire waiting to happen. 

The workers, a host and three waitresses, wave at the boys, and do a double take at you. You swear you hear the host whisper “Is that really them?” to Joshua as he leads the group to a table in the corner but Soonyoung distracts you with the menu. 

“I had this thing memorized since freshman year, I can’t believe you’ve never been here. The pancakes are my favorite for hangover cures, not that I’m hungover by the way, I’m actually running on my third energy drink.” He taps the picture, a golden stack of perfectly fluffy pancakes that can only be photoshop. 

“Aren’t energy drinks bad for your heart?” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “Joshua invented this to get through finals, you mix Red Bull, Bang, and Coke and it keeps you up for three days straight. Great for when you’re nervous because you physically have to do something about it.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say. “Wait, why are you nervous?” 

“Your test results come out today,” he says too quickly.  

You consider debating with him but a waitress approaches, wearing a fifties frock and a high ponytail with a ribbon that probably looked like a bow at the start of her shift but has drooped down and now just looks sad. Her face is a mask of emotions, not a smile, not a frown, just emptiness, a contrast to the button clipped to her collar making her “Happy.” 

“The usual?” She asks, pausing at you. She tilts her head and you can see the mask twisting at the edges, a frown almost forming on her brow. She glances at Soonyoung. “Is this who I think it is?” 

“Who do you think it is?” Soonyoung asks at the same time that Joshua and Seungcheol say, “Yes.” 

The corner of Happy’s lips turn into a tiny smile that seems to be her equivalent of a grin. “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

“Okay, haha, very funny,” Soonyoung says. “Stop harassing my friend. We’ll order when we have a chance to look at the menu.”  

Happy raises her eyebrow just slightly at the word “friend,” but closes her notepad. She returns to a pastel pink bar where you can clearly see her whispering and gesturing to you. 

“Why do so many people know me?” You mutter, shrinking into the corner of the booth. 

“The thing about Drunk Soonyoung is that he doesn’t really shut up,” Seungcheol says. 

“That’s being gentle,” Joshua says. “One time he spent four hours describing Finding Nemo. That’s longer than the actual movie.” 

“It’s a good movie,” Soonyoung says. 

“The point is,” Seungcheol says, glaring at Joshua, “he tends to talk when he’s drunk. Usually about good things, things that he… Well, things that he likes.” 

You turn your head to look at Soonyoung, who is once again pretending to study the menu. “You like studying for the LSAT that much?” 

Joshua unsuccessfully tries to hide his laugh with a snort while Seungcheol gains slightly more success with a fake cough. Soonyoung doesn’t react at all, staring at the painted flowers on the menu. Eventually, he shrugs. “I’m dedicated to the bet.” He points at a stack of pancakes covered in bananas and chocolate. “That’s what I usually get.” 

“Isn’t against all rules of gym core and muscle building to eat decadent things?” 

“Did you just call working out ‘gym core?’” Seungcheol asks. 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Nope!” Soonyoung says brightly. “And cheat days are a thing, so do you want to split it or not?” 

“You know I can’t say no to bananas and chocolate.” 

“And pancakes!” He waves down the waitress and points to the stack. 

“Ah, the new Soonyoung,” she says. “You guys getting your actual usual?” 

Joshua and Seungcheol nod and she doesn’t bother to write any of it down. Then again she already knows their orders. Except she called Soonyoung’s “new.” Before you can ask what she meant, a shout makes you jump. You turn around to see a stream of boys entering, enough of whom you recognize that you realize at least half the frat has rolled into the diner. The waitresses roll their eyes and groan but somehow they don’t look all that upset. 

“Mr. President!” The tallest boy, Johnny according to Soonyoung’s Instagram tags, holds a fist over his heart and pounds it a couple times. Seungcheol nods and greets each of the boys, most of whom seem to still be in various stages of inebriation. Almost all of them glance at you and whisper to each other, and you get the feeling they know exactly who you are. 

Just what has Soonyoung said about you? 

“How are we doing on time?” One of them calls out. 

“46 minutes,” Joshua says. You frown. 46 minutes… until 9? Do they all know about today? 

You tap Soonyoung on the arm. “What’s going on?” 

“You see, the thing is,” he says, “apparently I was nervous?” He tries to fake a laugh but it sounds strained. “I don’t really know but the guys made me tell them about today and then I didn’t really know what was happening but I guess they followed us here? Thought you might like moral support, or something.” 

You peek out at the booths crowded with frat bros and cringe back into your seat when they grin at you. “They’re all looking at me.” 

“Well, I guess I do talk about you a lot,” he says, only loud enough for you to hear. He won’t meet your eyes. 

Ask him why. You want to be brave. You want to be right about the answer you think he’ll give you. You chew the inside of your cheek. 

“Because of the bet?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t answer for a moment. “I guess.” 

Coward. 

“Why are we whispering?” Joshua asks, leaning across Soonyoung towards you. “Are we gossiping?” 

Soonyoung pushes him off. “Butt out.” 

“Just telling Soonyoung that I’ve never had an army of drunk guys rooting for me before,” you say. 

“Could have had it sooner if you came to a party,” Seungcheol says. 

“You really want me at a party that bad? We just met.” 

Seungcheol glances at Soonyoung, who shakes his head. He sighs. “If only I could tell you why you need to come.” 

You frown between the three men. “I don’t like when people talk in circles over me.” 

“Just promise you’ll come to the Christmas party. It’ll all make sense then,” Seungcheol says. You’ve heard a lot about Seungcheol from Soonyoung, and the more you listen to him, the more you believe it. He’s a strange man. 

“I’ll think about making an appearance.” 

“Really?” Soonyoung whips around to face you and you know that you have to come now. You haven’t seen him this excited since you let him skip studying to party. No, he’s even more excited now. “You’ll come?” 

You can’t stand his gaze so you study the placemats. “Maybe.” 

He grabs your hand until you meet his eyes. “Please?” 

The Soonyoung Sparkle. You never win against it. “Fine.” 

“Get a room,” Joshua says behind a very fake cough. You pull your hand back into your lap and pretend like you aren’t embarrassed. 

“How long now?” You shout out.

“40 minutes,” someone answers. You groan and lean back into the sofa. Studying was hard enough but waiting makes you want to pull out each individual hair on your head. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide if the stain looks more like a horse or a flower. 

“Look at this.” Soonyoung passes his phone in front of you, forcing you to look down. His Instagram is open to a picture of a kitten looking drunk, face covered in milk. Such and obvious attempt to distract you but you smile anyway. 

“Sweet,” you say and even you aren’t sure if you mean the cat or Soonyoung. He shows you cat pictures until the food finally arrives (33 minutes to go). You have to wait another five minutes because Soonyoung insists on having a photoshoot, despite your protests that you look like you just woke up (he raises his eyebrows at that). You stop fighting when Joshua makes him cut a piece of the pancake and feed it to you. Chocolate nearly drops in your lap but Soonyoung shoots his hand out at the last second and catches it. 

“Okay, can we please just eat,” you say. Joshua and Seungcheol shrug and pretend like they weren’t instigating the pictures and telling you and Soonyoung how to pose. 

Soonyoung was right about the bananas and chocolate. Rich and decadent, they’re delicious. When he cuts you a slice and pushes it toward you, you can even forget the countdown to the end of the world. Or, more accurately, the end of the world doesn’t mean anything to you when Soonyoung smiles at you like that. 

You eat slowly enough to bring you to the ten minute mark. Fear mixes with the dessert for breakfast in your stomach, twisting it until it threatens to jump out of your throat. Soonyoung takes your hand under the table and holds it. You don’t run away this time. 

He holds you to the planet again, keeps you from floating away and disappearing before you can reach the stars. It’s Soonyoung that keeps your heart beating. Always Soonyoung. 

Seungcheol and Joshua chat, Soonyoung piping in a few times, but their words don’t reach you. Stuck somewhere between crushed beneath the weight of the world and floating away, you focus on the clock, watching the seconds tick closer and closer. 

“Last minute!” Someone behind you finally shouts. Soonyoung squeezes your hand. You pull up the website on your phone and put in your login information and hover over the SUBMIT. At thirty seconds, they start shouting it out. 

“Ten!” 

“Nine!” 

“Eight!” 

“Seven!” 

“Six!” 

“Five!” 

“Four!” 

“Three!” 

“Two!” 

“One!” 

Half the guys start cheering already, probably forgetting the count down doesn’t mean as much as the results themselves. You hit SUBMIT and watch the little wheel spin around and around and around until it finally refreshes. The number stares back at you, impossible to read right in front of you. 

169. 

“Congratulations!” Soonyoung shouts, throwing his arms around you and squeezing while you try to comprehend what that means. 169. The number should be all you can think about but Soonyoung holds you, shouting how proud he is, how he always believed in you. 

“169!” Seungcheol shouts, miles away from your bubble. You can hear the guys break out into cheers, hear them chanting the number (which turns into 69) but it’s just you and Soonyoung. The world didn’t end and Soonyoung is still by your side. 

The rest of the morning is a blur. Every member of the frat insists on congratulating you, which mostly means a lot of hugs, though one of the more drunk guys tried to spin you around on his shoulder. You laugh when you’d usually frown and find your way back to Soonyoung’s side like a magnet. 

Maybe it’s the euphoria that gives you courage. 

“Hey Soonyoung?” 

“Hm?” 

You say it before you can think too much. “Maybe just the two of us next time?” 

He grins before you can finish speaking. “I’d love that.” 

.

.

You have the courtesy to let Soonyoung sleep in as much as he wants. You wait for him at Barb’s, trying to figure out how to call this a date. 

You’ve seen him a couple times since you got your score back, but you needed to study for finals and he had to make up for missing a lot of frat activities. You’ve only seen him in passing, nothing to fill the Soonyoung shaped hole in your heart. But today that will change. You will celebrate together and you will tell him how you feel. And then… you have no idea. 

It’s just Soonyoung there’s nothing to be nervous about. Too bad your body doesn’t agree with you. Every nerve stands at attention, jumping at the bell that rings when the door opens. You don’t worry when Soonyoung doesn’t get to Barb’s by 8:30 like he said he would. Even at 8:45, you aren’t worried. 

It’s only at 8:55 that you really start to wonder where he is. Maybe you should have picked him up. Knowing him, there’s a 50% chance he’s lying in a ditch after a failed attempt to recreate an impossible stunt from Fast and Furious. At 9, you call him. Between each silence in the ring, you wait for his voice but it never comes. He uses the automated voicemail, so you don’t even get his voice telling you to leave a message. 

The anxiety turns to fear while you wait. The door rings and you see a fluff of bleach blonde hair and jump up. But though you recognize the face, it isn’t Soonyoung. 

Chan, one of the younger members of the frat, with Mingyu and a guy whose name you forgot. They all have the same look in their eyes when they see you, far too much like pity. 

“You’re YN, right?” Mingyu asks. “You’re supposed to meet Soonyoung?” The two guys with him, easily identifiable as frat members between their unkempt hair and sweatshirts plastered with Greek letters, stop mid conversation and glance at each other. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, still standing in the awkward position in the booth. 

“He’s got his score back,” Mingyu says. 

“We were supposed to–” 

“Yeah, I know,” Mingyu says. “It was a 167. You should really talk to him yourself.” He pauses, glancing at his frat brothers but they shrug. “He’s at the house. See if you can talk some sense into him.” 

You’re too afraid to ask any other questions so you just watch Mingyu and the other two walk past, and pretend that they aren’t whispering and stealing glances at you. 

Going to a frat house was never on your bucket list but your feet travel without guidance. You find yourself in front of a rather nondescript house. No bodies hang out from windows, no one is passed out in the yard. Then again it’s a weekday. 

You pause at the door, wondering if you should knock. You tap your hand on the door and it slides open, the latch bolt pushed completely in. You step inside tentatively, peeking around but it’s quiet. You turn the corner to find an open room and Soonyoung sitting on a couch, glass with a bright liquid in his hand. He doesn’t even look at you. 

“Are you seriously drunk right now?” 

Soonyoung just shrugs, taking another sip from the glass. Even from here you can smell that it’s more tequila than fruit punch. 

You shake your head, crossing the room sitting beside him even though he didn’t invite you to sit down. He was considerably cuter the last time you saw him drunk. You’ve gotten used to the power of Soonyoung’s facial expressions, his smiles, his frowns, the way his eyes glaze over when he’s bored, the way they gleam when he daydreams; they’re as precious to you as Soonyoung himself. But his face is a clean slate now, not a smile, not a frown, just a blank stare. 

“You know a 167 is still insanely good, right?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Soonyoung.” He doesn’t look at you, so you grab his drink. Any other day and you would have failed miserably but his alcohol-impaired senses make him slow enough for you to get a hand on the half-empty glass. He glares at you but you don’t yield, tightening your grip and pulling the bottle even harder. 

“Let go,” you growl. “Talk to me like a normal human.” 

He shakes his head, pulling on the glass so you yank back, except you overestimate how weak he is like this, and the glass flies out of his hand, the contents spilling all over you. The red liquid sinks into your blue sweater, soaking you through all three layers. 

“What the hell?” Soonyoung says. 

“That gets your fucking attention? Spilling your drink?” You say. “You know, I really thought you were different.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re acting like a child. So you didn’t win the bet. Who fucking cares? Do you know how hard it is to get higher than a 160? Soonyoung, you are smart, and you worked so hard for this. You could go to law school with that score. You could graduate above a 2.3 if you stopped acting like a stereotypical fuck bro and actually studied. 

“You know, you could actually be something if you wanted. You don’t have to get a degree and work at a corporate job that sucks your soul away until the Soonyoung that actually matters is gone. I know it’s easier this way, but if you actually tried to dream, you could do something. I don’t get it, honestly. Because everyone thinks you’re an idiot you act like one? Is that what it is?” 

“You don’t have to pretend like you don’t think the same thing.” 

You snort. “I don’t, but clearly you won’t believe me. You think that if you have to work for something then it’s not worth it when you could be so much more.” 

“Why do you even care?” Soonyoung asks, looking you in the eyes for the first time. For a moment, you think you might actually be wrong, because all you see in his eyes is pain. A physical force that constricts your heart and makes you weak in the knees, Soonyoung looks at you like he’s been fighting a war you never knew about, like he’s been suffering in silence for a lifetime. He looks at you like you’ve broken his heart. 

Why do I care? You could scoff. Because I’ve been in love with you ever since you fell asleep on my shoulder. I’ve been fighting this stupid crush for so long that I don’t know who I am without it. I don’t know who I am without you. I care because every day the world proves that we aren’t worthy of this planet, that love can’t solve all problems yet you make me question it all. You don’t just bring light into my life, you make it glitter. And I can’t tell you any of this. 

“I don’t know.” The lie tastes bitter but it’s still sweeter than rejection.

“Then why are you here?” Soonyoung looks away. Without his eyes pinning you down, you can breathe again, but every inhale still drags against your heart. You stand up. Afterall, you don’t have an answer for him. 

“I take it back. You are an idiot,” you mutter over his head as you walk past him. You make it to the corner of the street before the tears finally spill over your cheeks, and all the way back to your room before you can’t breathe. 

.

.

Without the distraction of finals, you are left with your own thoughts, your words and Soonyoung’s floating around your head. You have always been something of a hermit but you’ve become J.D. Salinger himself, only leaving your room to sneak into the kitchen and scrounge for scraps of junk food that Jihoon hasn’t thrown away yet. You watch so much reality TV that you start to dream about it. 

Every episode the people, a family living on a homestead that just happens to dress in brand name clothes and drive a Benz, fight and cry and make up. You yell at the mother when she forces her daughter to change because she didn’t think polka dots are appropriate and cry along with the daughter when she starts to sniffle in her confessional, wondering if her mother would ever approve of her choices, whether it was clothes or the people she wants to date. 

You bet your confessional would be a hit if it was ever filmed. Tears run down your cheeks as you practice it in the mirror, choking out an apology for calling him an idiot and telling the whole world what you aren’t brave enough to tell him. 

Jun calls but you can’t answer. He leaves three voicemails: an apology, a goofy one telling you he’ll be back soon, and a final one, yelling at you to pick up or at least let him know you’re alive. You text him an apology you don’t know if you mean. He says thank you anyway and doesn’t call again. 

You have no plans to change your schedule (wake up, steal food, cry, sleep) but on the third day you run out of goldfish and can’t find anything in the kitchen that doesn’t make you nauseous. To make matters worse, despite the fact that it’s seven in the morning (the earliest you’ve woken up since the Fight), Jihoon catches you. 

You’ve successfully avoided him and his inevitable lecture, slamming your door shut and ignoring his knocks but he catches you off guard today. He sneaks in from his morning workout wearing a black t-shirt and slides that he somehow manages to walk stealthily in, scaring you when you close the fridge and find him standing where the door was. 

“Are you done hiding?” 

“I’m not hiding,” you mutter. 

He folds his arms. 

“Fine,” you say. “I’m not done hiding.” 

“Well too fucking bad,” Jihoon says. You try to step past him but he holds his arm out. You’ll never beat him in a physical fight so you step back, shaking your head. 

“Have it your way. Go ahead.” You wave your hand. “Get it all out. Yell at me or lecture me or whatever, I don’t care. You’re going to tell me that I’m an idiot? That I shouldn’t be so afraid of rejection, that I’m blind to how he feels? 

“Or are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t trust someone like him? That I shouldn’t be crying over a goddamn frat boy, I’m better than this, I’m better than him.” You choke back a sob, not sure what words are coming out anymore. You wipe at the tears in your eyes and are so focused on trying not to cry that you don’t notice Jihoon walking away. You do see him come back, blurry shape coming into focus as you blink away the tears. He holds something in his hand, a navy blue square. A throw pillow from the couch? 

He shifts it in his hand until he holds the corner with the zipper, swinging it a couple times back and forth. Then he yanks his arm back and arcs the pillow in a wide loop, landing directly on your head. 

“Ow!” You cry but Jihoon just swings again, hitting your arm this time. He hits you so hard it knocks you off balance, sending you to the floor. Jihoon doesn’t hesitate, swinging the pillow into you again and again, every inch of you. 

“You. Are. An. Idiot.” He grunts out each word with a blow. “You really think you’re better than him?” 

He finally pauses, not even breathing heavily. You shake your head to answer him. “Of course not.” 

“Good,” he says. Then he hits you again and again and again. 

“Ow, Jihoon, what the hell?” You bury your head in your knees and hold your arms over you, trying in vain to protect yourself. 

“I’m not your babysitter,” he says. “I’m not your father, or your brother, or any of that shit. I’m your best friend and you’re being an idiot and I’m not going to stop hitting you until you get some sense knocked into you.” He freezes, as if realizing exactly what he said. “Wait, no–that’s not what I mean, shit, sorry, but–” 

You peek out from your arms and find Jihoon opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out what to say. He looks like a fish out of water, and it occurs to you he is a fish out of water. He’s never had to comfort you before, probably never had to comfort anyone. No wonder he’s so bad at it. 

You wouldn’t laugh at him and borderline abuse, but your emotions are beyond fried, and he just looks so funny standing over you with a pillow raised, still sputtering half apologies. You try to stop the laugh before it comes out but it turns into a snort and then you can’t stop laughing, tears that you tried to push back falling freely. You lay back on the floor and laugh until your sides hurt, only vaguely aware of Jihoon laughing above you. Eventually he joins you on the floor. 

“You know what I meant,” he says. The pillow rests on the floor between his legs, all the fluff on the far end from the one-sided pillow fight. 

“I knew what you meant without the pillow.” 

“Too bad,” Jihoon says. “I’m tired of listening to the theme song of that god awful show. You could at least watch something like–” 

“I swear if you bring up an anime, you’ll feel exactly how hard that pillow can hit.” 

Jihoon laughs, patting it a couple times. “I saw him the other day. He looked tired.” He pauses but you don’t dare speak. “We didn’t speak. I don’t even think he saw me. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not the one he needs to talk to.” 

“I know,” you say. 

“Then why are you still on the floor?” 

Because you’re scared. Because it would be easier to just give up now, for once to ignore putting in the hard work and just let it pass. But just because it’s the easy option doesn’t mean it’s the right option. At the very least you need to apologize to him. 

“What if he hates me?” 

Jihoon snorts. “Then he’ll get some pillow violence too.” He pauses. “He doesn’t, though.”

“It doesn’t mean that it will turn out okay.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” Jihoon says. “But no matter what happens, you’ll deal with it. And even if it absolutely sucks in the moment, eventually it will be over, and it sure as hell will be better than that stupid fucking show.” 

You nod, setting your chin on your knees. Your stomach turns in anticipation for what you will have to do, but he’s right. It’s time to stop running. Tonight is the Christmas party, and you were never formally uninvited. Somehow you doubt Seungcheol will throw you out. It’s time to get off the floor and get ready. 

“Have you ever thought of being a life coach?” 

“Hell no.” 

.

.

What am I doing here? You fake a smile at Seungcheol and swallow the shot as fast as you can, grimacing as the vodka burns everything from the inside of your mouth to the depths of your stomach. You should have just stuck to your mixed drink only policy but Soonyoung always has you breaking your rules. Even when he isn’t with you. 

Seungcheol disappears as soon as you take the drink, and you don't see anyone else you are comfortable enough to chat with, though that list is quite short. You do a turn of the house, which looks marginally better than the last time you saw it ,the benefit of bad lighting. It’s already crowded with more people than you’ve ever seen on campus. You make your way through each room on the lower floor, finding more than a couple bleach blondes. None are who you’re looking for. You stop in the living room, where you saw him last. 

“He isn’t here.” You turn at the voice. An unfamiliar boy stands next to you, holding a half-empty Smirnoff Ice. “He went to visit family or something.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “At least that’s what he said.” 

You nod. You find it doesn’t surprise you that he seems to know who you are. You suppose you’ve grown used to it, just one of the side-effects of being close with Soonyoung. Though it’s still strange, it doesn’t make you uncomfortable anymore. Or it wouldn’t, if you didn’t think this stranger is implying that it’s your fault Soonyoung isn’t at the ‘Party of the Year.’ 

You can’t stand his gaze so you make your way back towards the drinks, grabbing the first bottle you could find and chugging half of the lukewarm drink. It tastes like a fruit you can’t recognize and carbonation and the more you drink the harder it is to swallow but you force it down. 

You came to apologize. He isn’t here, so why do you stay? Because you promised him? Do you really miss him that much? That you would come here and suffer through all this chaos, just for the memory of him? It doesn’t make any sense but you think that might be a side effect of the alcohol. You get another drink just in case you’re still sober. 

.

.

Your head pounds, the aching feeling of the stage between drunk and sober. Normally you’d like to be sound asleep by now, or at least in the comfort of your home, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. It’s hot and sweaty, the music is way too loud, and you can’t find water anywhere, but you stay anyway, because you’re an idiot that fell in love. 

You curl up on the couch, opposite of a couple making out as if the room isn’t full of people, waiting for just a glimpse of him that will never appear. Even drunk, you think it’s pitiful, but you can’t stop. 

You didn’t think you could fall asleep in all the noise but you open your eyes when you feel the world tilt sideways. You’re vaguely aware of the arms underneath your legs and back, cradling you against someone’s chest. No, not just someone. 

Because you aren’t enough of an idiot, you can tell it’s him, his sweet scent, maybe even just his arms. Soonyoung carries you out of the living room and up the stairs, the blaring music fading only slightly. 

“I thought you weren’t here,” you mumble. 

Soonyoung frowns down at you. “You okay?” 

You shake your head, suddenly realizing there are tears in your eyes. No, I’m not okay, I love you, you want to say. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to hug you while still carrying you. 

With your head resting against his chest, you can fully appreciate his beauty. His hair is black, which suits him even though he looks nothing like your Soonyoung anymore. You reach up and trace the lines of his face that are unchanging, the sharp straight line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his nose, his soft eyebrows. You drop your hand when you realize he’s staring at you, belatedly realizing you never got to his lips. You can only imagine how soft they’d be, soft like Soonyoung himself. 

“You’re crying,” Soonyoung says softly. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or not. He pauses in front of a door, struggling to open it without dropping you. Finally the door swings open and he sets you down on a bed, taking a deep breath and sitting beside you. 

He brushes the tears from your eyes, as Soonyoung as ever. Sweet as ever. Sweet and Soonyoung. They should be the same word. You make a mental note to email Merriam-Webster’s dictionary and make the suggestion. 

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just watching you with those perfect eyes. His hand rests on your face even though the tears are long gone, thumb tracing shapes on your cheek. 

“You swore you’d do anything for me,” you say. 

“Anything,” Soonyoung repeats. 

You turn to the walls, knocking his hand off your cheek, not daring to look him in the eyes. Even drunk, you are a coward. He’s put up pictures on his wall, a couple Polaroids but mostly printed pictures, with the frat, some childhood pictures, and one that you recognize. The picture of the two of you at the beach that you thought you didn’t send, where you are looking at him with all the love in your heart. You trace his smile, blinding even in paper form. 

“Could you maybe try loving me back then?” You mumble. Your eyes feel heavy between the alcohol and the tears and you’ve said what you needed to say, so you let them take over, closing your eyes and letting the blasting music from downstairs drown out any thoughts. And because it’s so loud and you’ve already drifted off to sleep, there’s no way you could hear his answer. 

“I already do.” 

.

.

The first thing you do when you wake up is throw up. You make it out of the bed but not to the bathroom, mostly because you don’t actually know where it is. You grab the nearest bucket-shaped item, which happens to be a mostly empty trash can. You lean away as soon as you’re done, breathing through your mouth and looking away from the mess. Belatedly, you realize someone is patting your back, brushing hair out of your face. 

“Better?” Soonyoung asks. His knees rests against your lower back, one hand resting on your back, the other caressing your face. Thank god you already threw up because looking at him makes your stomach twist again and if there was anything in you, it would come up again. If you could throw up your heart, you would. As it is, the organ is trying to climb its way up your throat, whether it’s guilt or heartbreak you don’t know. 

 You nod in answer to his question, letting him help you up. Your head pounds and though you know you won’t throw up again, your stomach flips. Right, your policy of mixed drinks is definitely reinstated after this. 

“Sorry I threw up in your trash can,” you say. 

“Believe me, that is not the worst that trash can has seen,” Soonyoung says. “Wait, that sounds bad, I didn’t mean it in a weird way, I just mean–” He stops himself, shaking his head. “It’s a frat house.” 

“It’s your room,” you say softly. With sober (albeit heavily hungover) eyes, you take in the room again. It’s tiny, one bed pushed against a wall with a desk set right next to it. Unsurprisingly, it’s stacked with protein powder and a pile of frat flyers, laptop balancing off the edge, not a paper in sight. Except for the one next to his bed, the walls are bare, an ugly shade of beige except for a circle filled with white plaster that looks suspiciously like the reformed crime scene of a fist going through drywall. It must be from whoever owned the room before Soonyoung. 

The wall next to his bed is covered in pictures. You remember being amazed by them last night. Your eyes zero in on the picture of the two of you, right next to the pillow that’s still dented from your head. 

“Did I steal your bed?” You frown except the movement hurts your head. 

“I slept in Johnny’s room since he’s decided to disappear off the face of the planet instead of accepting the fact that he graduates next semester,” Soonyoung says. “I actually just came in here for some clothes, which reminds me.” He rummages through a drawer, pulling out a wrinkled t-shirt and handing it to you. “If you want a change.” 

You glance down and feel like throwing up all over again. Your favorite shirt is covered in stains, alcohol, vomit, and something you definitely don’t want to name. If you weren’t feeling so terrible already, you’d cry that Soonyoung is seeing you like this. 

“I’ll get you a toothbrush, too,” he mutters, disappearing and leaving you to scramble to switch shirts. The white dri-fit is meant to be a workout shirt, though it’s clear that it would be oversize on Soonyoung. Either way, the soft fabric is gentle on your skin, much better than the jeans you slept in. Too bad you’re stuck in them until you get back to your apartment. 

You could run away right now. Soonyoung probably wouldn’t be surprised. But he’s being nice to you, so much nicer than you deserve. Sweet and Soonyoung. But you came here to apologize, and though last night got derailed, you can’t keep running from it. Besides, it’s not like the morning can get much worse. 

So when Soonyoung comes back proudly brandishing an unopened toothbrush that he may or may not have stolen from Seungcheol’s bathroom, you accept it gratefully. You stare yourself down in the bathroom, fighting nausea and an impending migraine because you have a mission to achieve, a real mission unlike last night. It’s still a haze, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget how gently Soonyoung cradled you against his chest, the brush of his fingers on your cheek. If he didn’t show up this morning, you’d think it was a dream. 

Soonyoung’s door is open when you finish but he isn’t in his room. You grab your bag from the floor and venture down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. There’s a couple people passed out in the living room, and one person snoring softly in the kitchen, head folded in his arms in a position that must be incredibly painful for his neck. But it’s where you find Soonyoung, digging through the fridge and finally pulling out a water bottle. He hands it to you, along with a bottle of pills. 

“Thank you,” you sigh, not even bothering to check the label for the brand. You take a couple and chug half the bottle, gaslighting yourself into believing that it will instantly revive you (it doesn’t work and your head still pounds). 

“Are you hungry?” Soonyoung asks. He opens the fridge again, this time wide enough to show the shelves that are filled with beer, vodka, and White Claws. There’s a pizza box and some eggs, but not much else. 

“How are any of you alive?” You ask softly, glancing at the snoring person on the counter. 

“Yuta can sleep through an apocalypse, don’t worry about him,” Soonyoung says, waving his hand. He closes the fridge, leaning against it. “And most of us keep our actual food in mini-fridges. I just cleared mine out for break, so I don’t have anything in it.” He doesn’t say anything else about vanishing. 

“I’m pretty sure that pizza has been in there since the start of the semester and I’ve never seen eggs in here before though, so I don’t think you should risk any of this,” Soonyoung says. “McDonald’s fries are a far superior hangover cure, they’ve never failed me.” 

“There’s a McDonald’s nearby?” 

Soonyoung grins, pulling keys out of his pocket and spinning them around his fingers a couple times, except they fly off and clatter on the floor. The man asleep on the counter, Yuta apparently, stirs but doesn’t move. You can’t help but smile as Soonyoung scrambles to retrieve them from the floor. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flustered. 

“There isn’t one,” Soonyoung explains, leading the way to the door. “But I have the keys to Seungcheol’s car.” 

“I’m not really comfortable with grand theft auto,” you say, though you don’t stop following him to Seungcheol’s giant white Jeep. 

“He gave me the keys last night when I walked in,” Soonyoung says. “Something about owing me. He was pretty drunk.” He darts around to the passenger side before you can, opening the door for you. He waves his hand when you frown at him, as if you’re the one acting strange. Thinking with this headache is too hard so you just get into the car and strap the seatbelt on. 

“I can’t believe you thought I’d steal a car,” Soonyoung says. He turns the engine on and scans the front of the car before finally settling his right hand on the gear shift. 

“You have driven this car before, right?” 

“Of course,” Soonyoung says a little too fast. You grab onto the door handle and hope that your stomach really is empty. 

Soonyoung’s driving isn’t the worst you’ve ever experienced; that title goes to Jihoon, who was banned from touching car keys after his Mario Kart driving. That said, you think he’s a good second place. He slams on the gas and the brakes too hard and drives altogether too fast. He blasts the radio and sings along purposefully off key. You should be terrified but it’s the most fun you’ve ever had riding in the passenger seat. 

“I’m never riding with you again,” you say, breathless from laughing. He pulls to a stop at the red light, the Golden arches of your destination still one light away. “You know yellow lights mean slow down right?”

“I stopped at this one!” Soonyoung says. “I’ll have you know I haven’t been in an accident.” He pauses. “Since I was nineteen.” 

You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from smiling fully. “That’s what I figured.” You peek at Soonyoung and he’s smiling too. 

So different from the last time you saw him. You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t be able to laugh and joke around with him so easily, not when you still haven’t apologized. And Soonyoung shouldn’t be looking at you like that, genuine fondness in his eyes. 

“The light’s green,” you say. His smile fades a little when he turns his head and drives ahead, stepping lightly for once. You’re so close now, but a car going straight in the right lane prevents him from turning. 

The pain medicine must have kicked in because your headache is slowly fading, replaced by heartache that no medication can cure. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You blurt out. 

The blinker beeps a steady rhythm in the empty silence. “Isn’t it obvious?” 

“Nothing’s ever obvious with you, Soonyoung,” you say softly. 

“Oh.” The light turns green and he guides the car slowly into the parking lot, stopping in a spot instead of pulling up to the drive through. As soon as the car is in park, he turns to face you. There’s a crease in his forehead that you recognize from the rare occasions that he would actually talk to you seriously. “YN, I genuinely thought I was being clear about this from the beginning, but if you still really don’t get it, then I’ll say it straight up: I like you. I’ve liked you since the day we met and then I fell in love with you. 

“Did you know you’re the first person that’s ever genuinely believed in me? I mean, I know I have friends, and my family means well, but they always get this look in their eye whenever I talk about trying for things, like it was cute that I was trying, but they never actually believed in me. And I started to believe them too. I started to believe that I couldn’t believe in myself.” He frowns. “That makes no sense. The point is, you are the reason I started to believe in myself again. 

“No one’s ever looked at me like you do. No one’s ever told me to get my shit together–well, they have, but you’re the only one that told me it was because I could be better. 

“You say it wasn’t obvious, but I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times. I flirted, I tried to ask you on a date so many times, and I finally accepted that you’d never see me like that, so I was a dick. I told you off, even though you were right. I’m so sorry for that, and I’m sorry I ran away, and I’m sorry it took me so long to apologize.” 

“Stop,” you say. Soonyoung’s eyes widen, tears welling up, and you realize he thinks you’re rejecting him. “Stop apologizing!” His brow creases in confusion, an adorable frown. Summoning all your courage, you reach out, resting your hand on his. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I didn’t have any right to judge you and the choices you were making, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you when I knew how much the bet meant to you.”

You squeeze his hand, closing your eyes. “And I think I was a little oblivious on purpose. I’m not the kind of person that has crushes, let alone crushes that like me back, so I freaked a little and missed all the signs.” You open your eyes and grin at him. It’s easy to feel brave when he smiles back at you. “But I like you, Soonyoung. I like you so much, I don’t have enough words to express it. My whole life has been about my future, my career, and it’s exhausting, but being with you makes it all exciting again. Like, no matter what happens, if you’re with me, it won’t just be okay, it’ll be fun.” 

Soonyoung beams. “Really?” 

You squeeze his hand. “I like you.” Like the first time you took the LSAT, you can’t think of a single word, except instead of damning your future this feels like the start of it. Soonyoung sits across from you and you don’t need words. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, but reality sets in when your stomach growls. You glance outside the window and remember where you are. “Did you just confess to me in a McDonald’s parking lot?” 

“Better than drunk in my own bed.” 

“I didn’t!” You let go of his hand to hide your face. 

Soonyoung grins. “You were cute!” 

“I don’t remember it, it doesn't count!” 

“Whatever you say,” Soonyoung says, leaning over the center console. He gently pulls your hands away from your face, hand circling your wrist gently. You instinctively hold your breath, though you don’t lean away. Soonyoung leans a little closer, forehead resting against yours. 

“This okay?” He whispers, breath kissing your lips, and you remember that less than an hour ago, you were throwing up. Your head still aches and your stomach is still queasy and your whole body feels disgusting. 

“We are not having our first kiss in a McDonald’s parking lot,” you say, leaning back. Soonyoung sighs, but he sits back in his chair, settling for grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours. 

“Fine,” Soonyoung says. He rubs his thumb back and forth, and when you meet his eyes, you see a familiar glint of trouble. “You know I’m still sworn to you. Whatever you want.” 

The words go straight to your heart. You could live a thousand lives and never meet someone as genuine as Soonyoung. You know that he means it, heart and soul, that he’d do anything for you. And it should be terrifying that he’s willing to bear his heart for you, that you are willing to do the same. But it’s Soonyoung. It’s easy to trust him with it, because even though he breaks half the computers he touches and can’t hold onto a pencil for his life, he won’t ever drop your heart. 

I love you. One day you’ll be able to say it, one day you’ll scream it like you so desperately want to. But until then, you settle for his certified brilliant smile and the gentle brush of his lips on the back of your hand, only letting go to turn the engine back on. 

“Let’s get you some fries,” he says. “Then kisses?” 

You shake your head and laugh, slipping your hand back into his. 

Before he can put the car into gear, his phone rings. He stares at the screen for a moment, frowning like he can’t decide whether he should answer it or not. Finally he slides the green across, turning on speaker. 

“Hey Seungcheol, I’m with—” 

“Where the hell are you? And where is my car?” Seungcheol’s voice is somewhere between angry and concerned. “You think it’s okay to vanish and then show up only to steal my car?” 

“First of all, you gave me the keys,” Soonyoung says. He glances at you. “And I’m at McDonald’s because YN desperately needed a hangover cure.” 

“Hey,” you say so Seungcheol knows you’re there. 

The line is quiet for so long you think Soonyoung’s phone has finally given up on him but eventually he says, “You’re with YN?” 

“We talked,” he says. “And we’re good.” 

You snort. “That’s how you’re going to describe it?” 

“Are we not good?” 

You glance at your hand still intertwined with his, the Soonyoung Sparkle glittering back at you when you look him in the eyes. Good? There’s not a word to describe how you feel right now. 

“We are beyond good.” 

.

.

“Are you crying?” You whisper. Soonyoung shakes his head, chin brushing against your head but when he inhales again, he sniffles. You reach up to pat his cheek and are entirely unsurprised when it’s wet. On screen Elle Woods continues her speech, for once not wearing pink. 

“She’s just so cool,” Soonyoung says. You lift your head off his chest so you can look him in the eyes. The temptation to tease him is hard to resist but he pouts his lips and you see another tear slip out. You kiss his cheek, out of habit more than anything. Strange how much can change in two weeks, how something you’ve never imagined doing has become natural. But being with Soonyoung is just like that. New and old at the same time, the kind of comfort that has you planning how to make this last a lifetime. 

Soonyoung wraps his arms around you tighter, so you nestle back into his chest, turning away from the end of the movie to close your eyes and breathe in his cologne. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck. “The whole bet was based on a movie you haven’t seen.” 

“You’re missing the end,” he says. His voice rumbles in your ear, drowning out his heartbeat. 

“I’ve seen it before.” Your bed really isn’t built for two people to lay down together. You are laying more on Soonyoung than the mattress but it’s not the first time. From the way he holds you, you doubt it’ll be the last. 

The credits roll too quickly, but Soonyoung still doesn’t let go. He pulls you up so that your head is next to his, nose centimeters away from yours. 

“So am I officially qualified to go to law school?” He asks. 

“You are Elle Woods certified,” you say. “But you’re sure that’s what you want?” 

“I mean I have to get in. But I figure if I’m going to waste away at a desk, I might as well do it for something I believe in.” He pauses. “With someone that believes in me.” He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, breath tickling the sensitive skin. You can’t help but sigh. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s what you want,” you say, after several heartbeats of struggling to think. 

“I want…” His words “To be with you. However you’ll have me.” His arms loosen, hands sliding down to your waist. 

“Still not answering the question,” you breathe out but you can’t even remember what the question is, not when he’s shifting to lay on top of you, lips inching their way up your neck. He kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips, then stops, pulling away and meeting your eyes again.

The Soonyoung Sparkle. The grinch has nothing on you–your heart swells so large it feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest–Alien style. Does he know what he does to you? How he’s made everything in your life shine? How happy you are when he��s with you? 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Soonyoung blinks at you. “You…” 

“I love you,” you say again, this time with more confidence. “I really, really love you.” 

Soonyoung grins, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, moving like the world outside has stopped. He makes a bubble around you again, or maybe it’s your own heart; either way the only thing that exists is the way his hands inch up your shirt, the way his lips begin to press harder against yours. You give up on coherent thoughts, settling for wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

“I love you, too,” Soonyoung whispers between kisses. “If that wasn’t obvious.” 

Soonyoung who always treated you like you were enough already. Soonyoung who does everything with 100% of his heart. Soonyoung who has always been sincere with you, from the first day you met him. Soonyoung, who you are so lucky to be loved by. 

You don’t know how to say any of this in a way that makes sense so you let his fire melt you until you are putty in his arms. He pulls away, and the Soonyoung Sparkle burns, your personal stars flickering back at you.  

“You want to–” Soonyoung starts to say, but the door slams open. Then Soonyoung falls on you, pillow rolling off his head. 

“I’m taking this back!” Someone shouts while you hear Jihoon cursing. 

“Read the room, idiot!” Soonyoung pushes off of you, sitting up and pulling your shirt down as smoothly as he can. You sit up, trying to decide if you should be embarrassed or angry. Facing Jun, frozen midstep with his jaw hanging open a little and Jihoon in the doorway with his arms folded, shaking his head slightly, you opt for the latter. 

“Does no one knock in Colombia?” You frown at him. “And when did you get back? Why didn’t you call?” 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he mumbles, staring at his feet. “And you were supposed to be alone, according to my sources.” He glares at Jihoon. 

“YN didn’t say he was coming over,” he says with a shrug. 

You turn your frown to him. “You walked in halfway through the movie, I literally shouted ‘Soonyoung’s over.’” 

“I had my headphones on,” he says, though he’s avoiding your eyes too. Typical of your friends, never claiming responsibility for their actions. 

“So this is Soonyoung,” Jun says, turning to face him. Soonyoung moved to the edge of the bed, too far away for your taste but probably an appropriate distance for your friends, especially compared to what they walked in on. Jun tilts his head. “You dyed your hair.” 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung scratches the back of his head. “Spur of the moment thing.” You miss the blonde, surprisingly fitting considering it isn’t his natural color. But the black suits him too, and probably will help him with law school interviews. Then again, knowing Soonyoung, this color won’t last long either. Good thing there isn’t a color you don’t think suits him. 

“We should do this properly,” Soonyoung says. “Go out for dinner or something.” 

“Hey, I didn’t get dinner,” Jihoon says. 

“You want to get dinner with me?” Soonyoung perks up. 

“No, I’m protesting unfair treatment.” 

“It’s not unfair, I’m just clearly his favorite,” Jun says. 

“Can you guys stop fighting over my boyfriend?” You say. 

Jihoon and Jun stare at you. When Soonyoung turns to face you, he grins, eyes sparkling. 

“What?” 

“You just called him your boyfriend,” Jun says. 

“Well… he is.” You feel your cheeks flush. “Why are you guys making it weird?” 

“It’s not weird,” Soonyoung says. He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “It’s cute,” he whispers in your ear. “Adorable.” This only makes you flush even more. 

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll just grab this and you two can get back to… whatever.” Jun takes a step towards your bookcase. You grab the pillow that he threw at Soonyoung and nail him in the chest, earning a laugh from Jihoon. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

“The book is mine, Soonyoung never fulfilled the bet!” Jun says. You stand up, blocking him from your Pride and Prejudice. 

“Hey, I followed through!” Soonyoung says. “We’re dating!” 

“I remember the bet stating that you had to ask YN out after you took the LSAT.” Jun turns to him. 

“And I did,” Soonyoung says. “You never said it had to be right after.” 

Jun eyes him. “That’s cheating.” 

“That’s being a lawyer,” you say. “And I think he’s going to be really good at it.” 

Jun glances between you and Soonyoung and shakes his head. “Whatever, I’ll get my book back another day.” 

You step closer to Soonyoung and he links his pinky with yours. You glance at your friends. “Are you going to stand there forever or are we getting dinner?” 

“You two don’t want to get back to what you were doing?” Jihoon asks. 

You slip your hand into Soonyoung’s. He meets your eyes and he’s only been your boyfriend for two weeks but looking at him is like looking home. There’s no need to rush. 

“Sounds like someone doesn’t want to pick where we go.” 

“We should make them pay, too,” Soonyoung says. 

You grin at him. “You are the smartest person I know.” 

[fireheaurt]

Just a Taste

Genre: smut, vampire au, crack, established relationship

Pairing: sub! vampire gyu x gn dom! reader (afab when comes to smut)

Warnings: blood !!!, begging, beomgyu is so whiney, neck biting, dry humping, riding, dacryphilia, face slapping, hair pulling, beomgyu cums literally just from biting their neck lmfao, spit kink, pussy eating, degrading

Beomgyu lets out a contented hum as he lays down, face buried in your chest whilst you stroked his soft hair, beomgyu encompassing and holding your waist tightly in his arms. Both of you had been cuddling for hours on your bed as beomgyu practically demanded it when he had finally come back, throwing you onto the bed and flopping on top of you despite you nearly being suffocated by his weight and refusing to let you go at all. It’s times like this you question whether your sweet and silly boyfriend was really a vampire. He seemed far from it sometimes.

He suddenly shifts his head to your neck instead, nuzzling and then burying his nose into it as he sighs and takes in a whiff of your scent, “Ah you smell soo good, y/n.” He muffles into you.

“You’re so weird.”

“Can I…can I feed from you? hehe…” He looks up at you mischievously, trying to bat his eyelashes in innocence.

“What? You already has so much!” You raise your brow, looking at him incredulously.

“But-but you taste so good! You’re literally so delicioussss. You’re like, the best blood I’ve ever tasted in my entire lifee! How could I not be addicted?!” He pouts at you, still attempting to bat his lashes and look up at you cutely so you’ll give in. You usually do if he does it but you don’t seem that relenting at the moment.

You playfully swat at him, "Don't make it sound like I'm your personal blood bank or something.

Beomgyu pouts, "But you are my personal blood bank." He buries his face completely into your neck again.

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult." You laugh and roll your eyes.

Beomgyu grins and wraps his arms tighter around your waist, "Definitely a compliment."

“I’m starting to think you just like me for my blood…” You mutter jokingly, still stroking and playing with his hair.”

“Aw come onn,” he furrows his brows a little and stares at you, bringing his hand up to your face and grabbing your chin, moving it so you look directly into his eyes as he pouts, “You know I love you, baby. Your blood…is just an added bonus. A very good bonus~”

He grins, making a little ‘:>’ face as he attempts to hold in his laughter. That earns him another playful slap as he giggles, “Ow ow! Sorry, sorry!”

“You’re so annoying.”

And he begins his dramatics again. “I might diee! I’ll dieeee pleaseee you don’t want your vampire boyfriend to like, disintegrate to dust or something do you?” He laces his hands with yours and squeezes them tightly, bringing them up to your face as he gives you puppy dog eyes, raised brow awaiting an answer.

“Think I’m gonna pass…” You say and he releases a little bratty ‘mmph’ at that, but goes onto to nuzzle his face further into your neck.

He brushes his nose and lips repeatedly against the soft skin, closing his eyes and trying to make you change your mind, beginning to pepper little kisses.

He then gets harsher with his kisses, sucking onto your neck, leaving little bruises until he licks a stripe of your neck with his tongue and then marks up your neck more. “Gyu!”

“What? I’m not doing anything…” He grins with faux innocence.

That’s when you’ve had enough, you pull him up, changing positions and straddling his lap. He smirks, thinking he’s finally going to get what he wants as you lean in to press his lips against yours, making out with him intensely, lips moving and smacking against each other. You pull his body closer to you, grinding onto him and lets out a little gasp but his smirk only widens, gripping your waist even tighter and trying to roll your body on his for more friction.

“Hmm~ gonna let me taste you?” He asks, smiling smugly against your mouth, looking at you with half lidded eyes as you continued to grind your body against his clothed cock.

“No.” That makes him stop his movements, smug smile faltering and face falling.

“Please…please.” His fangs had begun to show now, glimmering under the moonlight reflecting from the window, looking at you with his half lidded eyes and fluttering his eyelashes so sexily, brows furrowed. Him with his fangs was always a sight to see. He looked even more attractive like that.

“Such a pretty vampire.” You coo at him, caressing and stroking his cheek as he leans into it despite his sulking.

“Y/nnn…” Beomgyu whines out your name.

You pull your hair back, baring your neck and leaning down to him, his eyes widen and sparkle and he opens his mouth, fangs peeking out more as he gets ready to feed from you excitedly.

Then, as soon as he leans forward, you pull your neck quickly away and giggle. He furrows his brows even deeper, whining so annoyingly loud in frustration as you still laugh, clearly very amused at his reaction.

You do it again just to see if he’ll be dumb enough to fall for it and he does, leaning forwards fast again only for you to pull your neck away from his mouth again, teasing him and enjoying it.

“You’re so mean.” He pouts and whines so incredibly much at you, bottom lip jutting out and acting like a brat. You tease him again, but this time he tries to desperately and pathetically pull your neck back to his mouth.

“You’re such a fucking spoilt brat.” You slap his cheek loud and hard. Beomgyu gasps and holds his reddened cheek, face turned to the side in the pillow, hair messily covering his eyes as he blinks hazily, mouth agape.

“A-again…” Beomgyu hiccups, teary, starry eyed, and shocked. He doesn’t know why but his fangs tingle at that despite aching this entire time.

You hesitantly slap his cheek again and then do it again and again, softly rubbing and caressing the area of his cheek before striking it each time, still grinding and humping against his bulge as he whimpered and whined with every slap, hissing and scrunching his face up into the pillow. Still continuous pleas leaving his mouth of tasting your blood as tears began to roll down his red cheeks every now and then.

You coo at him sarcastically, “Aww poor baby not getting what he wants?” He sniffles and nods his head, sounding like a broken record as he begged for your blood.

“P-please…need it! Just a taste…please….”

“Awww.” You wipe at his tears as they continuously fall down. His bottom lip wobbles and trembles as he looks up at your eyes purely devastated, mouth heavily downturned.

You decide to finally give in and he practically leaps forward to your neck, eyes crazed, not wasting any time and sinking his sharp fangs deep into your neck, puncturing and piercing your skin with two holes.

He drinks your blood feverishly and ferociously, eyes fluttering open and closed as he clings onto you so tightly, letting out a long moan of pure ecstasy as you do the same.

“Tastes so good…ah…mmh.” He groans muffled against your neck.

You begin to feel lightheaded despite the pleasure as beomgyu doesn’t seem to stop, drinking and on the verge draining your blood and sucking, slurping, and licking deeply as the blood seeped and gushed out all over your neck.

Beomgyu’s eyes roll back as he loudly moans and shudders, feeling an overwhelming pleasure course through his body and he cums completely in his pants. You feel the sticky and wet patch on his sweats against you as his face flushes in shock and embarrassment and he whimpers. He’s never cum just from biting your neck before.

He finally pulls away, panting heavily and eyes dazed, ‘thank you’s escaping his mouth repeatedly as he still clung onto you with a death grip, hiding his face into your neck and body shaking.

You grab his chin and make him look up at you, using your thumb to wipe and smear the blood that dribbled and dripped down his puffy lips. His pretty fangs were all bloodied too and he gazed up at you so pathetically, so, so pretty. You pull his chin further up and part his lips, spitting into his mouth and he takes it pliantly, your spit mixing with the blood already in his mouth and he swallows, still looking up at you with his round eyes.

Sometimes you fail to remember he’s supposed to be a feared monster but you’re not scared, he hangs onto (mostly) your every beck and call, your own personal, pretty vampire boy that does (somewhat) absolutely everything you say, let’s you do everything and anything you want to him, he’s so obsessed and entranced by you.

You smash your lips with his, making out with him so incredibly messy, your blood and both your saliva mixing. You can feels his fangs graze your lips and you lick at them as he smiles and softly bites at your lips.

He suddenly moves down your body and his head is already instantly between your legs, gripping on your thighs, not even asking before he’s ruthlessly sucking and practically making out with your pussy, fangs lightly grazing against your pussy and your clit making you shiver immensely.

One thing you know beomgyu is definitely good at is going down on you. He eats you so incredibly fucking well, better than anyone has, always so eager and puppy dog eyes sending you over the edge every time.

Beomgyu bites at your thigh softly and presses a few kisses and sucks a few hickeys before burying his face between them again, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking on it intensely. You pull and tug on his hair and he moans so fucking loudly as if he was the one in pleasure, tongue fucking you so desperately.

You try to pull his face away from your pussy but he whines, “I want you to cum though…need to make you cumm” he says wanting to eat you out as full gratitude, as a trade for your blood.

“Yeah, on your cock” he goes wide eyed at that and as much as he loves eating your pussy, he can’t complain at all at the moment, he’s been wanting you to fuck him so bad. His sweatpants still all soiled in his cum, cock aching and throbbing so badly this entire time, wanting to cum actually inside you.

You move to be on top of him again, straddling his waist and pulling his sticky dick out of his sweats, placing it to your entrance and sinking down on it completely as you both groan at the feeling. Beomgyu holds onto your waist shakily, watching you as he bites his lip and throws his head back.

You begin to fuck him at an unrelenting pace immediately, bouncing on his cock up and down that your pussy smacks with his balls every time you sink back down, stickiness and skin slapping noises so lewd around the room. Beomgyu can’t contain his moans at all, never one to anyway, but his mouth hangs open continuously as the strings and series of loud and high pitched whines and moans leave his mouth one after the other, seemingly getting louder every second.

Forearm thrown over his face as you lace his other hand with yours, grasping his hand tightly as you ride him even faster and harder. He begins to thrust up as well, rutting up into you as he whines he’s close, breathing becoming ragged and heavy.

You feel him squeeze your laced hand and grip onto it hard as his body shudders and writhes and with a drawled, high pitched, pretty cry, of your name, beomgyu releases thick ropes of his hot stick cum deep inside you.

Your pace not slowing down as you continued fucking him to reach your own high, pushing his hips back down on the bed and keeping them there and beomgyu didn’t even seem capable of moving or doing anything other than laying beneath you and taking it, whining quietly as he squirmed underneath you until your own eyes roll back.

“How come you always end up getting your way?” You pant, slumping on top of beomgyu’s body.

He giggles, though still trying to catch his breath, “Because you can’t resist your handsome vampire bf and you love mee. Although you were so mean, teasing me like that.” Beomgyu pouts playfully, looking down at you.

“You liked it though. You’re such a whore for stuff like that.”

“I did~” He grins and kisses your forehead. Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and sad when fics have such little reblogs ☹️ Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write :) !

A/n: I’m deranged w no sleep so if it makes no sense and is shit that is why🤞. Also it is unedited

[fireheaurt]

try again / cyj

word count: 2,172

genre: angst, comfort, friends to exes to friends to lovers

warnings: self deprecative jokes, heavy on the mutual pining, bad household, and that moment when u don’t know who u are XD (happens to us all <3)

synopsis: the line of being friends and in love got messy with your past breakup but in your case, was it ever really there if you’ve both never stopped loving each other? ★ prompt addition

soundtrack: try again by jaehyun, d.ear

“thanks.” yeonjun says looking directly at you though you don’t meet his eyes, too caught in making sure the cup of hot chocolate you give him doesn’t spill. you smile and settle down adjacent to him, missing the way he watches you even if it’s so briefly. he glows just about every time he looks at you but considering it’s been years since you’ve allowed yourselves to be romantic towards one another (since the breakup), you always miss it. that, and you’re also oblivious.

“so, you wanted to talk?” contrary to the casualness of your tone, you’re actually so anxious you could throw up. yeonjun’s wide smile falters, glow in his eyes following, and he sets his drink down beside him he’s also filled with anxiety.

“yeah, i do,” he pauses. “i think we should continue our chat from the other night, and i also know you want to talk, y/n.”

oh yeah. that one.

one would think that after years that a past relationship would not be on the forefront of your mind and your heart but it was. you never really felt like you could move on, always missing closure and never having stopped loving yeonjun. but you kept that part to yourself, feeling like he would be much better off with someone else even if you’re past that hurdle in your life that had brought you two to separate in the first place (among other things).

it was a fun night out at a busy cafe, in a circular booth with your friends. yeonjun had gone to go order a pastry but came back, frantic, asking for advice or what he should say to someone he thought was super and had been in line behind him, unsure of how to go about showing his interest.

in response, like you always do, you joked about he came to the worst people for advice since you and all your friends are currently single. beomgyu just laughed along, the others adding on other reasons that were mainly comedic value.

that is until the next thing you said. well, the other guys giggled, too, since you both only ever referred to your failed relationship with jokes, or rather you did. it was just a thing that you hardly ever took things seriously, so happy go lucky and keeping things lighthearted even if most of your jokes orbited your self deprecation (within reason — you had plenty of other content for your jokes).

you joked about the most confounding evidence as to why he shouldn’t ask you for dating advice; he had dated you and you broke up with him.

in between stirring around some of his foam at the bottom of his drink, kai asked, “oh yeah, why did you guys break up? it’s been so long.” you snorted, shaking the ice of your drink. “guys, be for real, obviously, i’m obviously just the weird detour you take before you find the right person you wanna be with. you could have a real shot with this person.”

“okay but — ” you were giggling still. “when you guys get married, i’ll be able to thank myself for being at my worst then.

yeonjun scowled at that. “why?” all the other’s conversations seemed to happen around the two of you, distracted by something else.

“‘cause. you deserved better then and maybe this’ll be the person you were deserving along. and i can finally tell myself that we broke up for a good reason.”

your voice had been so still and quiet, yeonjun’s heart shattering, while you ripped the lid off your plastic cup. so nonchalant. he stared at you for a moment before pushing off the table and taking a step back.

“that wasn’t helpful, y/n.” he had said quietly to you. you simply rolled your eyes playfully, lighthearted smile to balance, snickering along beomgyu and soobin to whatever they were bantering about. kai and taehyun on the other side had tossed out random tips that obviously didn’t work for them.

“come on, jun, you don’t need to worry. she’s obviously gonna like you.” you muttered nonchalantly, so confident that the distant shatter of your heart was out of sight and ear, even in the face of the man you’ve never stopped loving.

“i doubt it, but i guess, i’ll still try. better than nothing…” he said quietly.

“well, good luck, jun.” you told him dismissively while trying to get the remaining toppings to your iced drink, unseeing of the way yeonjun frowned as he walked away.

you only half remembered what you’d said that day. all that was positive was that you had said too much. yeonjun on the other hand had remembered everything.

“hey, you know what i just remembered? did that girl ever text you? ‘cause you guys did exchange phone numbers, right?” he blinks a few times, carefully watching your face, before he shakes his head. his pretty raven hair comes down almost to his shoulders, so much longer than the boyish trim look he’d had when you two dated. despite that much, you think he hasn’t changed one bit.

“well yeah, we did, but i never actually texted her.”

“oh.” an unsettled moment of silence falls between you two. you’re focused on a certain stain on the table below you guys.

“listen, y/n — ” he starts and you wince, already trying to dismiss him from initiating, even if it is rude to interrupt. “no, yeonjun, i think, no, i know we never really talked about why i ended things between us. and look, i know you… you respected my decision and understood me even if it was so sudden and over a reason i didn’t disclose entirely, but, oh god — “ he notices your eyes are welling with tears, a bitter but annoyed smile on your face because of it. he knows how much you hate showing your weakness, let alone being vulnerable.

his heart pounds in his chest. he would give anything so that you could stay smiling and happy, anything but this. this hurts. “i’m a different person now than i was then, and-and you deserve to know what happened.”

your voice breaks. yeonjun’s gripping on his (your) mug so tightly his knuckles are white, the cute little bow of his mouth shaking, eyes watering so enough to sting, his throat burns with the urge to bawl as you tell him.

because of everything going on in your house those few years ago, fragments of your family that got under your skin and poisoned you, the tortuous process of trying to leave, battling the old you and the new you, and the weight of everything else, including your new boyfriend (yours truly) and insecurities for being good for him, it’s easy to say you weren’t at a place to be in love, certainly with the people around you who made sure you felt like you didn’t deserve it either.

even though you were all friends for much longer before you got together, god knows you and yeonjun had been pining for one another for years, it became too much, knowing that things were getting too real.

you were at your lowest. yeonjun was always as sweet and caring to you as ever, but instead, his actions made you feel worse. you could hardly give him an ounce of what he deserved in return. if you had the energy to talk to him, it’d end in arguments that you walked away from, too tired to continue.

it seemed like it was time to close that chapter instead of prolonging the pain. you didn’t know who you were then. and you knew yeonjun deserved better than what you were giving him, even if you weren’t exactly be transparent.

years went on. neither of you ever really settled down, just little flings here and there that you’d support each other on, but none of those ever stayed. (he and you made no effort to make them stay…) you always joke about your relationship, since it was so long ago, about how failed it was and naive you were then. at first, yeonjun did joke about your failed relationship, but he couldn’t bring himself to — not when he had known that you really did love him and he certainly has never stopped loving you.

you disclose certain details but hide other specific ones, trying not to give away too much of the fact that you’re really a vulnerable thing who still hasn’t grown up after all these years. it’s a hard thing to keep up a facade that conceals the truth.

when the dust of it all settles, silence falling in the mix, he hears it first before he sees it: your tear drops on the table near your wringing hands. and like clockwork, they come to swipe them off like they were never there in the first place, but yeonjun stops you, speed before your very eyes register it, carding your face in his hand from his side on the table. he leans over his corner of your furniture like it’s nothing.

your eyes give you away.

the relief but tide of emotions feels second to letting yourself be hit by a wave, feelings that have been locked away for such a long time. at least a moment reveals so.

with a soft laugh, you drop your gaze with a sniffle and try to shrug him off, an attempt to pretend that didn’t happen. it’s all you can do not to cave in and admit the mess that you clearly are in front of him, especially when you feel his touch. but he doesn’t budge.

“i wish you wouldn’t do that.” his own voice betrays him, so unstable and choking up on him. you blink through the muddle of tears growing. “what?”

“think of yourself so lowly. you have so much importance and you mean so much to the people in your life. it has never and it will never matter which point you are in life, whether at you’re worst or best or in between, you will always be capable of being loved. you have never deserved anything less.”

he wishes he could add, ‘and i wanna make sure you know that’. in due time, he hopes. in due time.

you’re wetting his hand with your tears. your stomach is curling and curling, chest buzzing, lips fumbling as your body wrestles with the tide of wanting to bawl like a child.

yeonjun gently swipes the wetness on your cheeks, smiling sweetly, patiently, and so full of love. it breaks your heart a thousand times over than it did the first time when you’d broken up with him.

not once have you ever really stopped loving him.

“i wish you knew that… you didn’t have to prove that you’re worthy enough to be loved. you being you was enough for me. you being you is more than enough,” you let out a sound between a cry and yelp, one that shows exactly how crooked and darling your smile is even if tears stain your cheeks. “i‘m sorry i never said it enough, but i’ve been in love with you for so stupidly long.”

his thumb dares to brush so gently over the corner of your lips, just the way he used to do. his eyes skin across your face so carefully. his stomach twists once his mouth opens,

“so, cards out on the table, y/n, i wanna try again. i know it’s not my place to demand something like this from you, but… it’s how i feel,” you don’t say anything, blinking eyes meeting his, in beats of silence broken by shaky breaths and sniffles. he smiles again despite his nervousness. “and you don’t have to agree or anything. again, it’s just how i feel. i’d only want to try but if you do, too, for you to say yes when you’re ready.”

he fumbles with shutting down a ghost of ‘my love’ as an ending to his statement, like he always would say in the past. he can’t help it.

you give him a genuine smile, one that reaches your eyes, and one that he misses every single moment you spend not smiling. such proximity and joy trickles distant memories in colorful explosions behind your eyes in a kaleidoscope of nostalgia. a knowing look is exchanged between you, no words.

it speaks more than none that you understand him and are infinitely thankful. you say so through mouthed words. he nods slowly in acknowledgement. you can feel it down to the marrow of your bones…

oh, how you’ve missed him.

“okay, i’ll let you know when i’m ready, yeonjun. it won’t be that long, just so you know,” you say wetly, sniffling and clearing your thin voice. yeonjun smiles, too, for a change. remember when he didn’t used to smile so much? “i’ve been waiting my whole life to try again with you and even longer to let you know better that i love you, too.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

note: i loveddddd this idea that was an addition on to my silly little prompt so badly you don’t even know 😭😭😭😭😭 it’s probably obvious but this was heavily inspired by certain plot details in ‘new girl’ shoutout to nick miller <3 (not sure if i should stick with this lowercase format or not… either way ~) tysm for reading!

[fireheaurt]

Every single first born daughter deserves a Choi Seungcheol.

[fireheaurt]

strawbebbies...

[fireheaurt]

art student!hongjoong watercoloring you in his cold-pressed notebook while you pose for him on a stool in a dimly lit room. the only light source being the moonlight through the circular window in the ceiling that shines like a spotlight on your perch. he's getting a little frustrated, making tweaks to his work, wondering why he can't quite get your likeness right. maybe it's the lighting, or the anatomy, or even the medium itself?

he looks up to reference you again and notices you smiling encouragingly, despite sitting there in the same position for half an hour. the way your cheek twitches up with your expression. your eyes shifting colors as you blinked, going from their natural color to a vivid, iridescent version of it as the moonlight fell on them. the shimmering dust particles in the beam of light giving you an air of ethereal beauty, radiant against your dark surroundings.

thats when he realizes--there's no capturing the real thing.

[fireheaurt]

need me a man who’ll hang off a train and come back from the dead just bc he wants me

[fireheaurt]

𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

spiderman!kim sunwoo x reader (slight eric x reader)

6.7k words, spiderman across the spiderverse au, superhero au, est. relationship au, swearing, spoilers for the atsv movie! but some details of the plot are tweaked to fit my narrative (you'll see that i basically took one of the iconic scenes and put it in writing lol), mentions of death, mild violence, low-key not a full plot..?, kissing, slight angst, BARELY PROOFREAD IT'S LATE I'M SORRY

a/n: apologies in advance for shit poor storytelling in this one 😭 i just wanted to get this idea down and out before i chickened out TT

His name was Kim Sunwoo, and you happened to know his story pretty well. After all, he was Brooklyn's one and only Spiderman.

"AHHH HOLY SHIT—"

You pulled your phone away from your ear with practiced grace as Sunwoo screeched through the speaker. The words from your textbook blurred as your focus drifted completely away from your assignment.

"BABY, I ALMOST GOT HIT BY A BUS."

"Again?" You teased, flipping the page backward to restart your reading. There was no way you were going to be able to get anything done while on call with your boyfriend, especially while he was actively swinging across New York traffic.

You heard his huff over the long blast of a car horn. "Hey! It wasn't even my fault this time; that guy definitely had headphones in, which is totally illegal."

Snickering, you leaned back in your desk chair and peered out the window of your apartment's bedroom at the city beyond. He would probably be here any minute now. "You should go arrest him then. Aren't you Mister Superhero now?"

"Mister Multiversal Superhero," he corrected with a tone that definitely sounded like he had the biggest grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes good naturedly. "Uh-huh. So is Mister Multiversal Superhero almost here or do I have to find another superhero to come rescue me?"

Just as you said this, your eyes spotted a blur of black and red swinging himself around the apartment building at the end of your block. He was steadily making his way to you, as you knew he had been.

"Woah, wait, have you been seeing other superheroes?"

You rested your cheek against your fist as you watched him get closer and closer. "Well, now that we know that there are multiple universes out there, who knows?"

Spiderman landed quietly on the metal railing of your fire escape, hands braced between his legs in the iconic pose. His suit was black and tight to his skin, leaving close to nothing to the imagination and allowing for easy movement. The ensemble was completed by a red spider symbol drawn over his chest, and a black hoodie thrown over the uniform.

Sunwoo gazed at you from behind the white lenses of his mask on the other side of your window. His heart never failed to literally fly out of his body when he saw you look at him like that. "Ma'am, I'm going to need you to open this window up," he coughed in his forced deep voice, even though he knew that you knew exactly who he was. It was all for fun and to see you smile anyway.

You put your mouth near the speaker of your phone. "It's open, tiger."

Oh, dear heavens…

He could have fainted off the fire escape then, backflipped through the air, and landed kur-splat on the Brooklyn sidewalk while still maintaining the hearts in his eyes. He ended the call feeding through his mask's wireless control, before going through the familiar motions of wiggling the locking mechanism, hauling the window up, and slipping inside your bedroom. He was hit with the smell of your soap and your laundry detergent, and took in a lungful of it. This was what home smelled like. It was simple, yet quaint and soft and nothing like the busy, dangerous world outside.

You stood from your desk chair and walked into his embrace as he shot his web shooters at the window shutter strings and yanked your shutters down and closed. "Show off," you mused, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and using the other to gently pull the mask up and off his lower face.

"Only for you." His pouty lips smiled, and his arms came around your form. "Hi baby."

"Hi tiger." You grazed your thumb over his lips. "Everything okay today?"

"Mhm," he hummed, rubbing his lips together. "You're not gonna take the rest of the mask off?" He chuckled.

"I kind of like you like this."

"I knew it; is this what you use me for? You only love me for my—mmmh!" You shut him up as you yanked him over to you and drew his mouth to yours in a proper greeting kiss. He melted into you with a soft moan, hands cradling you at your waist and lower back as your fronts melded together.

When you both pulled back, Sunwoo took the opportunity to tear his mask off and shove the garment into the pocket of his jacket. The two of you shared a grin.

"So, I hear you're in need of rescu—"

BONK!

You and Sunwoo froze at the sound of the metal railing outside your window rattling, followed by a swear and a familiar-sounding voice hissing, "Ow!"

Sunwoo's smile slipped into an annoyed frown as he yanked the shutter string to send the shutter flying upward. The motion revealed a young man perched where Sunwoo had been just a couple of minutes ago, except in less of the classic Spiderman pose, and more of a one-foot-balance-act situation. The newcomer wore a costume in dark red and black, but a larger percentage of red than Sunwoo's red spider. He rubbed his forehead furiously from where Sunwoo guessed he had hit his head on the fire escape for the apartment above yours.

The thought made him break his irritated expression and laugh. "Changmin hyung, do you just suck at aiming or something?"

The scarlet spider's white eyes narrowed slightly, and he simply held the place where his head hurt. "Hey, you try swinging around in an alternate New York City! Your universe is similar enough to mine, but I feel like everything's been moved, like, an inch to the left. Absolutely ridiculous."

You smiled in amusement, too, taking a step back to settle down in your desk chair again while Sunwoo leaned against the wall next to the window and poked his head out. "Welcome to Earth 412, I guess," you chuckled.

The alternate Spider man made a little waving motion with his hand. "Yeah, thanks, Yn. You know, it's so weird being back here."

"Why are you back?" Sunwoo asked. "As much as I enjoy you cockblocking me—" He hissed as you delivered a swift kick to his shin, "—yah! Okay, okay, I'm sorry!—Sangyeon hyung only said to use the watches when called for." He gestured to the sleek, black watch wrapped around his left wrist. It was a way to communicate between universes, as well as perform a variety of different tasks, one of them being traveling from universe to universe, as well.

Changmin, the spider of Earth 115, sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Well, I actually came to warn you."

Sunwoo tensed. "Huh?"

"Sangyeon's going to call you in soon."

"Oh, okay. I don't exactly see why you would need to warn me about that."

Changmin shook his head. "No, you don't—I can't… really tell you. Not here." His eyes flickered over to you, who sat listening intently. You and Sunwoo exchanged glances, and then Sunwoo looked back to his friend.

"Don't be held up on my account," you piped up in an attempt to lighten the mood. You stood and planted a kiss on Sunwoo's cheek. "Go do what you boys need to do."

Sunwoo smiled at you, grabbing your hand to give it a squeeze, before donning his mask once more. "I'll be back for dinner," he called back to you as he slipped out onto the fire escape with Changmin.

Your laugh rang in his ears as he swung away. "I'll hold you to it!"

Sunwoo grabbed onto the fire escape above yours to give him a swinging start, fingers triggering the firing mechanism of his web shooters as he defied gravity. With a WAHOO!, he slipped through the New York City skies, Changmin following closely after him. There was a place Sunwoo had in mind where the two of them could speak in private, without worry of anyone else eavesdropping or seeing them.

Behind the massive billboard face of Nike's most recent Air Jordans release, the two spider people landed near silent onto the cement rooftop. Sunwoo hopped up onto the railing behind the billboard, holding his arms as he walked across the beam with no problems. Changmin climbed up next to him, leaning against the end pole.

"So what's this all about?" Sunwoo asked above the cacophony of New York below.

Changmin crossed his arms. "You know when we recruited you?"

He stopped, turning to face his friend. "Yeah, what about it?" Sunwoo had been recruited to Sangyeon's team of multiversal spider people several months ago, when a particle collider in his universe threatened to dismantle the entirety of space and time as you knew it. When Sunwoo had stopped the collider from being restarted the first time, the resulting test had brought a handful of multiversal spiders crashing into Earth 412. It had been a mind blowing experience to learn about the multiverse, and that, for once, he wasn't actually alone.

He finally met people who understood him. He didn't have to carry the weight of this all by himself.

"We didn't tell you everything." There was a tension in his friend's shoulders and posture as he said this.

Sunwoo eyed him with trepidation and let out a nervous laugh. "What—what does that even mean?"

A tingling sensation erupted in Sunwoo's head, and both he and Changmin's focus whipped over toward the rooftop below where a large orange portal appeared. It felt as if it had torn a hole through the air, shoving its vacuum-like opening through the world. Sunwoo's heart leapt into his throat; it looked like he was about to find out from the man himself.

He briefly heard Changmin's curse disappear in the wind, and the two spiders leapt off the beams to meet the others coming through the portal to greet them.

Through the portal came one other, a Spiderman dressed in dark crimson and gold, a gold colored slab of lightweight metal attached to his back where four robotic metal legs would emerge when summoned. His helmet retracted, folding inwards on itself like that of a gradient—nano technology, as the wearer, Chanhee of Earth 426, had explained to Sunwoo when they first met.

"Did you tell him?" Chanhee asked Changmin.

The scarlet spider gave a brief shake of his head. "Nope," he said. Sunwoo could hear the disappointment in his tone.

"Told you coming earlier would've been better," Chanhee replied, inclining his head as he turned back to step into the portal, a silent beckon for them to follow.

Sunwoo exchanged glances with Changmin. "It's nice to see you too, hyung," Sunwoo teased.

Chanhee sent a look back to Sunwoo just before he stepped fully into the vortex portal. "You won't be saying that pretty soon."

He didn't have time to question any of this interaction, absolutely none. His brain ran wild with possibilities as he followed Changmin and Chanhee back to Earth 114. There was a sinking feeling in his gut… something he didn't even need his spider sense to tell him. Maybe he should have told you he wouldn't make it back for dinner after all.

The New York of Earth 114 was home to the headquarters of the multiversal spiders called the Spider Society. It didn't matter how many times Sunwoo saw it with his own eyes, he could never take the awe out of his mouth. His lips parted in wonder as he passed by criss crossing pathways slicing to his left, right, and above and below him. Spider-beings passed by him in masses, all ranging in different varieties from their own diverse universes.

His friends walked ahead of him whilst making quiet conversation with one another, though it seemed like a hushed argument. That was why he refrained from butting in; something made him stay out of it. He didn't know why he feared what came ahead. For once, it wasn't his head saying it; it was his gut.

The scarlet and iron spider were leading him deeper into headquarters to where the shadows ran darker and the machinery ran faster. They passed by Chanhee's usual workstation where he manned the Go Home Machine, the device that scanned a being's target DNA and sent them back from where they came. Usually it was meant for Anomalies, beings that managed to crawl through the cracks between universes and ended up in one that would not be able to sustain them. Usually.

Instead of Chanhee manning the helm, however, there were a couple other spiders Sunwoo didn't recognize trying to labor over it and watch the machine do its thing. Maybe they were his protégés?

"Hey! You guys aren't teenagers; keep an eye on it, would you?" Chanhee barked at the spiders there, who immediately jolted into action.

Chanhee shook his head with an aggravated sigh. "This is what happens when people can't do what they're supposed to." He sent Changmin a pointed look, to which the latter pointedly ignored.

Sunwoo raised a hand in greeting as a few of his other friends passed by. "Hey guys!"

"Sup man," Kevin, Earth 223's resident Spider, exclaimed back in a wave. He, Juyeon, and Haknyeon all seemed to be headed out somewhere together, most likely on an assignment of their own. There were a couple others who Sunwoo had yet to see just yet, but he had a feeling that was about to be remedied.

They passed all the way into the inner lair, a large tunnel space that opened up into a taller tower-like area, housing a floating platform that acted as an office space of sorts. Navy blue light shone through the skylight at the very top of the tower, washing all of the specimens below it in that cool toned filter.

"—just a kid, Sangyeon."

"I've already made up my mind. Don't fight me on this, Jacob. He's already here."

Sunwoo swallowed at the sound of the distinct voices; he had a sneaking suspicion that the he Sangyeon and Jacob were referring to was him. He fidgeted with the watch on his wrist, trying desperately to calm his palpitating heart.

Changmin and Chanhee led him to the edge of the dark tunnel to peer up into the blue tower office. "We brought him," Chanhee said, his voice echoing against the tower walls.

The raised platform began to slowly make its descent, and Sunwoo gradually saw the spiders located onboard. There was Jacob of Earth 530 with his black uniform and pale yellow accents; and then there was Sangyeon of Earth 114, this Earth, with his broad shoulders fitted in a blue and red costume, a spider on the back that looked closer to fangs rather than the insect itself. Sangyeon was different from most of the spiders here—he was self-made, in the way that he had to continually inject himself with this red shit that made Sunwoo squirm in order to retain his powers… at least, that was what Changmin told him.

When the platform had lowered enough to fully view Sangyeon and Jacob but not enough for it to reach the ground, the two executives turned to face their guests.

"Hi hyungs," Sunwoo greeted, attempting to force the nerves out of his voice.

Jacob shot him a sunshine-like smile. "Hello Sunwoo. Nice to see you." He jabbed Sangyeon in the side with his elbow, urging the eldest to make his greeting.

Sangyeon's stony expression did not change. "Do you know why you're here?"

Jacob made an exasperated face, but said nothing else.

Sunwoo swallowed. "No sir. I'm guessing it's not for tteokbokki."

From beside him, he heard Chanhee snort and had to turn his head away to laugh.

Sangyeon merely lifted an unamused brow. He silently walked off the platform and landed on the ground floor with ease. Jacob followed swiftly after him. "When we first recruited you—and I use that term loosely—" He narrowed his eyes at Changmin in nod to his unconventionally forceful method of getting Sunwoo onto the team, "—we failed to mention something to you."

"I've pieced that much together," Sunwoo said, hand reaching up to cup the back of his head.

"Do you know what we're all connected by?" The blue and red spider asked. "Not simply by the names or insect we represent, but the destinies, the canon events written into our very DNA."

Sunwoo cracked his knuckles, heart kick-starting in his chest again like it was chugging up the incline of a rollercoaster. "What… what do you mean by canon?"

"A canon event is something like a pattern. It's a solidified event in your life, Sunwoo—in all of our lives." Sangyeon activated something with his watch, and the room was engulfed in a living hologram of orange. Lines zigzagged amongst each other like the connected dots, and Sangyeon expanded them with a flourish, revealing a familiar lineup of spider people to whom Sunwoo was acquainted with.

The lights of the hologram cut across the shadows of Sangyeon's face like a nightmare. "We're all made who we are by these canon events. Each spider being from each verse is shackled to the death of a mentor figure—"

Scenes of uncles and fathers being murdered flashed before Sunwoo's widened eyes, his body going slack at seeing his own uncle's dying breath leave his body. He couldn't even figure out what to say or think; his tongue had gone heavy in his mouth, words stringing together as slow and thick as wet sand. He couldn't breathe, all of a sudden. His uncle's eyes lost the light in them, they dimmed and dimmed and dimmed—hadn't it been all his fault? Couldn't he have been there to stop the robber?

"—and the death of one Captain or his… child."

More hunched over figures, one after the other, blood, tears, death—why was this being shown to him? Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. Wait—did he just say Captain or his child?

"What," blew out of Sunwoo's mouth, breathlessly. "Wait, are you saying that—that Yn, my Yn, or her father is supposed to die?"

Sangyeon didn't answer immediately, but instead said gravely, "Canon events must happen, Sunwoo, or the fate of that world would be at stake. It would implode in on itself and destroy millions of innocent lives."

Sunwoo felt his heart rate spike, head whipping around to Jacob, to Changmin, to Chanhee. He imagined his eyes looked wild. "You're telling me she's going to die? Or her father—and, and what? What's the point of telling me all this?"

He couldn't let you die. He couldn't bear that devastation—not without at least trying to save you or your dad.

"When?" He huffed, fingers diving into his hair, mask fisted in one of his hands. "When is this happening?" He demanded.

A beat. "Three days."

Everything went quiet… and then the sound came rushing back in like a tidal wave crashing toward the shoreline.

"I have to save them—"

Jacob's voice cut in. "Sangyeon," like a warning.

But Sangyeon shook his head. "Oh no you don't."

Blood thundered in Sunwoo's ears as he yanked his mask back over his head and made a dash for the exit, only to have an orange, crystalline cage trap him in his place. Panic clambered into the dregs of his throat, suffocating suffocating suffocating…

"Sangyeon!"

"Sangyeon, don't do this!"

"He's just a fucking kid—!"

The world was spinning, and Sunwoo grunted as he punched and assaulted the cage walls, his friends pressing up against the outside and attempting to break through, too. "LET ME OUT!"

There were deep shadows beneath Sangyeon's eyes and he watched on with little to no sympathy. "It's for the good of the multiverse, Sunwoo. You'll understand someday."

Sunwoo bared his teeth. "You can't fucking expect me to not fight you on this."

"It will only be for a few days."

"Fuck you!" The amounting rage in Sunwoo's veins accumulated in a mass of electricity, and he forced that energy out at the force fields trapping him in. He screwed his eyes shut, arms swinging over his face, as he protected himself from the blast. When the cage shattered and blew his colleagues backward, Sunwoo wasted no time in sprinting down the hall.

An enraged roar followed after him—a web shooting past Sunwoo's face—not to grab Sunwoo, but instead to rip the watch right off his wrist.

He swore under his breath as he tripped over a piece of metal, cursing even more as he racked his brain for a way to get back to his earth.

"Bring me Kim Sunwoo," Sangyeon's voice boomed throughout the Spider Society's headquarters, accompanied by whirring red apocalypse lights, "don't let the Anomaly go home."

Anomaly—?

But Sunwoo had little time to dwell on that choice label as he slid through a closing doorway, nearly missing another spider's web flinging at his face.

"Okay, Sunwoo," he said aloud to himself as he emerged into the main quad area. It was bright out here, and hundreds of spider beings milled about like they were all at one massive Spider convention.

"He is an Anomaly, and considered armed and dangerous."

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" Sunwoo cried in distress, aiming his web shooter for one of the high rafters as everyone in the room set their eyes on him.

Dodging skilled versions of himself was not the easiest task, and he weaved through the masses like something akin to a thread through the eye of a needle.

He dared not look back as he crashed through one of the windows of the society headquarters and went soaring down into Earth 114's main city. The city itself was a funnel dive, forcing Sunwoo to zip his limbs to his side and thread the needle through multiple layers of hover transportation and floating roads. Cars were turned up on their sides and he nearly hit his head on a dozen traffic lights.

"Get him!"

"This guy is everywhere!" Sunwoo groaned as he leapt from hood to hood, eyes scanning for a place to duck into and hide. The tingling sensation in his brain was ever-present, and kept him well informed of the encroaching Lee Sangyeon.

"AHHH FUCK!" He screeched, forcefully diving off the side of the road. A long, screeching honk echoed after him. "It's always the buses!"

The level below became a labyrinth of metal rafters and pipes. Steam blew out from unseen origins, but provided the perfect cover for Sunwoo to slip through and catch his breath. He pressed his back up against one of the cool, metal bars, his fingers pressing against his eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay.

His heart was five palpitations from clearing his ribcage at this point. He needed a plan—he had to have a—

"What the—" Web slapped against his back and yanked him into an abandoned alcove, "—shit!"

Sunwoo groaned as he crashed to the hard ground, furiously rubbing his tailbone after the impact. He glanced up and met Changmin's eyes, who kneeled down beside him.

"Before you go all rage on me," Changmin said and held up his palms in surrender, "just hear me out, okay?"

Sunwoo's chest rose and fell rapidly. He narrowed his eyes on his friend whose face was hidden behind his own mask. "Yeah, okay… fine," he huffed, "but only… only because—" he staggered, climbing to his feet, "I need to catch my breath."

Changmin cocked his head as if he didn't believe that. "Ohh-kay whatever you say." But even as he said this, he still kept his hands out as if placating a hungry lion. "Sunwoo, I know it's a lot to take in—"

"Yeah, no shit," he spat. Fear spiked in his chest, so hard that it was experiencing a heart attack each time. His uncle's death replayed in his head over and over—but now your eyes, draining of life, joined that visual. It was enough to make dread weigh in the pit of his stomach, an anchor that dragged him down. And yet, the adrenaline was still there, the instinct to do something about it.

His friend suddenly tugged his mask off, revealing his face and mess of curls glistening in sweat and worry. "Hey man, I know it's scary and I know that it is unfair—"

"Hyung, he wants me to let them die!"

"It's to save lives, Sunwoo!"

"So you would let your own significant other die? Even if you have the foresight to save them?" Sunwoo scoffed in disbelief. "You would leave their life or their father's life to whatever bullshit—a canon event—dictated?"

Changmin's brows furrowed and he swallowed. "It is not that simple."

"It sounds pretty damn crystal clear to me."

His friend inched toward him. "We're all mad about it, Sunwoo—devastated, destroyed, even. It's not something easy to digest—and, and I admit that I haven't even fully digested it myself. It's not something I've really… I've really thought about."

Sunwoo stared into Changmin's eyes as if he could peer right into his soul. There was pain in Changmin's voice, a sort of tension that he could identify with. A tension that was human. Sunwoo's hands shook. "Changmin—" he exhaled, "—Changmin, I'm scared."

There was that sheen of compassion in Changmin's eyes as he planted his hands on either of Sunwoo's shoulders. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay. I got you."

And for a second, Sunwoo believed that.

Beep beep beep… Both heads whipped toward the watch on Changmin's wrist. "Target acquired. Changmin, we are heading toward you now." Sangyeon.

Betrayal ripped through Sunwoo, a strike of lightning, and he tore away from Changmin, stumbling and knees shaking. The latter gaped at him, then the watch on his wrist, mouth open like a gaping fish. "I—I swear to god, I didn't know it could do that—!"

It was no use. Sunwoo didn't have the time to entertain what ifs—he launched himself out of the alcove just as the walls crashed inward with the arrival of backup.

Think, Sunwoo, think!

Sunwoo furiously stumbled, clambered, whipped himself up and through vehicles screaming toward him and at him. His ears rang with the echoes of their horns, along with the distant (but encroaching) sound of Sangyeon's voice.

Why was keeping Sunwoo at bay so important? There was no way that stopping two people from being murdered would cause a rift in the space-time continuum. He couldn't be that important in the grand scheme of things—?

A hand grappled his ankle and Sunwoo yelped.

"Kid, you're making a mistake!" Sangyeon yelled above the cacophony of traffic raging all around them.

Sunwoo, heart beat tittering on the brink of collapse from the jumpscare, held firm to the hood of the SUV headed up and out of the main city. He peered under him, where Sangyeon stood just below, his hand stopping Sunwoo from going any further.

"You have nowhere to run, you know."

Sunwoo knew. God, he knew. "How could you step aside and let them die?" He exclaimed with his whole chest. He couldn't bear the thought.

A muscle feathered in Sangyeon's jaw. "You would choose the life of one person over millions? You're too young to understand, Sunwoo."

Youth, that was always the fucking argument, huh? Sunwoo's lip curled in disdain. "Just because you couldn't save whoever in your past doesn't mean that I—can't!" With the last word, he stomped Sangyeon's hand away with his other foot and flung himself further up to the next vehicle.

He heard the growl of rage behind him as he scrambled to swing himself up to the next thing. He slammed his fingers against his web shooter, spitting web fluid against the wind berating him at anything, literally anything it could catch.

When it caught onto something, he went flying with it—soaring up toward the sun on the high-speed train.

A flurry of spiders followed swiftly after him as Sunwoo continued his climb. Heart pounding, he gasped for air at this altitude, head twisting backward to catch a glimpse of how he had done so far.

You have nowhere to run, you know.

Well, Sunwoo didn't have to run anywhere. He just had to get far enough.

Sangyeon was the closest on his tail, his teeth bared, and for the first time, Sunwoo could see the threatening gleam of his razor-sharp canines. He made one massive leap up to where Sunwoo was, yanking down on his legs, clawing at his back. Sunwoo kicked his legs out in an attempt to fling him off—shot web fluid in Sangyeon's eyes, but it only seemed to irritate him even further.

Sunwoo cursed as he rolled out of the way of an incoming punch, cursing again when Sangyeon fisted the material of hoodie and pulled him into his grasp, predator meeting prey.

Sangyeon grasped him by the back of the head and slammed his face into the metal— "Maybe I should just get rid of you," he growled into Sunwoo's ear as the latter tried desperately to swing out of this hold, "you weren't even supposed to exist anyway."

Something foreign tugged at Sunwoo's chest. "Man, you gotta stop talking in riddles—!"

He pressed his side against the train car and horse-kicked Sangyeon's lower waist as hard as he possibly could. As if it happened in slow motion, he watched Sangyeon lose his grip and fumble to stay on board the train, but it was enough.

Sunwoo dove straight off the metro and headed straight for the now abandoned headquarters, hands jamming into the pockets of his hoodie and catching the wind to slow his fall. Wind roared through his ears, muffling the sound of Sangyeon's pure irritation as the older spider no doubt dove after him. Sunwoo's eyes zeroed in on his desired landing place, cradling his head with his arms to soften the impact.

The window shattered on impact—he tucked, rolled, and ran.

This time, he willed himself to turn invisible to the eye, even heightened spider eyes. His brain scrambled as he made a mad dash for the Go Home machine. It was somewhere around here—which damn hallway was it in—?!

"Where did he go?" Sunwoo heard from down one open corridor, which made him crawl up onto the ceiling and remain there until he got to his desired location. It hadn't been Sangyeon, but all of his friends had been chasing after him just the same.

He couldn't trust anyone.

Steeling his resolve, Sunwoo leapt off the ceiling and played around with the controls, dancing around the control panel and trying desperately not to panic. He couldn't have possibly run for an infinite amount of time; he only needed to buy himself time to use the one other option he had to get back home.

"Fuck fuck fuck," he muttered to himself when the monitor began playing a very loud song out of the speakers. But it was too late, even as his hand slammed down on the button to mute it.

"SOMEBODY'S PLAYING MY BALLROOM EXTRAVAGANZA." Yep, definitely a Chanhee playlist.

Sunwoo felt the sweat trickle down his spine—but then he swiped his way through controls and somehow managed to hit gold.

"Sequence initializing," announced the machine, and Sunwoo could have screamed with delight and relief.

That was, if he wasn't currently being hunted.

Still shrouded in his invisibility, Sunwoo swung himself onto the steel platform poised at the center of the massive chamber past the control board. A metal arm emerged from the side of the board, an amber orange light scanning over his form.

Chanhee and Changmin barreled into the room, going straight for the control board having yet seen Sunwoo on the platform.

"What's happening?" Changmin cried out as he gripped the edge of the railing, his eyes whipping between the platform and the computer.

Chanhee's two arms and mechanical spider limbs worked furiously to override the sequence. "I don't know!" He grunted. "It's not listening to me!"

"DNA match found. Go Home sequence, commencing."

Sunwoo's physical appearance materialized on the platform just as the machine arm began crafting a crystalline-like webbing around him from the ground up. When both Changmin and Chanhee saw him there, Sunwoo's arm raised, fingers poised over his web shooter trigger.

"Don't stop me," he said, forcing power into his voice. He was trying hard to not let his knees shake right now.

His friends gaped up at him. "Sunwoo, you can't—"

"WHAT'RE YOU DOING? STOP HIM!" And just like that, Sangyeon and company rushed into the chamber like a stampede of buffalo, the former of which going straight for the platform Sunwoo was on.

55% completion.

The crystal had just finished encasing Sunwoo in its cocoon, and Sunwoo yelled as Sangyeon slammed against the outside.

He flinched back. "Just let me go home! I want to go home!" He cried out, hugging his hands to his chest.

Sangyeon beat at the outside with his fist, at first, doing nothing to the crystal—but when it began to crack, Sunwoo's heart dropped clean into the pit of his stomach. "You know why you can't," the man grunted, rearing his fist back to land another solid CRACK to the cocoon, "I have to save the multiverse, and you're in my goddamn way."

75% completion.

"Just leave me alone!" Sunwoo shot back, then backed up against the opposite side of the capsule as Sangyeon's arm cracked through.

90% completion.

He cursed, feet scrambling against the platform as he tried to stay out of Sangyeon's reach.

"You're gonna regret—"

Sunwoo didn't catch the end of Sangyeon's sentence, though he could probably guess what it was. He felt the familiar, yet somehow alien, suction of the vacuum portal. One second, Sangyeon was breaking his fist against the crystal cocoon, and the next, Sunwoo was gone.

Sunwoo emerged in New York to a glorious late afternoon and fell straight out of that saturated, blue sky. He swore colorfully as he just managed to shoot his webs up at the nearest building and swing himself to safety. He landed on the edge of a rooftop, but he couldn't find the Air Jordan billboard he'd been at earlier.

But he noted Time Square just a few blocks down from him, and a few buildings he recognized from central New York City.

"Get to Yn," he muttered to himself, breath heaving as his heart palpitated in his chest. He determined the direction he had to go in, then began making the trek across the city.

His first priority was to find you, to warn you. He didn't know what or how the canon event would play out, but he desperately needed to make sure you and your dad were okay. You had to be okay—

Tears stung at the corners of his eyes as he narrowly missed another screaming bus, turning the corner to your apartment. The sun was sinking into the horizon now, casting an eerie, blood orange tint across the skyline.

He could barely get his thoughts in order: you, your dad, dead, alone, alone, alone.

As he neared your apartment, he could recognize your silhouette in the window as you hunched over your desk, no doubt studying hard as usual. A smile crept onto his face, a giddiness only you caused, sending a jolt of energy down his spine. He was relieved to be in your arms again soon, maybe even in time for dinner—

Wait.

He paused, web latching onto the fire escape above yours like usual, you never had sheer curtains. They were always shutters—

An internal alarm in his head screamed.

A blur of red and blue crashed into Sunwoo's body, sensing him and the body that tackled him, straight to the alley below. For a split second, he panicked at the thought of Sangyeon already finding him so soon, but it didn't take long for him to realize that… this wasn't Sangyeon.

He and his blue and red assailant wrestled on the floor of the alley, throwing punches that missed, ripping webbing from their eyes—Sunwoo swore as the other guy kneed him in the stomach and pinned his wrists and knees down.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Sunwoo's eyes widened as he came face to face with himself, but red and blue in all the weird places. There were silverish lines criss crossing across his suit mimicking the lines of a spider's web. This guy didn't sound like him though… He glared. "Who are you?"

With a surge of courage, he whipped his forehead upward and straight into his opponent's, sending him cursing and scrambling away.

Sunwoo wasn't in much better shape either, but though his forehead throbbed, he forced himself to his feet.

He and this… alternate Spiderman stood across from each other, walking in a tantalizingly slow circle, assessing the other. It felt awfully familiar, this experience; maybe he'd seen it in a meme somewhere.

"I'm Spiderman," Red and Blue drawled out slowly, carefully. His head cocked to the side. "Who are you?"

Sunwoo froze. "I'm Spiderman."

Red and Blue Spiderman stopped short. The white eyes of his mask narrowed. "Who sent you? Osborne? Doc Ock?"

Sunwoo made a face. "Who?" What was a Doc Ock...

"And what the hell do you want with Y—I-I mean, that… uh, that random girl in the apartment?" Red and Blue scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he stammered out a cover-up.

"Nice one," Sunwoo deadpanned. Then, as the information marinated in his head and the cogs in his brain began to turn, a realization dawned on him… and it filled him with pure terror.

Red and Blue must have sensed Sunwoo's dread. "What? Got nothing to say now? How about I—"

"What Earth is this?" Sunwoo blurted, head swiveling to and fro to find some kind of indication that he hadn't just royally screwed up. He shot a web up to the top of the nearest apartment building and swung himself up.

Red and Blue blinked. "Huh?" He swiftly followed after him. "Dude, dunno what rock you crawled out from under, but there's only one Earth in this solar system. You learn that shit in first grade." When he landed on the rooftop, he trailed after Sunwoo, who was busy soaking the skyline around him with a new pair of eyes.

Everything looked relatively the same.

It all smelled the same.

"—as always, this is your daily reminder to keep your eyes peeled for the Spider Menace!—" Sunwoo tracked that awfully annoying voice broadcasting from an electronic billboard more than a few blocks to the west. Featured on the screen was an older man with salt and pepper hair, and a mustache shaped like a broom. His face looked like one of those that were trapped in a perpetual state of irritation.

He made a face. "Who the fuck…"

Red and Blue made a guttural sound of disgust. "J. Jonah Jameson. My absolute best bud."

Sunwoo's head turned toward him. "People don't like you here?"

A snort. "I wish. Tough crowd, I guess."

Sunwoo pursed his lips into a small frown, but nodded. He could relate to that. The authorities and public had mixed views of him, especially at the start of his career. Even if he aimed to save people every time, he couldn't exactly pay for all of the damages done to buildings and structures and… well, people.

"You're not from here, are you?" Red and Blue said after a moment.

The dread, the panic, the fear, was beginning to creep into his nerves again. Sunwoo cracked his knuckles, trying to wrack his brain for next moves. Anything, anything. "Yeah," was all he could voice. Reality was a quicksand he was sinking into, deeper and deeper.

"I'm guessing that doesn't mean you're from LA, does it?"

Sunwoo laughed, but it was a sad sound. "I wish. No, it's more like… a different universe."

"So... you have your own Yn in that universe?"

Sunwoo swallowed. "Yeah."

His colleague gave a small nod, unable to find anything to say to soothe Sunwoo's nerves. There was so much trembling in his voice, his fingers, his knees…

From out of his periphery, Sunwoo spotted a hand extended out to him. "Well, since it seems we're both spider people—I'm Eric."

Sunwoo glanced from the hand offered and the red and blue mask, eyes locked on him expectantly. He clasped Eric's hand. "Sunwoo."

With a firm shake, Eric said, "Well Sunwoo, how about we find a way to get you home, huh?"

He hadn't even realized tears had dampened the fabric of his mask until he sniffled. Sunwoo released a shaky breath, eyes wandering back to the skyline that had looked so close to his, but was now a complete foreign entity. He had less than three days to get back home to you with seemingly no way back at all.

a/n: honestly unsure of a sequel lol but it would be cool to explore eric's spidey universe

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @vatterie @yogurteume @ethereal-engene @hyunjaespresent-deobi @justalildumpling @hongyangi @pxppxrmint @nerdypastacalzonespy @miusgirl @zhaixiaowen @wtfhyuck @winterchimez @sodafy @fluorescentloves @tinkerbell460 @kflixnet @gyulfriend

[fireheaurt]

' ENCHANTED TO MEET YOU ' | h. joshua

synopsis : the one where twitter helps you find the cute stranger from vacation pairing : joshua hong x gn!reader genre/s : one-shot smau, non-idol au, fluff

from reese, with love <3

and another tiny little smau in honor of speak now tv hehehe thank you for reading, i'd love to know what u think ! take care :>

[fireheaurt]

Gloves & Dittany ‣ cyj

‣ pairing: slytherin!yeonjun x gryffindor!reader

‣ genre: fluff, hogwarts!au, idiots-to-lovers (on reader’s part), sorta slice-of-life

‣ wc: 13.7k

‣ summary: ❝Sure, your heart might have skipped a beat or two because of Yeonjun, but it was just a momentary flutter, a reaction that didn't hold any significant meaning… Right?❞

↳ Alternatively, where Yeonjun’s flirtatious nature leaves you no choice but to doubt his evident feelings for you and, in turn, dismiss any emotions you may be developing for him

‣warnings?: reader is just,,, confused all the time, prob poor attempts of 'flirting' bc idk how to flirt, side characters may potentially be more entertaining than the mains, reader tends to make playful threats to their friends

‣ an: big thanks to @hoonieji (<3) for reading over more than half of this to build my confidence! anyways the amount of revising this went through is horrifying but I hope it was all worth it! it's so bittersweet that I finished this bc I enjoyed writing it :( I'm going to miss this pair a lot,,, anyways, hope you all enjoy!

‣tags: @flowerjun @forever-in-the-sky2 @yxnjvnnie @cookiehaos @ioveastera @yeonyeonyeonjun @fireheaurt @agustdiv1ne — couldn't tag @shwizhies

I. HEARTS IN HERBOLOGY

Over the years you've spent at Hogwarts, your love for Herbology has blossomed into a deep passion. Contrary to what your peers say about the class being boring and useless, you believe they couldn't be more wrong. Herbology is an underrated and misunderstood subject that offers unique elements not found in other classes.

At first glance, certain plants looked welcoming, but from what you’ve learned, the most attractive herbs can be the most deadliest. This could even work the other way around. Growth patterns of the plants can directly affect its magical properties, which explains why the professors created emphasis on the care for plants. 

Although Herbology looked like any other ordinary subject at Hogwarts, there were a lot more layers to its content. You suppose this was the reason why you grew to love the subject.

“What’s the difference between you and those flowers over there?”

Enter Choi Yeonjun. The main reason why advanced Herbology isn't the perfect class for you, and you mean that in the kindest way possible. Yeonjun is something else. While you hope to simply enjoy the class, he sees it as an opportunity to engage in endless conversation. You once joked with him that his voice could win a competition against a mandrake for being the most ear-piercing, but, surprisingly, he took no offense to this. 

To make matters worse, a significant portion of his chatter is dedicated to shamelessly flirting with you. Despite months of this routine, he always finds new ways to keep things interesting, and you have to admit, it's quite impressive.

It was strange how all this had even started. You and Yeonjun were only familiar with each other because he was childhood friends with your fellow house member, Changbin. But after an encounter with the pair at Hogsmeade, Yeonjun started becoming quite adamant about making his presence known to you. And regardless of his motives and advances, you’ve, since then, been choosing not to indulge in his actions.

If you were given a knut every time someone asked you why you never gave him a chance, you’d be rich. Hell, you’d be bathing in galleons if you did, because this was Choi Yeonjun we were talking about. The one and only Choi Yeonjun who could practically steal hearts without the use of some silly charm pulled straight out of a textbook. He was reasonably one of the most attractive guys in the entirety of Hogwarts and his personality was one to adore, so you weren’t surprised with the persistent interrogation of those interested in him.

Though every question was worded differently, each one becoming more and more creative than the last, you hit them with the same, lazy explanation that you knew never left them satisfied.

“I just don’t see him in that way.” 

Yeonjun stands by your side, hands comfortably nestled in gloves, which completely disregards Professor Longbottom's instructions that the gloves were not necessary for today's class. He looked ridiculous being the only one wearing the heavy-duty gloves. You hold back a laugh as your gaze follows his pointing finger, which leads you to a cluster of asphodels.

You look up at him, “One is an accessory to a deadly sleeping potion.” You’re cleaning up your area, making sure dirt is only where it was supposed to be. 

“Y/N, c’mon~” Yeonjun whines, “Just play along.”

“Okay,” you huff, “What is it?” 

Yeonjun stands quietly for a short moment, lips pressed together, “Now you made me forget what I was going to say, but it was something about you being pretty.” Yeonjun turns to put some pots away, leaving you unamused.

Although Yeonjun continues to make such advances, you admit that his playful personality was endearing. Just a few months ago, you regarded Yeonjun as nothing more than an annoyance, constantly looming around even when unwelcome, sort of like a wedgie. However, as time passed, you couldn't deny the odd bond that had formed between the two of you. 

Just recently, you had reluctantly admitted to yourself that he’s grown on you to the point where you realize that the day would feel incomplete without his babbling. On a good day, you might even consider him your friend.

When Yeonjun returns, he flashes you a smile, “Do you have any plans for the weekend? Maybe I can take you to Hogsmeade.” He bends down slightly and reaches out, “You have a bit of dirt on your nose.” You feel his finger graze your nose for a quick second before it’s back at his side. 

“I’m afraid I already do,” you hummed. Since the period has ended, you grab your belongings and take your leave. With no surprise, Yeonjun is trailing closely behind you. 

Yeonjun’s lips were moulded into some sort of pout, brows furrowed, “Maybe the week after?” 

“I have plans that week, too,” you say promptly, though you weren’t even entirely sure if you did, “Sorry, Yeonjun.” 

Yeonjun narrows his eyes at you but you don’t catch him doing so. Instead, you’re dead set on finding your best friend Yena by the courtyard. Before Yeonjun could let out a sigh, he takes a big step forward and spins so that he’s facing you. Yeonjun executes this with ease. He’s quick on his feet and the next thing you know you’re walking into his chest. 

“Don’t apologize.” Yeonjun grabs your wrist and swiftly pulls you to the edge of the hallway so you both aren't blocking the stream of students, “There’s always another week…” He pushes his lips towards one side of his face, eyes looking to the side. He was deep in thought, “Maybe you can come to the final game of the season? I know your house isn’t playing but it would be nice to have the support… I’ll even let you wear one of my extra uniforms… maybe some facepaint?” Yeonjun’s eyes light up at the thought. 

“Yeonjun,” you say sternly. 

“As a friend?” Yeonjun’s head is tilted to the side, brows knitting as he brings his lips into a pout, “Please?” His eyes pour into yours, making it hard for you to avoid his gaze. He’s waiting intently on a reply. 

“I’ll… think about it,” You stall. 

Yeonjun smiles, satisfied with your answer. Before he speaks up once again, he hears his name being called from across the hall. It was Wooyoung. 

“I’ll see you later, beautiful~” 

You groan and call out before you’re out of ear’s reach, “What did I tell you about pet names, Choi Yeonjun!” 

Yeonjun turns to acknowledge you, but instead of saying anything to excuse himself, he sends you a wink before reaching his friend. 

As expected.

You huff, shaking your head before you finally turn to the courtyard, where you immediately see Yena kicking dirt underneath one of the smaller trees. She pulls up her robe slightly, engrossed in watching the dirt particles defy gravity and form swirling clouds.

You say nothing as you approach her, laughing underneath your breath. 

“You took so long I started growing white hair,” Yena jokes. She drops her robe and stands up a bit straighter, “Where to?” 

When Yena finally catches a glimpse of your face, her brows furrow, “What’s wrong?” She leans forward to analyze your expression, eyes running back and forth across your face. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say, “Let’s start heading for the hall.” 

Yena clicks her tongue against her teeth and grabs your wrist, “I’m not stupid, you know. I can easily tell that something’s up. So, what’s up?”

“The sky,” you say wittingly. Yena gives you her stern, rather motherly, look, causing you to break immediately, “Yeonjun asked me to ‘hang out’ again.” 

Her eyes widen, brightening, as a smile appears on her face. 

The thing about Yena is that, despite understanding that you genuinely do not have feelings for Yeonjun, she still clung onto that ship for dear life. It was quite amusing watching her squeal over the smallest interactions between you both. You could say she was more delusional than Yeonjun was.

“Please tell me you said yes!”

“Well… I didn’t say no?” You look over at her, “I just told him I would think about it.”

“Progression!” She exclaims, “Character development!”

“Oh, shut your mouth,” you groan. You look around to make sure no one associated with Yeonjun was around, “I don’t even think he’s being serious.”

You and Yena are nearing the great hall and the smell of food is drifting out the big wooden doors and up your noses. You both are walking rather slowly, moving to the edge of the corridors to keep out of the other students’ ways, “Why would you think that? From how long he’s been at it, he seems rather serious about this.”

“Yen…” you sigh, “Have you seen the way he interacts with other people, better yet, girls? I don’t want to give him a chance because it already seems like he’s just doing this for fun. I don’t wanna be… sought after for entertainment.”

Yena throws an arm around your shoulders, “If you think that, then tell him you can’t go. Simple.”

“The Choi Yena telling me not to hang out with Yeonjun?” You scoff, “Please.” 

“I’m actually giving you helpful, wise advice and this is what I get?” Yena huffs, “Fine. What I really wanted to say is that you should give him a chance. Who knows, he can actually be serious about you and you might end up liking him back.” 

You shake your head, "Not until I know he has genuine feelings for me. Besides, I would have given it a shot if I had as little as a single cell in me that was interested in him. But, as you already know, I don’t.”

Yena eyes you down as if it were going to knock the honest truth out of you. But it doesn’t, because you were telling the truth. You have no feelings for Choi Yeonjun. 

“Now let’s go eat,” you grumble, “Because you say the most unpleasant things when you’re hungry.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When Yeonjun reaches Wooyoung, he’s greeted with a big fat thwack to the back of the head. 

“Ow!” Yeonjun jumps, rubbing the area that the other had smacked, “What in Merlin’s name was that for?” The two begin making their way down the corridor, keeping a look out for Changbin who they should be crossing paths with sometime soon.

“For being a lovesick fool,” Wooyoung shoots, “Get yourself together!” He slaps Yeonjun’s back, “Why are you wasting time over someone who clearly doesn’t like you back when you can literally be with anyone else you want?”

Though Yeonjun knows that Wooyoung means well, he can't help but feel a twinge of offense at his friend's statement. He could go on about the reasons why he’s still trying, but he knows for certain that Wooyoung could not care less. 

Frankly, when Yeonjun sets a goal for himself, there is no doubt he’ll be working towards that goal with no uncertainties. And this trait easily applies to this situation. 

Yeonjun really likes you. 

Sure, he doesn’t know the tiniest, intricate details about you, but based on what he’s heard through Changbin and things he’s learned while talking to you in class, he has this rather strong urge to get to know you better. 

And he’s serious about this.

At a loss for words, Yeonjun blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, “She’s different.”

Wooyoung blinks back at his friend, “You better not be serious.”

“I’m just summing things up, Wooyoungie,” Yeonjun flicks Wooyoung’s shoulder, “I don’t take you as a guy who likes hearing things about feelings.”

“True that,” Changbin butts in. He slides in from a nearby classroom, briefly greeting the other two wizards.

Wooyoung glares at Changbin, “Do you even know what we were talking about?” 

“Yes,” Changbin shrugs, “Y/N. Yeonjun. Who else?”

Wooyoung hums, “And you support Yeonjun making a fool out of himself?” 

Before Yeonjun can shoot a remark at Wooyoung, Changbin quickly interjects, “Well, no, but I just want to see where it goes. Plus, Y/N didn’t explicitly say she didn’t like Yeonjun.”

“Wait, really?” No one notices but Yeonjun’s eyes light up at the information.

Changbin nods, “I mean to me at least. And you’d think she would tell me because you and I are friends. She just says that she has her own reasons or something.”

Yeonjun smiles to himself. That’s all he needed to know.

II. DOUBTS AND DUNDERHEADS

Yena’s reading the ingredients of a newly learned potion as you scan over the list yourself. 

“You know, I don’t get why we’re even making this potion,” Yena grumbles. As you prepare the cauldron, Yena leaves the table to grab the ingredients, plopping them down carefully in an organized manner, “It’s much more dangerous than Amortentia, don’t you think?” 

“I can see why you think that,” you chuckle under your breath. You eye the ingredients that Yena has set down, using your finger to track each one of them, “You forgot the moondew.” But seeing that your friend had already settled in her chair, you took it upon yourself to grab the plant at the bench at the back of the room. 

“Moondew… moondew…” you mumble. You look around for the plant, shuffling back and forth in hopes of it catching your eye, “Where are you?” 

Before you know it, the herb is being dangled right in your line of sight, causing your eyes to cross for a brief second, “Here you go~” Your eyes flicker up and you immediately spot the green lining of the sleeve.

You reach up to take it from him before turning around, “Thanks.” Yeonjun was standing rather close to you, though it wasn’t a creepy proximity. He’s just… tall. So to him you could guess that the distance between you both wasn’t as close as it was for you. 

“Anything for you,” he hums and sends a smile and a wink your way.

You groan and shoot him a look, walking right past him, “Choi Yeonjun, is this your way of asking for me to give you this potion?”

He feigns hurt, “No. And even if it was, I know you wouldn’t do it.” Yeonjun follows you to your bench and you see that Yena’s placing the ingredients in order of which to drop in first. She smirks at his presence. 

“And how would you know I wouldn’t?” 

“I don’t know actually,” he shrugs, jutting his lip out in a pout. Yeonjun takes a step back to his bench, which was conveniently the one next to yours and Yena’s, before he continues, “I just feel like you wouldn’t.”

You furrow your brows right as Yena adds wormwood infusion into the cauldron. Your nose crinkles, “If I were you, I wouldn’t trust your gut.” 

Yeonjun mindlessly takes the same step, gesturing for Wooyoung to go ahead with the next step, “I have a good intuition!” Yeonjun sounds like he’s genuinely trying to convince you of his secret powers. 

“Well, okay, what number am I thinking of?” You add the asphodel into the cauldron before turning to look at Yeonjun. From the way his eyes were looking off to the ceiling, lips resting into a pout, you can tell he’s thinking.

“Eight.”

“Wrong, it was two.”

“Hey, you could have easily changed the answer!” Yeonjun exclaims, giving you the accusatory finger, “Cheater.”

“I thought your intuition was good,” you say, “Doesn't your intuition say something about if I really did cheat or not?” You make sure Yena’s stirring the mixture the way the textbook had instructed. She even went ahead to plop the sloth’s brain into the pot. 

Then your professor speaks up, “Remember, students, that the hardest part of this potion is the stirring, please please pay attention to the stirring patterns.”

The entirety of your attention is brought back to your cauldron, you and Yena taking turns adding the needed components of the potion before preparing yourselves for the stirring. Meanwhile, Wooyoung and Yeonjun have already started stirring the mixture. 

“Counter… counter… clockwise…” Wooyoung says slowly, making sure that Yeonjun’s stirring in the same direction as he instructed. When Wooyoung realizes that he’s on the other side of the table, he gasps, “Wait, that’s my counter, counter, clockwise!” 

Yeonjun’s eyes widen before stirring the mixture the other way as if it would cancel out the stirs that he’s already completed. Then it dawned on him, “You dunce! It’s the same for you and me—”

And right as Yeonjun finishes his sentence, the mixed elements burst onto Yeonjun, leaving him covered in an odd-coloured substance. 

Screams of surprise echo through the room before the same individuals burst into laughter, seeing that Yeonjun was now drenched and filthy. Yena was laughing out loud, fingers gripping the edge of the table to keep herself stable. You were trying your best not to laugh out loud, pressing your lips together to hide the growing smile on your face.

When the situation finally clicks, Yeonjun knocks himself out of his state of shock, using his own robe to wipe the substance off of his face. It was sticky, so there was a good amount of resistance keeping him from successfully cleaning himself up. 

Now you feel bad. 

You watch Yeonjun for a few moments to see if he truly needed help. But when you realized that he was practically hopeless on his own, you sighed and stood up, grabbing the boy by the wrist, “Professor, may we be excused? We will be back before class ends.” 

He nods, allowing you both to leave. And at that, you’re dragging the long-limbed Slytherin out the door of the classroom. You take him down the stone corridor and towards the girls’ washroom. Your steps echo against the walls of the hallway as you fast-walk towards the end of the hall. Once you reach it, you sit Yeonjun down on a nearby window ledge, “Stay here, I’ll be back.”

Yeonjun nods, making himself comfortable. He watches you leave and disappear into the bathroom for a good thirty seconds before you return with one hand full of wet paper towels and the other with dry ones. 

You start wiping off the gunk from the boy’s face, starting at his forehead and working your way down his face. You're half an arm’s length away from the boy, still trying to keep distance. You’re surprised at how easily the potion slides off his face with the help of water. 

“I thought you were good at potions,” you grumble, “Next time you need to be careful… you’re lucky that the potion doesn’t get absorbed into skin because this situation could have been worse…” You continue scolding him under your breath, but it was so quiet that even the closeness between you doesn’t allow Yeonjun to hear what you’re saying. 

You don’t notice the way Yeonjun is looking at you. His eyes are crossing just to catch a proper glimpse of your focused state, flickering between your lashes to your cheeks, and your lips… He mentally shakes his head to rid of all thoughts clouding his head, squeezing his eyes.

“You know, I don’t need help to clean myself up,” Yeonjun says, but his expression completely contradicts his words as he grins at your actions. 

You freeze and take a step back to reassess the situation, “You’re right.” You hold the paper towels out to him, “Here.”

“Wait, but I do need help.”

You sigh and start wiping the remaining stuff off of his face, “You’re a dunderhead, you know that right?” You put pressure onto his cheek bone for a moment and plaster a playful smile on your mouth.

Yeonjun snickers, “Yeah, a dunderhead for you.”

Your smile drops from your lips and you frown, “Oh, shut up.” His face was basically clean from the potion. All that’s left was the dried liquid in his hair and some lingering on his robe. 

“It’s true,” Yeonjun sighs. He wonders why you’re so against him and his advances. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong to you. You haven’t even given him a chance.

You roll your eyes and attempt to scrape off the dried up potion that was clinging on to his hair, “I’m guessing you’re a dunderhead for Chaewon and her friends too.” There’s a slight tone of passive aggressiveness in your voice but you don’t notice. 

“What do you mean?” Yeonjun’s ears perk up, genuinely confused.

You let the question sit, finding the appropriate way to explain to Yeonjun what you meant. It was a difficult thing to put simply and you and Yeonjun were currently bound by time. 

“Yeonjun I…” your eyes search Yeonjun’s as if he could physically hand you the help you needed, “I don’t believe you actually like me.” You almost cringe because it sounded as though you were accusing him of lying, but this was truly how you felt. 

Yeonjun’s eyes widened, “W-what? Why do you think th—”

“You flirt with me—a lot—but you flirt with other people too,” you explain, “One second you’re calling me pretty and treating me nice and everything that, I admit, someone who likes that person would do… but the next you’re doing practically the same things for another person… How am I supposed to believe that you like me?” 

Not that it mattered—you didn’t even have feelings for the boy—but it was good that he knew for someone he actually was interested in. 

Yeonjun is taken aback by the confession. Is this how you felt the whole time? Is this why you haven’t actually given him the chance to take you out? “How can I prove to you that I’m serious?”

“You’re an expert at flirting, aren’t you?” you retort, “I’m pretty sure you can figure that out yourself.”

III. A SLYTHERIN’S EFFORT

After confronting the Slytherin about your feelings towards him and his actions, there was a period of complete silence over the following days. It was like radio silence—as if something had gone wrong with the antenna and you were forced to scramble to fix it. Encounters with him in the halls or in class were kept minimal by the boy, only going as far as saying a hi and goodbye before going on his merry way. 

Judging from his actions, you took it as a confirmation that Yeonjun really didn’t have feelings for you. This realization evoked mixed emotions within you. Sure, you’re glad that you got him off your back, having the peace and quiet in herbology that you used to have. But you’d be lying if you said that you wished that Yeonjun would still speak every once in a while to fill that silence. 

It was odd if you think about it. Why did Yeonjun even ask how he could prove his feelings for you if those feelings were non-existent? Was that just part of the ‘fun’? An attempt to get your hopes up before stopping altogether?

Ouch, you think, shaking your head to get rid of these thoughts from your head. If Yeonjun didn’t actually like you, he could’ve just said so. But hey, you should be ecstatic that he's finally done with this whole act, right? 

At least he’s making it easy on you.

That is until Yeonjun came unannounced to the Gryffindor table one morning. He, surprisingly, did not don the smirk he often wore on his lips. Instead, his lips were curved into a gentle smile, his eyes mirroring the same warmth. 

“Morning, Lions,” he greets.

“Changbin’s still at the dorms,” you mumble, dipping your head to sip on your soup. 

Yeonjun shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter. I’m here for you.” He held out a small, white plastic bag toward you. It was full, but you weren’t quite sure with what. 

You guess that Yeonjun read the confusion on your face, quickly following up his disorderly actions with, “My mom usually sends snacks and I asked her to send these for you.” You hear Yena almost choke on her food, but she shuts herself up by downing water.

Odd. “Oh… thank you?” You’re not even sure how to act, reaching out for the bag before sticking your nose into it to catch a glimpse of the aforementioned snacks. And funny enough, this is what catches you off-guard.

They were your favourite snacks—ones you couldn’t get here or at Hogsmeade.

“How did you know I liked these?” Yeonjun warms up at the way your eyes light up. You look up at him and thank him again. 

Yeonjun shrugs, “You might have mentioned them a few times during herbology. Anyways, I gotta go back to the table. But I hope you enjoy those!” 

“I will,” you say mostly to yourself. You set the bag on your lap and stare at it, puzzled. 

“Ooo—”

You clamp your mouth over Yena’s mouth and side-eye her, “Shut your mouth right now or else I’m lodging a breadstick down your throat.”

Yena’s eyes widen but she grabs your hand and peels it off her face. She whispers, “I thought you said Yeonjun didn’t like you.” You nod, “I did but… No. I don’t think this means anything.” 

“Are you crazy?” Yena’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of her head, “He remembers what you’ve told him and he’s asked his own mother to send you these!”

You don’t look at Yena because she’s right. The process into actually pulling this off is… sweet. And thoughtful. 

With a dismissive shake of your head, your gaze falls on the closest person, who happens to be Soobin, “Binnie, can you please pass the breadsticks?”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Why do you like herbology?”

The question causes you to freeze, gloved-fingers stuck in the dirt when you try to process Yeonjun’s question of the day. When you look over at him, you realize he wasn’t even looking back at you. Instead, he was fiddling with the herbology textbook sitting on the table, flipping back and forth between the pages of today’s lesson.

You let out a sputtered "Huh?" as your head tilts to the side in confusion. The question seemed to have come out of nowhere, leaving you uncertain whether it was asked out of genuine curiosity or sheer boredom. 

“I never really asked you why you liked the class so much,” Yeonjun takes a quick glance at you through the corner of his eye, “I mean well. I genuinely want to know.” 

You wanted to continue questioning what was going on. First the snacks and now this? 

Was Yeonjun broken?

Your mouth had opened just a bit in preparation to interrogate the boy, but since he had made it clear that he was being serious, you shut your mouth before mustering up an answer. 

“There’s just something… interesting in the fact that all the plants we deal with can be used to create things that can either benefit or create drawbacks to a person’s life. Others have such useless purposes, too, but I still find it captivating that plants can do things you could hardly expect… Like mandrakes. They’re god-awfully annoying, but they can help heal curses and stuff.

“Then there’s dittany… I think it’s easily one of my favourites. They can help heal wounds easily so they come in handy in a lot of situations… like my grandma’s created her own ointment recipe with dittany and it’s done wonders in my family. I guess the main reason I like herbology is the idea that we can somehow use these things to help people. That’s what I prefer, at least.”

When you finished speaking, you realized that you have never said that out loud to anyone before. It was something that never came up in conversation—a topic you knew no one cared about—yet here you are blabbing on to Choi Yeonjun about your love for the subject.

“Wow, when you put it that way, herbology does sound cool.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him, “You’re saying that as if you’re not in an advanced class right now.”

The softest grin appears on Yeonjun’s face as he pushes his textbook away from him, “I know. But herbology isn't the main reason I’m here.”

“Then, what are you doing here?”

“For you.” 

The corners of your lips lift at the brief appearance of the playful Yeonjun you were familiar with. Of course, you think. 

Before you could even question further, Professor Longbottom launched into another rant about the day's lesson, drawing your attention away from the strange, indescribable sensation that was slowly taking over your heart.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were on your way back to the hall for dinner having taken a stroll around the castle grounds after a nap. With workload becoming heavier and days growing shorter due to the time of year, you were hoping to clear your mind while sightseeing.

You couldn’t say it worked, though. 

All your mind could do was wander back to the topic of the upcoming defense of the dark arts exam, the feeling of anxiety continues to creep up your neck despite the efforts to get rid of them. The subject was not one of your strengths, as your strong distaste for dueling led to a lack of effort in the class.

Now that a practical assessment was coming up, you weren’t sure how you were going to do… and frankly you didn’t like doing horribly in your classes. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

You gasp quietly at the sudden presence of Yeonjun, who’s wearing an odd combination of his quidditch uniform and training attire. In his hand he’s holding his broomstick. By the looks of it, he just came from quidditch practice.

"I don't think it matters that much," you let out a lackluster, breathy chuckle and continue walking towards the castle. Yeonjun adjusts his pace to match yours, even though his long limbs seem eager to move faster.

“That look on your face says otherwise,” he shrugs, “But, do not worry, you still look as pretty as always.”

You stop in your tracks and glare at the boy, who halts two steps too late.

“What?” Yeonjun questions, “It’s true.” He recognizes a specific glint in your eyes and Yeonjun realizes that this was not the time to be flirting, “In all seriousness, though, what’s wrong?”

Yeonjun takes you by surprise once again and you almost stumble in your steps from his efforts. It was nice to see that Yeonjun did have this side of him. While you've grown fond of his playful personality, it's refreshing to witness him in a different light. 

You think about what you want to say to Yeonjun. “I think it’ll help more if you just tell me about your day,” you tell him. You needed distraction from the near-overbearing stress that you’re experiencing. In hindsight, you realized that taking a stroll alone may have been a mistake. Being left alone with your thoughts was never a favourable situation for you or for anyone.

Yeonjun immediately understands the situation, and before you know it, no questions asked, he begins to tell you all about his quidditch practice.

Yeonjun’s position was the team’s beater, so he spent the entire practice with his fellow house member, Jongho, who was also a beater, hitting bludgers back and forth to get used to what strength they needed to exert to send it going any way they wanted. 

“We were just hitting it back and forth,” he says, “Like we always do. But this time, we decided to use our non-dominant hands to hit them.” Yeonjun swings his left arm as he continues, “And, you see, Jongho’s left handed so we made this a competition between just the two of us to see who was better with their other arm.

“So we went back and forth. It was hard at first, but he and I started getting… cocky about how I was doing better. It was actually terrifying because, you know, the rest of the team was just there… they could easily have been hit and all. But since, we’re the best beaters in this entire school—” Yeonjun sends a prideful smile your way and you can’t help but scoff, “—we didn’t let that happen–”

“Until?” you butt in.

Yeonjun’s eyes widened, “I can’t believe you think there’s an ‘until.’ 

“Am I wrong?” 

Then, Yeonjun's eyes narrow and he tightens his lips into a thin line. "You're lucky you're cute..." he remarks, reaching out to poke your cheek. Surprisingly, you let him do it. "Anyways," he continues, "That was until we remembered that we also have a coach... guess who's at the infirmary with a bruise as big as a crab apple?"

You gasp, “I thought you guys were Hogwarts’ best beaters?”

Yeonjun exclaims, “We are!”

“Then why is your coach in the infirmary?” 

“Accidents happen!” Yeonjun defends himself, “He’s alright, though. The nurse says he’s going to be back in shape by tomorrow.” 

The conversation turned out to be much more enjoyable than you had anticipated, and before you knew it, you were already approaching the doors of the hall. You could see other students trickling in, and your eyes instantly caught sight of Yena through the doors.

“That’s good to hear,” you stifle a laugh, “Anyways, I gotta go, I’m starving.” 

As you’re turning to leave, you’re stopped by Yeonjun, who has reached out to grab your wrist, “I hope your problems will be resolved soon.”

A warm feeling tickles your chest and you let a genuine smile appear on your lips, “Thanks, Yeonjun.”

With that, you give him a small wave and head inside the hall to join Yena and the other students for dinner, feeling more at ease than before.

IV. THE GLOVES

If given the chance to describe your best friend in one word, you’d say spontaneous. Since the day you met her, she has the habit of making a decision in one moment and then completely changing course in the next. It was a trait of her’s that you found rather impressive, because you could never live your life like that. But despite being impressed, it's still hard to deny that it doesn’t occasionally frustrate you.

Last night, Yena was determined to study for the upcoming dark arts exam over the weekend—you even agreed to study with her (which wasn’t the best option on your end)—but upon waking up at right at noon, she’s decided to give up on this goal and, instead, take an impromptu trip to Hogsmeade. What’s worse was that she’s dragging you along with her, practically giving you no choice but to tag along. 

Although you had no plans for the weekend but to begin studying, you were planning on staying in the dorms because temperatures were dropping to an uncomfortable low. You were in no mood to visit Hogsmeade since it did take a great deal of walking to get around. But since Yena would not shut up until you agreed to come, you were now digging through your trunk, trying to find the pair of gloves you swear you packed. 

“Y/N, make haste!” Yena exclaims from downstairs, “Time is ticking!”

“If you keep speaking like we’re in the nineteenth century, I will not make haste,” you yell back. There’s a sudden urge to bang your head against your trunk. Your gloves were nowhere to be seen and now you have to accept the fact that Jack’s going to be nipping your fingertips during the entire trip. 

Slamming the trunk shut, you let out a deep huff and pull your coat sleeves down over your hands. 

This will have to do.

Yena makes a beeline for Honeydukes the second you make it onto Hogsmeade grounds. She’s hauling you along with her, and you do nothing to protest.

“My supply of jelly slugs are dwindling,” she mutters, throwing the door open before stepping foot inside. The warmth is comforting, especially since the two of you had been walking in the cold for the past 20 minutes, “Changbin took two packs because apparently I owed him.”

You look at her, “Why did you even give them if you weren’t even sure?” Yena’s arms are filled with jelly slug packages, cradling them as if she gave birth to them. 

She shrugs, “I was actually convinced I owed him until I thought about it.” She secures the sweets and looks over at you, “Don’t you want anything?” 

You scan the selection of candies and chocolates surrounding the both of you, “I suppose I can use some gum for studying.”

“Ooh, you’re right! Grab me a pack too, please!” She’s jutting her chin to gesture towards the pack of gum laid out on a nearby shelf, thanking you when you grab a pack for you both, “I’ll pay for it since I forced you to come with me.” 

You don’t protest again, “Fine by me.” 

Plopping all the sweets down onto the counter, you immediately see the look of horror on the employee’s face. You can read her mind—probably thinking that Yena was crazy. “I-is that all, sweetheart?” Yena nods and slides her a note before even waiting for the total. 

On your way out, she’s already ripped a pack open, snacking on the slugs, “Want one?” 

Before you can even reply, a male voice butts in, “Don’t mind if I do!” To accompany it, a hand slides in from your left and straight into Yena’s new bag of jelly slugs. This slightly startles the both of you, stumbling away from the new presence.

Yena groans, “Seo Changbin, you literally have the ones I gave you back at the dorms!” Yena tucks the candy into her sleeve and gives Changbin a crossed look—one that could kill. 

“Wait, I want one!” Wooyoung appears from behind Changbin, who’s closely followed by Yeonjun. Both boys have their chins tucked into their jackets, hands stuffed deep in their pockets, “May I please have one?”

Yeonjun waves at you, and though you couldn’t clearly see his mouth, you can tell he was smiling because it reaches his eyes. You wave back and you couldn’t help but mirror his expression.

Yena blinks for a quick moment, but then moves slowly to give the Slytherin a single slug, “Only cause you asked nicely… unlike someone over here.” She shoots Changbin another deadly glare before moving on, “What are you guys doing here?”

Wooyoung uses his thumb to point toward the castle, “We were just about to head back. You guys?”

Yena shrugs, “I’m about ninety-percent sure we were going to head back, too. Unless you have somewhere to go, Y/N?” Your best friend’s looking at you, waiting for a reply. 

“Oh, uh…” you shake your head, “No.”

Yeonjun beams, “That’s great! We can all walk back together?” 

You don’t notice the way Yena smirks before she agrees on behalf of the both of you, “Sure, why not?”

And before you know it, you find yourself walking alongside Yena and the boys, witnessing Changbin and Wooyoung playfully shoving each other off the path. Yeonjun takes long strides beside them, unsurprisingly condoning the play-fighting. Yena’s busy picking out specific jelly slugs from her bag, occasionally looking up to make sure she doesn’t stumble over a rock or tree root. 

“If you guys hit me, you’re getting hit back,” she mutters, attention still directed towards her sweets. 

Meanwhile, you’re freezing your arse off at the rear of the group. You feel the chill in the air seeping into your bones and you’re desperately blowing warm air into your hands in hopes that you won’t get frostbite. 

As the castle grows closer with each step, you feel the urge to break away from the group and sprint ahead, painfully longing for the warmth of the castle. Your hands are numb, and at this point, you’re afraid that you’re never going to get sensation back, even if you go as far as sticking your limbs into fire. 

The thought makes you panic. Sure it was a bit unrealistic, but still your mind rushes past a bajillion different thoughts that involve things you did with your hands. Herbology, crocheting, playing sports… what if you can’t do those anymo—

“Here.”

You blink to suck yourself back to reality, shaking your head to grasp how Yeonjun was now directly in front of you. His arm is extended, handing you something that you don’t quite recognize at first. After taking a closer look, you realize that he’s handing you over his own pair of gloves. 

“Huh?”

“Gloves.” 

“I know what they are,” you say softly, “But for what?”

“You’ve been breathing into your hands since we left Hogsmeade,” Yeonjun points out, “So put these on. I can take them back when we get to the castle.” He nudges the mittens towards you, urging you to take them. “Take them.”

You can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up at the gesture. “I’m okay. Besides, you need them, too.” 

You attempt to walk around the boy but he stops you, "I don't want to see you freeze. It's either these gloves or... I hold your hands to warm them up." His voice trails off with a playful hint, and you can't help but feel your heart flutter at the thought. But as quick as the feeling came, you knock some sense back into your head before you hastily pluck the mits out of his hands. 

“Good,” he grins, patting your head through your toque. As you slide your hands into the gloves, you realize they're a bit too big for you, causing them to slip off easily. You ball your hands into fists and stick them into your pockets. Then Yeonjun asks, “Hey, have you thought about the game?” 

To be honest, the invitation had almost slipped your mind amidst the recent events. However, now you find yourself more open to the idea. But before you could confirm that you were willing to go, the yelling of both Wooyoung and Changbin interrupted your conversation.

Yeonjun apologizes and groans, making a beeline to the other two to calm them down. 

“I swear it wasn’t this far of a walk to Hogsmeade.” Your best friend stuffs her hands into her pockets and sinks her head behind the collar of her jacket. 

“No, I’m not carrying you to the castle,” Changbin looks like he turned his head 180 degrees to look back at Yena, but it was just his coat giving you the illusion.

“Who in bloody hell said I wanted to be carried by you,” Yena gags. She bends down to pick up the nearest pebble before chucking it at Changbin’s leg. The latter flinches, and again, his head spins to look at you both. He sends Yena a dirty look before maturely continuing on (mainly because Yeonjun already gave him a warning).

The five of you trek back to the school grounds in near silence, the exhaustion evident in your steps as the chilly weather envelopes the area. You wonder if Yena actually regrets going to Hogsmeade on such a gloomy day, but when you look over to check how she’s doing, she’s munching on the jelly slugs with a content expression. 

As the Slytherins break off, Wooyoung bids a simple "goodbye," forcefully dragging Yeonjun along with him. He knows damn well that Yeonjun’s going to spend an extra 10 minutes talking to you when all he wants is to get back to the dorms to take a nap. 

Wooyoung’s so quick to leave that the two disappear in the blink of an eye and you’re not given the chance to return Yeonjun’s mittens. Though, it was also on you for not remembering to give it back. 

Yena notices how you’ve slipped the mittens off and are now staring at the pair as if they hold some sort of enchantment. “And you still haven’t fallen for him yet?” Yena smirks, eyeing the item of clothing in your hand. 

“Gross, why would I?” Your face scrunches and you hold the gloves out to Changbin using your index and your thumb, “Take them. Give them back to him.”

“Please,” Yena scoffs, “Don’t lie, I know you’re all warm and fuzzy for Yeonjun.” Yena playfully pushes Changbin's arms away, preventing you from giving him the mittens, “And don’t give those to the poor boy. Return them yourself.” 

"Poor boy?" Changbin questions, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

You groan, “I’m not all ‘warm and fuzzy’ for Yeonjun.” You look down at the gloves in your hands, “Obviously, I like him better than before but my feelings for him aren’t romantic.” 

“Poor boy?” Changbin repeats, but seeing that you and Yena were absorbed in your own conversation, he gives up.

The three of you finally reach the portrait of the Fat Lady. Yena rolls her eyes, “Mmmhmm… it’s just a matter of time before you actually start liking him like that.” She mutters the password and soon, you’re making your way into the common room. It was miraculously empty. 

“What do you even mean by that?” 

Yena throws her head into her hand and palms her face, “My sweet, sweet Y/N… Think about it. Not too long ago, you were constantly complaining about Yeonjun and how irritating he was. Now you’ve just confessed that you like him better than before. Guess what the next stage is?”

“Best friends,” you answer, attempting to seem nonchalant about the subject. 

“You guys talk more than he and I do,” Changbin points out, snickering, “And we’re best friends.” Yena nods eagerly, gesturing to the boy as if he’s made a life-changing statement.

You shrug, “That doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Yena speculates, “Can I point out that you were in a bad mood the four days Yeonjun barely spoke to you?” 

“I was in a bad mood because of the potions exam,” you justify, “And I have you as a partner.” 

“Okay, fair, but you have to admit it wasn’t all just because of that,” Yena pushes. 

“I won’t because it was all because of that,” you facepalm, “You’re just saying anything at this point.” “You can’t tell me you didn’t feel at least something after all those things that’s happened this week,” Yena remarks, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms in a challenging manner. 

“Things?” Changbin’s eyes grow wide, “What things?”

“They mean nothing,” you repeat, “Just… friendly random acts of kindness, which I do appreciate. Nothing wrong with it.”

“There’s also nothing wrong with admitting that you like him at least a smidge,” Yena frowns, “I know you’re a softie at heart, and I know there’s no way that you didn’t feel all warm and fuzzy at least once.”

As Yena continues to probe about your feelings for Yeonjun, your stubborn nature kicks in, and you find yourself reluctant to admit what she’s assuming. Sure, your heart might have skipped a beat or two because of Yeonjun, but it was just a momentary flutter, a reaction that doesn't hold any significant meaning.

Right?

Besides, you weren't ready to admit something to others that you hadn't fully come to terms with yourself. 

So you shake your head and deny, “Nope. Not once.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

If Yena saw how much of a fuss you were making over something as simple as returning Yeonjun's gloves, she would tease you relentlessly. So you figured that this would be a solo quest, one that required not being caught by Yena. 

You stand at the doors of the hall, gloves clutched in your hands as you try to search for the Slytherin. The hall was busier than you thought, but it wasn’t intimidating. You’re not even sure why you’re worried about this. You were simply handing the gloves back and telling him that you were going to the game as friends. It really didn’t mean anything.

A sense of relief washes over you when you spot Yeonjun fooling around with Wooyoung and Changbin in a relatively empty area. This means that you can get this over with. Hand them over, tell him, then you’re done. Simple. 

Working up the courage to do it, you slowly make your way down the long room, gripping the gloves tightly with one hand. When you’re near, it's Wooyoung who first catches sight of you since he happens to be facing your direction. He utters something that you couldn't quite make out, but it's accompanied by a gesture that catches the attention of Yeonjun and Changbin, prompting them to turn around.

Yeonjun lights up, which you only interpret as a smile, before he waves at you, “Y/N!” 

You don't know why you’re suddenly shy, feeling yourself shrink under the attention of Yeonjun. You grin back and give them all a small wave before you take small steps, “I forgot to return these the other day.” You hold it out to him. Your arm begins to shake at the slightest, so you steady it with your other arm.

“Did you really forget or did you want to keep them?” He teases, sending a wink before gently retrieving them. He thanks you. 

You feel your cheeks heat up and you shake your head, “I forgot to… if it weren’t for Wooyoung who dragged you away.” You give the other Slytherin a look, “And… before I leave, I didn’t get to tell you yesterday that—”

“Choi Yeonjun,” a female voice rudely interrupts your sentence. You’re slightly shoved to the side by another Slytherin who you were not familiar with (nor did you care), taking your place in front of Yeonjun. Changbin looks like he’s about to tell her off, giving you a sympathetic look. 

“Kim Hyunji,” Yeonjun greets, “What brings you here?” 

You start playing with the sleeves of your wool sweater, growing impatient despite the fact that the new presence has barely been there for a minute. The words being exchanged between Yeonjun and the girl soon turn into an unintelligible babble, leaving your mind unable to grasp their conversation. But judging by the way the girl grew gradually closer to Yeonjun, you didn’t need to know what was being said. The exchange goes on for a bit too long for your liking and you can feel your brows dropping to form a scowl.

As you recall the recent interactions with Yeonjun, you realize that amidst all of them, you forgot that Yeonjun was still the flirt that he was. Sure, it probably came naturally to him, but witnessing him flirt with another girl evokes a foreign feeling that tickles your chest. 

“I’ll see you there, then?” Yeonjun’s words are suddenly clear and you feel something tap your chest. 

“Of course I’ll be,” she replies, a smirk forming on her face as she turns to leave. 

The second she’s gone, Yeonjun turns back at you, eyes softening, “Sorry, Y/N, she tends to do that a lot… what were you saying?’

As if you’ve experienced an emotional whiplash, you freeze and lose the words that you previously practiced in your head. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. 

What was happening?

“Y/N? Are you okay?” 

You swallow nervously and, in a hushed voice, you say, "I-it can wait." Without wasting a moment, you swiftly leave the room, your hand instinctively moving to your head as you try to make sense of your confusion.

Finding the nearest bench outside of the hall, you sit down and catch your breath, unable to focus on anything else that was going on around you. 

“Y/N?” Your eyes meet Yena's, and without hesitation, she takes the empty seat next to you, her brows furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?”

You’re chewing on your bottom lip, trying to explain exactly what you’re feeling, “What does being jealous feel like?” 

Yena hums to indicate that she’s thinking. She presses her lips into a thin line and looks around, “I think the best way to describe it is kinda like… you want to squash whoever you’re jealous of with a boot.”

You’re not sure if that was even an accurate way to describe jealousy, but the way Yena describes it is exactly how you felt with Hyunji. Sure, you’d never ever condone physical aggression, but if you had the power to pull her out of that conversation with Yeonjun like a mandrake, you would. 

“Bloody hell,” you mutter. Because why in Merlin’s name would a single cell in your body be feeling jealousy in that situation? You have no right being jealous of this girl. Not when you don’t have feelings for Yeonjun. 

Yena’s ears perk up and lean closer, “Bloody hell? What do you mean bloody hell?”

Unless… you do have feelings for Yeonjun.

Which could explain every odd thing that’s been happening to you. The way you practically dreaded the days when Yeonjun spoke to you so minimally. The way Yeonjun has made your heart skip more beats than one. The way you were feeling jealous over some girl you’ve never met before. 

Maybe you did have feelings for Yeonjun and maybe it was time that you had to accept them.

“And what does it mean if someone makes my heart race?” 

Yena’s jaw drops, finally processing what’s going on. You didn’t even need to explicitly say Yeonjun’s name to indicate that this was about him. She saw it coming. But she doesn’t want to ruin the moment. She’ll let you tell her yourself, “Depends… is it in a good or bad way?”

“I suppose…” you blink, “Both?” Confirmed, Yena holds back a smile, “It means you like that someone a lot.”

V. AND THE DITTANY

No you weren’t avoiding Yeonjun on purpose. 

You do embarrassingly admit that you’re afraid to see him after the whole ‘realizing your feelings’ ordeal, but it's as if the universe decided to give you a break today and made sure you and Yeonjun wouldn't cross paths.

By some stroke of luck, or perhaps the mischievous workings of fate, today was a day that you and Yeonjun did not share one class apart from herbology, which had miraculously been cancelled at the very last minute. It seemed almost magical that you didn't cross each other's paths at all during the entire school day. 

To be wise with your time, you took the day away from Yeonjun in an attempt to think the situation through. Because what do you do now?

Do you just drop the bomb on him like, ‘oh hey, I like you by the way!” Or should you keep it a secret for a bit to build momentum? 

Yena was quick to advise that you should confess ASAP, “And preferably at the quidditch game! Imagine how cute! You’re cheering for him and only him… and when the snakes win, you’re going to be there and—” Then you interrupted her because you weren’t completely sure if that was even the best way to go about it.

But if you think about it, Yeonjun was a simple guy. You could tell through the way he did decide to show you that his feelings were genuine—bullocks! He paid attention to all you had to say in herbology, asked his own mother to send your favourite snacks just to give them to you… he didn’t hesitate to make you feel better the day you were stressed for an exam.

Hell, even before you confronted him, Yeonjun had been showering you with the sweetest gestures that you could only now fully appreciate. 

If only you could knock some sense into your past self. 

“The library will be closing soon,” you look up and find the library’s student assistant, an apologetic smile sitting rather awkwardly on his face. With a nod, you wait for him to leave, giving yourself a moment to gather your thoughts. You begin collecting your things, the fatigue from the long day making your eyes feel strained and exhausted. Almost as if they could pop out of their sockets with the slightest blink.

As you make your way back to the Gryffindor dormitories, you hear shuffling far behind you before you suddenly hear your name being called out. You turn around to see who it was, and to your surprise, it's Yeonjun, running down the empty corridor with his arms waving frantically to get your attention.

 When he finally catches up to you, you greet him with a shy smile, “Yeonjun.”

“I haven’t seen you all day,” he says, a pout appearing on his lips, “I was looking forward to herbology because I finally got to see you, but curse Professor Longbottom for eating bad soup.” 

Your stomach flutters at his nonchalant comment and you feel shoving your head into the nearest bush, “Yeah, haha… What are you doing here?”

“I was just going on a stroll to clear my head,” he grins, “Are you heading back to your dormitory?” 

You nod.

“Well, let me walk you back then,” Yeonjun offers and you don’t protest. If you hadn’t seen Yeonjun all day, at least you had this, “Don’t want evil creatures creeping up on you.”

You give him a look, “Don’t be silly. There aren’t any evil creatures on the school grounds.” 

“I know,” Yeonjun snickers, “It’s just an excuse for me to walk you anyway. But my intuition is telling me that you would have let me regardless.” He leans forward and down to your height, pretending to search your eyes for answers, but you don’t budge. 

“Your intuition is wrong,” you say, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Never. At least, not this time,” Yeonjun shakes his head, “Anyways, I’m happy I bumped into you because I was going to ask you if you’ve decided on coming to the game.”

“That… that was what I was going to tell you the other day with the gloves but—”

“But Hyunji, I know,” Yeonjun nods, “I know it sounds like I invited her to the game but since she’s a Slytherin, she was going to go anyways and—” Yeonjun sighs and pauses to find words to explain the situation, “I want you to know that you were the only one I invited.”

The tone in Yeonjun’s voice takes you by surprise. You can tell that he still has his mind set on proving to you that he has feelings for you and no one else. You frown, “Yeonjun… I know you’re only telling me this because of what I told you that day during potions but… I want to tell you now that I believe you.” 

Yeonjun’s face lights up and questions, “You do?”

You nod bashfully, “I realized it that day on the way back from Hogsmeade.”

Yeonjun wishes he could tell how much that meant to him, a feeling of relief washing over him like soft waves, “Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“For believing,” he grins, “It’s one step closer to making you like me.” Yeonjun winks before his eyes squeeze shut, breaking into a wide smile. His expression fills with an exaggerated appearance of triumph. 

“Hmm, we’ll see about that, Choi Yeonjun,” You laugh at the irony, “Anyways, I was saying that I will be going to the game.”

“You are—”

“For Jongho,” you tease, “The best beater of the team.” 

“You don’t even know Jongho!” Yeonjun exclaims, “How can you—”

“I’m joking,” you poke the side of his arm and roll your eyes, “I’m going for you. The only one who invited me.”

“In that case, I’ll lend you some facepaint and my extra jersey—” He stops when he sees the look you’re giving him, “Just the face paint then?”

Although a small part of you would have wanted to wear his jersey, you were still currently keeping your feelings to yourself. Rejecting the jersey before and suddenly accepting it would look a bit too suspicious, “I suppose that would be fine.”

You don’t realize that you’re at the portrait and you can’t help but feel a bit bummed that the walk was over. It was too short. You barely had the opportunity to talk with Yeonjun about anything else, “I’ll see you then?”

Yeonjun nods, a smile reaching his eyes, “Yes I will.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The day of the game, you, Yena, and Changbin found yourselves in search of ways to pass the time before it was time to head for the pitch. There was truly nothing to do, so you all opted on taking the longest route around the castle possible. 

The three of you were dressed in any green item of clothing you could find in your packed clothes, agreeing that it would have been odd if you all showed up in Gryffindor attire. If you were there to cheer for Yeonjun, you all had to at least look the part. 

Yena takes the opportunity to fill the silence, bubbling with excitement as she talks about the day's upcoming events, specifically your plan to finally confess your feelings to Yeonjun. She knows that you weren't keen on going along with her previous ideas, so she gave you the freedom to come up with your own plan. “Tell me what you’ve come up with.”

“Well,” you begin hesitantly. Truthfully, you have not found the time to think the plan through, opting to just ‘wing it’ when the time came, “I was just thinking of simply telling him?” 

“That’s the most rubbish plan I’ve heard in my years of living,” Yena blinks.

Changbin snorts, “I don’t even think that’s considered a plan.” 

You scowl and give them both a look, “I just don’t want to make too much of a fuss.”

“I know you don’t,” Yena blinks, “But there’s something missing.”

“This is going to be gross,” Changbin grumbles, completely ignoring the problem, “I don’t want to see you and Yeonjun getting all mushy-gushy around me!”

You physically jump, “You could have used any other term and you settled for ‘mushy-gushy’...”

“I’m serious!” The boy exclaims, “I support you two… getting together… but please don’t be those couples that do PDA in the halls.”

“You really think Y/N would do that? She would never…” Yena scoffs. Then she looks over at you with a slight glint of fear in her eyes, “R-right Y/N?”

You nod, “Never. And I give you both permission to knock me into my senses if I do.”

From a distance, the sound of rapid footsteps reach your ears, gradually growing louder and closer. 

“Why… in Merlin’s… beard… are you all… the way…” Wooyoung gulps as if he could catch his breath easier, “Back here?” He’s clutching items in his hands and he holds them out for any of you to take them, “Yeonjun said… oh, bloody hell.” 

You watch him catch his breath for a couple of long moments before he starts again, “Yeonjun said he forgot to give you these.” Reluctantly, you take them to get a better look. Turns out, it was just two small cans of silver and green face paint, “He was going to give you them himself but he was called in by the coach for a pre-game talk.”

“You ran to find us just for this?” you say, “You could have just met us at the game.”

Wooyoung shakes his head, “Nope, I was sent to find you.” He takes in the outfits that you three were wearing, “It looks odd seeing you all in something that isn’t black, red, or gold.” 

Something in Wooyoung’s comment causes something to click in Yena’s head, brows shooting up, “Jung Wooyoung, can you help us out?”

“Depends…” Wooyoung says carefully, “What’s in it for me?” 

“I can’t believe you made me steal one of Yeonjun’s extra uniforms,” Wooyoung groans, unamused. He’s out of breath again, having to run back to the Slytherin dormitories and to a chosen meet up spot next to the bathroom. 

“We’re not stealing, we’re borrowing,” Yena rolls her eyes, grabbing the jersey from Wooyoung, “Besides you could have said no.” Without another word, your friend grabs your wrist and pulls you into the bathroom. 

“Put it on,” Yena says, “And then we can paint your face.” 

“You seem more excited than I am,” your voice is laced with equal parts intrigue and nervousness. Finally giving in to wearing Yeonjun's jersey (and without him knowing) was something even you didn’t expect, especially since you had turned down the idea before. 

“It’s ‘cause there’s nothing to even fret about,” Yena scoffs, helping you tug the larger jersey on, “Okay, now for the facepaint.” 

Yena was wrong. Sure, you knew Yeonjun’s feelings for you were reciprocated, but there was just something about confessing your feelings that was downright terrifying. 

Positioning herself in front of you, your best friend blocks your view of the mirror, and with a mischievous grin, dips her fingers into the paint. Without any hesitation, she begins painting the right side of your face, her touch gentle and precise. You can feel her fingers tracing a swoop underneath your eye and on your cheek bones. With the same maneuver, she moves to the left side of your face, creating another swoop, but this time, just overtop your brow bone. 

“And for fun,” Yena presses dots on your left cheek and right brow bone to create a reverse image on your face, “Okay, now take a look.” She backs away from you, letting you look into the mirror. 

You couldn’t help but cringe at the silver and green paint on your face, not to mention the green jersey you were donning. You looked like you were a Slytherin, which in this case was a good thing, but it still pained your inner Gryffindor. 

“You look cute, even though you’re wearing green and silver,” Yena smiles, “Anyways, we should get going. The game starts soon and we need good seats for your boyfriend to see you~”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you groan childishly. She drags you back out the bathroom, causing you to stumble out through the doors and in line of sight of Wooyoung and Changbin. 

“He will be soon enough.”

“Traitor!” Changbin jokes, pointing to you, “Gryffindor’s got a traitor!”

“Can you shut your mouth or I’m stuffing it with the first critter I find in this castle,” you say through gritted teeth.

Changbin puts his arms up in a feigned surrender, “Can’t believe you’re doing this all for Yeonjun.”

“You look pretty Slytherin-y,” Wooyoung nods in approval, “You’re going to knock him off of his broom.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Welcome to the final game of the season!” The announcer, Soobin, delivers, “Today… Slytherin versus Hufflepuff!” Soobin’s voice is followed by whoops and whistles, livening up the stands. You’re cheering alongside everyone else, feeling the nerves begin to dissipate as your attention is directed toward the game. 

You can see the players are making rounds in the air, getting a feel of the pitch before the game begins. Your eyes try to spot Yeonjun, who, at first, was nowhere to be found. 

“Where is he?” you whisper. The players zoom by so quickly that they appear as mere blurs, their movements too swift for your eyes to track. 

Slowly, the players start taking their positions at the center, facing each other as they wait for the referee to release the snitch, the bludgers, and the quaffle. And there, right by the goals, you spot him, positioned next to who you assumed is Jongho. You feel a kick of energy take over your system and you begin shouting for the green team (mostly Yeonjun). 

As if he had a sixth sense, Yeonjun feels your gaze on him. When he manages to find you in the small sea of people his face lights up. His nose scrunches up as he playfully waves, all before he puckers his lips and sends a blown kiss your way. 

And although you’re supposed to be used to Choi Yeonjun’s flirty antics, you’re left stunned and internally screaming, unsure of how to react in that moment. You're lucky Yeonjun doesn't catch sight of all this, too busy refocusing on the game that was about to begin. 

“The game begins! The Hufflepuffs have taken possession of the quaffle!” You hear Soobin’s voice boom over the speakers. 

Although you weren't much of a regular at Quidditch games like the other wizards, you did understand the appeal. The current game was thrilling, both teams proving their worth as the score remains neck and neck. But to be embarrassingly honest, the first two periods seemed like a blur to you, as most of your attention was shamelessly focused on Yeonjun. 

“Make sure your eyes stay in your head, now,” Yena teases, leaning over to whisper, “You have all the time in the world after this.”

“Am I being that obvious,” you freeze, eyes widening. 

Yena nods, “Yeah, but only to me because I know. I don’t think anyone around here would notice you staring at him.”

Changbin butts in, “I noticed.” 

“And no one asked,” Yena redirects Changbin’s head to the game. 

Just as Yena leans in to whisper another comment, the booming voice of Soobin echoes through the speakers, announcing, "Slytherin's Choi Yeonjun is currently taking on two bludgers!"

Your gaze snaps towards the pitch, searching for Yeonjun in the sky. True to Soobin's words, you spot Yeonjun veering away from the bludgers that chase after him. The determination etched on his face is evident as he’s trying to carefully time his swings to counter the oncoming attacks. Jongho trails closely behind, swinging his bat in an effort to redirect at least one bludger off course, but his attempts fail. 

“Can bludgers even do that?” Wooyoung yells, “They can’t, right?” 

Changbin and Yena shrug while your attention is still entirely on Yeonjun. “C’mon, Yeonjun,” you mutter underneath your breath. 

Everyone around you seemed to be holding their breath, their eyes fixated on Yeonjun. It feels as if time has slowed down, with the entire crowd sharing a collective sense of anticipation. The other players were, for the time being, long forgotten, completely uncertain about what’s going to happen next. 

Was Yeonjun going to be able to out-fly the bludgers or was he going to be knocked?

As you watch Yeonjun continue to fly, you can't quite tell if the bludgers are picking up speed or if he was slowing down. But you’re sure of one thing, the gap between Yeonjun and those bludgers was closing in fast—so close that you found yourself bracing for impact.

“He’s hit!” Soobin yells through the microphone, which was closely followed by a whistle.

Your eyes widen in shock as Yeonjun, in a desperate attempt to regain balance on his broom, slips and loses control of the broom. Before anyone could even process what was happening, the broom shoots straight to the ground, taking Yeonjun with it. 

You're left speechless, leaning over the railing of the stands in disbelief, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. A group of adults rush to Yeonjun's aid, their faces etched with concern and panic. It doesn't look good from where you're standing, and a wave of worry washes over you. 

“I-I need to go down there!” you speak before you think. Your grip around the railings is so tight that your knuckles are ghost white. 

Yena shakes her head, “I know you want to be sure he’s okay, but look how much people are down there already.” She’s right, there were tens of people already surrounding the boy and it wouldn’t be a good idea adding to the chaos. 

“Bloody bludgers,” Wooyoung mutters, “Since when did they do that? I’ve never seen bludgers do that.” 

Your heart’s pumping, beating against your chest while you try to anticipate any news on Yeonjun. The stands sound like beehives, eyes trained on the situation happening down below. 

“Ladies and gentleman,” Soobin’s voice returns through the speakers, “I have been informed that Slytherin's Choi Yeonjun will be okay but will be taken to the infirmary for care. The game will start again shortly.” 

“I’m leaving,” you say flatly.

“Wait, Y/N,” Yena stops you, “I don’t think they’ll let you visit him right now, if that’s what you were thinking.” 

“I’m going back to the dorms,” you frown, “I can’t keep watching the game if I know Yeonjun’s hurt.”

“I’ll come with you, then.”

And you don’t refuse her offer, mainly because you’re still stunned by what just happened, before bidding the boys goodbye.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The following day, you made it your mission to visit Yeonjun in the infirmary. According to Wooyoung, hadn't returned to the dorms overnight, so you expect that he’s still there and resting.

“Hello, sweetheart,” the nurse behind a desk greets you, a smile reaching her tired eyes, “May I help you?” 

You glance into the infirmary and notice that only two beds are occupied. They were both indicated with privacy screens, “I’m here to visit somebody. He was brought here last night. Choi Yeonjun.”

She nods and you watch her gentle smile slowly transform into a knowing one, “He’s in the occupied bed to your right. I believe he’s still asleep, but you can wait for him to wake up if you’d like.” 

You thank her and quietly make your way to Yeonjun’s makeshift room. There's this nagging feeling that visiting him is a bit strange, like you're going out of your way for a guy you're not supposed to be crushing on. But then you remember that Yeonjun is also your friend. Friends check up on each other when they're down, right? So, here you are, paying him a visit like a good pal.

You peek around the screen and see that Yeonjun was, in fact, asleep. Your eyes catch sight of a broken left arm and some bandages that were wrapped around his other arm and his head. He was laying on his side, using his good arm to support his head. 

You couldn’t help but frown at the sight of an injured Yeonjun, sitting down at a chair already pushed up near the bed. 

“Damn, bludgers,” you mutter, scanning over his injuries one more time. They weren’t the worst injuries, but they were still injuries that needed to be treated. 

Treated. 

You gasp quietly, almost forgetting what you had brought with you. Digging into your pocket, you fish out a container of ointment that you and your grandma had managed to concoct a few weeks before the year had started. It was the ointment with the dittany. The one you remember telling Yeonjun about.

You swear by your grandma’s recipe.

Leaning back in your chair, you run your thumb over the lid of the container, deep in thought. The room is filled with an overwhelming silence, and Yena's voice echoes in your mind, urging you to confess your feelings to Yeonjun and make him feel better. However, you decide to prioritize his well-being for now, putting your confession on hold and focusing on ensuring that Yeonjun is okay.

Then you can practically hear Changbin gagging from how awfully ‘mushy-gushy’ the decision was. 

Air shoots out of your nose when you huff out a laugh.

With a sigh, you shift your focus back to the injured boy who was still sound asleep. 

At least who you thought was sound asleep.

As you turn your attention back to Yeonjun, you catch him staring right at you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. It's almost as if he had been waiting to get caught in the act.

“Yeonjun!?” You exclaim, nearly jumping out of your seat, “Why are you just sitting there and staring at me!?” The nurse shushes you, and you quickly quiet down, collecting yourself. You’re tempted to hit his shoulder, but you remember that he’s injured, “How long have you been awake for?”

Yeonjun doesn't bother answering your question; instead, he leans in, locking eyes with you. The look he gives you is soft, and his lips form a gentle smile. You feel your cheeks heat up, your chest doing the same as you shrink back into your chair.

“What?” 

“You like me.” 

You freeze and begin to panic. How were you supposed to react to that? You were supposed to be having a conversation about how he was feeling… if he has a concussion… you were supposed to be giving him the dittany ointment you brought with you… but not this.

“N-no I don’t!” you try your best to keep composure, gulping a growing lump in your throat.

“Why else would you be here to visit me?” Yeonjun’s nose scrunches, “You care about me.” His head tilts to the side, still training his eyes on you, “I think it was about time.” 

At this point, your heart’s running a mile a minute and the room’s growing hot. What were you supposed to do? You were still in the position to deny everything. That, no, you weren’t here because you liked him. You could say you did care about him but as a friend. It worked. Besides, you were here strictly to make sure he was well. Not to confess. 

But then again, this was practically an opportunity that was beckoning for you to go for it and take the chance. Yeonjun was making it easy for you. So, why not?

"And what if I do like you?" You narrow your eyes at him, a playful smile forming on your lips. "Did you forget that you like me, too?"

“Wait, what?” Yeonjun’s eyes widen and his jaw drops to his chest, “You’re not joking right?”

“Joking about what?”

“A-about you liking me,” he stammers. Yeonjun shuffles in his bed, trying his best to sit up, “I-I was just joking about you liking me… I didn’t think that… you’d actually agree to it.”

“Why would I joke about that?” you frown. 

“I-I don’t know,” Yeonjun begins to play with the edge of his blanket. He’s a stuttering mess and he can’t seem to muster up the confidence he’s always had around you. It was an odd feeling. He’s never been on this end before, “You’re really… not joking?” 

“I would never joke about that,” you shake your head. 

“A-are you sure you’re not joking,” Yeonjun repeats, “Like really?” He hopes that he’s not visibly sweating through his bandages and that you can’t hear the hint of nervousness in the tone of his voice. There was even a part of him that thinks that he’s just woken up in a dream and in reality, he’s still passed out on the infirmary bed and recovering from his fall.

What… What if he’s not actually alive right now and his brain is shamelessly walking through his dreams?

Nope. Too much. 

He knows that this was real life solely because he could still feel a mix of both stinging and dull pain in his broken arm. 

“Choi Yeonjun, I really am not joking!” you groan, frustration evident in your voice. "Do I need to provide you with evidence? Because I can't even pinpoint when I started liking you! It just... happened, okay?"

Yeonjun takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his expression shifting. He realizes you're not joking. Like, really not joking. 

You really do like him back. 

At the realization, a surge of confidence washes over him and that playful smile that you’ve grown familiar with appears on Yeonjun’s lips. 

"You can... prove it to me with a kiss," he suggests, his voice tinged with anticipation. Yeonjun can’t quite read your expression, so he quickly follows up his cheeky proposal with, “Only if you’re okay with it! But I’m just… saying that I’m okay with it.”

Yeonjun's gaze drops, and he focuses on the imprint of his toes in the blanket as he waits for your reply. He hears you shift in your chair and soon he feels a looming presence right by his cheek. He feels a rush of warmth from your breath, causing a shiver to run down his spine and momentarily freezing him in place.

With a mix of nerves and excitement, Yeonjun squeezes his eyes shut, his heart pounding in his chest. He's not entirely sure what to expect, but the hopeful part of him believes that you might be leaning in for that suggested kiss. Just as he thinks you might lean in for the kiss, he feels a gentle peck on his cheek.

You pull back, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "There," you tease.

Yeonjun's cheeks flush a tint of red, “T-There?” 

“Was that not enough to prove it?” 

He pouts, “I was… expecting it to be…” Yeonjun gestures to his lips in the cutest way possible. He appeared to be genuinely confused, brows furrowing, “To be…” He’s too embarrassed to say it out loud. 

You playfully roll your eyes and lean in once again, aiming for a gentle peck on the corner of Yeonjun's lips. But Yeonjun's curiosity drives him to turn his head toward you, causing your lips to meet. 

The contact of his chapped lips on yours catches you off guard, sending what felt like jolts of electricity through your body. For a moment, you consider pulling away, afraid that you've made a mistake, but the gentle hold of Yeonjun's arm around your forearm anchors you in place, easing your nerves. It was like his own way of saying it was okay if you were okay with it too, allowing you both to melt into the kiss. 

There’s a brief second that you both forget that you’re sitting in the infirmary of the castle, the world around you fading into the background. All you could hear is the muffled sound of your heart knocking against your chest, and you’re hoping and praying that Yeonjun doesn’t hear it.

Just as Yeonjun brings himself to deepen the kiss, you’re both interrupted by the voice of a certain Gryffindor, “This is exactly what I was afraid of!” 

You turn to find Changbin with a bouquet of flowers (which he had obviously picked from the castle grounds’ bushes) and a rather appalled expression on his face. He lets out an exasperated groan before turning away, muttering under his breath as he walks off. His voice fades off into the distance, “I’ll be back later… won’t be mushy-gushy my arse… I wonder if there’s a spell that’s equivalent to bleaching my eyes…”

You and Yeonjun exchange a glance and burst into fits of laughter, unable to contain the hilarity of the situation. Of all people, it just had to be Changbin who walked in at that moment.

As the laughter subsides, you both catch your breath, still wearing wide smiles on your faces. You and Yeonjun settle back into the moment. The interruption may have momentarily disrupted the moment, but it also added a touch of light-heartedness to the intensity of your feelings.

“So…” You say, “Did I prove it to you?”

Yeonjun's warm gaze meets yours, his voice filled with certainty, "That was more than enough to prove it."

If you made it this far, I want to thank you so much for taking the time to read this! It would be cool to hear what your fav part/'chapter' was (I'm a curious person)! If not, it's okay, I'm still thankful you read this! <33

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[fireheaurt]

flowers of every color

a series

pairing: choi yeonjun x gender neutral reader

summary: when your father is assigned as the new head gardener to the royal family, you are also tasked with helping him maintain the castle's many gardens and extensive floral arrangements. by chance you find yourself crossing paths with the "ice-cold" crown prince, choi yeonjun... who turns out to be not as ice-cold as everyone says he is.

genre: royalty au, prince!yeonjun, gardener!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst, the language of flowers, multiple endings (1 good and 1 bad)

featuring: choi soobin, choi beomgyu (the choi line are all distant relatives here)

warnings: see chapters for specific warnings

status: complete!

author's notes:

do not expect historical or botanical accuracy here! the flowers chosen in each chapter are mainly for aesthetics and symbolism, and might not accurately reflect their cultivation or growing seasons. the language of flowers used here is based on western victorian floriography (rather than other countries' systems) since the royalty au here is already heavily based on european aesthetics.

the first half of the story or so will be fluff, while the next will be angst with a bit of hurt/comfort towards the end. after that there will be both a good and a bad ending.

the first chapter was written in one sitting as a "let's get this idea out of the system" kind of thing, so the quality might be a different from later chapters. i may go back and make an edited version of the first chapter if it have the time and energy to do so!

taglist (CLOSED) @seosalad @lilplilplilp @yeonboy @pyuae @hyuneyeon @strawbrinkofdeath @yushiu @mazeinthemoon @banggyu0308 @shytubatu @kyaneosprincess @agustdiv1ne @whippedforbeomgyu @justineasian @skywithf1 @wrongbathroom @choizzn @bangchansbae @huskyhunny @catsyoon @flowerbe0m

masterlist

chapter 1: irises

chapter 2: yellow roses

chapter 3: lilies of the valley

chapter 4: pink roses

chapter 5: sunflowers

chapter 6: red and purple zinnias

chapter 7: striped carnations

chapter 8: sweet peas

chapter 9: purple hyacinths

chapter 10: red roses

good ending: daffodils

bad ending: white lilies

this fic has also been crossposted to ao3 here

disclaimers:

all depictions of real persons in this work are purely fictional and may not accurately reflect how they are in real life.

this work is by me (blackhairedjjun). the only other version of this story that i allow is on ao3 as linked above. DO NOT REPOST.

[fireheaurt]

FIRST FOR EVERYTHING . YEONJUN

tw/cw ༝ 0.6k wc, some profanity, new established relationship, lowkey fboy yeonjun, implies spending the night together, a little suggestive but not rlly, fluff!!, lots of teasing from yeonjun, he’s very much in love and clingy.

“ow,” yeonjun attempted to turn in his sleep, stricken awake by the pain in his arm that made it difficult to move in the first place. his eyebrows furrowed upon the sting running up his arm. through each passing second he seemed to have lost the feeling in his limb and hastily opened his eyes in concern only to find the head of a stranger resting idly.

“the fuck?” he pulled his arm from under your head, showing no sympathy for the fact you were using his arm as a pillow. it was as you muttered harsh curse words under your breath that yeonjun began to realize that you were no ordinary stranger.

“what the fuck, yeonjun?” you groan, rubbing your face from the slight pain of it suddenly hitting the surface of his mattress.

the lips of the black haired male stretched into a smile, the sight of you in his bed, naked but covered elegantly by his sheets jogging his memory of last night's event that led to this fine morning.

you were his first.

the first to which he found himself telling everything about. the first to slowly lean him into commitment. the first to spend the night together and not just be a one night stand.

“so you stayed the night, hm?” he grins, throwing himself on top of you much to your dismay.

he nuzzles his face in your neck despite your groaning and complaints of your face still hurting.

“yeah, because you begged me to, asshole,” huffing, you push him away from you and face the opposite side.

“my bad,” yeonjun’s voice implying his apology held no ounce of genuinity. it was clear what he did meant nothing to him as he moves himself behind you and slides an arm across your waist, “was i in your dreams?”

you scoff, “no.”

“i bet i was, don’t lie,” he teases, squeezing the skin of your stomach. in all honesty, having you in his room was a dream in itself.

you reward him with no response, closing your eyes shut in hopes of regaining the sleep you lost speaking to him. yeonjun could only frown, his body subconsciously invading your personal space, “did i look pretty at least?”

you tuck your face into your pillow, aiming to hide the small smile dressing your features. of course, yeonjun had known you all to well by now to know you’re hiding from him. your black haired boyfriend grins, poking at your sides, “i did, didn’t i?!”

“stop,” you laugh, hands tickling at your sides.

yeonjun hums, abiding to your request, his body planted on top of yours. his eyes seemed heterochromic, the sunlight affecting the color in which you saw them. your hands comb through his near shoulder length hair with a sigh, “your hair’s getting long, junnie. you’re starting to look prettier than me.”

“shut up,” he rolls his eyes, “we both know that’s not true.”

you frown, carefully reaching a hand up, your fingers tracing the outline of his lips.

yeonjun couldn’t believe the feeling bubbling in his stomach. he wondered where your mind roamed as your fingers delicately tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, “you’re so pretty, yeonjun… so pretty,” you mumbled, the thoughts in your head spoken aloud. mainly to not blow up his ego more than it already has.

yeonjun smiles, not sure if you were aware of your habit.

“don’t do that,” he changes the subject, staring down at you, “call me junnie.”

you hummed as a source of apology, pressing a kiss to each side of his mouth, “sorry, junnie.”

“better,” he cuddles himself into your chest, “you still love me?”

you roll your eyes at his stupid question.

“more than you know…”

taglist: @luvrhyune @ttyunz

© choiwonder ༝ do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work on any platform, or claim it as your own.

[fireheaurt]

P<3NK

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